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.
Devon canted his head to the side some 45 degrees and stared back at the fiery mercenary.
The man had taken a few minutes to wearily open his eyes. Slow, languid movements slid his nude form up against one edge of the broken furnace. Once decades ago it had been used to keep this building warm and maintain a constant temperature for the stored crates against the harsh winters of New York. Furniture had been kept here and they couldn’t have it warping. What had remained of that furniture would burn tonight.
Ruddy brown eyes like rust and clay glared back at Tempest through narrow slits. Through the smoke and the haze, the man was angry. His response was clearly calculated to provoke Tempest. He mocked him. His eyes turned over in a half belly roll. Then he slid back, cutting the soul gaze, and mocked Devon’s mother.
Maeja had been a beautiful woman with a greater heart. She loved to read, loved to explore. David, Devon’s father, had offered her a chance to travel and to see the world. His mother had volunteered in the city, often with the homeless around the Boston area. She spent many days outside with Devon. He remembered her often standing in the sunlight, shadows moving over her face from the trees dancing in the wind.
It was about then Devon realized his head was still canted and he was laughing. He stopped abruptly but a grin remained on his face. “I hope that helps you feel better about your situation,” he said, tone still as stern though with amusement rang at the back of his throat. “I certainly enjoyed it.”
“Unfortunately, my mother is dead, much like the people in that third building would be if I hadn’t stopped you,” his voice became scolding as the humor left. “The mothers there may be dead. Or perhaps their children. I don’t know yet, which is likely best for you.” Nothing shone in the black of his eyes.
“Tell me why and what organization ordered this attack. Any information, even if it’s a single bank account can help trace this back. These sorted attempts to attack these people and their homes – maybe to blame it on mutants – are sickening. I’m hoping that you don’t realize this because a mutant who would aid these people…”
“Well I’d think them a traitor to their own kind,” Tempest said, that voice growing cold once more. “I’m sure my mother would agree.”
Posted by Calcifer on Feb 26, 2017 12:44:50 GMT -6
Tempest likes this
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
There was just enough energy to sit back up and give a snort of bitter laughter at the “interrogator.” If this guy thought a sympathy approach was going to work he really was an idiot, both because Isaac knew it was a lie and because he wouldn’t even care if it wasn’t. All it did was make the man look unprepared and weak.
“Oh, cut the crap. We both know those weren’t peoples’ homes.”
He spread his hands in a casual gesture of apathy.
“Look. I don’t give a s*** what kind of business you’re running through there. I really don’t. Drugs, weapons, prostitutes, whatever; I don’t care. Hell, if I could, I’d want to stick it to the Man as much as you do. So drop the charade and at least be a f***ing professional about it.”
Isaac’s hands dropped back into the fire as he continued to sneer at the man. This was a waste of time. He needed something to eat. He needed his clothes. As soon as he could manage it, he was out of here. And maybe he'd knock out this guy's teeth while he was at it.
“Wow, you don’t even know what you were hired for, do you?” he shook his head, laughter filling the spaces between his words. He smirked, brow narrowing over his empty black eyes. “That first building used to be a furniture store. The second one was a couple stores with some office space above it. The third one? People do live there, or at least did. Hopefully still can else whoever is manipulating you and targeting the neighborhood wins.”
A long, exasperated sigh fled his lips, “What sucks is now I can’t blame you.” An annoyed growl echoed in his throat and a stiff, cold wind swept through the basement causing the flames to flicker. “Maybe some of that s*** used to happen around Sanctuary, but not anymore, not for a while now. We cleaned it up. We’re taking care of each other. Even the mayor and a senator have congratulated the neighborhood on the turn around. We had a block party for God’s sake. Did you even research what it was your hired for?”
Devon frowned, “I’m sorry, whatever your name is, but I’m not lying. You’ve been played, probably by the same people who have been trying to get us out or takeover the area or whatever they’re doing. This means you’re useless to me; you don’t know because you didn’t ask questions.”
