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 Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
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.
It didn’t hurt, when she stopped respiring. Occasionally it woke her up as her body jolted her with a ‘don’t die!’ signal, but mostly she didn’t even notice. This was one of those times. She was dreaming, although the dream was nonsense; a mixture of sewing and work. The colours were vivid, the story was unintelligible. A worried voice permeated through, saying her name. It was like hearing a voice calling out over a crowd, and she searched for the caller in her dream. Almost as soon as she realised it was a dream she jerked awake, in the weird way of dreams.
“Zinnia!”
The hissing maw in her face was enough to startle the air back into her lungs with a gasp, and she said the first thing that popped into her mind.
“Was I dead?”
The feeling of her mouth said yes. The look on Jac’s face said yes. The fact that she could just stop breathing for minutes at a time didn’t make it any less startling to see. She took a few deep breaths and cleared her throat.
“Sorry. That’s what I get for not using my machine.”
She looked around, they were cuddled up together, her in Jac’s lap, Jac’s head hovering above her. She shimmied into a sitting position and rubbed her eyes. It was still dark. Or, as dark and New York City ever gets overnight. The snuggling was nice, but she needed a glass of water, and her machine. She squiggled out from under the blanket. It was chilly, so she made a bee-line for the machine, pulling the plug and grabbing the waterbottle from her bedside while she was there. She re-plugged the machine by the TV and squiggled back in under the blanket again. She debated going straight back to the snuggle, but only for an instant, she didn’t want to make her friend uncomfortable. Or, more uncomfortable that apparently dying in her arms had. She held back a chuckle. Well that was not how she intended to spend the night at all.
“Did I squish your arm? I apparently went for a bit of a sleep-crawl.”
No embarrassment here. She sipped her water one could say bashfuly.
And thus, it was decided, they would go as Groot and Gomora, and it would be awesome. She shimmied back under the blankets, this time less careful not to touch her friend. It was important not to knock over the cocoa, but space seemed less important now they were a movie in. Jack’s solution was perfect. Just because she had to make an appearance didn’t mean that she had to stay the whole night and watch the drama unfold. That way the gossiping the next day would be news and not just a reiteration of what she had seen with her own eyes.
Her prawny friend smiled and she grinned back, it was nice to just hang out, no pressure to be anything except Zinn.
“You’re welcome anytime.”
And it was true, having a friend to chill out with was something she had been neglecting. Prioritising study so much meant that old frendships had fallen by the wayside. Not through anyone’s fault in particular, just through lack of interaction, or changing interests. Most of her highschool friends were settling down, getting married, having babies, and she was focussing on her career. It was a sore point with some of the jealous ones, and increasingly she found herself bored by stories of diaper fiascos. Perhaps one day that would change for her, but for now she had bigger things in mind that babies.
~~~
The couch was comfy, and with two bodies positively cozy. Who could blame them for eventually nodding off? The menu had been playing its intro music for an hour or two when they wound up curled together under the blanket. The couch was an oversized capital L, with plenty of space for stretching out. Zinnia had squirmed up under an outer arm, her head resting lightly on Jac’s second shoulder. The big friend’s sleepy breathing had kept her own breathing mostly in sync, not that she could ever tell when she stopped breathing.
She chuckled. So, they were equally not what they seemed. It was fitting really.
“I’m not sure it’s so obvious for me. I’ve had boyfriends and I’ve had girlfriends and this new interest is currently just a friend. And a mutant. So much so that there’s nothing visible at all… Down there.”
Was that too much info for a total stranger? Probably. But he was a scientist. His reasoning was of equal proportion. Although calling it science was probably just a cover for both to be comfortable with what was really an uncomfortable situation.
“I’m sure there are plenty of girls that would go for a visible mutant. It was an option to filter by on the site I found you on and from my… research thus far it does seem to be a thing.” Mutiamourous, or variations of the same. X-sexual was another term she’d stumbled on, although that usually seemed to be tagged in the seedier of boards.
