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.
Calcifer looked up at Devon with his best Tommy Lee Jones scowl.
“Oh blow it out your a**, wind-boy. I work here, I can drink when I want.”
He emptied the glass with another puff of smoke and set it down, not bothering to re-fill it. No real point; if his boss was going to make small talk then all the alcohol in the world wouldn’t help.
“And it’s not like you have me chained to the Foundry like a dog. Or do you not want to be seen with me?”
The question wasn’t exactly fair. Calcifer knew that his activities at the off-site Haven location were kept at a distance for plausible deniability. Still, while it was one of the few places actually warm enough for his tastes, there wasn’t much going on there at the time. Truth is, he’d gotten bored and wandered over to the main site with vague plans of looking at the training facilities or something, but time had instead found him at the bar.
And now he had company. Yay.
“I see you like your drinks a little fruity, like your dates,” Calcifer said with a smirk. His eyes traveled from the drink to the man holding it. Devon certainly picked his outfits for their effectiveness. The thin white T-shirt enhanced rather than concealed, hugging the muscles of the toned chest underneath. The V-shape of the collar mirrored his cheek bones, and emphasized the piercing gaze set above them. Everything tailored to advertise.
The advantages of not having to worry about the cold or your own heat.
“Speaking of, shouldn’t you be dragging some boy-toy up to your penthouse by now? You’re certainly dressed for it.”
Amorphous shadows stretched across the floor of the Inferno dance club, dim service lights replacing the bright neon colors that normally flooded the room. Last call had been hours ago. Drinkers and partiers had been ushered out the door and the last of the staff had closed up and went home. Now there was only a lone figure at the bar, his long black coat merging with the shadows on the ground.
Isaac, or Calcifer as he was now called around here, poured another shot of amber liquor into a glass and held it up. He looked at it with vague disinterest for a second, then took a sip. The liquid boiled instantly on his tongue, his body heat turning it to a cloudy vapor that was exhaled in a slow stream.
Calcifer set the glass down. He seemed to remember hearing once that evaporated alcohol got you drunk faster, but it just didn’t feel the same. Hard to enjoy a drink when it turned to literal smoke in your mouth. Not that it was any surprise; the pleasures of the world had always been something that had been denied him, burned away before he could enjoy them. Even now, with a steady income with Haven and a warm place to stay, life wasn’t really enjoyable, just tolerable.
He took another drink, this time breathing in the alcohol cloud. At least he could still get drunk.
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 24, 2017 23:31:11 GMT -6
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Isaac looked at the weather mutant with mild disdain. It was the closest he came to a blank expression. This guy had blasted him with wind and covered him in ice and Isaac hated him for it, but he’d also built a fire and had apparently saved his life. He seemed to be on the level, at least so far, and he had contacts. He also, Isaac grudgingly admitted, had a decent amount of power on his own. That could be good or bad. He’d have to think it all over later.
>>”We’re past fighting now?”
“As long as you don’t try to throw ice at me again,” Isaac said, crossing his arms, “but I have no reason to do any more of those guy’s dirty work.”
Isaac sighed. The man had mentioned food, reminding him not only of how hungry he was, but of the obstacles to sating that hunger.
“But don’t go thinking we’re buddy-buddy, either. You didn’t exactly do me any favors bringing me here. Yeah, I’m starving, but I’d rather not freeze to death out there, which mean I need my clothes, and I’m guessing we’re across town from where I stashed them. Area’s probably crawling with cops now, too. You can make it warm in here. Great. Not warm enough. And unless you can make it Texas in July out there I’m going to need something to wear.”
Isaac turned his head away from the weather mutant dismissively. As he did, his gaze fell upon the mob hitman. Isaac hadn’t thought anything of it before, but the man was dressed for winter; dark brown snow pants and a thick long-sleeved shirt, possibly wool. There was probably a coat somewhere around here, too. Isaac rolled the idea over in his head. Sure, the clothes probably weren’t his size and wouldn’t be as good as his custom garments, but they’d be better than nothing, and he needed something until he could burn again.
“Don’t suppose he does, though,” Isaac cast a inquiring glance back at his fellow mutant. “Got any more use for him?”
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 19, 2017 10:13:56 GMT -6
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For a few seconds, all that Isaac could concentrate on was the burning in his eyes and lungs. He coughed, his body trying to expel the noxious gas, and managed to force his focus onto his surroundings. He felt wind. He saw the wind directing the blurry image of the poison cloud away from him. And then he realized that he was on the ground, the weather mutant crouched above him.
