The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
>> "How about a cocktail? We've got all night.” The woman said.
“Yeah, how about one?” Amelia chuckled. “That actually sounds really nice.”
She fell silent while the woman made her a drink, but opened her mouth when she asked her a question.
>> "I'm guessing this was a bit more than a typical day at the SUPER office, right?"
Hmm.
How to handle that one. She closed her mouth and nodded. Received her drink gracefully.
A blushing nymph? “Thank you,” she smiled. Then, conspiratorially she added “Actually, I wasn’t even supposed to be here today, at work, I mean. I sort of snuck back in and got on the comms. I don’t think my boss even expected me to join, but—“
She had been looking for someone. She had not seen them. That was kind of a downer.
“It was too important to ignore.”
They were either dead, or had left the mystic cult (and probably the country), hopefully the latter.
She took a sip of the drink, and grinned. “Really good.” She said. “Thanks again. My name is Amelia. What’s yours?”
It was kind of weird for her to have been searching for one specific mystic after all this time. Especially one who had ghosted her. So whatever. Moving on.
And suddenly, Amelia was in a strip club. In a battered, war-torn trench coat. Sitting at the bar, holding her shot by the rim between fingertips. A pretty girl had poured them out for everyone, and said something about magic.
Amelia sighed. She felt tired, bruised, and burned. But the place seemed nice enough, and the girl who had poured them shots had a smile that certainly screamed “Magic.”
How had this even happened? She’d brought in the leader of the mystic cult, handing them off to Sabine. Then, she had wandered off, pulled in by a siren’s song. Someone was making lots of suggestions, like “everyone, over here!” “Come on!” And on the bus, “shots shots shots.” She did not think it had been mind control. The suggestions were certainly ones she would have taken, on her own. And she was off work, it wasn’t her shift. So— she had followed. And now, here she waaaas~
She knocked back the shot. Then, she smiled at the girl who had poured shots.
“Hey, can I please have another?” She said. “Psychically kicking the Cataclysm in the nuts takes a lot out of a woman.” She held up her empty glass.
That’s what they were calling the guy, now, the one who had destroyed the mansion. A cataclysm. A walking disaster, he was. She wore a smile, but really, she was masking a lot of pain. ‘But that’s what the shots are for,’ she told herself. Also, she was definitely going to try and get the bartender’s name.
Blind, moved on her own. Almost helpless. She felt like a baby. To her senses, it all started with a sloshing, swirling sound she struggled to place, Amid the screams and … and what she could only describe as stock sound board “space laser”… also, explosions and gunfire. It almost sounded like when ice cracks when plopped into a soda glass, only on a grander scale. Several times. Then, a familiar voice from a long time ago, someone called Neptune, had her. Calling for help. Which arrived in short order.
The voice was feminine. A Quick murmur, incantation? And then a hand over her eyes. Sight came back, but like the lady had said, different. Tweaked. And she saw—
As vision returned, Amelia Mellitus saw a very pretty middle-aged lady dressed to the nines in black. And white. The whole world, in fact, was a contrast of blacks and whites and grays. She smiled a crooked smile at the woman.
“Thanks, pretty lady. It’s grayscale now. Whole world is in a Snapchat filter, but that is worlds better than what it was…” She could almost kiss her. But— battle. Danger. In fact. Amelia raised her left hand up past one side of the woman’s head, and opened it. Closed her eyes for a second, and let a construct -pulse- into the black glove. It flew off her hand, in a straight line, closing as she opened her eyes to control it.
Now that she could see, she could fight. A construct in a physical form could interact with the physical world, beyond clothes. Amelia fired a glove rocket punch straight through an incoming minute meteor. It came out the other side, as the Missile several yards away scattered into sparks and ashes. The glove swung back around, and slid back into her left hand. It was only slightly worse for wear.
“Thanks again. Whoever you are. You too, 🐹Neptune.” They HAD said Neptune. One name was good as any right now.
Sabine spoke to her, and Amelia took the notes in stride. Watch Ass, check. Incoming to courtyard. She ignored the X leader comments. Rude.
Across the lawn, she saw the sprinklers come on. A guy in golden lion armor got soaked. He was standing right over one of the sprinkler heads. Body language said: pissed.
