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.
Posted by Calcifer on Nov 11, 2015 13:37:45 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
The scraping of metal on asphalt ground to a stop. Isaac exhaled through gritted teeth; he wasn’t hurt, but having to stop heating himself and then getting pressed against the cold pavement had done little for his mood.
>”Isaac, you okay?”
Isaac raised himself up on an elbow. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he shouted dismissively, as though Cafas had just asked if he’d been hurt by a slap from a six-year-old.
Pushing himself up onto his knees, he shrugged the bike off his back and let in fall onto the road. Isaac didn’t know much about vehicle maintenance, but it looked like things could have been worse. The front end was crooked and the side was all scratched up, but there didn’t seem to be anything leaking and the engine was still idling. Isaac stood and examined his clothes.
$&#@!
All down the right side and sleeve of his trench coat strips of cloth had been ripped open. The freezing wind on his face told him that his mask had been wrecked, too. A quick tactile inspection revealed that there were small tears in the outer layer of his hoodie. Before, Isaac had just been annoyed; now he was furious. This stuff was expensive.
Turning and looking for the thief, Isaac spotted him stumbling away a few yards to his right while Cafas bore down on him, yelling for him to surrender. Glowing an angry red, Isaac ran to join them.
You’re lucky he got to you before I did, you little s***!
Posted by Calcifer on Nov 11, 2015 10:54:50 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Isaac’s pride manifested as a shark-like smile at the other man’s admission of defeat. Sure, it only applied to the glass working, but he treated it as a complete victory regardless.
>”Cafas Johnson”
Isaac took the gloved hand and shook it once firmly with a short nod and a terse “Isaac.” Not that he thought about it, but it was probably the most sincere handshake he’d gotten in years.
>”I’d like to see what you can do without your mutation.”
“Oh, you’re on.” Isaac’s bravado was buoyed by his recent victory. “But no witchery out of you, either.” He’d actually been silently hoping for this. Not being able to use his heat would make things take longer, but it was actually an advantage to use normal tools when long, even heating was required for things like annealing. The metal witch- Cafas, on the other hand, would be back to square one.
“How about…” Isaac thought back to the time he'd spent at a local swordsmith’s shop in high school. “A short sword, start to finish, no cheating.” His eyes flared at his opponent. While he didn’t care about their use, Isaac knew that there was more to making a good sword than just looks. Weight, balance, ensuring one of the nodes of vibration was centered at the grip, these were things he’d had some practice with. Hopefully, Cafas would just be concerned with making a fancy hilt and miss the quality of the blade.
There was another reason for his choice: swords took a long time to make. He missed the forge. He missed the heat and the grit. It had been a while since he’d had the chance to work at his setup back home, and his experiences in this city had given him a lot of frustration that needed venting. Picking a competition that would take hours would guarantee him hours at the anvil. He had no promise he’d get another chance to work here, so he’d may as well make it count.
There was no way Isaac could compete with something like that. Though now that he thought about it, he didn’t really think he wanted to. He enjoyed blacksmithing more for the process than the product- what use did he have to old-fashioned swords and helmets, anyway? But the visceral concentration of heat and strength, the methodic, mantra-like strike of hammer on steel, the pride of having a finished piece that showed you’d fought with the metal and won; these were the reasons Isaac spent time at the forge. You couldn’t forget the world in your work if the work only took two seconds. Efficiency? It was more efficient to take a helicopter to the top of a mountain than to scale it, but you couldn’t call that climbing and you sure as hell didn’t deserve to plant a flag.
This guy needed to be put in his place. He said that he could still use the equipment properly, but perhaps being able to will finished pieces into existence had made him rusty. Isaac opened his mouth to challenge the man to produce something without using his mutation, then closed it again as something caught the corner of his eye. On the edge of the scrap table was a mostly-finished bottle of beer. A glass bottle.
Dropping his shirt back on the pile, Isaac crossed to the table and pointed at the bottle. “May I?”
Of all the pieces that he had seen in the main shop, Isaac could not remember any of them having any non-metal decoration. Even in the ones that combined materials in seemingly impossible ways, the materials were always metal. No jewelry, no glass, nothing. Perhaps metal was all this guy could work on.
Heat, on the other hand, worked on everything.
