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.
Member of the X-Men Mansion Swim Teacher MRC Detective
Seablue
Heterosexual
Married to Gemma
2,231
469
Sept 9, 2024 10:46:38 GMT -6
Jorge
The time had come. For so many years no one thought that it would actually happen but, lo and behold, it has. Eons it seemed that only the mad and insane believed that the old cosmic horrors dwelled on the outer edges of the universe. These gospels were labeled as little more than the mad ramblings of a psychotic few or the fantasies of deeply troubled authors; but there were those who could read between the lines, who could pulled out the kernels of reality like ticks buried deep in the skin. These were the people who knew the truth, who knew what was coming, and who knew to prepare for the eventual signs.
There was no greater sign of the cosmic forces moving than what occurred on July 1st, 2017, when the world witnessed the very shattering of the dimensional barriers. Though mutants ran amok in the world, their gifts explained away as genetic anomalies, the event on this particular day, under the darkened sky of the eclipse showed that this was no mere display of mutant potency -- the things from the dark edges were creeper closer.
The amount of power it takes to rend a dimensional wall is a gift only bestowed upon the very cosmic horrors that floated throughout the darkest corners of the void. This was the first sign that they entities were on the move, seeping into this reality with an aim of conquering all that they looked upon. But for as powerful as they are, this was a task that could not be completed upon their own. They needed assistance, they needed worshippers, they needed sacrifices -- and there is no greater sacrifice than the that of the sane mind.
Enter the Lovecraft Sisters: Agatha, Agnes, and Abigail. Young, barely fifteen or sixteen years old (no one can quite remember), these three individuals count themselves as some of the most devote followers. Of course they have traveled and meet with like-minded people but never had met a true believer, simply fans who wore t-shirts, inked their skin, or sat around tables rolling dice -- pathetic really.
To these three who act as one, they never truly found anyone with whom they could identify with. Posers, fanboys and girls, little more than that, never any true acolytes. When questioned, however, the three sisters never identified who informed them that their beliefs were real, but rather they just knew it to be true. It was that faith that made them true to who they were and true believers in the cosmic horrors that dwelled in the void.
Thus, when the sign came, the three made their plans. If they could not gather enough followers to bring about their new lords, then they would ensure a sacrifice so great that they themselves would be put at the head of their new deities order. After all, sacrifice is what gains the attention of a god or goddess and with what these three were planning, they would ensure their new rulers that their bellies will be filled upon their arrival.
October 31st. That would be the day. The day in which in barrier between realms is at its thinnest, when the dead and the supernatural are already at their strongest. The dimensional wall was already weakened and so, with a little nudge, the Lovecraft Sisters could help cause that final crack, that last little rip that their beloved deities would need in order to finally set foot and bring a new world order.
HARLEM -- St. Nicholas Playground
During the daylight hours, the playground was usually a bustling center of activity. Children screaming as they ran left and right, climbed over equipment, jumping from space to space and reveling in their young lives. Truly it was a place of untold happiness, lessons learned, and experiences gained. However, fearful of those dark things that can happen in the dark of night, the playground and surrounding park were essentially abandoned. There was nothing here to indicate any signs of life, only a dimly illuminated space and the remainders of candy wrappers and lost gloves.
The gentle squeak of the chained swings filled the air. Around in park, only the bravest of the brave could be seen, such as joggers running late into the night, drunks laying camped out under a far off tree, and a few hoodlums as they snickered and slipped unseen things between them. Truly this was no place for anyone to just wander into it.
So it was a good thing that Agnes Lovecraft was not just anyone.
The young girl, no more than a teenager, strolled through the park, humming to herself, dressed only in the green, checkered pleated skirt, knee-high socks, and white blouse that was wore tight against her frame. Over her shoulders she wore a black, wool jacket, a coat with an unknown emblem stitched into the lapel. Her bouncy, blonde hair was pulled back into a forest green bow. She was such a sight, the likes of which certainly didn’t belong in this place, but here she was.
She strolled up towards the center of the abandoned playground, a small hum on her lips as she bobbed her head to an unheard melody. Truly she was a disturbing sight for anyone to behold.