Fire guy, edit: Rex, did his thing. Some woman shouted about hexes. Amelia snapped her focus to searching for wherever that would have been coming from, unsure how she would have managed it in any event. She needn’t have bothered. The flaming sword went snicker snack and Rex claimed another win.
“Mkay. He’s good.” Amelia muttered quietly to herself.
A moment later, a line appeared in the air, and— she saw trees beyond the portal. She saw two humvees. On top of them were—
Shitshitshit!!!!
“Take cover!!” Rex shouted, and Amelia tried. She really tried. But— someone managed to target her and send her flying.
If she had been a vanilla human, she would have been toast. But she was a mutant. She had enchanted her overcoat and her gloves with multiple layers of protection. Kevlar, for ballistics, fire, and heat, and ceramic plating, against slashing and bludgeoning. Big impact force. High temperatures resistance was double-dipped. She could only empower up to five separate articles of clothing at once with her enchantments, and— gloves (2), duster (1), pantsuit top (1) and pantsuit bottom (1). She was wearing the full kit.
A burst of heat and kinetic force sent her flying, but she was well-armored against such an attack. Her hair may have gotten a little charred before she forced her will into animating the hood of the duster to snap up over her head, and hunkering down with her arms in front of her face, but— aside from Intense heat and the impacts from the initial blast, and from landing after wards, she was alright. Bruised, but alright.
As she cursed and pushed herself up off the ground, a dozen people poured through the portals following the humvees. Armed with guns, staves, swords, fists, and— another red streak flew towards her and the area around the mansion steps. She assumed a kneeling position again, arms up, head down, braced. But this time it was not fire. It was not electricity (which she had a minor degree of protection from). It was not acid or bludgeoning force. It was another hex.
The hex passed over over her softly, without disturbing anything at all. The world went black.
Into the comms, she said: “Dozen people and two humvees with guns just portaled into mansion grounds in front of entrance. Armed to teeth, and— I’ve been hexed. I cannot see.” She cut the comms, and took several uneven steps backwards, towards the mansion (and where she thought she remembered Rex being). He wasn’t. He’d dove towards the fountains. But
“Argh!” A stray bullet hit her chest and sent her stumbling backwards. She was fine. Bruised, but fine. It hit the duster. She still shouted out— “I’ve been hit! And hexed! I cannot see!!!” She shouted to anyone who could hear.
She lobbed the white shield construct blindly at where she hoped people might be- a mystic flinched as it hit him dead in the head, and passed through, kept flying, dissipated into nothing.
Amelia constructs can only interact with clothing! The mystic laughed and laughed, sword swinging by his waist. Was the corner of her mouth bleeding? Or was it her nose. Her sense of balance suddenly — wasn’t. She fell to one knee, bracing herself against the ground. Hooded head bowed, Amelia started to wonder if maybe she had been hurt more than she had first thought…
Whale go boom! Club go thump, thump! Sam go wheeeeee, Hawaii Hercules go whooo! Light Saber go bwimg bwoom as whale go pfrt! All of that happened rapidly in very little time. Amelia would have flapped her hands and made the sound effects herself with manic glee, if asked to describe events to her boss. Good thing she did not have to. And had Sam said hi to her before he’d been tossed—- as he’d been getting tossed?! “Heeeeeey,” she had called after him.
The whale falling apart was pretty hard to describe, too. Who was fire guy with the white sword? Time enough for questions later, mystics were flying and some were appearing near her position by the doors. Fireballs streaked from fire man into the squad, boom boom boom. She thought, maybe, a few had fallen before the assault. Unconscious, like they had been hit with a sleep whammy? Or maybe a dart sticking from one neck was a clue.
“Someone has a tranquilizer gun around these here parts…” Amelia muttered.
Some distance away in a tree, Lenna looked up from her sights and smiled.
Amelia snapped her gloved left hand to her side, and formed a construct shaped like a circular shield, the exact shade of white as fireman’s sword. She hauled it back like a frisbee and chucked it at the remaining members of the squad. Amelia moved her left hand as she directed it, so that it hit people dead in the chest, bowling them over, then seemed to bounce from one mystic to the next. That ought to even odds.
A screaming mystic charged them and she summoned a fist construct right below waist level. He ran straight into the white construction, stopped then fell over holding himself. Amelia shouted to the fierce fireball mystic. “So what’s your name?” “I’m Amelia.” She paused, then spoke into the comms someone had given her earlier. “Sabine, this is Amelia Mellitus checking in. I’m by the front doors of the mansion Fighting mystics that’s just appeared. “Teleported in. Some are flying not too far off. Status fine. With fire guy and Hercules.”