His brow narrowed, irritation and aggravation evident not only in his tone but in the swift, cold breezes sweeping around the abandoned building. “In this case, I’ve at least got the Man on our side. No one wants an Odessa here. But then, oh look,” Tempest gestured wildly, “An angry firestarter comes and almost melts down a bunch of normal people’s homes and kills families, kids. Who would they blame? The mutants! And they’d be right to.” Tempest inhaled deeply, glancing at the fire extinguisher near to him.
“Professional?” Tempest shook his head, no longer able to laugh. “I hope you got paid a lot, not that you’ll be able to do anything with the money now."
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 4, 2017 19:04:59 GMT -6
Tempest likes this
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Isaac shot to his feet, the flames rising with him. Rage burned in his face. Then the whole basement tilted to the side and went fuzzy. He grabbed onto the side of the furnace to steady himself, but his knuckles were still white with anger, if not heat. How dare this man insult him! Didn’t he know what he could do? What he had done?
“My job was to destroy the block. Period. Maybe you didn’t get it the first time: it doesn’t matter what’s there. I. Don’t. Care.”
Hatred tinged Isaac’s words. Why hadn’t he asked questions? Because you don’t ask too many questions. Not in this business. And it wasn’t like he’d had a choice in the matter anyway. And he had asked about the basics, like why they needed him for this job. Of course, they’d lied and hadn’t said it was being protected by this mutant freak, but that was on them, not Isaac.
And him being played, well…. Isaac’s lips curled in a spiteful red glow. He didn’t get played. For this guy to insinuate that… just the thought of it made him seethe. It did seem that the FBI had lied to him about the presence of an opposition force, but that didn’t mean anything. He didn’t get played.
And speaking of the suits…
“Ha! If you think you have the Man on your side then you’re the one being played. Who do you think it was who sent me? Who do you think told me to take care of a little problem for them, huh?? Who do you think it was who FROZE my accounts until I cooperated?!?” Isaac’s voice rose to a shout. The hand gripping the furnace burned with his words until the steel bent under his weight.
Isaac paused for a minute, hunched, panting to catch his breath. “Do you think I’d work with the FBI by choice?” Venom dripped from his voice as he looked back up at the man. This man who was now threatening him and glancing over at the fire extinguisher. Yeah, like that would work. From what he could see, it was a common ABC variant, which meant dry chemical. CO2 might have been a problem since it was colder, but of course the idiot hadn’t brought one of those.
“Oh, you think that will help? Go ahead. Dry chemical doesn’t work on heat, dumba**.”
Isaac straightened up.
“You think that just because you could take me out there in the open means you have a chance in here? I could make this place an oven, so watch your step.” It was mostly a bluff, but not entirely. The man was closer than ever now, maybe thirty feet. If he tried anything, especially if he moved closer, there just might be enough left for a killing blow.
Tempest merely stared at the mercenary, skin bronzed and sooted but illuminated by the firelight. He was a contrast to the red hot of the furnace’s metal. It bent but did not break under the man’s touch. His very presence was that of heat and seemingly hated. He was rage, anger. Every movement was meant to intimidate, to threaten. His posture was imposing, planned, practiced. Was this his life?
Tempest remained in his seat, a relaxed position though he was already leaning forward slightly. He simply watched the man raging and ranting, firing off questions he certainly wasn’t waiting on an answer for. The mercenary was rather facially expressive, though many were when angry. He let his anger run his mouth, revealing quite a few details. Clearly he was upset; Devon had gotten to him. Maybe that was good; maybe the merc was telling the truth. The threats pretty much sold that conclusion.
“Okay, “ Tempest said after a moment’s silence seemed to stretch on forever, “How about I answer you instead? Going backwards…” He took a deep breath, licking his lips, and began.
“I do have a chance in here,” Tempest said, “But it’s not about that. The extinguisher is for the massive fire, not for you after all. The fire, however, was for you because I could tell you were nearing hypothermia and I could see you needed to get warmed up fast. I don’t think you’d work for the FBI by choice. I don’t think you’d work for anyone by choice.” He shook his head.