“Sure, friends sounds great! And if I stumble across anyone particularly mutant oriented I’ll point them your way. I’m chalking you up as a ‘it doesn’t seem to be mutation related’, what are you putting me down as?”
In a way she was glad that she wasn’t like a switch, predictably flipped. In a way she was terrified, because this was going too fast. Too fast for her seemed like it would be supersonic for Jac. She needed to dial it back, keep it in check, don’t be weird was her mantra, and so it would continue to be.
She sipped her coffee appreciatively, ah caffine, the fixer of all awkward moments. Well, maybe not all. But all science related awkward moments.
Equality had been an important issue for decades, it was when people started wanting more equality than others that there came a problem. Teaching about it, and how to go about getting it properly was an important thing to be teaching the younger generations for sure. The girlfriend comment was a little sad, but then again, they had met thanks to a dating website, after first setting eyes on each other at a speed dating event. Perhaps she was giving off the wrong impression. Perhaps that was ok? No-one was exactly who they said on their dating profile, right?
His description of deep diving almost made her giggle, almost. But he had said intelligent conversation in his profile, so she held in back to a simple momentarily quirked eyebrow, before bringing it back to maturity.
“That’s pretty cool, I imagine you’d save a bunch on gear too.”
From what she knew scuba tank refills were a pain in the butt, and the goggles would surely have to be custom made to fit his head. It was wise to take up hobbies suited to your mutation.
“I swim a bit, but all chlorine for me, I’m too scared of sharks.”
They were alright enough in tanks, when they couldn’t nibble on any toes, but out in the big blue, that was a nope. She sipped her coffee again while she debated explaining that he was interesting and funny, but unfortunately a test.
“Speaking of experiments… I’ve got a bit of a confession. I came today to see if it was visible mutations that got me gping, so to speak, because I had reconciled myself with not being attracted to anyone and then… and then I was.”
And she was a visible mutant. The most visible she had ever seen, except perhaps for Manfish himself.
“I’m sorry if I led you on at all.”
Which she totally had. And she totally was. But science!
Marine Biology, it made so much sense. He could do all the field research easily for sure. Unless that was making an unfair assumption on his mutation. It would suck, though, to be part man, part fish, and not be able to breathe underwater. And he worked at the aquarium to boot. She hadn’t been there in years, maybe not since her tenth birthday. It was a shame, there were plenty of cool things that were still cool even once adulthood was struck. He joked about the animals and she smiled. Could he speak fish? Do fishes even have a language? That would certainly make for an interesting thesis ‘a fish’s opinion’.
The skin thing made sence, and her earlier squeamishness about it being sweat was replaced by a single, lingering word; discharge. She surrepticiously wiped her hand on the napkin in her lap and dipped her head at the acknowledgement of the job market for visible mutants. It would seem that even having a university degree didn’t solve the problem of your skin. Particularly if the colour of said skin happened to be blue. And moist.
“I really appreciate that. I’ve been to the mansion once, to teach a first aid class, it’s amazing how many visible mutants there are kicking about the place. I’m the first in my family, that we know of, but the younglings haven’t hit puberty yet, so they may well come into mutation later. I’ve got it easy, I must say, not having anything to show for it.”
Outwardly that was, on the inside they had been astounded by the MRI printouts, but without a full dissection they were still unsure as to exactly how her lungs worked. She was completely fine with them not knowing, in light of that fact.
Manfish seemed to puff up proudly when he spoke of his work and she had to smile. He was a sweet guy, but so far she was chalking him up as a ‘no’ on the visible mutation tingles front. Friends though, she was down for that.
“So, Manfish, what do you do for fun when you’re not making the world a better place for mutantkind?”