Upon arriving on the sandy ground, Agnes strolled across and clamoured up to the top of the highest structure. From there her unknown song began to reach a fever pitch as a hellish red light began to glow from the center of her eyes. Teeth clenched, arms stretched out, the young woman lifted her gaze upward and implored the darkness around her.
”Nog uh'eog ot n'ghft nilgh'rishuggogg! nafl'fhtagn! nafl'fhtagn! nafl'fhtagn ng ymg' ulnah mgepnah shugog!”
In the epicenter, from her body, there released a massive darkness, a swirl of shadowy energy that swept outward, across the playground, through the park, and surrounding, penetrating, everything that came within reach of it. And it was here, here, where the madness began to take root.
With the day off from work and Syndicate assignments, Stephanie and Malia were able to enjoy a Halloween movie marathon before it was time for the main event. Malia loved Haloween from the moment she understood what it was, between the costumes, the (parent-approved) movies, and of course, the candy. Stephanie allowed Malia to pick out costumes, and she even selected a mother-daughter, queen and princess set. It would have been tragic to miss Halloween with her daughter, but Stephanie was lucky enough not to receive any assignments. It would have been hard to tell Poseidon she refused to work, given his leverage, but he thankfully gave her a reprieve from her Syndicate life for the night.
Well, almost. After comparing crime statistics and mutant hate crime numbers, Stephanie decided she would rather bring Malia across the rift. The border was finally maintained properly, and Stephanie was sure Malia would be talking about the trip for weeks to come.
As much as she hated “checking in” with Poseidon, she did let him know about her Halloween plans so he could be sure she was not trying to run away. He knew she knew better than that. Even still, Poseidon decided the mother-daughter pair deserved an escort across the rift.
Yes, Stephanie was assigned a chaperone. If she had to deal with a Syndicate shadow, she could do worse than Khalil. The man was not “better” than the other willing members of Syndicate, but he was at least kinder. Stephanie was sure her appearance might have played a role in earning that kindness, but she would just count her blessings.
Malia looked over at their red companion, who thankfully followed Stephanie’s advice of “don’t dress as an incubus, or else.” The little girl did not know how Stephanie knew Khalil, so to her, he was just one of mommy’s friends. ”Is Mister Khalil trick-or-treating, too?”
Stephanie smiled and placed a squeezed the little hand she was holding. ”Well, he better, because we’re not sharing our candy.”
The group was crossing the park filled with parents and children passing through, looking to get to homes and apartments filled with candy. Stephanie had done research to determine the “safest” neighborhoods to visit for trick-or-treating, so they had a rigid itinerary. Before they left, they would enjoy the park. The excitable children filled the area with energy, and there was an area where some local groups had set up candy bins and face painting.
”What do you think, sweetie? Face painting or candy first?”
Malia considered her choices, answering with a toothy grin. ”Face paint, then candy!” She giggled, but her laughter faded away into a perplexed look. ”What’s that, mommy?”
Stephanie turned to see what Malia was talking about, but she had no answer. She was just as confused by the unnerving wall of darkness seemingly emanating toward them. Before she could find words, the darkness had already passed over them, sending a chill down Stephanie’s spine.
”Mommy…” It had been a long time since Stephanie was “scared of the dark” like her daughter, but she knew the feeling all too well. Stephanie was already trying to locate the nearest sources of light, but even street lights felt muted and dimmed. Everything felt wrong somehow, and Stephanie felt vulnerable.
”It’s gonna be okay, sweet pea,” Stephanie said, trying to sound reassuring in spite of the wavering of her voice. She held her little princess close, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
And here she thought she made the safest Halloween choice.
Truth be told, Khalil hated Halloween-- absolutely hated it. It was the one night a year where humans and human-passing mutants got to pretend to be something they weren't, and full-time physical mutants, for the most part, stayed in. Just as with black cats, physical mutants had statistically higher incidences of violence committed against them on Halloween night.
Khalil's narcissism occasionally outweighed his sensibility, however, and he would don something with spikes, straps, and very little else, and trek to the nearest 21+ Halloween party at a nightclub. (One year, he opted for a sexy pharaoh outfit with thick gold armbands.) He'd have his fun, maybe hook up with someone, commit a small act of arson… but beyond wearing far too little clothing, it was nothing more than a standard night on the town.