“I don’t believe the FBI froze your accounts. I don’t think they’d hire you for this or send you to do it considering the private human citizens in the area, let alone both the Governor and the Mayor, as well as a number of other politicians, are using their association with Sanctuary and the peaceful change to the area as part of their re-election campaigns. I’ve been working those deals, those relationships hard. I may be being played, all of us might and usually are with the way the government works, but I don’t think by the FBI anyway.”
“And I do think you care because well,” Tempest gestured out as pitch-black eyes ran up and down the mercenary, “You sure seem to. So how about you sit back or keep standing, whatever makes you comfortable,” his voice turned somewhere near frustrated, “And hear me out.”
It was Tempest’s turn to stand though it was merely to stand in place. Some manner of frustration showed again as he pulled his hands through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck before folding his arms in front of his chest.
“There’s been a group trying to run the area since Sanctuary turned more…” He paused, blew out an exasperated breath, and then finally found the word, “Neighborly. They started small but there’s always been some small elements that kicked up the danger like a mutant involved, or someone trying to pressure people out through extortion. There were a few attacks on residents, a couple on Sanctuary itself. I even took out a group with a cop; they’ve been watching the area closer now too cause of this stuff. It’s clearly been someone with influence and some connections, seems like mafia. And now it seems they hired you.”
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 5, 2017 17:36:31 GMT -6
Tempest likes this
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Isaac tensed when the man stood up, but nothing more happened. It looked like this guy just wanted to talk. And talk. Damn, he must enjoy hearing himself speak. Isaac had already suffered through more monologuing than he would normally tolerate, but as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t in much shape to fight. He was tired and hungry. Fighting would have to be a last resort… for now.
So instead Isaac relaxed his grip on the steel plate of the furnace while the weather mutant continued blabbing about some criminal conspiracy that was way more believable than the straightforward answer.
“Ha. You really trust the suits that much? They have power.” Isaac let his accusation remain implied. No one got and kept power playing nice. And it seemed this guy was angling for a piece of that power as well. Isaac looked down at the fire around him. That’s why you didn’t trust anyone, even if they made a show of trying to take care of you.
Though he had trusted his contacts to take care of his money for him. What a mistake that had been.
Come to think of it, he’d also trusted them when they said it was the FBI who froze his accounts….
“But suppose you’re right. Say it was the mob. Doesn’t change anything for me. They still have my money, and I still need to get it back. Hell, it’s probably better if it is the mob; they’re more likely to honor an agreement.”
Though less likely to forgive a failure…
Isaac stomach rumbled, the steady hand of hunger becoming more insistent.
“Either way, it makes no difference to me. Now if you don’t have anything actually important to say, I need to get something to eat.” Isaac paused, considering the cold air outside the fire.
>> “Ha. You really trust the suits that much? They have power.”
Devon nodded with a shrug. “There are varying levels of trust,” he said simply. Some he could trust fully. Some he could trust with certain things. Some he could trust because it was useful for them. It all varied.
At least the merc was hearing him out. He made another nod at the mention of the mob, though Devon was fairly certain it wasn’t a specific crime family so much as a power play by some group. But Devon grimaced, blew air out the corner of his mouth, and slightly shook his head to display his disagreement of any such honor this group had.
Then he said he didn’t care, again… Insulted Devon, again… And then pretty much commanded for food and clothing.
>> “And my clothes.”
Devon laughed briefly, “You were threatening me two minutes ago and now you expect me to serve you dinner and find you some clothes?” He shook his head, “We’re not there yet. If it’s the group that’s been threatening and attacking our neighborhood, our Sanctuary then they’ll take you out or turn you in first chance they get. Loose ends and all.”
That head shook again as Devon bit his lip, “No… I need to squash this once and for all. This is getting difficult and now they’ll be asking questions considering, y’know, the burnt buildings?” He shook his head, slightly smirking, “I’d really like to ask you about your maximum temperature because that was impressive, but someone’s trying to make you an enemy or more than a few. If I’m right though…” He grinned, “Would you be willing to point me to one account? I can have my contacts track who’s playing with it and then we squash two bugs at once: the mob and you get your money back.”
