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.
The guy went quiet, leaning into him, until they were at the solid roof of the targeted building. Before Tempest could even land - and he did not - the kid was jumping away from him. He bade the gusts stay away from the roof, though one stream had to encircle him to keep him floating there. Errant breezes still stirred at his clothing and randomly over the area.
Devon’s brow furrowed as he watched the mutant stretch. Was he doing this on purpose? The relaxed smile was disarming and Devon couldn’t help but frown slightly now. The flush was still present but it was rapidly fading away to true concern.
And then confusion. It was a thought exercise to clear the mind for a gift? Devon’s chin inclined as Eisen drew close to the edge of the building, but he reminded himself this guy was a mutant and didn’t need his help.
>> "Maybe if you brought me up and dropped me, I could remember!"
Ah. There it was.
Tempest sighed as came floating down, alighting on the roof with grace and precision. The winds died, quieting quickly, and darkness drained away from Devon’s azure blue eyes. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, though confusion was very evident in his tone. “I didn’t mean to interrupt or make you forget. I thought you were falling without the means to save yourself,” he explained and smiled gently.
An eyebrow rose, “Do you have protection from terminal velocity?”
The question erupted in his mind. He couldn’t help but consider the depths of one’s abilities, the ways to leverage them, the ramifications. How many had he met and helped to understand their power, to explore it, to accept it. Dropping from too high would result in burns to the skin at least. What about oxygen? If the kid stopped too soon did he get whiplash or broken bones? But Devon left those questions for his own internal thought exercise.
Devon got to the point that he recognized he was being stared at. Turning a slightly further shade of crimson, he glanced away as if watching for dangerous flocks of birds or a really low plane. There was no danger to be seen, yet still he felt that anxiety. This was not a feeling he was familiar with, let alone the continued compliments.
“Uh yes, this is real,” Devon stammered, looking back to Eisen. “Are you not aware of your abilities or-” But the young man turned to a joke and then there was a momentary feeling of losing the floor as they dropped a few inches. Winds rushed up in a loud roar as Tempest urged their support. His white linen clothing, their hair stirred with renewed force as whatever this guy could do stopped.
“Hey, so you are aware,” Tempest said, brow furrowing slightly. He held onto the redhead tightly, who started to nestle up close. Dark black eyes glanced down at him. “You uhm- having a hard day or just wanting to fall and catch yourself?” he asked, uncertain how far to push into the emotional state of this person who was clearly seeking some comfort.
There was a low series of whispers as errant winds gathered and started to propel the floating couple toward a different building and eventually its roof.
“Wait, what-” Tempest said suddenly, a shock of red - darker than this guy’s hair - flushing through his face.
It had seemed a little odd that the guy had been slowing a little, but Tempest thought maybe he’d miscalculated even if his weather eye allowed him to see all the forces at work. Now he couldn’t quite see gravity - as that wasn’t a real force of energy - but there was something odd about this person who’d fallen into his arms. Still, they’d been elevating as the winds swirled around Tempest’s legs.
And then as they reached a crescendo of the building the guy touched his chest and complimented him. Also suddenly his clothes became tense, stuck, like actually stuck, and his body lurched momentarily as the winds threatened to pull him out of his pants. Thankfully a simple drawstring, a bit of surprise, and a quick adjustment saw Tempest and the person bob in midair for a moment as they stilled. Losing his pants would not have been a good look.
“Uhm,” Devon stammered. He wasn’t often lost for words. Dark eyes sank into the blue of this mutant with a mid-atlantic accent. “Tha- Are you making us not fall? I’m sorry. Were you falling on purpose?” He glanced around, still blushing uncontrollably.
The gusts at Tempest’s feet quieted considerably but they still swirled around the duo, playing with their hair and awaiting any need to carry them aloft. Tempest couldn’t help but keep ahold of them. This was too bizarre.
You know when you’re flying around the greatest city in the world after being gone a while fighting natural disasters, anti-mutant sentiments, and dangerous members of state to get a sense of the city’s growth and change while you were absent? No? Well, let me tell you it’s a dizzying thing. It’s not from rapidly propelling yourself through the sky while spinning and somersaulting joyously. It’s more the tracking what changed, what building is new, seeing diversity be further embraced, watching Brooklyn explode with business like it’s a part of Manhattan. It’s exciting and invigorating too.
Oh and sometimes you catch sight of people plummeting to their death.