This year… maybe this year would be different. It started when Stephanie came to request a night off, with her daughter. For trick-or-treating. It came as no surprise to anyone that Poseidon made her take a chaperone. What did come as a surprise was that he chose Khalil to be her escort. He could barely contain his excitement. Khalil never got to work with Stephanie, and here he was now, accompanying them.
He'd be a fool to just think of it as an outing together, though. And any inkling that it was, was quickly dispelled by the iron clasp of Poseidon’s hand upon his shoulder and a terse, “If anything happens… anything at all… it's on your head.”
He tried to put that conversation in the furthest recesses of his mind. Tonight, he wanted to live vicariously through Malia and Stephanie’s night out. He'd never trick-or-treated as a kid, after all, and he'd far surpassed the window of “ages appropriate to trick-or-treating”.
Khalil kept a polite distance, as a father might do while his wife and child were going door-to-door for candy, partaking in various carnival activities, et cetera. In the spirit of the season, he'd donned a (publicly presentable) skeleton costume, complete with face paint. He'd even painted his tail to look bony and jointed.
In terms of Khalil's usual disposition, he was noticeably withdrawn… but there was something sanctimonious about mother-daughter time that even the demon didn't want to disrupt. He did, however, catch up to his mark when the two women came to an abrupt halt.
“Whaaaat the-” he trailed, following their line of vision. There was something churning in the darkness, like tentacles but not-quite-solid, and it reached towards them. Khalil jumped as the cold washed over him, setting his teeth on-edge.
Stephanie reassured her daughter, but there was edge in her voice that was undeniable.
“Stephanie,” Khalil said gently, his tail twitching in agitation, “Let's… let's get outta here. Something isn't right.”
Khalil-- Mr. Everything's Fun, Mr. Can't Take Anything Seriously-- was feeling uneasy. His heart was hammering uselessly against his ribs, but he wouldn't deign to admit that, particularly not to Stephanie.
Artair didn't really understand Halloween. It wasn't really done back home and he'd been a little too focused on school and, well not dying, to have a chance to go to a party. Now that he was in his second year and gotten an invite to a proper Halloween bash, he'd gone all out on the costume. Some people might accuse him of playing to a stereotype, others that he must be freezing but frankly he relished the chance to try out the Pictish outfit. After all, it was still way too warm in the city for him so having an excuse to not wear a shirt was awesome.
And he got to wander the streets with a prop sword without any funny looks. That was also cool.
One thing he hadn't accounted for though was already drunk people who kept trying to flip his kilt. Like he would actually not be wearing underwear. Seriously could people not keep their hands to themselves? One even got annoyed with him when he started swearing, like he was the b----- bad guy! Thankfully the close he got to where the party was taking place, the less people he was encountering on the street. Still the occasional parent and child, the later of which always whisper excitedly to their chaperone. Those he had a smile for.
Rounding a corner and seeing the park, he knew he was only a couple of minutes away. Good, a strong drink and some mindless fun was what he needed after the past couple of months. Just a bit of stress free socialising and drinking.
Which meant of course it couldn't be that easy. No, nothing could go right for the Scot could it. There just had to be a creepy wave of darkness washing out of the Park. There just had to be something going wrong. There just had to be screaming.
Swearing viciously and crossing the road he stepped into the darkness. It, it was hard for him to explain the feeling of it. It was, oppressive, cold, muted. Like everything was under a layer of water. Suppressing his better instincts he moved a little further in, spotting a pair of silhouettes and moving towards them.
Ranger had never been a huge Halloween fan. Sure, he went to the odd Halloween party and would occasionally even dress up, but he never went all out like many people seemed to. This year was to be the same. Ranger was dressed as a cowboy, which is to say he added a few choice accessories to his usual attire. Cowboy boots, spurs, worn denim jeans, tucked in plaid long sleeve, leather belt, black cowboy hat, and a lasso carried on his shoulder.
His spurs clinking on the concrete, Ranger made his way through Harlem looking for the address Noel had given him. He was meeting her after work to pick up costumes for Reveille and Dammit. The pair of puppies were going to be bees for Halloween.
When Ranger reached the address Ranger checked his phone to confirm he went to the right place. Instead of a costume store for pets he found a Subway restaurant. Ranger sighed and did a quick search for the name of the business. It was the right street, but the wrong end of town. Noel must have forgotten part of the number.