He shrugged his shoulders slowly, “Mutants have problems with their abilities all the time, after all. We stopped a disaster. Hopefully no one was hurt… I called in some people to check on that. I haven’t heard of anything by now so we might be okay.”
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 11, 2017 16:12:40 GMT -6
Tempest likes this
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
>> “You were threatening me two minutes ago and now you expect me to serve you dinner and find you some clothes?”
Isaac’s lip curled at the man’s remark. He would never even think of asking this pompous harbinger of cold for anything. He had been trying to make it clear that he was no longer interested in talking and that he had better things to do, but apparently this dolt was too thick or self-absorbed to understand.
>> “…they’ll take you out or turn you in first chance they get.”
The seer turned into an audible scoff.
“Like I was asking for your help. I can manage on my own.”
Thugs waiting in ambush or the threat of prison didn’t scare him. He’d handled worse than a brute squad, and he’d been hired in the past specifically to break mutants out of jail. What was the worst they could do? They already had his money.
Isaac turned away, weighing his current level of energy and judging just how long it would be until he could beat it. The weather freak kept on talking, whining about his own problems, trying to flatter Isaac, trying to play the concerned good guy. Stupid blabbering.
>>”Would you be willing to point me to one account?”
“THE F***??” Isaac spun back around. The man was going on about de-escalating the situation or whatever but Isaac didn’t care.
“You think I’m stupid enough to just hand over my account to you? Do you want some of it too??” Flames grew around Isaac as the anger rose in his voice. “It wasn’t enough to coat me with ice, was it? Couldn’t just leave it. You didn’t want to stop the job; you wanted the cash for yourself! Tryin’ to drag it out of me with some bull*** sob story. No proof. Nothing to back it up. Just some wild conspiracy about the mob and the promise that I’ll get everything back if I just hand it over to you. Well f*** you! You can take your scam and shove it!”
Wow this was getting tiring. Everything was a biting, aggressive, antagonistic comment with this guy. The moment you called him on anything, his façade collapsed and he became this wounded animal in the corner again. He lashed out and scratched at your hand.
Okay, Devon knew the likelihood of getting an account number from the merc was unlikely. He hadn’t expected the total flip out. Tempest stared back at Cal, eyebrows raised and lips formed into a thin line. Guess this guy wasn’t used to believing or listening to anyone without the cold, hard, physical in front of him to prove it. That was funny for someone who could magically induce a thermal meltdown and swim in concrete.
Rather than reply, Tempest took a few long steps forward. As he raised his arms winds whipped around the basement area and gusted up to meet him. He jumped into them and let them carry him up over the furnace – the warm air helped actually – and through the hole above. He disappeared from view before the blink of an eye, the cold wind quickly dissipating.
A moment later they rose again, stronger this time. The flames beneath the furnace danced in ecstasy and agony at the touch. A grunt in Devon’s voice carried over the wind as a large bundle came tumbling down, caught by these gusts. Tempest followed after, landing near the bound individual he’d just thrown down.
“You know this guy? Before you ask, no I really don’t,” Tempest’s voice was hard again. “He attacked me when I was carrying you off, trying to figure out how to warm you up now that you were finally calmed down. Tried to shoot you and then me before I knocked him down. Then he was at me with a knife.” He glanced at his back where a few scratches and one not so kind laceration left red lines. The one likely needed some stitching.
“I got that away and then it was merely a matter of knocking him around and out. My shirt was already shredded so I stuffed it in his mouth and used some twine to wrap him up,” Devon shook the bundle with a foot on his side. “Hey, wake up,” he shouted as he pulled the torn rags, bloodied in parts, out of the contract killer’s mouth. “Who you work for?”
“F***ing muties,” the guy muttered angrily. “You think I’m stupid enough to tell you anything? F*** you!”
“Well that sounds familiar at least,” Devon smirked back at the Merc-furnace with an upturned brow.