Isaac’s body glowed a fierce red as he took the bottle and heated the glass in his hands. Careful to get it just hot enough to deform but not enough to be sticky, he raised the mouth of the bottle to his lips and slowly blew into it. As he did, he tilted his hands into a “V” that expanded outward from the base of the bottle and softly rotated it. Reluctantly, the glass body beneath the neck inflated into a pointed cardioid. Isaac then took the bottle from his lips and slowly, deliberately, swiveled his index finger around the inside of the neck, widening it and flaring open the mouth. Pinching the lip, he pulled it down in a series of troughs that circled the ridge. Finally, concentrating the application of heat to the neck while the rest of the glass cooled, Isaac dragged a fingernail down the length of the neck in a series of ridges, then twisted the mouth a quarter turn to create a subtle spiral.
Placing the cooling vase on the anvil, Isaac looked up the metal-worker.
Match that, metal witch. His expression said as much.
Isaac stared in disgust as two long… tentacle-tongues shot out of the green figures hands and grabbed the sword. Was everyone in this city some kind of freak? He quickened his pace, closing the distance to the running motorcycle while the thief was distracted. He didn’t feel like a chase and he wanted to end this as quickly as possible. Best to stop things before the motorcycle started moving.
The motorcycle started moving.
The night air filled with the roar of an open throttle and desperate escape. The thief didn’t even bother to turn on the headlight before racing away from the shop… and right toward Isaac.
Two steps to the left and he would be directly in its path. If those steps were taken now, he would still be in front of it. Isaac sighed as is his entire life had been spent cleaning up for others, cooled himself against the impending impact, and turned to the left.
The first step he was upright. The second step he dropped to one knee and turned his back to the motorcycle, leaning into the impact. A split second later his spine was hit by the front wheel. The tire grabbed his coat and slammed his right shoulder into the pavement as the back wheel of the motorcycle lifted into the air. The body of the vehicle rotated sideways around the handlebars, crashing on top of Isaac and dragging him several feet as it skidded to a stop.
Isaac stormed down the street, fuming at Cafas for making him wait until nighttime to use the forge. Even under his coat and hoodie he burned mildly to stave off the cold; not enough to glow, but enough to keep from freezing. He hated this city.
He approached the light of the blacksmith shop, glaring at the ground.
>”Oi, mate. Get the hell off my bike. You’re under arrest.”
Isaac’s head jerked up at the sound, instinctively wondering if he was the one being yelled at. Instead, he saw the unmistakable, pink-haired figure of Cafas exiting the shop with a ridiculously long sword and addressing a hunched green figure that was… (Isaac squinted) that was attempting to hotwire a motorcycle. Cafas’ motorcycle, from the sound of things.
Well, that was just great. Isaac already hated the green figure for adding a disturbance to his currently terrible evening. A stolen bike would mean that Cafas would be distracted, which would mean a decreased chance of getting to use the forge, which would mean that Isaac had frozen his ass off coming out here for nothing.
His eyes narrowed. He was not about to let that happen.
Isaac’s eyes widened slightly as the bar made the instantaneous change to liquid, then back to a solid at the man’s touch. And the steel didn’t glow like it was being heated, either. So that’s how the guy did it. Isaac also remembered that he’d referred to “properties” in a general sense, too, not just melting points. No wonder this guy could make things that seemed impossible.
“Now that’s just not fair,” Isaac said, reaching and taking the disc from the man’s hand. “Did you even need the hammer for that dagger? Or did you just turn the steel to Play-Doh and poke at it?”
Isaac turned the disc over in his gloved hand as a sly grin spread across his face with a twinge of pride. He couldn’t just let this mutant show off without a little demonstration of his own.
“Though, I suppose I can’t complain too much,” he said, placing the disc back on the scrap table before crossing the room and dropping his coat at the door. “I can cheat too.”
A few seconds later saw Isaac’s mask, hoodie, and shirt join his coat in a heap at the entrance to the forge; he wanted to melt the metal, not his clothes. The pants, however, stayed. No need to use more than just his hands and arms.
Walking back over to the scrap table, Isaac picked up the disc and motioned for the man to move away, then took a backward step toward the forge, pressed the metal between his palms, and started to burn. He increased his temperature relatively slowly, pressing his fingers back and forth as he did so; he wanted to catch the metal just before it reached its melting point, when it was easily malleable. A few seconds later and the glowing disc bent under his fingers. Isaac grabbed both ends and pulled and twisted it into an oval-shaped spiral.