>>”D*** it, are you okay?”
Isaac wheezed and coughed a few more times before he croaked out an “I’m fine!” He rolled onto his side, his body shuddering from the occasional cough, and started to push himself upright.
“I’m fine.” He didn’t want to think about it. Just being close to that gas cloud had laid him out. If shirtless here hadn’t blown it away….
He pushed the thought to the side, his torn pride seething at having to be rescued. More important was that he’d been attacked. His eyes scanned the room until he found the hunched form of the man who’d gassed him.
He’d been attacked. Isaac snarled and began to crawl toward the man. He’d been attacked in a way that could actually hurt him. In a way that had been planned out and hidden until he’d been so stupid as to get close enough. The crawl stumbled up into an angry stalk. That meant there had actually been an attempt on his life while he’d been passed out. That he’d needed saving again. That weather guy was telling the truth.
Rage boiled in Isaac’s face as the thoughts cascaded in on each other. If weather guy was telling the truth, then there hadn’t been any crime ring running through those buildings. Then it hadn’t been the FBI that had frozen his funds and forced him to come here.
Then he’d been duped.
Wounded pride spilled over into blinding wrath as Isaac approached the attacker. Bound and barely conscious, he was a prime target for Isaac to vent upon. Isaac drew back his fist and channeled all his rage into a strike meant to turn the man’s head into mush. He’d made a fool of Isaac, and now he would pay.
Unless…
The punch went wide, crunching into the brick wall next to the assassin’s head.
Unless the assassin and wind mutant were working together. Isaac turned his head in a backward glance at the other mutant. The man had reacted to the poison incredibly quickly. Had he known it was coming? And gas was a very convenient threat for a mutant with wind powers to dispose of. It was a long shot, perhaps, but Isaac had to make sure. He didn’t want any more mistakes.
Hands on the verge of glowing grabbed the assassin by the shirt and slammed him against the wall.
“Hey! HEY!” Isaac struck a blow beneath the man’s ribs. The man’s eyes sprung open with a grunt. “Wake up, you’re gonna talk.”
“F-f*** you, you damn freak. I’d sooner die than tell you s***-f***ers anything.”
Isaac spat in the man’s face, then reached behind him to his bound hands and snapped his pinky. Howls of pain filled the basement, muffled when Isaac gripped the man’s jaw and slammed it shut.
“You think I was asking nicely? Do you know who I am??”
“You’re a worthless mutie,” came the muffled, sneered reply. Isaac slammed the assassin against the wall again. “Say my name, you miserable ****!” The man only glared at him.
The ring finger was next.
“SAY MY F***ING NAME!”
The man’s head rolled from side to side, his jaw clenched in pain. Only three of his fingers remained whole.
“If you think I’m out of ideas when you’re out fingers, you’re dead wrong,” Isaac hissed, only inches from the man’s face. “After that, it only gets worse.”
"F*** you, ya little prick," the man muttered, his voice strained. “You think I’m afraida you? You think anyone gives a f*** about your d*** name? Here’s your name: Fail-cifer, the guy who can’t finish one little job. Now go back to your little trailer and cryyyyyaaaaAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!” The words flew into a high-pitched wail as Isaac slowly crushed the mangled fingers beneath his own.
Close enough.
“My name is Calcifer, you s***-eating worm. And I’ll make sure your boss knows it when I burn his world to the ground around him.”
Isaac released the man and let him fall whimpering and cursing to the floor. Then he stood, sighed, and turned to face the man who, as much as he hated to admit it, had saved his life twice now.
“It seems you were right,” Isaac made the statement grudgingly. “The feds wouldn’t send a hitman after a botched job, at least not a lone one. And while you obviously don’t know who I am,” Isaac motioned to the assassin, “he does. Just like the men who forced me to come here.”
Isaac walked over to the furnace and leaned against it, absorbing its warmth. These people had tried to kill him; there was no way they would just give him his money now. And if some of his contacts got caught up in any investigation, well, served them right for letting his money get stolen in the first place.
“I’ll tell you what you want to know under two conditions. First, amnesty. Let’s just say there was a reason I believed the feds would want to freeze my accounts, and if you’re going to bring them in to all this I don’t want to get burned for helping you.”
Isaac looked back at the man lying on the floor. “And second. If you do figure who was behind this, I get to have a little talk with them.”
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 17, 2017 20:08:03 GMT -6
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Oh, now wasn’t this convenient. Suddenly here was a brand new addition to the guy’s story to help convince Isaac to give up his money. Of course, this supposed attacker hadn’t been anywhere to be seen before Isaac had pressed the weather man for proof. No mention of him in the whole conversation leading up to it, either.