“Shit,” Tempest swore. The sad truth was mistakes happened, or accidents. People fell from construction sites or while climbing walls. Some leaned too far over balconies. Others needed help, needing someone to talk with them and Devon hoped he could help there too. Sometimes also partners got pissed and oops they pushed over a cheating lover.
Life happens and well the threat of death is always there.
Clad in white linen pants and a simple, barely there tunic of the same material - like he was going to yoga or something - came Tempest with a gust of wind. A swirling vortex of air started somewhere below the as yet unknown faller as Tempest rocketed down along the Leonard building. He had to be careful not to buffet around the person he was catching and so Tempest’s decent was not the focus.
“Stay calm!” Tempest shouted, but little could be heard over the sudden roaring of wind beneath Eisen. He bid it start to flatten out - like a storm cloud pushing and pulling at different fronts - as the redhead bounced a bit roughly. But even a second’s delay allowed Tempest to drop like a spinning white rock with black hair, and then catch himself with a new gust from below.
“I got you,” Tempest called as he opened his hands, pushed the winds to blow a bit harder at his feet and legs and caught this scruffy guy in his open arms. While his clothing may have been white, willowy linen his eyes were solid pools of black, inky darkness. “Breathe slowly, focus,” he suggested immediately.
Devon was thankful the paramedics didn’t take long. Father Lorenzo hadn’t been able to stand, but he had a number of the church’s community with him, Rex included. Devon meanwhile attended to a few others upset, having anxiety attacks, or otherwise needing some minor medical care. He’d worked at Sanctuary for years, had his first aid training, handled metabots and natural disasters, and then traveled a bit putting himself in harm’s way. Still, he was no paramedic. Survival and healing are two different things…
The police wanted perspectives and Devon gave his, including Rex’s assistance and the good teenagers outside who’d herded the younger kids away. Devon was thankful to be newly returned to the city; the cops didn’t immediately recognize his name. That gave him a chance to help clean things up and get the auction hall back to a community function. It was good to see people sitting, eating and some members of the police staying but many returned to their homes.
Blue eyes didn’t miss Rex’s determination in that time. Devon kept his distance, didn’t bother the loner. But when Rex set out to leave, the atmokinetic took note.
…
A couple blocks later and they were headed toward a mixture of old restaurant and apartment buildings near Battery Park.
“On your left,” Devon’s light footsteps drew him up beside the former firefighter if but a step behind. Devon could only flit from rooftop to rooftop for so long before a danger situation was upon them. His own peacoat wrapped around him and a pair of dark sunglasses on his face. He turned his head to give a brief nod, and then turned back to look ahead and continue forward.
Devon didn’t catch the initial moment of Rex taking charge, but heading his direction - thankfully also Father Lorenzo’s direction - was good to see. It took only a few moments nearing to hear and clearly also see Rex was handling it. Emergency services training, so maybe hero complex after all. Tried to disarm a dangerous situation a little brazingly. Moves immediately to help in an emergency. Yet upset and unwilling to talk about it-
Father Lorenzo started describing the numbness in his left calf but pain in his thigh - a sure sign of a break or nerve damage at least - as a small crowd gathered. Devon, on the other hand, backed away. Rex clearly would help the Father, paramedics would come, and that would be that.
The blue-eyed young man went to the door out to the central courtyard where the kids had been playing. Parents had gone running out there and he could hear them shouting in the alley, calling for their children. “Let’s get everyone accounted for,” Devon said. “Raise your hand if you can’t-”
One woman started waving her hand frantically. “My son Luis! I can’t find him! I can’t find him!” she shouted.
Devon rushed over nodding. Others stared, but hugged their kids and were moving close to walls. So many cell phones had come out.
“Some kids ran out that way,” one of the teenagers said.
“Or he could be hiding,” Devon said calmly. “Kids have a sense for these things. Once he sees and hears you, he’ll come out. Let’s go look,” he encouraged, and started to walk with the woman around dumpsters and discarded items there.
“Luis! Luis!” she called.
Devon grabbed at a fire escape ladder that was curiously low. “I’ll look up here,” he said and started the climb. While he normally would have flown it likely wasn’t worth scaring the people anymore. Up five flights he went, quick as possible, and got to the roof.
“Is he up there?” the mom called.
A kid was crying as he came into the alley, running to his parents. A couple small groups were coming back, hearing the parents and others. Luis wasn’t among them.