Isaac held the spiral up and rotated it, showing off his creation before making his hands blaze white and crushing the spiral into a melted puddle that dripped to the floor.
“It’s a bit more basic than your… witchcraft, but it can make things faster and easier to work with.” Isaac cooled and retrieved his shirt.
“It’s not a complete shortcut, though.” He cast a leering smile at the other mutant. “You still have to actually know how to work the metal.”
So that was his answer. Isaac’s head titled slightly to the side as under his mask his mouth curled into a sarcastic “I bet your mother’s so proud of you” smile. This guy didn’t know what he was talking about. Probably just an intern or cashier trying to sound important.
>”That one? My hands and a two pound hammer.”
Isaac rolled his eyes as he turned and placed the dagger back on its rack. He was done here. Anyone who thought you could do this kind of work with just a hammer had never actually been at an anvil. Maybe this stuff was mass-produced. Maybe it was made by someone else. But it was certainly NOT made by this guy, who seemed to think that a power hammer would be wrecked by his hands and not the other way around.
>”I wouldn’t try folding Brass and Steel unless you have a way to fundamentally alter either of their properties.”
Isaac paused. Did this guy mean to say that he could? A faint memory clicked in his mind; some mention on this place’s website about being run by a mutant… Was that what it had said? Was this what it had meant: a mutant who could alter metal?
That would certainly make things easier.
Isaac turned back to face the pick-haired hulk. Maybe this guy wasn’t a fraud after all. If he did have some kind of metal-altering ability, Isaac had to see it in action.
“So that’s how you do it,” he said, pulling his mask down the man could see the grin underneath. “You cheat!” The words carried the intonation of a good-natured ribbing.
Deep in his mind, a thought sparked to life: he was thousands of miles from home and here he had found a fellow blacksmith. A fellow mutant. Someone like him. The spark was quickly pressed out by years of experience. There was no one like him; this was the only truth he could trust. Besides, he had yet to see any evidence for either this guy’s skill or his mutation.
“Yeah, I have my own forge. I’m not too bad, but I can’t say I can change the metal itself. Do you think you would mind showing me?”
Isaac turned and looked up at the person speaking to him. It wasn’t often he looked up, and when he did his vision was assaulted with bright pink hair and multi-colored eyes. Other than that, however, the man in front of him did look the part of a blacksmith: heavily built with a few scars to show. Isaac smiled to himself; he didn’t scar.
“Oh, I might,” he told the man, lightly bouncing the dagger in his hand as if to test the weight. “You’re the one who makes all of this?”
The question was both an honest question and a test. Isaac wanted to meet whoever was able to shape metal like this, but there was no way this entire shop could be filled by just one man. He wanted to know if this guy was honest.
“This is pretty impressive,” Isaac said, turning the blade over and making a show of inspecting the pommel. “I have never been able to fold brass and steel together. What kind of equipment do you use?”
And the thought smoldered behind his eyes: And can I use it?
So the plan was shot and they were winging it. Like Isaac hadn’t seen that coming. Still, the kid’s new idea wasn’t that bad; in the back of his mind Isaac had been toying with the idea of causing just such a distraction as a backup plan in case things went more south than they already were.
Of course, there was always the plan of just ditching the kid. Isaac knew he could make it out on his own, and he already had enough money to cut his losses. The only problem was that the kid was still wearing his clothes…
Isaac started to nod and then stopped. He looked up at the group of mutant inmates. Questions about the new plan started to form in his mind. So the kid wanted to
1) Make it so most of the mutants in here could free themselves and run amok, causing a distraction.
2) Tell their current gang which other mutants to free and where to meet up, hoping that they’d be able to find everyone in the chaos they hoped to cause.
and 3) Hope that everyone made it to the getaway vehicle in time and that there weren’t too many “friends” tagging along.
You know what? Whatever. Isaac didn’t care anymore. At least this way he only had to look after the kid instead of the whole group and Rhett could only blame himself if things went wrong.
“Whatever you say, boss.” The words were not without a note of derision. Isaac dropped his voice to a low growl. “But you have to be ready to leave them if they don’t make it.”
Isaac straitened up and casually looked at the stairwell. “Let’s get moving. And you probably don’t need to keep wearing my clothes anymore. They’re probably too hot for you, too. Stow them the next chance you get; I don’t want to carry you if you pass out.” If he had to, it’d be easier to grab the clothes and run if they were in a book bag rather than on a body.