Probably just pulled some random guy off the street.
Isaac’s annoyance reflected in the flickering flames as he straightened, facing the other mutant and the new captive. This guy just didn’t know when to quit. It had been bad enough to listen to his self-righteous babbling, but then he’d brought another wave of buffeting winds on the fire and now he’d brought a whole ‘nother person into this charade.
Isaac steadied himself and took a step out of the furnace. He was able to stand now and walk without too much difficulty, but he still wasn’t strong enough to burn.
“Oh yeah, that sounds like a great little story,” Isaac said, taking a few slow steps toward the two men. “Shame I wasn’t able to see any of it.” A sneer tinged his words. “Also kinda strange you didn’t bring up your heroics before now.”
Isaac continued forward, bringing himself closer to the bound “attacker” and within striking distance of Mr. Wind-And-Rain.
The battle wounds didn’t mean anything. He could have easily got them from the fight earlier. As for the story itself, well, the people who’d contacted Isaac had known about the incidents in Nevada, New York, and Saudi Arabia, and in each of those Isaac had made it very clear that guns were not a good weapon against him.
“Just one problem,” Isaac stopped a few feet from the man on the ground. “No one who knows anything about me would try to shoot me with a-“
“Hey! ****face!” Instinct drew Isaac’s gaze down to the ground and the source of the insult.
The man moved fast. Even though he was bound, he managed to twist around and pull something from the back of his pants. Isaac caught a glint of metal before there was a sharp hiss and green smoke exploded into his vision.
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 15, 2017 19:22:04 GMT -6
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The blows can fast and from every direction. Isaac struggled to get his bearings as the mob engulfed him, but it was chaos. They shoved him to the ground, and any attempts to chase after a fist with his own was met by another from the side. Some of the men had pulled out knives and were trying in vain to but at him amongst the punches. Isaac tried to grab one for himself, but they always disappeared back into the mass of arms and elbows before he could reach them.
At first, several of the men tried to grapple Isaac to a standstill, but even those with gloves found it difficult to keep their grip on his abnormally hot skin for long. It wasn’t long before they stopped their attempts and returned to the barrage of punches and kicks against which Isaac’s own fists and legs struck out in blind, futile spasms. There was nothing above him but violence and nothing beneath him but sand.
Sand!
Isaac dug his hands into the loosely-packed grains and flung them up into his attacker’s eyes. Some of the sand struck home, resulting in startled cries and several of the men dropping back, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Isaac reached into the sand again and… felt something sharp. He quickly pulled it close to his chest and rolled over to protect his new find from the mob at his back. It was one of Valkyrie’s strange crystals. Must have been one that missed and hit the ground earlier. It was strangely translucent, but far from fragile. One end was amazingly sharp – even to Isaac’s touch, and the other was blunt and fashioned such that it could be easily gripped.
He had a weapon.
Isaac spun, slicing the crystal blade and whatever was above him. It cut through leather and flesh like a razor, leaving sprays of blood in its wake. Isaac didn’t hesitate. He rose into the mob with all the violence denied his heat. He couldn’t bring himself to kill with fire, but a blade was different. He cut through anything that came near; arms, legs, throats. Blood soaked the sand as Isaac beat the assailants into a retreat, his lack of skill offset by the fierceness of his attacks and the fact that his victims could do nothing to harm him in return.
Soon, the crowd of men was broken, fleeing to find better weapons. Isaac didn’t pursue them. He remained crouched, wild-eyed with battle rage, and caked in sand and blood.
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 11, 2017 16:12:40 GMT -6
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>> “You were threatening me two minutes ago and now you expect me to serve you dinner and find you some clothes?”
Isaac’s lip curled at the man’s remark. He would never even think of asking this pompous harbinger of cold for anything. He had been trying to make it clear that he was no longer interested in talking and that he had better things to do, but apparently this dolt was too thick or self-absorbed to understand.
>> “…they’ll take you out or turn you in first chance they get.”
The seer turned into an audible scoff.
“Like I was asking for your help. I can manage on my own.”
Thugs waiting in ambush or the threat of prison didn’t scare him. He’d handled worse than a brute squad, and he’d been hired in the past specifically to break mutants out of jail. What was the worst they could do? They already had his money.
Isaac turned away, weighing his current level of energy and judging just how long it would be until he could beat it. The weather freak kept on talking, whining about his own problems, trying to flatter Isaac, trying to play the concerned good guy. Stupid blabbering.