Amelia Mellitus Her face HAD changed. That had surprised me Shinbo.
“It’s a long story. A wizard did it. So this… is personal…” she had said. He had gone ‘uh huh’ and seemed mildly annoyed at the melodrama. Whatever.
It was personal. She’d kissed a mystic and she’d liked it. The mystic had (with her help) changed her entire physical appearance. And then, she had ghosted her. Amelia had never found the woman. Maybe she would be here? So Amelia could kiss her— kick her FACE! And protect the school and all that too, yeah? She had not alerted super. It was her day off, short notice, and it did not fit their MO. Mystics weren’t mutants. So that was her excuse (sorry everyone).
Amelia did not noticed Aura, who she still had not called. She did notice the guy from the night club she had danced with in another life though! The loud shirt man? She went by the doors and greeted him. At least she thought it was him, she had been a little drunk back then. He’d been infinitely more noticeable than aura though, with the shouting.
“Yo. Hawaii right? From the club? Nice club by the way.” Club from the club. She should stop. A burning bush appeared and made her jump. Oh but it was a friend of Hawaii. She put her game face back on.
Coral girl? Nope. Had not met her. Amelia nodded though, as if she had.
Funny, mirror had been just as surprised as everyone. Their dumb shocked face was always worth seeing.
Aura was alright. Good. Her words about mutants being people she would help, up until they started causing undue harm to her people… made Amelia note to be ultra quiet about her day job.
‘Oh yes, I am a police officer type who arrests bad mutants and used to kidnap and tag dangerous elements for science and future avoidance slash location slash preventative measures.’ This comment here, people. This is what would have caused Aura to kill her, if she made it. But she wouldn’t. And didn’t. Instead, Amelia just nodded her head.
Right, aura likes protecting mutants. Checked and noted.
Good she did not kill people, good to know. Yes, mystics did indeed make it hard didn’t they? Was that was they called themselves? Mystics? Okay.
Aura wanted to swim? Long way for a swim. Amelia arched an eyebrow at that. They’d touch upon that subject again, briefly. But first—
More flirtation? More talk. More digesting knowledge.
>> “A mystic stole your face huh? They kidnapped me after i stopped them from kidnapping children and used me as a puppet to kill mutants for bets. And yet without one of them we would not both be here. Strange how fates works my pretty friend.”
Aura talked more about when they’d first met and yeah, that sounded like her. Poor lady, sounded like she had baggage what with the “monstrous ways” comment. Probably not the type to openly flirt with, unless you wanted a bad time.
“Probably a good thing not to eat random animals off the street,” Amelia agreed. “Avoid New York hot dogs if you want to continue the trend. And yeah, mystics, whew. The whole thing—“.
She started walking towards the exit, hoping Aura would follow as they talked.
“It was less ‘stole face’, more— she and I were on a date and one thing led to another and a different kind of magic happened than the one I had expected?” She raised her voice on the last part, trying to play it like a joke. Although truth be told, that Magic had happened as well. Before, she thought. “Really can’t remember the fine details but I think it was a ritual and somewhere, deep down, I was willing. She said I would have had to have been, for the Magic to work. Sooooo… guess my experience was notably more positive than their kidnapping you and torturing you by making you a killer marionette. Because — hold on a second.”
She turned. “Are you sure you don’t want a ride? It’s a long walk underwater to the mainland and I trust him. And if you have any complaints—“
Amelia dug in one of her numerous pocket in her coat, and found a pad of post its and a pen. She jotted something down, then tore the top more off the pad and passed it to Aura.
“You can call the complaint department. My number.” She smiled slyly.
>> ”It is where one dons colorful clothing or something that grabs the attention of a suitable mate in the wild. Much like the bright feathers of a male peacock.”
“Ah, I see,” Amelia agreed. Basically, magnificent poofs. Though everyone was one at some point so whatever. “Like a peacock, got it.”
As they danced, he intoduced himself and had Amelia heard they right? Hercules?