She shook the outstretched hand firmly, like she knew was polite. His hand wasn’t exactly soggy, but it wasn’t dry per say. She really hoped it was a side effect of his mutation, and not just really sweaty. It was warmer than she expected though, so that was a nice bonus. His skin was not unlike her brothers snakes, but she didn’t linger on the handshake for too long. His voice was something more like a frog than a fish, but it was pleasant on the ears. Did he have ears? She couldn’t see any. Jacquelyn didn’t have any ears either. But she wasn’t here to think about Jac.
“My day has been pretty good, just got off from the hospital actually. What are you a doctor of? I haven’t seen you there?”
It wasn’t an attempt to call him out. There were several hospitals in New York. Still, she was pretty sure she would have at least heard of a doctor with such a visible mutation. It was a gossiped enough about topic when one of the nurses sported a new tattoo, visible mutations were even more of a hot topic, and she was glad over and over that her mutation was subtle.
“I’m a nurse in training. I’m six months out from my major exams and study with most of my free time. I have two younger brothers. You?”
Her knee length jacket hid her uniform perfectly, falling just below the hem of her navy skirt. The shoes however, were a dead giveaway, the slightest of heels, and built for comfort. Stockings kept her warm against the chill of a Fall afternoon. Her coffee was now cool enough to drink and she took an appreciative sip. Some nurses relied on smoking to get through the seemingly endless hours of blood and guts, but for her it had always been coffee’s sweet call.
Zinnia felt somewhat silly turning to a dating website to try and sort out her feelings, but the internet had otherwise been distinctly less than helpful. She’d found one or two self-help boards, but they seemed to be rife with trolls, fishing for people to mock. There was also the porn, which she shied away from, she just wasn’t ready to go that far in the name of science. So, a dating website it was. She filtered by the keyword ‘mutant’ and immediately deleted all with a ‘no’ in front of the word, she scrolled through profile after profile, many with pictures, equally many with the stock silhouette of a person’s head. She filtered by seeking, but not by gender. It was only fair.
One or two piqued her interest from the description, but it was not really the sort of thing you could figure out over a computer screen. She sent out her first tentative email, to someone she was sure she had seen before, because how many fish men could there be in the state of New York?
{“Hi there, I think we may have possibly seen each other at the speed-date a few weeks ago, but I didn’t end up at your table. I’m not sure how cultured I am, having never left this city, but as for intellectual conversation I’m happy to oblige. Love is perhaps a bit too fast for me, but I’m happy to have a bit of fun and see where it goes? Zinnia”}
She felt just the tiniest twinge of guilt when she sent it. Which was really unfounded.
~~~
The coffee shop was one she had been to before, but not one of her regular stops. It was a safe place to meet a stranger, well-lit streets even at night, close to a police station, but not so close that the sirens would be any more distracting than the general New York background noise. Her housemates knew where she was going, and when she expected to be back. She wasn’t an idiot. She had done this before. Just, perhaps not with the same intention.
She laid eyes on him as soon as she stepped in to the establishment, he was impossible to miss. She might be a little less obvious, lingering in the door way, so she gave a little wave before she went to order her coffee. This was a situation that called for the full-strength stuff, no decaf today (not that she ever drank decaf). She collected her drink and moved to sit in the chair opposite.
“Hi, I’m Zinnia. Nice to meet you.”
Oh god, was she doing the right thing? He was a fair bit older than her. And a fish. Still, she must push on, for science!
Zinn nodded at the promise of thinking about it. That was all she wanted. She snuggled down into the blanket and fixed her eyes on the screen, occasionally peeking over at her friend to see if she was enjoying it. When the scene with the racoon and his tree companion introduced them she whispered, somewhat unnecessarily,
“That’s Groot.”
Not that his dialogue could have convinced anyone of anything different. The movie passed without too many more whispers, although she pointed out Gomora when she took the screen too. She was taking mental notes about little details she hadn’t noticed on the other watches, like her hair which was tipped in a pinkish red, and the placement of her rings. The hair she would incorporate into her costume, the rings were less important, she would wear whatever she had in her jewellery box, or borrow some from her housemates, but she certainly wasn’t going to buy something specially to be worn once.