>>”Would you be willing to point me to one account?”
“THE F***??” Isaac spun back around. The man was going on about de-escalating the situation or whatever but Isaac didn’t care.
“You think I’m stupid enough to just hand over my account to you? Do you want some of it too??” Flames grew around Isaac as the anger rose in his voice. “It wasn’t enough to coat me with ice, was it? Couldn’t just leave it. You didn’t want to stop the job; you wanted the cash for yourself! Tryin’ to drag it out of me with some bull*** sob story. No proof. Nothing to back it up. Just some wild conspiracy about the mob and the promise that I’ll get everything back if I just hand it over to you. Well f*** you! You can take your scam and shove it!”
There was a whistling sound off to the side. Isaac turned in time to see four men gasp and fall to the ground with large, white crystals in their backs. Another man cried out as one embedded itself in his arm. More crystals struck the sand in a random spray and one even glanced off Isaac’s torso leaving a line of red on his cooled skin.
He also saw Valkyrie fall face-first onto the sand.
No surprise there.
Still, she might not be dead. And while he didn’t have to, Loki had said that helping her would be rewarded. The crowd of men started shifting their gaze to the girl lying on the sand. Isaac shrugged to himself. He wasn’t exactly in deadly peril; it wouldn’t hurt too much to take the attention off her. And if she was able to pick off a few more guys as a result, all the better.
Time to make himself the primary threat, then. Glancing around, he located the nearest guard armed with an automatic rifle and dove at him. The guard was momentarily distracted by the source of the deadly crystals and went down like a bag of rice. Isaac punched him twice in the face then pressed the man’s neck to the ground with one hand while he wrestled the gun away with the other. Flesh began to sizzle and the man screamed as his skin burned under Isaac’s grip.
Isaac’s eyes went wide. NO.
He tore the gun from the man’s flailing hand and emptied several rounds into the wailing face before he realized what he was doing.
No burning. No screaming. This would be done without heat.
Tearing his hand away from the dead man’s throat, Isaac rose and swung the gun in a wide arc at the men opposite his partner. The bullets sprayed wildly until the clip was emptied. Some hit, some didn’t, but the main point was that all attention was back on him. Shouts erupted from the men as they charged him. Isaac tackled the first man and wrenched the pipe from his hand as bullets rained down on him.
Undeterred, Isaac leapt up and swung the pipe and the closest head he could find. The pipe impacted its target with a meaty squelch and the man fell to the ground. Several more swings saw two more men fall while similar blows began strike at his head, arms, and stomach, though to much less effect. Against his cooled flesh, the pipes and steel bars may as well have been foam noodles.
Isaac swung his pipe again, but it was knocked to the side by a blow to his forearm. The blows on his body weren’t a threat to his immediate health, but as more and more men crowded around him they choked his movement. Releasing the pipe, Isaac dropped to a crouch then launched himself into the crowd of attackers, punching blindly as the mob closed around him.
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 5, 2017 17:36:31 GMT -6
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Isaac tensed when the man stood up, but nothing more happened. It looked like this guy just wanted to talk. And talk. Damn, he must enjoy hearing himself speak. Isaac had already suffered through more monologuing than he would normally tolerate, but as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t in much shape to fight. He was tired and hungry. Fighting would have to be a last resort… for now.
So instead Isaac relaxed his grip on the steel plate of the furnace while the weather mutant continued blabbing about some criminal conspiracy that was way more believable than the straightforward answer.
“Ha. You really trust the suits that much? They have power.” Isaac let his accusation remain implied. No one got and kept power playing nice. And it seemed this guy was angling for a piece of that power as well. Isaac looked down at the fire around him. That’s why you didn’t trust anyone, even if they made a show of trying to take care of you.
Though he had trusted his contacts to take care of his money for him. What a mistake that had been.
Come to think of it, he’d also trusted them when they said it was the FBI who froze his accounts….
“But suppose you’re right. Say it was the mob. Doesn’t change anything for me. They still have my money, and I still need to get it back. Hell, it’s probably better if it is the mob; they’re more likely to honor an agreement.”
Though less likely to forgive a failure…
Isaac stomach rumbled, the steady hand of hunger becoming more insistent.
“Either way, it makes no difference to me. Now if you don’t have anything actually important to say, I need to get something to eat.” Isaac paused, considering the cold air outside the fire.