“Luis?” Devon asked loudly. “Your mom is down on the street looking for you. Are you here? You can come see here. My name’s Devon; I’m just helping your mom find you.”
The roof was decorated with various patio furniture, much of it well used and not well cared for. But there, behind a couch-like piece came a small head and tear-filled eyes.
Devon stopped moved, squatting down. “Hey, Luis? I’m Devon. Your mom’s down there. Can you hear her? She’s looking for you.”
“Are the bad men gone?” he asked timidly, tears in his voice as well.
“Yes, and mom’s okay. She really wants to see you,” Devon nodded.
“Okay,” Luis responded, slowly coming out.
“I’ll go down first, but take it easy okay?” Devon asked.
“Mmm hmm,” Luis responded as they got to the side.
“He’s up here! We’re going to come down slowly. Please encourage him to be slow and careful. Luis did such a good job hiding!” Devon said, started his way down.
“Mom!” Luis screamed, crying a bit again.
“Easy Luis. Mom’s down here,” she said loudly in response.
Devon nodded at Luis and his mom, while others encouraged him down. It seemed to take forever, but in just a couple minutes they were down and Luis was held by his mom again.
“Thank you, thank you,” she said.
Devon gave a nod. “Everyone should stay right here. The police and such are on the way. Father Lorenzo needs the paramedics, but he’s awake. Let’s not crowd him or the emergency personnel within.”
After ensuring all were encountered for, Devon headed back into the courtyard and was starting to hear sirens. Once inside he mentioned such, “I can hear them coming. All children accounted for outside with their parents.” Various individuals said good, thanks, or asked if people out there were hurt. Devon answered quickly.
There was a person seated alone, breathing heavily, shaking a bit. Devon recognized a panic attack and moved to them to slowly talk them through it. He knelt down, asked if he could place a hand on their knee or if they could hold hands and practice some steady breathing.
It did feel good to help of course. Devon certainly knew that. He hoped Rex was feeling the same because all things aside, it seemed clear Rex wanted to help.
Devon felt a stab of pain as if from a knife. He’d found himself in a worse situation after being gone so long. He felt that knife trace over his body then slash over his hand. He’d left Sveta to a similar situation for something she hadn’t even signed up for. Devon had been kidding himself clearly thinking the IE would support her. They’d abandoned her.
Like he had.
The blue-eyed young man nodded sympathetically at Svetlana’s words, keeping the guilt from his face. The noodles were already helping. Something told him he’d need to nap after this, which was probably a good idea after last night.
The guilt wasn’t getting any better, but he knew that was he was putting that on himself. Sveta maybe was upset - and she deserved to be - but it’s not like she was coming at him. She was speaking honestly too. She wasn’t wrong. It is easier to manage, well… everything when you have help.
>>"I'm not blaming you."
See there, she even said it. Devon smiled gently and took another bite of his lunch, nodding. After a pause, he nodded again. “You’re right of course. More group meetings, especially once the IE is more formally grouped, but more checking in on one another. Trust and all that. I’ve been reading some leadership books to help me fall asleep actually,” he chuckled.
“I mean, they help for that and the actual leadership,” he said gently. “But again, I’m sorry Sveta. Sorry I didn’t push to come back sooner or check in… Left ya with this and all. I appreciate all you’ve done and more.”
Devon hoped the kid would take whatever alley or side street and get away from the building. He more than understood worrying about the parents, wanting to stay close and help them, but they could not. Hopefully the older kids would do so. It seemed at least a few did.
His attention went to those near him, some of which he’d just been talking to there at the food tables. Something about the smell of food now was a little sickening. Then he heard something too. Was he, what was- Devon’s head shifted and he gazed at the man who’d spoken first from the corner of his eye. The man wasn’t even looking at him, but was fumbling with his wallet.
Telepathy? No, Devon had experienced telepathy more than a few times and he was clearly hearing the words. Control of sound? Well if so then why wasn’t those near him hearing it? Illusions perhaps, or a very finite control. No one likes being called a fool but Devon was already encouraging those around him to lay down. It wasn’t worth getting shot for and there were too many innocent people about.
Devon found a lot of hypocrisy in this man’s words, let alone he’d gotten the gunman nearby to turn the gun on him instead. Messiah or hero complex perhaps? Devon knew some had accused him of such before too. But no, he was going to give this whatever he was not-fine dude the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was projecting calling him a fool, worrying about making it worse because that’s what he was feeling now. Either way, it didn’t matter if they all got shut up.
