The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Pharoah Dynasty
An ancient sorceress is on a quest to bring her long-lost warrior-king to the modern era in a bid for global domination. Can the heroes of the modern world stop her before all is lost?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
An interesting term, but it explained the situation well enough for Sylar. Though it seemed to him that she just thought of the bug as a friend if she would change her usual banter to talk about him like this. To each their own. She mentioned their mutation was similar which confused Sylar once more. "Similar? You don't look like a bug, in fact you look totally normal to me." Sylar's vision could only tell physical mutants when they were different enough to have unique body shapes, like himself or Roach. Megan looked like a normal woman to his eyes.
She asked him if he wanted some kind of vest, bullet proof armor he guessed. It was true Sylar's armor didn't cover his chest yet, though he'd not been shot yet he was afraid of guns. If anything could injure him, it'd be a gun. "That'd be helpful, the armor doesn't cover my chest at all...least not yet." Sylar's armor was like a very slow infection, taking it's time to slowly infect his entire form. it started on the extremities, but was working it's way to his chest. It seemed the last part of him to be consumed by it would be his heart, how metaphoric. He shrugged to himself.
His body was unique, he was a man but had a very thin but powerful frame, with features just slightly feminine but a clearly male form. So she had been shot, unfortunate. Even with a vest he imagined it'd hurt, he'd taken a few blows in his time too. But no bullets, those he'd always avoided or dodged by a hair. "Good thing you wore it out. I can hurt people, but I don't know a thing about helping somebody hurt." Heck, most of the injuries Sylar had obtained during his time alone he'd just crawled into a hole to lick and let heal like some feral cat. Worked for him, but he also had all the power and strength of a bear on steroids, unlike humans who were quite frail.
Sylar stepped into the elevator with Megan, still holding their spoils from the oh so exciting trip to the grocery store.
A wry smirk quirked her mouth. "Looks can be deceiving." She pondered how to tell him, or show him. Usually she was all for theatrics; call her babies out from hiding, let them crawl over her, or the unfortunate soul who'd asked. It was usually worth the lives of a few of them to see peoples reactions to polka dot tarantulas and rainbow black widows.
"I can show you what I mean once we're inside. I don't feel like taking off my top in a drafty elevator." The lift jolted to life, clanking as it carried them up to their floor.
"I always wear one." She stated plainly, as if it were completely normal to wear body armor all of the time. "My work entails constantly being on someones sh*tlist."
A rarity for Sylar, he responded to her humor with a joke of his own. "Especially to a blind man." He said with the faintest hint of a grin. Seemed Megan's power was showy, as she explained to him she'd show it off once they were inside. Usually a woman says take her top off and a man got excited, Sylar was just curious to see what power made Megan a mutant like Roach. Such an odd boy he was.
Better safe than sorry, Sylar thought as she explained the vest. If he had one, he'd wear it all the time as well. A timid nature made you overly cautious, and caution made you not dead, which Sylar liked very much. Sylar wasn't really sure what Megan did though, besides kill people like the man at the apartment or the thugs at the store. His eyebrow raised a bit as he inquired into her profession. "And what exactly is it you do Megan? I'm not even sure what Roach does actually, besides get into trouble all the time." Sylar said with a sigh, remembering his last little outing with Roach. Hot dogs, crows, and being accused of having no sense of adventure, what a day.
All Sylar knew about Roach was that he had connections and money whenever he wanted it. Though the boy didn't care about money, Roach's influence certainly kept him fed, clothed, and sheltered now. Guess money did make the world go round, even for the mutie community. "And I guess you know what I do after today." He said with a bit of depression in his voice, sure Sylar was good at hurting others, but he still didn't really enjoy the aftertaste of violence. It was like alcohol, you'd get started, and soon you were feeling high and fantastic, barely able to remember what you're doing, and then you wake up in the morning surrounded by chaos and with an awful taste in mouth. Except for Sylar that awful taste was starting to get better and better.