The bright midday sun stood naked in the autumn sky, and Isaac Harms cursed the cold. Clothed in a black wool trench coat over his hoodie and a woolen mask over the lower half of his face, he made his way down the avenues outside Manhattan as people in light jackets and T-shirts moved to the other side of the street. Isaac ignored them. To him, the outside air was freezing. The air inside would be no better, but sometimes you just had to get out.
Though not without purpose; Isaac was not the sort to go for a casual stroll and some coffee.
Approaching his destination, he paused for a moment to inspect the lettering above the shop. “The Fire And Forge” was written in bold cast-iron letters welded to a polished aluminum plate. It was simple. It was strong. Isaac liked that; it fit a blacksmithing shop.
Isaac pushed open the front door and was greeted with a smile from the woman behind the register.
“Afternoon. Can I help you with anything?”
“No,” he said, looking past her then to the side. “I’m just looking.”
The lady nodded and looked back down at some papers as Isaac moved past a rack of daggers to a wall covered in plate armor. He had found this place’s website on a library computer, and supposedly all of this stuff was made by hand. Not able to work on his own forge back in Nevada, the next best thing Isaac could do was peruse the work of someone else.
Reaching out a gloved hand, Isaac tilted a helmet up from the wall and inspected it. The curvature was even and thin strips of bronze lined the steel dome. Not bad. He held up the one next to it. Slight deviations in the seams told that it was not made by machine.
His eye caught a price tag. Well that certainly matches “Hand-made.”
Isaac moved down the row, eyeing different pieces of armor and weaponry. Grudgingly, he slowly began to acknowledge that some of it was beyond his own skill. Most of the general shaping he could do, but some of these metals were notoriously hard to work with. Copper bonded to aluminum. Brittle materials wrapped in smooth knots. Metals of varying melting points layered together.
Posted by Calcifer on Oct 30, 2015 23:55:00 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
The searing pain stopped as soon as Isaac hit the ground, leaving only the memory of its presence that ached everywhere. Isaac groaned and lifted his head. Just in front of him the loose taser wires skittered on the floor. He must have melted their connection to the barbs when he fell on them. Isaac clumsily struggled to his feet, sliding on the concrete melting beneath him as he regained control of his limbs.
“Dude, you okay?” the gravity mutant was running up to him.
“I’m fine.” Isaac waved him away. “Go back to the others, I’ll finish this.”
The mutant hesitated.
“NOW!” The mutant stumbled into a retreat. Isaac turned back to the METAs. The guy’s power had been useful when the bots were still distant, but Isaac didn’t want to risk getting hit by a blast once he reached them.
Speaking of the bots, the Golem had managed to raise itself to a kneeling position. But Isaac was on his feet and moving again. And mad. He snarled as he ran, and anger roared down his arm in blistering heat. The hulking robot managed a “CEASE AND DESsiggrtsk” before Isaac’s blazing white fist sank into its face like it was dough. The metal body spasmed from rigid to limp and tumbled to the ground in a lifeless heap.
Isaac spat on the rubble and turned to face the Knight that had shot him, only to receive a hammer blow to his ribs that sent him flying over the broken Golem just as the sound of a massive explosion ripped through the cellblock. Isaac hit the ground with a grunt and winced at what were at least several cracked ribs.
As he rolled on to his side, the movement of black metal caught his eye. He had landed right next to the second Knight. It was starting to move again, and this one did have a pistol.
Oh, no you don’t. Isaac lurched toward the bot and plunged his hand into its chest, then tore it back out with a swear at the electric shock. The robot convulsed, jerking its arms into the air. Its hands clenched, firing a single shot blindly into the room before it twisted its torso 90 degrees, flopped onto the ground, and went still.
Isaac tried not to think about the bullet bouncing around the hall and focused on the remaining META. It had climbed over the Golem and was almost on him, its right hand slightly fused where it had punched him. Isaac braced himself against the wall then lunged at the robot.
“Bring it, $&@#er!”
He felt the impact of metal on his stomach and chest. He felt his hands close on the robot's neck. And finally he felt the rigid plate give way to his touch and the Knight’s decapitated body collapsed on top of him.
Isaac pushed and melted himself free of the broken robots before sprawling on the ground for a few seconds as he cooled and caught his breath. Then, clutching his side and limping, he stormed over to the rest of the group, now huddled in a confused mass around the stairwell door. Grabbing Rhett by the arm, he pulled him to the side and addressed the kid beneath the mask in low, sharp tones.