The movie was long, but seemed to be over quickly. Zinn shuffled out from under the blanket to make more popcorn and another round of cocoa. It had gotten cold out, and she hoped Steph was at her boyfriends, because it was getting late to be out otherwise. The kettle rumbled, a pleasant echo of the ever flowing traffic below. Once it had finished she served out the hot drinks and more popcorn, before sticking in the next disk she put her hands on, it was something light and fluffy and very Disney. Easy to chat over, or to fall asleep to.
“I shouldn’t be mean to the party people, they’re just trying to have a good time really. They just like to make out in a corner, and I like to dress up and do the haunted house and stuff.”
The inevitable awkwardness the following day after making out with your boss in a sexy squirrel outfit was not something she ever hoped to experience.
Her friend seemed unconvinced, and if her only experience of Halloween had been bouncing at an alcohol oriented venue she could understand why. People who got totally sloshed at parties were probably just as much as a pain in the butt for Jac who had to drag them out and call and ambulance to take them to the hospital, as it was for Zinnia, who had to deal with them once they got there. It was never fun playing the guess how much of this is fake blood and how much is real game, although it occasionally made for pleasant surprises.
Jac asked if she was sure, and questioned how much time they would have to get the costume organised. Zinn was sure, but didn’t want to push too hard too fast.
“Sure I’m sure, it’ll be a mix of people from work and school, they’re alright but not… interesting I guess?”
Most of them just wanted to dress up, hook up, then pretend like it hadn’t happened the next day. Boring!
“My costume’s done, I’m going as Gamora from this-“ she tipped her head towards the screen “if you wanted to come I reckon I could whip up a Groot costume in a day or so. Just think about it? Besides, if there was ever a party where people go nuts over how cool you look, it’d be a Halloween party.”
Or a convention, but she was pretty sure her new friend wasn’t up for that just yet. She pushed play on the remote and snuggled in under the blanket. Close to Jac, but not touching. She had watched the movie several times, but watching it with a friend put a whole new spin on it. She munched the popcorn quietly as it began.
((OOC: feel free to handwave the movie itself, we don’t need to do a blow-by-blow XP))
Maya asked for a little clarification, and Zinnia was happy to provide it, better to figure it out here than on the field.
“With these guys they’ll give a little ‘huff’, when the air goes out. Obviously not the same with a real life person, but a good place to start. The whole way would be pushing them flat against the ground, like a piece of paper. Your aim should not be to break bones, but it’s worth noting that it can happen.”
And it had, several times to people she was assisting at the hospital, and once with one of her nursing home clients. That had been the worst one, the sweet old man, his bones already frail with age, but the home had a duty to keep trying until the ambulance arrived and could take over, or declare the person officially dead. It was one of the less glamourous parts of her job. Who was she kidding? It was all less glamourous.
The kid did his best, which was all she could ask for. He didn’t quite have the full range of motion of an adult, and his centre pivot was closer to the ground, giving him less leverage. She did have a few pointers, but she let him finish fist.
“Always good to have your mutation as a back-up plan. You can also go a little more from the hips than the elbows, let your body do the work not your arms. In a city like this it is unusual to be alone, yell for help, then you can instruct an untrained adult.”
She indicated the baby laying on the table. This was a little different, but the school almost doubled as an orphanage from what she heard, with even the very young being ‘enrolled’, or dumped at the gates.
“With little ones, less than about 2, you don’t want to tilt their head the whole way back, otherwise you’ll close off their airway altogether” she demonstrated by tipping the baby’s head to a full position ‘open’ in an adult, deadly in a baby “you want them up enough that you can get in there, but not too far, they should be looking up, not back. Here it is really important not to use too much air. Just a tiny little puff, and watch the chest to make sure it rises and falls before you do the next one. If it doesn’t, adjust the headtilt.”
She puffed and waited, puffed and waited.