She had the sudden urge to tell him “surely, you jest!” But he rolled on with the talky talky… and she figured if she had said it, he’d have just replied “I’m perfectly serious, and don’t call me Shirley,” or… more likely, he’d have said “no. You Amelia, me Hercules. No jest.”
More talking. He seemed nice enough. Talking of Hawaii.
“Not in fashion. Just fashionable,” she told him. “And yeah, Hawaii really is a magical place.”
She’d never been. Should have. Maybe if she’d had someone to take, but… most of her relationships had inevitably fizzled. Maybe if business took her.
Speaking of business… “really into Magic.” She continued, trying to be heard over the music. “Used to be a magicians assistant. Designed my own outfit and everything. Still know how to do some of his tricks. You ever see any magic, Herc? Other than that smile, of course.”
She smiled and flattered. Dumb flattery really, how would he even see his smile unless he practiced in the mirror. Nothing magical about that. Why had she even—
((ooc Romulus may be out but we’re gonna wrap up here if that’s cool with everyone.))
The other woman was alright, though it took a feat of mutant strength for her to extricate herself from the hole into which she had fallen.
While she freed herself, Amelia took stock of herself. She was rattled, adrenaline was pumping, ears still ringing, but hearing was rapidly coming back. It wouldn’t be perfect but things were becoming a bit more clear, if dampened. She was bruised, but not injured. The man had escaped. He had not climbed out of the hole to take them on.
Why hadn’t he just fled before while they were dazed, if he could go through walks? Whatever. She shook her dazed head. Point was, they were alive which was better than some could say. And he was gone.
Words came to her and she focused back on Aura. Sorry, Unknown Mutant.
“Um.”
Had the woman just asked for a kiss?
“I’m fine,” she said loudly. Her voice volume was still compensating for her hearing.
The best course of action here was to not comment on the flirtatious woman’s comments… not that they weren’t appreciated, but time and place. Plus, job. Did SUPER wear body cams? No, she did not believe they did. But if security cameras at the prison were operational, she did not want to give them anything juicy. She had only just got off probation for the last juicy thing she had done.
“My name is Amelia. We met years ago. I was Mirror’s girlfriend back then. He introduced us. I probably bugged you with questions. You wouldn’t recognize me now. A wizard changed my face. Well. My everything. And I guess technically, she was a witch and not an ugly bastard like him, but…” She was rambling unprofessionally. It had to stop. In a minute. One last thing. “I bet on them having invited you to the baby shower, like Mirror invited me. Guess I was right. You okay?”
She seemed okay, at a glance. Four limbs, one head, all in proper places, but one can never tell. She could have been injured internally.
Her coats inner pocket vibrated, as if on cue. Amelia tore off her riot helmet, revealing her face. Slightly reddened on one cheek, from where one ear had leaked following the big noise, but still clean and friendly. With brown hair cut in a bob that framed her face. Entirely unfamiliar to UM, but then, she had said that.
She held up one finger on her gloved hand as she pulled out the black disc with a blue X on its face, and held it to her ear.
She was quiet a moment, the said “Louder, please.” More silence. “Okay. Guys gone. One minute while I talk to someone? Stay there.”
Amelia covered the disc, and turned back towards UM.
“UM. That was an X-man named Shard. He’s outside. I called for backup a while ago, and they just arrived. He’s cool. If you trust me, I can arrange a flight back to the mainland for you through him. As a thanks. For the help. Thanks for the help, by the way. You didn’t have to do that.” More quietly, she added. “Not even sure how you got here in the first place, NGL. But it sure was timely.”
She smiled weakly, and hoped UM was still willing to be friendly beyond all of that.
The woman likely needed a ride. They were on an island, for gods sake. How?
Aura did as she wanted, and hammered the person. Hard. With multiple follow up plans. She saw most of it, while hunkered down. Though, to admit, Amelia was far more focused on her own problems.
Controlling the hand and resisting the man’s strength was… a problem. He seemed stronger than your average bear, as if he weren’t one to be constrained by mundane things. Her brow broke out in a cold sweat as she focused, really focused. She managed the few seconds it took for Aura to do her thing, and send him flying.
Amelia’s constructs both broke, as the man got knocked ass over tea kettle by the woman in the mask. There was a tiny bit of mental pain associated with it, but nowhere near the amount of pain some psychics experienced. At least, comparing it to her other known construct user, Shin. For him, it was migraines and bloody noses and awful. For her… owwwww… but She’d be fine.