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 17, 2017 20:08:03 GMT -6
Tempest likes this
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Oh, now wasn’t this convenient. Suddenly here was a brand new addition to the guy’s story to help convince Isaac to give up his money. Of course, this supposed attacker hadn’t been anywhere to be seen before Isaac had pressed the weather man for proof. No mention of him in the whole conversation leading up to it, either.
Probably just pulled some random guy off the street.
Isaac’s annoyance reflected in the flickering flames as he straightened, facing the other mutant and the new captive. This guy just didn’t know when to quit. It had been bad enough to listen to his self-righteous babbling, but then he’d brought another wave of buffeting winds on the fire and now he’d brought a whole ‘nother person into this charade.
Isaac steadied himself and took a step out of the furnace. He was able to stand now and walk without too much difficulty, but he still wasn’t strong enough to burn.
“Oh yeah, that sounds like a great little story,” Isaac said, taking a few slow steps toward the two men. “Shame I wasn’t able to see any of it.” A sneer tinged his words. “Also kinda strange you didn’t bring up your heroics before now.”
Isaac continued forward, bringing himself closer to the bound “attacker” and within striking distance of Mr. Wind-And-Rain.
The battle wounds didn’t mean anything. He could have easily got them from the fight earlier. As for the story itself, well, the people who’d contacted Isaac had known about the incidents in Nevada, New York, and Saudi Arabia, and in each of those Isaac had made it very clear that guns were not a good weapon against him.
“Just one problem,” Isaac stopped a few feet from the man on the ground. “No one who knows anything about me would try to shoot me with a-“
“Hey! ****face!” Instinct drew Isaac’s gaze down to the ground and the source of the insult.
The man moved fast. Even though he was bound, he managed to twist around and pull something from the back of his pants. Isaac caught a glint of metal before there was a sharp hiss and green smoke exploded into his vision.
Posted by Tempest on Mar 18, 2017 16:07:06 GMT -6
Calcifer likes this
Haven
Founder of Haven
TEMPEST
4e9cf5 / 0555b1
Good Question
Single
877
335
Feb 3, 2024 10:42:17 GMT -6
Tempest
Devon was unmoved by the miserable painted on the mercenary’s face. It was tiresome at this point. Only someone with serious issues doubted this much, questioned everything said to him to such a point. Was it hard to believe? Sure, Devon understood that. But when you’ve lost, when you’re captive, when you’re naked in a fire someone built for you instead of dead and then suggest maybe, just maybe that job you took without looking into it was a set up…
You consider it. >> “Oh yeah, that sounds like a great little story,”
It was a tragic tale as far as Devon could see. Either this guy’s family had abandoned him or he had serious trust issues resulting from a number of failed relationships. Had he melted his family to death? Had he accidentally burnt a girl alive in bed? Had he been abandoned to the cold as a baby? The guy’s paranoia and rage fueled itself.
>> “Shame I wasn’t able to see any of it.”
Yeah, ‘cause you were unconscious after getting your naked ass beat.
>> “Also kinda strange you didn’t bring up your heroics before now.”
Because everything he said was another lie, another trick, another joke… Devon wasn’t originally sure he would even tell this guy, if the merc would be alive to know. If they were in on it, he wasn’t going to help them work against him. Instead, he had needed to find out how much the Furnace knew, that amount being zero.
The Furnace came out of the fire but he was still too cool. Tempest could see the fluctuating temperature around him and he wasn’t about to let the cold around the basement subside. But he didn’t move away either. He wasn’t afraid and if he was going to prove that there was something here they needed to figure out together, Devon was going to show that trust. So he stayed put. >> “Just one problem,”
Jesus, what now? This guy was exhausting. Darkness still seeped in Tempest’s eyes. If they tried something at this point after all that complaining, it would have been at least a little surprising. He was fairly certain the merc wasn’t in on it. But he was sick of the vitriol and the back and forth. It was getting them nowhere.
>> “No one who knows anything about me would try to shoot me with a-“
>> “Hey! ****face!”