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 4, 2017 19:04:59 GMT -6
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Isaac shot to his feet, the flames rising with him. Rage burned in his face. Then the whole basement tilted to the side and went fuzzy. He grabbed onto the side of the furnace to steady himself, but his knuckles were still white with anger, if not heat. How dare this man insult him! Didn’t he know what he could do? What he had done?
“My job was to destroy the block. Period. Maybe you didn’t get it the first time: it doesn’t matter what’s there. I. Don’t. Care.”
Hatred tinged Isaac’s words. Why hadn’t he asked questions? Because you don’t ask too many questions. Not in this business. And it wasn’t like he’d had a choice in the matter anyway. And he had asked about the basics, like why they needed him for this job. Of course, they’d lied and hadn’t said it was being protected by this mutant freak, but that was on them, not Isaac.
And him being played, well…. Isaac’s lips curled in a spiteful red glow. He didn’t get played. For this guy to insinuate that… just the thought of it made him seethe. It did seem that the FBI had lied to him about the presence of an opposition force, but that didn’t mean anything. He didn’t get played.
And speaking of the suits…
“Ha! If you think you have the Man on your side then you’re the one being played. Who do you think it was who sent me? Who do you think told me to take care of a little problem for them, huh?? Who do you think it was who FROZE my accounts until I cooperated?!?” Isaac’s voice rose to a shout. The hand gripping the furnace burned with his words until the steel bent under his weight.
Isaac paused for a minute, hunched, panting to catch his breath. “Do you think I’d work with the FBI by choice?” Venom dripped from his voice as he looked back up at the man. This man who was now threatening him and glancing over at the fire extinguisher. Yeah, like that would work. From what he could see, it was a common ABC variant, which meant dry chemical. CO2 might have been a problem since it was colder, but of course the idiot hadn’t brought one of those.
“Oh, you think that will help? Go ahead. Dry chemical doesn’t work on heat, dumba**.”
Isaac straightened up.
“You think that just because you could take me out there in the open means you have a chance in here? I could make this place an oven, so watch your step.” It was mostly a bluff, but not entirely. The man was closer than ever now, maybe thirty feet. If he tried anything, especially if he moved closer, there just might be enough left for a killing blow.
Posted by Calcifer on Feb 27, 2017 15:49:27 GMT -6
Haven
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Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Any satisfaction Isaac felt at the rat-man’s frustration was short-lived as the reality of his situation sank in. He was trapped. If this was indeed the casino vault, it had some of the best security in the world. He was likely deep underground, with a two-foot-thick steel door between him and the only elevator up to the surface and even more layers of security. It was dark, he couldn’t move, and it was cold. That was the worst part: the cold. He didn’t have his clothes and he was already shivering in the freezing, air conditioned room. He had no idea how long he would be left here; quite possibly long enough to die of hypothermia.
And he couldn’t use his power. Not to get free, not to stay warm. He rolled his head to the side to get a feel of the collar against his upraised arms. It was thick, a bulk of a thing obviously designed for mutants much larger than him. The pain of the electric shock certainly felt like it.
Isaac pulled on the chains holding his hands. Nothing. He twisted his hands around to feel at the links. Crap, they were heavy-duty. Strong, steel chain that he couldn’t hope to break no matter how hard he pulled at it.
He pulled anyway. Again, nothing.
Frustration boiled in Isaac and he yanked down with all the strength he could manage. Over and over again until he hung wearily from his bonds. He was trapped.
NO.
He was not going to stay like this. He couldn’t stay like this. The cold would kill him, and that was not going to happen.
He needed to get the collar off, but to do that, he would have to use his power, no matter how much it hurt. He wrapped his hands around the chain that bound them, braced against the coming shock, and pulled down hard, willing as much heat into his fists as he could.
Screams echoed though the darkness as the collar responded. Isaac hung limply, panting from the torture, but he couldn’t give up. He closed his eyes, steeled his will, and wrapped his hands around the chains again.
Posted by Calcifer on Feb 27, 2017 14:21:07 GMT -6
Haven
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Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Isaac strode through the jungle of pipes. Passing a large metal tank, he heated his arm and idly thrust it into the steel. Oil spewed from the rift in a gout of flame, spilling onto the sand in a river of fire that spread out beneath him. He had to admit, he was almost having fun.
Turning a corner, Isaac lifted his eyebrows in surprise. His partner was actually being useful. A group of armed men no doubt coming to stop his path of destruction were now instead preoccupied with getting stabbed by the little girl. Of course, she had placed herself right in the middle of them rather than attacking from behind like he had told her to, but at least it was a start. Maybe getting a few bruises would teach her to pay more attention.