How far he went—
Amelia turned the word “Damn” into a reverent, holy word. That was the only word for it.
Aura did not usually hit with enough force to “home run ball” a baddie…. Did she? But that one… that one…
“… would have been out of Yankee stadium,” she muttered to herself.
The floor had given way around him. She had been far enough away a few quick steps back from the ruin would have been enough to avoid tumbling in after him. Structural damage, there was plenty. She could only speak for herself, but—
They did not pay her enough to drop down over 30’ and several floors, to give chase. Her report would make it clear that when the dust had settled and she had looked over the edge into the abyss, he had gone. He had escaped.
Amelia was already mentally compiling her report. Nobody could have asked more from her than what she had done. It is unfortunate, but some days, the bad guy gets away. As for how Aura handled his eminent escape— sorry, “Unknown mutant.”
Her report would not call the woman Aura. Why would it? Aura was still someone SUPER probably wanted to talk to. This helper was somebody who had been nearby and attempted to assist, in some vigilante justice. Would SUPER care? What had cameras caught? Would there be fallout for her not fighting or attempting to even question Unknown Mutant, hereby further referred to mentally as “Um.” And where even was she?
Amelia looked around for her, through the drifting concrete dust. To see if the person had fallen, or stayed on their feet. Because until she knew that, there was not much further she could do except speak into the communication mic on her riot helmet.
“He fell through the floor… and is likely engaged in escape efforts at lower levels of the facility,” she said quietly. Quiet enough the mic could pick it up, not loud enough Aura should be able to hear, wherever she was. Amelia had even turned away and taken a few steps from the broken floor area to be sure of all of that. Afterwards she said, loudly, “Hey you okay?”
The law enforcement outside were indeed jolted by the sudden wave of shocking force. One landed on his ass. His partner looked down at him and offered her hand, to right him. Others fell to similar fates. Or didn’t, hunkered down behind shields.
Back inside the fighting grounds, Amelia was groggily righting herself.
They had tumbled, they had rocked, and they had rolled. They had also survived. The combination of her coat and Aura’s defense had kept them from serious injury. Even so, her head still hurt and it was a wonder she had not bonked the woman in the head with her riot helmet during their trip across the room.
The pink hand reached down to daintily pluck her up by one gloved hand, and support her as she got to her feet. Amelia braved her hand against a translucent pink palm. It was a little less than her size, floating in midair at her side.
Time for a wellness check.
Body, bruised and shaken. Knees and arms were the main points of ache. The irony was, these were not from the ground, but from contact with aura and Aura. And her own hand construct, from where it had pressed against her back. Whoops.
Her head? Achy. And her ears? Ringing. Possibly, there was some blood. The riot helmet might have helped slightly, there. But she would not know for certain until it came off. Sounds came distorted, but that would better with time.
There were other things, sure, but they were small. It could have been far worse.
The room was a mess. Bodies were scattered. The floor was gouged, and looked like a giant had punched it at one place. In hindsight, Amelia realized Aura had probably done most of that while trying to keep the two of them from flying down the hall. Or into a wall. Also, that pink aura had likely contributed more to their survival than all the enchantments on her clothing, combined. The electric resist or heat resist may have helped, some. Amelia had been trying to help Aura, but had helped herself far more. Her ego weathered the hit with great care. She looked to the pink woman, to see how she fared.
Aura was okay. Standing in front of her, blades drawn. Protecting her?
Amelia suddenly felt self-conscious. Her back straightened and she stood a bit taller. Slapped the palm of the pink hand, and sent it to glide out in front of her, palm towards the man in a gesture of denial. The youngling (was that her?!) summoned a pink drill construct and set it to spin in the air in front of her right fist. For good measure.
I will not fan girl Aura. I will not fan girl Aura. I will not—
——
And how fared the mysterious man?
He was still upright, and still wearing a mask that hid how he was feeling. There were vague muffled sounds coming from his direction. Amelia dug a finger in one ear and said conversationally (and since she was mostly deaf, too loudly):
“I did not catch a word of that. Is he even talking? I can’t see his lips moving. On three, dance? Okay? Three!”
She ran a few steps forward, bringing the big pink hand and the drill up in front of her like she was going to launch them. Hauled back her fist. Her range was 60 feet. The distance between them was much less than that. And, fired!!