The kids were backing away, some slowly getting out of sight and down that alley. More than a couple of the pre-teens had phones and had called 911. This crew of hooligans knew they had limited time anyway. The two with Father Lorenzo had grabbed the envelopes of donations, pushed him to the floor, and moved on to fetching wallets, jewelry. The one near the door to the kids had lowered his gun slightly and was grabbing from people too.
The big guy laughed obnoxiously as he grabbed at necklaces and pushed tables out of his way. He threw a chair as he headed into a throng of people laying down with their wallets and purses out. They’d always been planning to grab what they could quickly. One man did try to hold onto his watch but he got his fingers stepped on. A woman near Father Lorenzo was holding his hand; he didn’t look all too well after being pushed to the hard floor.
“Making good decisions now aren’t ya?” said one of the goons who’d been with Lorenzo, grabbing Rex’s wallet as they passed.
“Stupid ****er,” said the one who’d been at the door, ready to shoot Rex or Devon, as he took Devon’s.
“Alright you lot, let’s get the **** out of here!” the big guy called, rampaging back toward the front with the others eagerly dashing to join. A bevy of warnings not to get up, call the cops, or even move along with some more profanity filled the hall. By now thankfully the kids were out of sight, but no blood had been shed.
As the doors were thrown open and then slammed shut, Devon jumped to his feet and gave Rex an inquisitive look. Turning, he helped those near him to stand while asking the name of the man who’d spoken up before him. Others went racing out the side door to find their kids.
“We need an ambulance,” shouted one person.
“Yes, a paramedic, I think Father Lorenzo hurt his leg,” said the woman with him.
“Is everyone okay?” Father Lorenzo called. “Please check up on one another. I will be fine.” But he couldn’t stand. Something with his leg or maybe even hip had been injured.
Devon was talking to a couple individuals at the food tables. His attention had snapped around the room with eyes settling on the bigger guy but now they slid over to angsty-I-don’t-have-feelings-I’m-forget-about-it guy. Tortured hero? Hopeful faithful? Angry repressives still hated theft and violence right? But that air of authority he used in his voice told Devon one thing for sure: he’d been in situations like this before.
“Oh we got a plan, Jesus boy,” the big man shouted as he grabbed the money box with one meaty hand. “Best decision you can ****ing make for these people is for you to shut the **** up and get back in the kitchen!” There were a few rather expletive pieces of language that managed their way in there too but sometimes even asterisks aren’t enough. Suffice to say he didn’t seem too interested in another decision.
While attention went to the big guy and then the one calling him the two around Lorenzo grabbed him and one of the wealthy older guys with him. They knew in a pocket of his robe were the checks he’d been granted. The other guy was getting frisked for his wallet.
The guy at the door where the kids were? He lowered his gun, starting to point it in the direction of Jesus Boy.
“Your decisions do not have to be determined by those of another,” Devon called loudly, his tone finding a deeper resonance and volume meant for when he was at speaking engagements or, well, flying down on a dangerous situation. Hard to ignore that voice coming down from the clouds with a clap of thunder. He glanced across the large room at the man he’d annoyed but looked to find-
The gun swerved in his direction. “Aye, **** you too! Shut it up!”
Devon’s blue eyes narrowed as he lowered his chin.
“We was just gonna take this and go, but now everyone’s gonna empty their pockets and lay down else ya never gonna get back up,” the big guy screamed. “Hate to upset all those kiddos out there,” he laughed obnoxiously.
Eyes went to the outside area where at least a few teenagers had clearly picked up on what was happening. They were drawing the younger kids toward them and hopefully soon away from the building entirely. Devon looked at one kid - maybe 14 - and gave him a slight nod in the direction toward the back alley and away from the hall.
Devon watched Sveta put her food to the side and move around the desk- He thought she was after a dumpling, or more sauce, or maybe another napkin. He shifted in his seat to give her easy of space to reach the front of the desk and instead of grabbing something she took the other seat facing the desk.
Big blue eyes blinked at her in a bit of confusion. Had things gone terribly with Xavier’s? They’d had many friends there. Cold Steel was a good person he’d worked with on a few matters, and…
Devon glanced down at his noodles. He hadn’t taken a single bite yet. He’d been too busy talking, thinking, discussing… HIs eyes rose back to Sveta and he chuckled, blushing a bit more and sighing as she said he looked like shit. He knew it; he’d tried his best this morning after having nearly no sleep. Ah but then the hard questions. Why’d everyone always have to ask how he was, how he was feeling…
Oh no, he knew. He did the same. It was important. People who cared about others did that. He felt bad to make them worry, feel they had to spend energy on him, but he knew it was important. That didn’t make it easier.