“We got three free before these bots showed up,” he spat the words. “Next time there will be more. Just how many people are you wanting to grab?”
Posted by Calcifer on Oct 29, 2015 20:37:55 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
#@$&. THAT. Like Hell Isaac was going to run.
The giant robot crashed to the ground as the other two stepped forward. “HOSTILITY DETECTED. THE USE OF FORCE HAS BEEN AUTHORIZED. THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING.”
“I’ll take care of them. Go!” he shouted. He didn’t wait for a reply before sprinting toward the METAs. Earlier, he had been eager to face them, but it was a different story now that they were armed.
Isaac estimated he had roughly 20 yards to close. 2, maybe 3 seconds until he reached the METAs. He had to destroy the big one before it could get back up; he could survive shots from the smaller pistols if he cooled himself, but didn’t want to risk whatever “lethal force” the Golem was packing.
Carbotanium. Carbon/beta-Titanium alloy. Should melt around 2500 C.
That was bad. He could easily manage the temperature, but getting that hot would make him vulnerable to smaller robots’ pistol rounds, and he needed to be hitting 3000 C by the time he reached the Golem if he wanted to make quick work of it.
Isaac swore under his breath. He’d have to risk it. He started to increase his temperature, and as he did a second blast from the gravity mutant smashed the META on the left into a wall. Just one Knight left, but the Golem’s arms were starting to move.
Isaac pressed forward. It wasn’t until he was half-way to the robots that he realized the remaining Knight wasn’t holding a pistol; it was holding a taser.
Oh, shi-
Isaac felt the barbs sink into his heat-softened chest before his body was wrenched from his control and dropped convulsing to the floor. Electric knives shot through his nerves, and his mind went white.
Posted by Calcifer on Oct 25, 2015 18:42:27 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
>”Cell 1226. C’mon man.”
Isaac rolled his eyes in annoyance, but was relieved that the kid was finally moving. Leading the way, too. At least he wasn’t completely worthless.
Keeping an eye on the guards, Isaac followed Rhett down the hall, making sure to keep a small amount of distance between them so he didn’t accidentally burn the kid.
He’s probably boiling in those clothes. I wonder if he’s feeling alright. I hope he doesn’t pass out. He could probably take them off now. Brief thoughts of consideration flashed through Isaac’s mind before being forgotten. He typically felt more condescension than sympathy toward people who felt “too hot.”
Ahead of him, Rhett stopped and stood back from the wall, pointing to a cell. Guess this is the one. Isaac heated one hand and plunged through the lock then cooled the other and pulled open the door. He saw the occupant’s expression when it looked him over, but he didn’t really care. It’s not like he was doing this because he cared about these people or what they thought of him, his body included. Isaac stepped to the side as Rhett did the speaking.
>”We’re here to get you out…”
Isaac ignored the name.
>”1573. Down the hall.”
With a short nod, Isaac started down the walkway.
“Are you getting Gary?”
Isaac froze. Oh, no. There was no way that the kid had counted on bringing everyone’s friends, and if he couldn’t control these inmates the job was lost. He could hear the kid’s uncertainty as he shuffled through some papers. Isaac turned, readying words to cow the man back into line, but Rhett responded first.
>”God willing, if our luck holds.”
That seemed to placate the inmate, and he followed them to the next cell Rhett had chosen. Along the way, Isaac watched the guards shift positions around them, and as he melted the second lock he met eyes with one of them and knew they were both thinking the same thing:
Posted by Calcifer on Oct 18, 2015 12:15:19 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Semi-molten chunks of stone splattered on the ground as Isaac pulled them from the wall. His initial excitement had cooled and now he was just focused on getting the job done as quickly as possible before the guards caught on. Not that they wouldn’t; he was a brightly glowing mutant digging through the prison wall in full view of their lights, but any extra time he could gain was valuable.
The last of the outer wall slumped away in a reluctant landslide as Isaac pushed his way forward, kicking and bringing his arms down in an arc over his head to widen the opening for the others. Just as he was shaking the last globs of stone from his body, the area around him exploded in light from two large spotlights and a high-pitched wail cut through the air.
Well, here we go.
Isaac cooled his body a bit to add some resiliency against potential gunshots and ran to the cellblock wall. This time the digging was harder and his haste cause the hole to be rougher, but he was soon inside.