The fist flew at the man, then— vanished as she dismissed it, only to reappear an instant later, in his face. The fingers wrapped around the helmet as the pink hand went from translucent to opaque. Blocking his vision. And— she started to apply pressure. It was only a distraction. The pressure she could exert was only equal to her own physical strength, and that was not superhuman. As she dug her fingers in, though, she started to wrench and tug at the helmet itself. Trying to either yank it off, or, what, yank his head off? Haha. No. But let him think that.
While she left that matter for him to deal with, she ran forward another few steps and sent the pink drill spinning, slowly spinning, to curve around him and stop behind his legs at around knee-level. It elongated and widened into a cylinder.
For Aura’s sake, she had attempted temporarily blind him by blocking the physical field of vision in his helmet. Almost simultaneously, she had tried to set up a tripping hazard behind him. If Aura hit him hard enough, he might fall. And if she got him while he was blind, then all the better.
She hunkered down, and pulled her coat around herself protectively as she focused on her constructs. She imagined they’d be getting beaten rather shortly, and needed all the concentration she could get.
Okay, so maybe it had not been laughter. A slight tilt of the head, a “you have got to be kidding me?” It all added up to four, just the same.
Amelia opened her mouth, about to mouth off. To be all “No sir, no kid.” But then someone in eighteen inches of pink energy waltzed onto the scene. Also carrying a corpse. What, was it “hold a dead body” day and no one had told her? First him, then her, then Lady Pink!
… Aura, Amelia’s mind whispered to her.
Aura. The mass murderer. The violent mutant she had met. Mirror had introduced them once, and Amelia had been full of so questions, so many! She had been young, naive, and just bold enough to peaceably interrogate someone infamous for how often they liked to paint the town red. They’d honestly gotten along okay. Mirror had, if she recalled correctly, been horrified. And then? Years later, she had pretended to be the woman, in order to spook some thugs who had been harassing a cute nurse lady. And that, basically, had been her history with Aura.
She knew Aura had supposedly died, or else gone silent. Had not been active in quite a while. SUPER had a great big file on Aura, alongside numerous other former Order members of infamy. And here she was, opting for a non-violent approach. Amelia had thought herself bold. Aura was a whole other level.
At first, she had been uncertain if the woman in question were actually Aura. There was a mask. She was not covered in blood. The pink aura was pretty damning, but it was only when Amelia heard the woman speak that she was certain on her identity. It sounded like the woman. Both in vocal tone, inflection, all that happy crappy, and in the way she spoke. The words she used. Few could emulate it, rarely duplicated. One of a kind.
There was a faint plop behind the man as her constructs vanished, and gravity did it’s thing. No body was on her mind any more. Just the two of them. It was a good thing she had stayed focused. Because the man was doing something.
He stretched out his arms, and energy flashed over his whole being.
He said he was no mutant.
He was a freaking Magic-user, like her! The one who had ghosted her, so many months ago. A fracking magician. She did not like magicians. And she figured she would not like what he was planning to do next.
Survival mode took over.
She could have tried to stop him from clapping, turned his hands aside with a construct, done something… but there was next to no chance it would have achieved any worthwhile results. All it might have done was delay, and give Aura (if that is your TRUE NAME) a chance to do… something. What, Amelia had no clue. Or, she could play it smart. Since she had not done much of that so far.
Amelia played it smart. The riot shield, she let clatter to the floor. She was running, running, running towards this supposed Aura. And as she did, she shouted something she hoped would make aura less likely to hit her.
“Mirror and baby Iris say, if you want to survive, drop aura, hug me! And go down!!”
There. Name dropping baby Iris was enough celebrity for a day. Had Aura even been at the baby shower? If mirror was auras friend, she’d probably been incognito. But if not—
There was no time for hesitation. Would she listen? Amelia rushed in for a tackle hug. If she succeeded, the sequence of events would go something like this:
Glomp, drop, and roll.
She would, for lack of a better word, “glomp” Aura, drop Aura, and then roll them both up in the protective effects of her duster. A big pink ghost hand construct would press down on top of them, to keep the coat in place… and to pin them between the bars of its fingers, as well. Prone would reduce surface area to be hit, the fingers would help prevent them from being tossed, and— as an afterthought before everything would go down, Amelia would add:
“Aura, aura! Bubbleuspleasenow!“
And what would be, would be.