Those blue eyes shivered slightly as he started back at hers. There was a pause at the sound of her pronunciation of the word are echoed within him. “Well I did say honesty,” he sighed with a small smile. “I’m exhausted. I feel like I’ve been going without stopping, without resting for years. I wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been complimented. Always working, fixing, investigating… And even in the last year when I was playing the founder opening a new Haven location abroad I never had time to sit and eat. Too busy meeting and greeting.”
Devon shrugged a shoulder. “I saved a psychologist who focused in marriage counseling but who’d been volunteering to talk with mutant children, and we had to lay low a bit… She and I got to talking and she helped me realize I had to step back, say what I needed and wanted to be doing. I got too accustomed to saying yes and just helping however I was asked. Not easy to say no to such sometimes, but…” he lifted his noodles. “You have to care of yourself first.”
And with that Devon lifted his chopsticks and a large twirl of noodles into his mouth, slurping them up with a satisfied smile.
SUPER not a problem, under control… People evolved and organizations did too; Devon knew and respected that. But after the dangers of SUPER and other such militarized organizations in the past he had concerns. At least Jude offered assistance through BlacTac and even if they came to not be aligned with Haven, Devon at least trusted Jude would be there for Sveta.
Good.
What wasn’t good was the IE had fallen apart and Muse had had to run it herself, alone, without support, for a job she only partially helped volunteer to aid with. Again, not to run, alone. She wasn’t complaining but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. He gave a nod that it was important work and he chuckled quietly at her joke. He smiled faintly at her smirk.
But her comments about him stoked an uncomfortable blanche combined with a faint blushing of his cheeks. Again, he chewed his jaw rather than any lunch but he maintained eye contact with Sveta. She was kind, encouraging, and smart and a leader of her own.
“Not all leadership roles are the same,” Devon stated with confidence and a slow tip of his head toward her. “But the truth of that aside, you have been running things, supporting our public leaders, helping the business, helping Haven, helping others… A leader acts. And I thank you for saying that,” he paused, “About me. I can’t recall the last time I was complimented so I felt a bit flustered hearing it.”
He smiled gently, “I don’t want people to follow me so much as come together, have healthy conflict, sometimes disagree but find what’s right for people… Maybe it’s that once they get over my willingness to talk about emotions they can see we care.” The smile broadened but he nodded. “And yes, you’re right. We need to find new people willing to work and to help, who give themselves even when it’s not easy.”
Another pause, “And I need to demonstrate that I will not allow you or any member of the IE be put in a position like this again. I promise to continue working on that and to be honest with you and whomever we bring in. Trust is key even if trusting myself sometimes is difficult.”
“Anyone you’ve thought of approaching that you haven’t yet? I’m going to get myself back out there and be watching, meeting others.” He went to take a bit of his noodles but a thought occurred to him, “Oh, what of our sometime allies at Xavier’s?”
There was a loud crashing sound as if in response to Rex’s prayer. But it was simply a few individuals coming in and one, pretty well muscled dude had thrown the door open roughly. His friends seemed to chide them as they quickly moved out of the entry area and out of sight for the coat check. It got a glance from Devon again, but only briefly. His blue eyes returned to this clearly upset but now also very annoyed individual.
Devon frowned but bowed his head slightly in response to him. “My apologies,” his tone at least sounded sincere. “Thank you.” And as Rex moved on, Devon turned to go the opposite direction.
He often took mental notes when meeting new people, exploring an area, or working with them. Maybe it was a mind palace floating in the clouds. Maybe it was a series of phrases like a card rolodex. Perhaps it wasn’t visualized at all, but simply a conscious decision to consider remembering something. Either way, angry rude repressed homosexual flew about the confines of his thoughts in reference to St. Peter’s.
But no, no maybe the guy was just having a bad day, knew someone in the calendar, and/or was conservative and hateful. That sort of parishioner would certainly be indicative of a church he didn’t want to attend, but maybe Devon could also recognize he was just disappointed. He’d hoped for a friendly greeting but this definitely wasn’t it. Still, there was no fiery temper. The guy had apologized multiple times and even still said please.