“You-“ Tempest started to shout at the guy, but it happened quickly. He’d had something hidden behind him. Was it in his crack? He’d searched the guy; who were these people? It was something metal and then it was in the merc’s face: green and likely poisonous.
Hours of frustration – this guy was good at generating it, that’s for sure – erupted in a howling roar of wind. Tempest’s hands rolled over one another as quick gusts encircled the mercenary. They spun quickly up every inch of his body, certain to capture any of the poisonous gas and finally carry it far overhead. He could see the currents carrying it and sent them through the fire to destroy it.
He pivoted too, his hesitance to approach the man gone as he was certain heat didn’t protect from dangerous inhalants. He jumped to the man’s side, careful to catch him in case he would have fallen. He’d carried the guy before. Cracking one’s head on stone still hurt most people and most mutants. He let go the minute the guy was safely on the floor.
But Tempest wasn’t done. With one hand he sent a furious gust toward the would-be assassin. He went flying across the room and violently into a wall. Tornado force winds were hard to summon at once but right now it felt easy, fueled by anger. How had he missed this?
D*** it! “D*** it!” Tempest swore. He clenched his fists tightly as he glared at the man he’d thrown like a rag doll, tied up but clearly not defenseless. The wind raged around the room, causing the fire beneath the actual furnace to gout and the light to dim.
He needed information. They needed information. He wasn’t here to simply kill the man. That wasn’t what was right; that wasn’t what they needed…
“D*** it, are you okay?” Tempest asked, his voice earnest and angry as he studied the one not a few hours ago he’d hoped to knock out and now he hoped wasn’t dead.
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 19, 2017 10:13:56 GMT -6
Tempest likes this
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
For a few seconds, all that Isaac could concentrate on was the burning in his eyes and lungs. He coughed, his body trying to expel the noxious gas, and managed to force his focus onto his surroundings. He felt wind. He saw the wind directing the blurry image of the poison cloud away from him. And then he realized that he was on the ground, the weather mutant crouched above him.
>>”D*** it, are you okay?”
Isaac wheezed and coughed a few more times before he croaked out an “I’m fine!” He rolled onto his side, his body shuddering from the occasional cough, and started to push himself upright.
“I’m fine.” He didn’t want to think about it. Just being close to that gas cloud had laid him out. If shirtless here hadn’t blown it away….
He pushed the thought to the side, his torn pride seething at having to be rescued. More important was that he’d been attacked. His eyes scanned the room until he found the hunched form of the man who’d gassed him.
He’d been attacked. Isaac snarled and began to crawl toward the man. He’d been attacked in a way that could actually hurt him. In a way that had been planned out and hidden until he’d been so stupid as to get close enough. The crawl stumbled up into an angry stalk. That meant there had actually been an attempt on his life while he’d been passed out. That he’d needed saving again. That weather guy was telling the truth.
Rage boiled in Isaac’s face as the thoughts cascaded in on each other. If weather guy was telling the truth, then there hadn’t been any crime ring running through those buildings. Then it hadn’t been the FBI that had frozen his funds and forced him to come here.
Then he’d been duped.
Wounded pride spilled over into blinding wrath as Isaac approached the attacker. Bound and barely conscious, he was a prime target for Isaac to vent upon. Isaac drew back his fist and channeled all his rage into a strike meant to turn the man’s head into mush. He’d made a fool of Isaac, and now he would pay.
Unless…
The punch went wide, crunching into the brick wall next to the assassin’s head.
Unless the assassin and wind mutant were working together. Isaac turned his head in a backward glance at the other mutant. The man had reacted to the poison incredibly quickly. Had he known it was coming? And gas was a very convenient threat for a mutant with wind powers to dispose of. It was a long shot, perhaps, but Isaac had to make sure. He didn’t want any more mistakes.
Hands on the verge of glowing grabbed the assassin by the shirt and slammed him against the wall.
“Hey! HEY!” Isaac struck a blow beneath the man’s ribs. The man’s eyes sprung open with a grunt. “Wake up, you’re gonna talk.”