As a side note the coat protected well against electricity. Which might be good.
Sooooo yeah, that had gone about as well as her cowardly heart had expected.
Did she actually consider herself a coward? No.
Had she let three SWAT get, god forgive her, swatted? Yes.
Was that evil? Look. Sometimes in life, you have to make sacrifices. Do things you don’t want to do. For the greater good. Had she sacrificed those officers?
If it gets you to sleep more soundly at night, Amelia, No.
The officers had been adults, making adult decisions, in a very dangerous job. Now she, too, would be making adult decisions. In the very same, very real, type of danger.
Cue Simpsons gif, Ralph laughing. “I’m in danger!” Ugh.
She had needed to see what the person was capable of. Now, Amelia had seen it. Now, she could steeple her fingers and ponder the most sensible ways to exploit it. Definitely not saying Excellent while doing so. That was enough Simpsons references for one day, thank you. Although the skin-tight bodysuit the guy was wearing sure did bring back memories of Ned Flanders in skis. Wiggling.
Right. On task, brain. On task. What the hell had he said to her?
Her smile behind the clear plastic visor was visible to him, even in spite of the fact that the visor reflected light off one side of it, masking half her face. To rip off something she had most likely read somewhere, she smiled like a bared blade smiles. And she felt edge lord for even thinking that thought.
… and then she did an even more edge lord thing, and laughed at him. A witch’s cackle.
“Did you? Did you really? Because I think—“
Acting, she was acting. This was all an elaborate ruse. With strength and durability like his, she needed to play on the weaknesses of his mind. If he had those. And this was fucked up, even for her. More fucked up than the time she had pretended to be the mass murderer, Aura, to scare away some big strong men. This time, she pretended to be—
The man he had thought dead rose on near-invisible puppet strings.
To the seven foot tall monster, perhaps, the air a few feet above the person (whose name was Clayton Charles) might have shifted slightly, as if there were a slight heat haze, like what you see coming off hot concrete on a blazing summer day. And maybe there might have been minor disturbance in the air, from the literal strings looped around the dead man’s sleeves on his upper arms, strings that supported him. Strings connected to the near invisible “ghost hands” she imagined in that “heat haze” blur a couple feet above the dead man’s body. But then, maybe the man was wearing a big ass bulky helmet, and his visor, combined with poor lighting, or too much lighting, or too much going on, might have made him fail his perception check to notice any of that. The haze was pretty discrete, compared to what she could normally do. But regardless of whether he saw those tiny visual cues or not, she was doing it, all the same.
What was she doing? Well. She could manipulate clothing. He was wearing a long-sleeved prison uniform. It was winter, after all. It had been a bit of a strain, seeing as Amelia could only use her psychic constructs to lift about equal to what she physically could lift, herself. But, then, he had been on a prison diet and had seemed a sort of wiry man. The type she could probably lift, on her own. If she had to. She worked out.
The only thing of him her power could really touch was his clothes, but the dead man was fortunately wearing clothes. So she could try this macabre gambit out. And it was macabre. Had she not decided this was the most fucked up thing she had ever done?
Really. She could have made psychic platforms to gain elevation, and tried to “kite” him away from the scene. As if she were fleeing. And it would have looked a lot like that scene where Elsa jumps from ice pillar to ice pillar in that Disney movie, Frozen 2. Far cuter, far more simple and discrete. A pretty clever way to lead him astray and gave time. But, she needed time. Time for the button she had pressed on a communicator stuffed in one of her duster’s inside pockets to do its stuff. Hence, the macabre gambit you, the reader, so dutifully spent the last ten minutes reading about.
The corpse puppet shambled, with arms that were rag dolling dead weight. Feet shuffling, basically scraping the ground.
A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her cheek, but he would not be able to see that. Just as he would not have been able to the furious button pressing behind the upheld riot shield, that was shielding what she did from view. He would not see that she had holstered her gun, though he might note she had not trained it on him again. Since the whole thing with the SWAT swatting and all of that.
Amelia did not take a step back. The ruse had to come from a position of power, and any showing of weakness would most likely be sensed, if he were half the predator mind she thought he was.
“Oh look. He moves,” Amelia said, toothily. “Given time, he might even revive fully. Wonder if he’s some type of mutant. Mr. Big. Maybe you better go do something about that?” She nudged her chin towards dead-man.