Ducking behind a pillar, Isaac took a survey of the building. He was on the bottom level. Above him, two stories of iron walkways circled an open center. The building was roughly half the width and length of a football field with heavy metal doors at the far end and a small guard room near where Isaac had come in. Cells lined the walls, and as he watched, guards were taking positions on the walkways, guns drawn.
Isaac glanced back through the hole in the wall. No sign of the kid.
This is no time to play a chicken, boy.
Maybe he was afraid of getting shot. Looking back at the armed guards, Isaac conceded that while not yet a concern, it was something they’d have to address. No doubt the bots had been called in, but this was a minimum security prison; no inmates would merit the lethal METAs, and as long as he and Rhett didn’t kill anyone, Isaac figured they wouldn’t either. That meant the only real danger came from scared humans with guns.
May as well fix that.
Spotting a guard in the nearby room who could be cornered, Isaac cooled himself to a dull red glow and took a deep breath. He wouldn’t be hurt badly in his colder state, but this was still going to sting. Leaving the pillar, he strode over the door as deliberately as he could and melted it open.
“Stop right there!” The guard was six feet in front of Isaac, his back to the wall and his pistol trained on Isaac’s chest. The guard’s eyes were shaking. His gun was not.
Afraid, but well-trained.
Making his stride as purposeful and intimidating as possible, Isaac took one step forward.
Two ste-
Three sharp impacts struck Isaac in the chest in time to the crack of the gun. Isaac forced himself not to wince; there would be some deep bruises once this was over, but right now he needed to appear invincible. Dramatic effect was important. One more step toward the cornered guard and Isaac’s hand shot out, grabbing the barrel of the gun and melting it closed. He locked eyes with the startled man.
“Don’t do anything stupid and everyone lives,” he growled.
Letting the gun drop to the floor, Isaac turned and slowly walked out of the room, silently praying that the guard didn’t try to tase him. Instead, the guard mumbled something into his radio, and Isaac saw the guards on the walkways pull into more defensive positions.
Come on, kid, Isaac thought as he walked back to the hole in the wall. We need to be moving NOW.
Posted by Calcifer on Oct 16, 2015 23:33:17 GMT -6
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Fifteen minutes later saw them both crouched in the brush just outside the range of the lights on the east wall.
Isaac sneered to himself. You know what to do? What was there to know? Burn through the walls, follow the kid, open the cells, take care of any trouble. There was the implicit instruction to get everyone else out safely, but he figured that wouldn’t require much effort. As the brightly glowing mutant destroying walls and (hopefully) melting robots, Isaac anticipated that he’d be attracting most of the negative attention.
“Alright, Rhett, you ready?” Isaac asked the figure huddled next to him. “Won’t be much use in sneaking around from here on out.”
Isaac eyed the wall in front of them. On the other side, according to the kid’s drawings, was a 20-yard gap and then the back wall of the primary cell block.
Limestone. Melts at 1200 degrees C.
Isaac dropped his coat and started to unlace his boots.
“You’re going to want to at least wear my boots and gloves. My hoodie and pants wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.”
Isaac slid his boots and socks over to the kid and pulled of his mask and hoodie. The cold was bracing.
“This stone melts at well over a thousand degrees, so once I’m done with the hole the edges will still be too hot to touch with normal clothing or bare skin.”
Isaac slid off his pants and started on his shirt. Hopefully the stone will have cooled by the time they tried to bring the prisoners out.
“Stay clear of the wall until I’m done with the hole. If I’m going to make it big enough for other people, I’ll have to move some slag out of the way. Same goes for the inner wall. Once we’re in, you’ll need to guide me to the cells.” Isaac paused. “Stay behind me if you’re worried about getting shot.”
Isaac stepped out of his boxers, then held them and his shirt out to the kid with a stern glare.
“These are expensive. Do NOT lose them.”
Isaac stood up, the frigid night air clawing at his bare skin. He gave Rhett a stiff nod and sprinted into the light.
As he sped toward the prison wall, a wild grin spread across Isaac’s face; he didn't have to hold back anymore. He was free. Waves of heat rippled from his body as it leapt from a dull red glow to a brilliant white that outshone the prison lamps. Reveling in his chance to spite the cold, he burned hot enough to melt the stone twice over just because he could. Bramble gave way in flames before him. Soil fused into muddy glass under his feet. By the time he plunged into the wall, he was laughing.