“F-f*** you, you damn freak. I’d sooner die than tell you s***-f***ers anything.”
Isaac spat in the man’s face, then reached behind him to his bound hands and snapped his pinky. Howls of pain filled the basement, muffled when Isaac gripped the man’s jaw and slammed it shut.
“You think I was asking nicely? Do you know who I am??”
“You’re a worthless mutie,” came the muffled, sneered reply. Isaac slammed the assassin against the wall again. “Say my name, you miserable ****!” The man only glared at him.
The ring finger was next.
“SAY MY F***ING NAME!”
The man’s head rolled from side to side, his jaw clenched in pain. Only three of his fingers remained whole.
“If you think I’m out of ideas when you’re out fingers, you’re dead wrong,” Isaac hissed, only inches from the man’s face. “After that, it only gets worse.”
"F*** you, ya little prick," the man muttered, his voice strained. “You think I’m afraida you? You think anyone gives a f*** about your d*** name? Here’s your name: Fail-cifer, the guy who can’t finish one little job. Now go back to your little trailer and cryyyyyaaaaAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!” The words flew into a high-pitched wail as Isaac slowly crushed the mangled fingers beneath his own.
Close enough.
“My name is Calcifer, you s***-eating worm. And I’ll make sure your boss knows it when I burn his world to the ground around him.”
Isaac released the man and let him fall whimpering and cursing to the floor. Then he stood, sighed, and turned to face the man who, as much as he hated to admit it, had saved his life twice now.
“It seems you were right,” Isaac made the statement grudgingly. “The feds wouldn’t send a hitman after a botched job, at least not a lone one. And while you obviously don’t know who I am,” Isaac motioned to the assassin, “he does. Just like the men who forced me to come here.”
Isaac walked over to the furnace and leaned against it, absorbing its warmth. These people had tried to kill him; there was no way they would just give him his money now. And if some of his contacts got caught up in any investigation, well, served them right for letting his money get stolen in the first place.
“I’ll tell you what you want to know under two conditions. First, amnesty. Let’s just say there was a reason I believed the feds would want to freeze my accounts, and if you’re going to bring them in to all this I don’t want to get burned for helping you.”
Isaac looked back at the man lying on the floor. “And second. If you do figure who was behind this, I get to have a little talk with them.”
Fine, he was fine, but angry. Devon was angry too. He was angry he’d missed this canister. He was angry this was happening, that someone was still trying to attack Sanctuary. He was angry it had taken this long for the Furnace to seemingly believe him.
But at least the merc was coughing and getting up. He went right for the would-be assassin, enraged. Devon didn’t stop him. Devon couldn’t fault him; Devon was holding back but he hadn’t been the one attacked. His focus was on keeping his emotional outburst locked down to stop the merc from smashing the man’s face. Thankfully he didn’t.
Good, yes. Yes! They needed information.
The merc glanced back at Devon and Devon gave a slow nod in return. This needed to end and the fact that they were manipulating mutants against one another was inexcusable. Instead, the two traded words and some pointed encouragement to talk.
Tempest urged the warmth of the furnace’s fire to fill the basement. At one point he added more wood to the fire. The cold winds retreated and stayed aloft, the warm air and stone below pushing it up and away. He let that soothing comfortable heat fill the space while Calcifer did his work. Black-eyed, Tempest stood watching.
>> “It seems you were right,” Isaac made the statement grudgingly.
A quick nod was given in return. The guy was still angry; Tempest was too. But they’d tortured a man for what they needed or at least Cal had and Devon had stood by. Surely that gave some pause to the rage.
>> “And second. If you do figure who was behind this, I get to have a little talk with them.”
“Done, I’ll make the calls,” Devon nodded slowly. “I didn’t think this was your first time after all,” he glanced to the man with the broken fingers. “When I figure out who did this, you’ll know. I’ve got…” He sighed, “I’ve got something going and some people who would want to see Sanctuary defended. I’ll make sure your part of the payback plan.”