Yuck, yuck. She was not sure what sick part of her had fogged over her mind and slipped in that “Mr. Big” comment right there. She chalked it up to big time nerves.
This was a stupid plan. A phenomenally stupid plan.
If he turned towards her to chase, she would drop control over the constructs and switch it to one glove. She would launch the shield at him with the glove, like a rocket punch. And then she would run like a rabbit. And try to lead him to the courtyard.
Amelia did not only lift weights, she ran too. She was good at running. Running was good.
One person can make all the difference. One person, at the right place. At the right time. SUPER had sent her. Perhaps, SUPER needed to have their heads examined.
What was going on again? The radio had given several messages, the rapid report several others. General consensus was “this concerns us.”
A prison. A break-in. Not out, but in. On Ryker’s island: okay, on Rykers?!
The guy, this guy. They weren’t fully sure how he had gotten in but there would be inquiries, investigations. He was in some sort of fancy body suit. A suit much like her own tricked out outfit.
She wore a large overcoat that was kinetic resistant, flame-resistant, and provided excellent body armor. She had also recently enchanted the Fed suit and slacks underneath it for war. Same enchantments. Same enhancements. Lastly, she had on her gloves. Amelia only had limited options for enchantments. They took time to make and time to upkeep. And she was wearing most of them. All she really needed was a helmet. But— helmets aren’t really clothes, or usable in many situations. So she settled for a riot helmet someone had given her: it came in black. Mostly matched the duster-like overcoat and fed suit. Mostly. No? Not really, but it gave that last ounce of protection she would need.
What else did she know about the situation? Guy in suit, explosion. Transport. Tower. Lot of guards down, hurt or other. The man was strong. Most likely a mutant, if the brief report was to be believed. She was skimming a paper copy and walking towards her own transport, an SUV to get her further onto the island. To the facilities. The helicopter had gotten her there, and it would take her the final stretch.
SWAT and police we on the scene. As she arrived and stepped down from the SUV, Her eyes skimmed the circus. Entire wings, evacuated or evacuating. A police helicopter in the sky, spotlight scouring the area. Some wings full of prisoners, free or not. Alone. What a mess. And here was she, one lone agent sent to deal with the mess.
Someone told her what cameras told them. Where he was, how to get there. Amelia grabbed a RIOT shield she was not fully trained in the usage of, and ran. Three SWAT officers backed her… from a distance.
Amelia arrived too late. Just as she saw the man in the suit drop someone. Dead.
Well, one of many today, Her mind considered, tired tone heavy.
The SWAT officers rushed into the room ahead of her, as she drew her sidearm. Shields up in one hand, gun in the other, all three opened fire. “Stop right there mutant!!” One officer shouted.
She lowered her hand gun and brought up her shield. Held off.
She was about 15 feet away from the trio, Just waiting to see how the whole thing went for them. 7 foot tall armored man had rampaged all over the facility. Probably didn’t fear small caliber fire all that much. What could she even do to him?
“Yeah, brands.” She agreed. Was he new to fashion? Just new. But then, many people weren’t familiar with “Expensive brands.” She elaborated.
Yeah, many people weren’t familiar with expensive things.
He looked at his shirt, as if contemplating something. Amelia pursed her lips thoughtfully.
“I think you’ll be okay,” she finally decided. “At the bare minimum, you stand out. You’re memorable. And that isn’t bad.”
Yep. Not bad. Not always.
As for his comment about peacocking. “I have no idea what peacocking is. You’ll have to enlighten me.” Amelia smiled. “And maybe escort me to the dance floor?”
She nodded to the middle of the club.
Once they were dancing, she made some basic conversation. “So. Tell me about yourself. For starters, how about what you do for fun? For living? Name. So I don’t keep calling you Hawaii in my head.”
She wasn’t calling him Hawaii in her head, but she could. Could be a fun nickname.
Maybe he knew about her topic of research, maybe not, maybe with the one drink and the buzz she could be off duty for a while. Let the other Amelia take over, so to speak. If they weren’t running things already.
Irresponsible, yes. But one cannot win them all.
As she spoke, she danced. Just moving her body, her arms, her hips. It was not slow dancing, and she was not up close like many other women in the club might have been. There was space between them. But she was still dancing.