For once, she grinned back. At least he had a sense of humor, even it it was buried under a literal ton of sulk.
"Roach does whatever he feels like." She answered simply, "I'm not too different, actually. I do what I do, when I feel like doing it. Probably a trait I got from Greg." For a moment, she wondered if telling him anything would only get him into more trouble... but that thought was short lived once she remembered who it was who had drug him home. If Roach was involved, Sylar was already neck deep in it. Telling him what she did in her free time wouldn't hurt anything. "I keep an eye on people who need to be watched, and if need be I take them out."
His tone shifted with his last response, and she cast a curious glance his way as the elevator came to a clunky stop. "I know you take your job seriously, and that you laugh at slapstick." She found herself wondering just how old the guy was. His mood shifted back and forth suddenly, and his reaction to having taken out all of those men back at the store had been concerning. She decided to avoid the subject he was hinting at. "That what you mean?"
Doing what they want, how happy Megan and Roach must be to have such easy jobs. Sylar wasn't the kind of person who pursued what he wanted, but what he needed. Survival was his main goal, but living with these people his attitude might just change. For the better or worse? Who knows, he responded though "Sounds like an enjoyable career." The girl paused for a moment but kept talking. She sounded kind of like a mob enforcer from an old crime novel or a tv show. "What, like a mafia enforcer? I used to like crime novels." Back when he could read that was.
If Sylar was a bodyguard for Roach, that kind of made him an enforcer too? Oh lord was Sylar joining some mutant mafia? He'd thought about that before, but for now they had what he needed, so he was planning to stick around. The elevator rose slowly, the two of them cramped inside while Sylar was holding all this meat. The box would probably reek of meat after they got off. She responded unexpectedly to Sylar's previous statement. That fish thing really was funny though, even to him. "That fish really was the best." He said with a snort, before catching himself. She seemed to be avoiding or ignoring how violent he had been previously. "I was more referring to the fact that I tear people apart and can't always remember it. But I appreciate the other thoughts."
Sylar wasn't trying to intimidate the woman, hell even on his best monster day he probably wouldn't be able to shake her if she lived her life like this. But he did wonder what she thought of him, seeing how when Sylar went violent he blanked out, a clean slate of fury and violence. That was Sylar's inner monster, a creature that simply killed, and consumed the world around it. When the time for bloodshed came, nothing of the boy she was talking to now remained. "Ever seen an arm torn off before?" He asked, his voice a bit shaky, because really he didn't even remember doing that.
"No. I do it on my own. I choose who I go after. I choose who dies, and how." The humor in her voice faded at the reminder. Her list was growing shorter, and though she hadn't necessarily had to kill everyone on it, those lucky enough to still be alive were never going to be the same. She'd made sure of it.
He was stubborn it seemed. Insistent. She didn't know why, and frankly couldn't be bothered to care at the moment. Still, she reminded herself to at least try to be gentle while talking to him. He seemed genuinely distressed to some degree.
"Yes." Stepping off the lift and into the hall, she cast a quick glance at him. "I've seen and done a lot worse than that." Hell, Roach had beaten a man to death with his own arm before. Add to that a dozen or more instances where a bloodied machete came into play, and all of the memories she had from the dream... "Doesn't have to be violent, doesn't even have to draw blood. There are people out there that make a knife fight with you look like a picnic."
Heading down the hall, she fished her keys out with her free arm, muttering curses under her breath at every tweak and strain it put on her injury, but managed to get the door open.
Fair enough, Megan certainly seemed the type to take orders from no one, even Roach. He wasn't sure why she needed to kill people if she wasn't working for someone though, unless she just liked doing it. Sylar didn't really get why somebody would want to kill just to do it, he had instincts to, but that was because of a predatory hunger. "I'll do my best to not get on your list." He said, letting the topic pass as stepped from the elevator. Sylar followed behind Megan, ready to drop off this meat and get a bite to eat after all this.