“Two fingers is all you need for this, find the position and 30:2”
The plastic infant huffed as she compressed, hissed slightly as the air drained from her faux lungs, then huffed again. This one she was sure the kid could manage, as the pressure required was much less. After this it was a quick rundown on how to use an automatic defibrillator, which was pretty easy as it spoke the instructions to the user, she would hand out a quick quiz sheet and they would be officially crash-coursed. She had also brought along some manuals to leave with them, if they wanted to do a little more research on other injuries: burns, stings, cuts and the like.
The microwave ‘ping’-ed and she shook the bag vigorously to distribute the seasoning, before dumping it into the designated bowl. Her friend was roaming about the apartment and she was pleased, it seemed she was making herself comfortable. Most of what she would find would be a mix of textbooks, mangas, novels and videogame manuals of assorted ownership. The pictures were a mix of college art, bought for less than it was worth at the university auctions, op-shop landscapes with dinosaurs added in (Steph’s hobby), and photos of their assorted families. There was a few of her family, some with her included, some without.
She set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and fussed with the DVD player until it was set up and playing the menu screen. She ducked into the bathroom, no point in stopping the movie partway for peebreaks, then settled into the couch and floofed the couch blanket over her legs and Jac’s. The amount of money saved by having a simple couch blankie instead of cranking up the heater was nothing to sniff at, especially for their mix of incomes.
“Are you doing anything for Halloween?”
A perfect mix of set-up and innocent question. She had seen a set of DIY instructions for a Groot costume, but knew she wasn’t the right height to pull it off. She could find it again pretty easily, she was sure, and Halloween wasn’t about having the perfect costume (nobody telling you your cosplay was missing a piece, or, god forbid, that you couldn’t cosplay a white character), but rather about having fun, getting frightened in the haunted house, and eating far too much candy.
“I’m going to a Halloween party if you’d like to come I could help you make a costume?”
Posted by Zinnia on Nov 4, 2015 23:32:13 GMT -6
Ghost likes this
The Syndicate
Soldier of The Syndicate
179
29
Jun 20, 2020 5:09:16 GMT -6
Dryad has been in hospital after a bad reaction and will be taking some time off until she is well again (until further notice). Apologies to all in open threads!
Yes, even though her teen years had been relatively easy, a breeze compared with others, she had no desire to live them again. There was something about the hormones, or the teetering between child and adult, the forming of thoughts all your own, not regurgitated parental opinions. Trying to find your place in the world. No, better to be done with that chapter in entirety, and deal with the new challenges of Adulthood.
Jac seemed uncomfortable with the nitty gritties so Zinn kept the details to herself. Some people couldn’t take the specifics. It was what kept her in a job after all, that not just anyone could do what she could. So often the families or friends who accompanied someone to the hospital needed to vacate once the professionals took over, unable to stomach the gore. Even at the nursing home the details of care were often kept from the eyes of family members. Some things about getting old were simply unpleasant.
Her friend dipped her head as she ate, perhaps to keep her own specific details private. Zinn tried not to look. She really did. But she found her eyes wander to the face of her friend as she too ate her dish. Jac’s nitty gritties were not gruesome to her, instead they were fascinating. Still, it seemed rude to stare, so all her glances were stolen between her own bites. She wasn’t smiling, but she could feel the skin around her eyes crinkling. Her friend was just too cool.
Jac expressed a disbelief in their privacy, and Zinn nodded, it was unusual, but not unheard of, with each of the occupants of the house living on very different schedules. She appreciated it though, it gave her a chance to chat to her new friend without sharing her.
“Ah well, I can only cook one or two things, so they’re probably sick of it. You’re very welcome.”
She chuckled lightly. Her strengths were in other areas, but her mother swore she wouldn’t let her move out without learning at least three recipes. It was her worst nightmare that Zinn might survive on cup noodles and cereal. It had taken many minor burns and nicked fingertips to get to this stage, but now she got it right almost every time.
She moved from the table, still chewing, and scooped the movie options on to the table, for Jac’s consideration.