The weatherman moved from table to table, ensuring a careful review of what was available. He made sure to go back over the items he’d walked by seeking a word with the angry, bigger dude. Why did it feel familiar? That was odd, was that why it was bothering him? He shook it off, bidding big on a few items. If nothing else he’d make a donation later, even if he didn’t win anything.
Of course some wanted to be very obvious about their donations. As the auctions ended people would go over to the exchange table and pay after being announced. However, Devon saw some established locals flashing some fancy jewelry, giving donations in obvious handshakes with the Father. That was a bit much, so he ignored them rather than chat them up. This wasn’t a business event for him after all. He met a nice older woman who assured him she had a lovely granddaughter he should meet. A couple women ensured Devon the church was absolutely forward-thinking as they were a couple.
Another crashing sound echoed throughout the hall. It was that bigger guy who’d thrown the door open. Only this time he’d thrown down one of the volunteers into a folding table at the exchange table. Two of his friends were now standing threateningly around Father Lorenzo and two well-to-do parishioners, one with a collapsible baton and the other with a handgun. Another was at the door that led to the children outside, also with a gun in hand. People screamed, both startled and scared.
“I said, we’re taking it all!” the bigger man shouted, a sneer on his face and an eagerness in his eyes.
Devon gave a brief, short nod about Noel. His eyebrows narrowed again at the mention of de-aging. He’d heard about that but didn’t know the finer details. It seemed it had impacted more here than he realized. There was a slight frown, his face scrunching up as if he ate something unsettling but missing memories? The uncomfortable face faded quickly, eyes narrowing along with the brow as his lips became a thin, displeased line.
Missing memories? To Noel? That was concerning.
Another nod at Jude’s involvement in BlacTac, which meant Ranger wasn’t running things so much now?
“I’m sorry, Svetlana, really,” he sighed, shaking his head, before taking another sip of his drink. “I-”
There was a knock at the door, an aid bringing in lunch, and a few minutes later they had a meal before them. The aid left but not before throwing Sveta a so it’s not a rumor look. The news would travel fast.
Devon was holding his noodles but hadn’t yet taken a bite. He played idly with the chopsticks between his fingers. “I’m sorry I didn’t return sooner. I should’ve pushed back after that first mission and I- Well, that is a shame about Noel and Ranger. That makes me worried about how they are being manipulated. If they left, they left, but if someone is messing with them…” He shook his head, chewing his jaw rather than his lunch.
“And you’re right, the Inner Echelon needs some help so we can help the rest of Haven and… well, everyone,” he gave a nod. “I hope everyone appreciates that the purest Muse was still here to inspire them.” He smiled gently. “Which members are particularly active? Which should we approach?”
“Thanks, I’ve actually already spoken to Father Lorenzo. He was encouraging me to come today, meet those of the parish and talk with them,” Devon explained in still whispered tones but sterner intent. “Like I said, I don’t believe in coincidences. And I can’t ignore those before me in need of help. We carry each other’s burdens,” he referenced Galatians. “I’m sure you can understand that.”
Everyone resisted a conversation when asked what bothered them. It seemed people were always afraid or distrusting of strangers, which Devon understood. Lying to say it was nothing only made it seem worse. But ultimately Devon knew it could only go so far. Others had stopped paying attention thankfully, going back to catching up on the week, eating, or meandering through the silent auction.
“We can forget about it for now. However,” he continued, “I really would appreciate your thoughts on the church and community since God has put you along my path for some reason. That is why I came.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Devon said quickly as the man started to do so.
Eventually brown eyes met blue and there was clearly a bit of concern upon Devon’s face. His brow furrowed as the taller man started to say everything was fine but hesitated and then dismissed it. Devon had more experience with psychology and mental health than most, long before it was a safer - if still difficult - topic to discuss. His education had been purposeful but he knew he wouldn’t be remotely where he was today without the help of good doctors and therapists. The need to apologize, the casual dismissal of how things were clearly not fine were both, well- not fine.
Devon gave a nod but followed after this older, troubled gentleman. “What’s disturbing me is that you’re clearly not fine,” he continued in whispered tones. “I’m Devon. I don’t really believe in coincidences. You want to talk about it or maybe we can change the subject until you’re more comfortable. Perhaps you’re part of the parish and could give me your opinion on St. Peter’s? I’m trying to find the right church for me.”
As they passed Devon took note of the item, seeing how popular the calendar was. No wonder they were watching, although just what others thought of this seemingly well-muscled gent staring down at it meant.