Sylar wasn't surprised Megan had seen some gruesome things, living with Roach he was sure she'd seen just about everything. To be able to brush it off though, surprised him. He still couldn't shake the image. "I guess I'm just soft, never actually had to kill anyone when I lived underground." This was true, he'd hurt a few people, though he tended to block it out but while he was a solo act most of the time he could just scare people off to get what he wanted. Most people had been to scared to aim a weapon at him, and the cops wanted to catch him not kill him.
Sylar didn't believe her though, that somebody could be more brutal than he was when he let the animal take over. Unless she knew true blue psychopaths or something, in fact it kind of made him feel better that she didn't think his little outburst was all that memorable. "Hard to believe that, but I'll take your word for it." Sylar really wasn't interested in asking about somebody who would make his combat look like a picnic. Finally they made it back to the apartment, where Megan began struggling with the key it seemed.
After she managed to open it though, he asked "So where exactly should I drop all this?" He said, motioning to the large piece of meat he was holding.
"Avoid being an asshole and you're golden." Smirking, she headed inside.
"Being soft isn't an issue... and the less you have to experience it, the better." Making a beeline for the kitchen, she dropped her package on the counter. "On the counter is fine. I'll toss one in the over for you or something later."
After she patched herself up, that is. She'd already set to getting her coat off, and peeling the undershirt away from her wound. The blood had become sticky and started drying in places already. Having shed the outer layers, she chose to leave the vest on, since it covered her adequately but left her shoulder open. Heading back out of the kitchen, Megan plopped herself onto the couch. A call had already been sent out for the arachnids she kept at home in her room to start gathering little packets of antiseptic cleaner. They marched in single file from her room to where she sat on the couch, crawled up the well worn upholstery and into Megan's lap.
"Thanks, guys." Ripping open one of the packets, she set about cleaning the wound.
Sylar figured he could avoid being an asshole, he wasn't one right? However he just responded with one word. "Noted." He followed Megan inside, looking for her kitchen to drop off the meat. He listened as she talked about him being soft, and whether or not it was an issue. She pointed out a counter for him to drop the meat on, which he did with a loud thud, it wasn't too heavy for him, but holding large items tended to feel awkward after a time. "Well if events like today always happen to you and Roach I should probably stop being soft soon. I don't want to let him down." Sylar said, the boy had grown a respect for the odd bugman, appreciating anyone who would help him deal with his destructive urges. With Roach's help he could spend more time with friends without worrying about losing his cool. Roach would help him become stable so he could see Serena and Evelyn more, he'd have to tell them about Roach sometime.
Megan walked off, stripping some article of clothing, a coat most likely as she did. Sylar could smell the blood on her, though it wasn't enough to overpower his nose. A small wound often got his instincts to stir, but only an open would threatened to set the boy off and become a danger to the one injured. Sylar remained in the kitchen for a moment, before moving to the archway between rooms, Megan sitting on a couch in the living room. She was sitting there, and a new scent was filling his nose. It wasn't like Roach, but it was similar enough to mean some kind of bug or maybe a big spider? No, it seemed there was a few little creatures moving around, hard to spot because their temperature wasn't very high. Sylar spoke up "Well since that's over, you want me to get out of your way?" Megan was hard to read, besides the fact that she did what she want, when she wanted to, and Sylar was fairly certain his company wasn't all that endearing to the woman.
The shrugging the shoulder she wasn't working on was her reply, what with an empty plastic wrapper in her mouth. She didn't care if he stuck around or left, really. Cleaning and closing her wound (as best she could) was her top concern at the moment, but... she had told him that she'd show him how her mutation worked. Or tell him, since he was blind, apparently, in some fashion.
Come to think of it, she had some questions of her own for the guy. Like... how the hell old he was, for one. Greg hadn't thought it important to tell her, and she hadn't really felt comfortable demanding to know. Spitting the plastic out of her mouth, she pursed her lips. "You can stay if you want, it's your place too."