In the meantime, her presence freed him up to light some more fires. He turned in the opposite direction. The destruction caused to the cluster of pipes on the way in was a good start, but they were only a peripheral installation. The true heart of the complex lay at the center; a hulking mass of towers, pipes, and storage tanks that dwarfed anything encountered so far. It is what needed to be destroyed.
Isaac made his way to the target, slicing into several more pipelines on his way and cutting some support lines to send an alarm tower warbling to the ground. Hopefully it hit some people. He grinned at the irony of the thought.
Suddenly, there was a bark of shouting from his right. Isaac turned his head instinctively toward the sound and saw a group of bearded men in tan fatigues emerge from the tangle of infrastructure. The shout was answered by another group on his left, then from behind, then from in front. At least thirty men closed in on him from all sides, with more constantly adding to their number. Some carried guns, but most were armed with pipes or large knives.
Isaac turned in a slow circle, surveying the advancing mob and cooling himself against the impending attack.
Alright, little miss sunshine. Good time for an entrance.
Posted by Calcifer on Feb 26, 2017 12:44:50 GMT -6
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There was just enough energy to sit back up and give a snort of bitter laughter at the “interrogator.” If this guy thought a sympathy approach was going to work he really was an idiot, both because Isaac knew it was a lie and because he wouldn’t even care if it wasn’t. All it did was make the man look unprepared and weak.
“Oh, cut the crap. We both know those weren’t peoples’ homes.”
He spread his hands in a casual gesture of apathy.
“Look. I don’t give a s*** what kind of business you’re running through there. I really don’t. Drugs, weapons, prostitutes, whatever; I don’t care. Hell, if I could, I’d want to stick it to the Man as much as you do. So drop the charade and at least be a f***ing professional about it.”
Isaac’s hands dropped back into the fire as he continued to sneer at the man. This was a waste of time. He needed something to eat. He needed his clothes. As soon as he could manage it, he was out of here. And maybe he'd knock out this guy's teeth while he was at it.
Posted by Calcifer on Feb 25, 2017 21:59:57 GMT -6
Tempest likes this
Haven
Asset of Haven
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Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
The sharp strike of earth against his back shoved Isaac out mindless oblivion and into a hazy world of ache and fatigue. He made a small groan of protest, barely opening his eyes. Dull, grinding pain flooded his mind as each individual bruise tried to shove its way to the forefront of his attention. He was hungry, too, but more than that he was tired, drained of all energy with a fatigue that pressed against the back of his eyes.
He needed rest. Whatever was going on wasn’t that important. Apathy and weariness softly pried his fingers from their grip on consciousness and he slipped back into blackness, giving no thought to the fact that the ground beneath him was smooth dirt instead of the rubble of the collapsed building.
Soft pangs of sensation came from random bruises. Then nothing. Then… warmth? Fire? Thoughts started to form in his head even as he tried to enjoy the heat. Was this the fire he’d caused in the apartments? Had he won? But… there had been the wind, and he’d had to keep the fires going himself. Then he’d been swept up and… Had he…?
Isaac forced his eyes to open to the pain and weariness. He was in a fire, yes, but it was different. Thoughts struggled to pull themselves together. He was in some kind of container, and above it was a ceiling lit by muted neon light. He pushed himself up against the inside wall of the container to get a better look around. He was in some kind of large room, dimly lit by… huh. Glowsticks. There was a large hole in the ceiling, some kind of trench, and-
>>”I’m glad you’re coming around.”
Him. The man responsible for all the cold and pain.
Anger pushed against his fatigue as Isaac brought the man into focus through narrowed eyes. He wanted to burn, to leap across the room and punch that stupid face in with iron and fire. But he was just too tired. Instead he just glared at the man and his theatricality. God, he’d even taken his shirt off to try to appear more manly.
>>”You need to tell me why, or that furnace will be your coffin.”
Isaac sneered. The words were stern, but they were just talk. There was no torture, no threat. This was a place of comfort. Isaac was unrestrained. Sure, he was too tired to move, but this idiot didn’t know that. And what did the guy have? A fire extinguisher and a bucket of water? Tools to protect himself, not interrogate a prisoner.
“Oh, no. I’m so scared,” Isaac said in the flattest monotone he could manage. He may have even rolled his eyes a little.
“Sure. I’ll tell you.” Isaac let himself slide back down into the fire, not even looking at the man. “Your mom wanted me to. I was going to say no, but… damn, that p**** is just too good.”