Tempest stepped toward the nude man, brow low over his eyes. “I can make it hotter,” he said firmly. “We should get you something to eat. We’re past fighting now?” He canted his head slightly, eyebrows raised in question. Devon wasn’t so sure the man was past his rage; this was something deep-seated.
Posted by Calcifer on Mar 24, 2017 23:31:11 GMT -6
Tempest likes this
Haven
Asset of Haven
94
94
Aug 3, 2018 21:53:17 GMT -6
Isaac looked at the weather mutant with mild disdain. It was the closest he came to a blank expression. This guy had blasted him with wind and covered him in ice and Isaac hated him for it, but he’d also built a fire and had apparently saved his life. He seemed to be on the level, at least so far, and he had contacts. He also, Isaac grudgingly admitted, had a decent amount of power on his own. That could be good or bad. He’d have to think it all over later.
>>”We’re past fighting now?”
“As long as you don’t try to throw ice at me again,” Isaac said, crossing his arms, “but I have no reason to do any more of those guy’s dirty work.”
Isaac sighed. The man had mentioned food, reminding him not only of how hungry he was, but of the obstacles to sating that hunger.
“But don’t go thinking we’re buddy-buddy, either. You didn’t exactly do me any favors bringing me here. Yeah, I’m starving, but I’d rather not freeze to death out there, which mean I need my clothes, and I’m guessing we’re across town from where I stashed them. Area’s probably crawling with cops now, too. You can make it warm in here. Great. Not warm enough. And unless you can make it Texas in July out there I’m going to need something to wear.”
Isaac turned his head away from the weather mutant dismissively. As he did, his gaze fell upon the mob hitman. Isaac hadn’t thought anything of it before, but the man was dressed for winter; dark brown snow pants and a thick long-sleeved shirt, possibly wool. There was probably a coat somewhere around here, too. Isaac rolled the idea over in his head. Sure, the clothes probably weren’t his size and wouldn’t be as good as his custom garments, but they’d be better than nothing, and he needed something until he could burn again.
“Don’t suppose he does, though,” Isaac cast a inquiring glance back at his fellow mutant. “Got any more use for him?”
Tempest was judging the Furnace’s reactions carefully. He wasn’t exactly feeling interested in any more fighting. They’d talked it out; Devon had done his best to show what was going on here. He’d saved the guy’s life at least twice now after he’d gone off demolishing buildings without understanding what he was doing. But what still really pissed him off was that assassin having that last trick, making him look stupid…
>> “As long as you don’t try to throw ice at me again,”
The man crossed his arms and Devon returned his head to an upright position. The defensive posturing said enough.
>> “but I have no reason to do any more of those guy’s dirty work.”
Well it was about time.
But clearly he had more to say. They weren’t friends. Yeah, clearly. Tempest glared back at this Calcifer as he went on. He complained about food and clothes. Well maybe don’t strip naked? Yeah, Devon could tell it was because of his mutant ability. Well maybe going off like a bomb and melting everything around you at random was stupid. Maybe it was stupid not to research your mercenary jobs, like being a mercenary was smart anyway. It made you a target for assassins.
>> “Got any more use for him?”
Devon turned and stared at the man. A mutant hating assassin who worked for whatever group had been targeting Sanctuary, the kids, the neighbors, and him for months. Dark pits looked upon this man and were empty. They held no sympathy for him.
“Absent of a mind reader, no,” Devon stated dismissively. “But wait a moment.” He turned back to the Furnace and approached with a narrowed, heavy brow. “You want in on this payback? Great. We need to exchange some details and we need an understanding. I’ll make sure you don’t have to take jobs like this, let alone we’ve got to settle up whatever with a few of my contacts. I don’t have to be your friend, but I’m not your enemy. Let’s at least get that set between us.”
Tempest could have offered to make it Texas in July too, but he had no interest. The guy could deal with the cold and some second hand clothing for now. He had no need to put himself out with the energy and headache that sort of trouble would bring him. Calcifer wasn’t worth it. The merc would have to prove himself better than that, not that Devon expected he even cared.
He wasn’t smiling now, his brow raised in expectant return.