Peering at her shoulder, her lips drew out into a thin line. How did you know when a wound was clean? It looked clean enough, but since the bullet has gone all the way though her shoulder, she wasn't exactly sure what to do. Was she supposed to.. like... stick something in it to disinfect the inside?
Megan cringed visibly, and pondered whether or not she was brave and willing enough to due such a thing. Stealing a glance behind her at Sylar with the frown still on her face (and wincing at the movement), she pressed a clean pad of gauze to her wound. She knew there was a healer literally right across the street, but... goddammit, she didn't like that place!
"I... uh... don't suppose you know how to close up a wound like this?"
Sylar had stood there waiting for her to give him the boot, or at least expecting an answer of get lost, instead she seemed to not care either way. "I guess, it was your place first though." He said passively, leading against a wall and resting. It seemed she was up to something on the couch, dressing a wound? He had noticed her injured earlier, perhaps it was worse than he thought. He stood up from the wall and took a few steps toward her, trying to get a better image of what she was up to, before the girl winced. So she was hurt. She turned to look at him, the boy visibly tensing up as her field of vision focused on him.
Megan spoke up, asking Sylar a question, unexpectedly. His face was a little muddled for a moment. Cleaning a wound wasn't his specialty, considering his previous lodging and his lack of delicacy. "Er...I'm not the best person to ask about that. I can't even see what it looks like." He said, pointing at his face, or more importantly his black stained eyes. "Besides I'm kind of just sturdier than normal people. I guess I'd just flush it with peroxide and hot water?" He remembered how his mother treated wounds when he was a boy, but beyond that he wasn't good at common sense stuff.
Considering Roach seemed quite affluent even while living in some apartment, Sylar wondered if he had a doctor on call. "Roach doesn't have a doctor he keeps in his pocket? I know they had one at the Mansion, a mutie doctor too." He said, remembering his few visits to Doc Prof, who luckily did the work and asked few questions it seemed.
He... had a point, she guessed. Not being able to see it definitely canceled out the need for his help. It hurt enough on it's own and with her minimal poking and prodding, especially now that there wasn't anything working to keep the pain at bay, or her mind off of it.
Somewhere deep in the back of her throat, she whined. As tough as she could seem to some people, Megan still didn't like pain. Vicente had shown her that in the heat of battle you couldn't afford to waste time on bodily harm, and through everything she'd been through with him it had stuck on her. "No... no doctors. They ask too many questions." Especially not the school's doctor... he knew too much about her.
"just gonna have to suck it up and sew it shut myself." With maybe a little praying that she didn't get some kind of terrible infection on the side. "If you wouldn't mind, could you get me the sewing box? It's in my room under my desk. My spiders can't carry it."
Sylar felt a bit useless, besides violence and theft it didn't seem he brought much to offer in any sort of relationship. His tail curled up a bit on the ground in a show of disapproval at his own ineptitude. Megan made a noise, something barely audible but probably a sign of pain. Roach wasn't going to be happy that Sylar let her get hurt, he just knew it. Being a body guard for somebody besides yourself was hard. Though Megan speaking snapped him back into reality, the girl adamantly refusing to see any doctor. Sylar was tempted to mention that Doc Prof didn't really ask questions, but he knew better than to keep the subject going once Megan had told him no.
He sort of mumbled an Err sound since he wasn't sure what to do if she didn't want to see any sort of doctor. He wasn't aware of her past with the Mansion, the Doctor, or anyone besides Roach for that matter. She made a request and he quickly shuffled off to try and fulfill it. He made off for her room, only knowing the layout of the apartments from knowing where he could go and where he shouldn't go. And Megan's room was the one he knew to avoid most of the time lest he bother the girl and her shotgun.