“I’d like to watch Guardians at some point tonight, because I’m going to a Halloween party as one of the character, but any other preferences?”
With a little luck her friend could be easily swayed to accompany her in costume. It was a movie that also had aliens as main characters, good guys, and last time they spoke that had seemed like something Jac hadn’t thought possible.
Once they were finished eating she cleared the table into the sink and tossed a bag of microwave popcorn into its namesake. There was a bowl they used specifically for that purpose stashed in one of the cupboards and with a little rummaging she located it. Their viewing would be greasy and excellent.
So the pale woman had but a little basic knowledge about the second form of cpr they would be learning. And the boy even less. It was alright though, that was what she was here for. She unzipped the bags holding their practice dummies, one full-sized torso of a man, and one full-bodied replica of a baby, realistic except for the blank skin-coloured shapes of eyes and hair, and the mouths which hung wide open. She lay the torso on the floor, and the baby she set on a table. She showed her hand, held like a child pretending at a gun for cops and robbers. Then lay her fingers across the chin of the dummy to open the mouth wider.
“Now, we will begin with the adult. Some people teach the beat to a song, but what if you cannot remember the song in the heat of the moment? Or how could you keep count of how many repetitions of the song you have done? Better to just remember the numbers. 30:2. I will be testing you on five repetitions of the 30:2, thirty pumps, two breaths.”
She lay the plastic mouthshield over the mouth of the dummy. While it would not protect against anything so dramatic as the acid breath they had mentioned earlier, it would do just fine for germs. Zinnia demonstrated, the pumps depressing the chest of the male dummy a third of its depth, the air hissing out of the faux lungs inside.
“You want to press down about a third of the way, 7, 8- so if it’s a really fat person, you’ll have to press harder, 13, 14. Same too for a barrel-chested guy, 19, 20. This is where it is important to keep count, 23, 24. But if you forget where you are up to, just make an educated guess. 27, 28. Better to pump a few times too many, or a few times too few, than never start because you’re scared you’ll get it wrong.”
She puffed into the mouth of the dummy and indicated the rise and fall of the chest with her hand.
“You don’t want to use a whole breath and overfill the lungs, and you want to let the air drain before you breathe the second breath. Alright. Your turn.”
She indicated the dummy and passed each of her students a clean mouthshield, a simple piece of plastic with a valve which allowed the air to pass through into the mouth of the unconscious body, without anything else passing back. Few things that could be passed back would be welcome, other than perhaps a puff of air.
The blam-ing of the botgun was joined by another sound of shots fired, and she risked a glance backwards. Pops was behind the advancing machine and presumably he had a gun. The first two shots seemed to hit their mark, and the knee of the right leg seized up. The robot continued to try and drag itself forward by its other leg, but things weren’t going so well for it, and it seemed to be recreating a common dance move of the same name as it tried to reload. One of the next bullets whizzed dangerously close to her foot, and she flattened herself against the shopfront window.
The bot made grinding sounds, but seemed to not be shooting anymore, and it turned its attention to trying to move. A few more choice shots from Pops and it gave up the shooting entirely. It reached down and lifted its’ gammy leg, moved it forwards, and promptly fell over. It hit hard.
“Zzzt will await reinforcements. Remain where you are- are- are- are.”
Zinnia spent what felt like an age pressed against the glass, waiting for the bot to take up the gun again. It did not. In fact it did little of anything except grind its hidden gears and make the occasional threats of incarceration. She could almost hear the boots of the human officers sprinting towards them and to the piles of paperwork they would have caused. Part of her, the childish, rebellious part wanted to keep running. The adult part knew that paperwork was a necessary evil. Besides without it, who knew what others might come under fire from the rampant bot.
“I’ve got nothing to hide. But if you do and you want to leave I’ll say I never saw your face.”
It was true in both cases. She suspected the bots had sophisticated recording devices, and if she ran it was only a matter of time before her face would be splashed across the news, wanted for questioning. Pops’ too.