A box, with sewing matierals? Great Megan, make a fetch request of the blind sewer monster. He sighed to himself knowing better than to bring up that she'd sent him to fetch an item after he reminded her of his lack of eyesight. He didn't even have time to realize the girl said Spiders couldn't carry it, since you know trained spiders were not that common. However he found her room and bed easily enough, navigating the gray world that was room temperature objects. He dropped down and searched beneath her bed. And of course there were TONS of boxes and other things down here. He gropped around blindly grabbing three or few of them, and holding them to his chest as he walked back into the room.
He mumbled again, a bit worried to admit he had no idea what was what but he had to none the less. "I couldn't really tell what was what so I just grabbed stuff." He moved to set the boxes next to her, hoping one of them was what she wanted. "Is it in one of these?" He asked.
Sylar shuffled off without a word, and she blinked. Well, okay then. At least he was eager to help? She'd turned back to cleaning the wound, blatantly ignoring what he'd said about peroxide because she knew that would sting like hell. She wasn't the smartest when it came to common sense things, and was just stubborn enough to willfully ignore good advice. When Sylar came back in she didn't look at him right away, too busy pulling little strands of hair and cloth from her shoulder.
Him setting down a bunch of boxes did catch her attention, though. "...er..." Those were definitely not her sewing box. One was a locked box with various keepsakes in it, another was a hatbox where she stashed things she didn't want Roach getting into-- like her more expensive unmentionables-- and the last was a larger box with a handle where she kept her ballet stuff.
.... Damnit, three boxes of her most private things. Half of her wanted to bolt upright, snatch the boxes, and vanish back into her room to find new hiding places for them, while the other half wanted to get the hole in her shoulder fixed now. She contemplated sending him back in, but knowing what else she had stashed inside her room, she thought better of it.
"Yeah... thanks." Her old dancing stuff had a needle and thread in it anyway, albeit a larger needed and thicker cording. She at least knew she has a lighter in there as well from having to melt the frayed ends of ribbon, so she could sterilize her needle without having to get alcohol from the bathroom.
Eyeing Sylar for a moment, as if he were lying about his blindness, she reached out for the box with her ballet supplies and settled it in her lap. She'd never told anyone about her past habit, not even Greg... and didn't want anyone getting wind of it. She had an image to keep up, after-all. "Sit here." Patting the cushion next to her, she flipped the cases lid open and started to dig though its contents. "...Hold this."
Needle in hand, she held the box out at him impatiently.
Sylar may have seemed eager to help, but it was really more how timid the boy was. His attention was easily dominated by commands or requests from people he cared for, or at least knew. Though it might not seem that way considering sometimes he went berserk and tried to eat those same people. A dangerous creature to have in your midst. Returning with her various boxes, Sylar stood there as if waiting for another command, unaware he had actually failed in his first task. He couldn't tell though, boxes were all just sort of opaque blobs to him unless they contained something warm.
However he believed he had succeeded, as Megan said thank you. He didn't smile, but he was happy to have helped the woman. Then she patted the couch she was sitting on, telling him to sit. He fidgeted a bit before sitting down. Sylar was a strange boy, dealing with violence easily but turning yellow at any sort of social interaction outside his comfort zone. Luckily for Megan, Sylar's blindness ment he had no idea or ability to discern that this box contained things for ballet as opposed to just sewing. He could only judge her actions based on her movements, since the objects held no heat till she touched them. Sitting now, he just sort of stared at her, unsure of what she wanted from him till she spoke next.
He opened his claws, and grasped the box from her, holding it gently so he didn't end up skewering the thing or smashing it with his inhuman strength. Have hands like a raging grizzly bear really sucked some times...most of the time actually. He'd have sighed at his own thoughts, but for now he just had to do what Megan asked. "Um Sure." Was his response to her command, sitting there like a statue as she began to fix her wound with a needle and thread not suited for the purpose. "I was worried I'd have grabbed the wrong box, they sort of all look the same." He mumbled, his tail curling up and down, the odd appendage acting like a cat's tail, but looking like some nightmarish serpent ready to strike.