As he turned to leave something caught his eye. He turned to see a wave of darkness before it passed over him. It seemed to be more than just a black tentacle-like smoke. As it washed over it brought with it a feeling of wrongness. A distant sense of anxiety and dread.
He sent a quick text to Noel that he would be late. Unable to turn against years of training, Ranger headed toward where the smoke had come from. He didn’t know what it was, but it was bad and Ranger would always run toward danger to help.
Things were very bad. They were the worst kind of bad because Stephanie’s daughter was caught right in the heart of it. In recent years, Stephanie was an imperfect person, but she always prided herself on keeping Malia away from the darkest parts of her life. The little girl was oblivious to her involvement with Syndicate, and her mommy’s past was left in the past when she was born. Everything she did, she did to protect Malia, yet there they both were, surrounded by literal darkness, and Stephanie was defenseless.
Her eyes darted around rapidly, trying to understand what she was dealing with. The dark was hazy, but Stephanie could have sworn she saw something… unnatural in the distance. She was not going to panic, but she could not shake the feeling that she was in a dire situation. Her heartbeat was picking up, but she had to remain in control. Freaking out was going to do Malia little good.
Stepping back with Malia held close, Stephanie got closer to Khalil. As much as she did not want to rely on a member of the Syndicate, Stephanie realized she was weaponless. Khalil was the best of the bad men she knew and she knew two important things about him: one, that he was logically not the cause of the mess they were in, and two, he could create fire. She hated to admit it, but Khalil, in that moment, was better equipped to protect Malia. There was no time to be stubborn when her daughter’s life was in jeopardy.
The idea of escaping the darkness was great in theory, but Khalil was missing one important detail of their predicament. ”That’s a lovely idea. Feel free to tell me which direction leads to ‘out,’” she said with unnecessary sass influenced by frustration. ”Far as I can tell, this stuff is spreading far and fast. If we go that way, we could just end up lost in the dark.”
”Mommy, I’m scared,” said the little girl tugging at her mother’s dress.
Stephanie frowned, wrapping an arm around Malia’s back to pull her closer as she clung tightly to her mother’s leg. ”I know, baby, but it’s going to be okay. Mister Khalil will keep us safe,” she said softly, before looking back up to Khalil and more pointedly asking, ”Right?”
Surveying her surroundings again, Stephanie tried to pick out anything out of place, forgetting that it was Halloween. The smoke obscured a man dressed like an ancient warrior with a weapon at his side. If anyone screamed ancient evil, he could fit the bill. ”Khalil… if that guy… or thing… or whatever gets too close, you have my every blessing to blast him…”
The scarlet-skinned demon had already been close to the brunette-- but when Stephanie backpedaled, she nearly stepped squarely onto the demon's foot. Khalil inhaled sharply, pulling his foot out from under her. Unease was replaced by thin annoyance. Stephanie rebuked his suggestion with a sharp retort, and the demon held a placating pair of gloved hands up in surrender.
>> ”That’s a lovely idea. Feel free to tell me which direction leads to ‘out.’ Far as I can tell, this stuff is spreading far and fast. If we go that way, we could just end up lost in the dark.”
"Up?" Khalil proposed, fanning his wings ever so slightly. His voice was pleasant but disingenuine. He was doing best to behave but, God help him, her tone didn't help. Sure, they could bumble around on-foot for hours, but if he could somehow fly above the fog, get a visual on the scope of how far it'd spread... or hell, just fly out of it... who was he kidding. It would be dangerous to fly without clear visuals of their surroundings. He might fly into a tree, or a building, and then what? Plus, if he went against Poseidon's orders by leaving Stephanie on the ground (God knew she wouldn't deign to let him carry her)... his *ss would be as good as dead.
Peevishly, the demon removed the gloves he'd donned, which had been painted to look like carpals, metacarpals, et cetera, and stuck them in his back pocket. He'd taken too much time on those to let them go up in flames. He also unsnapped his coat, particularly the sections that accomodated his wings, and let it slide down his back. Though it'd been made to look all ragged and with fake cobwebs, it was a nice coat... and he wouldn't risk burning that, either. It was thus that Khalil stood shivering in a t-shirt that'd been painted to look like a skeletal torso.
>> ”Mommy, I’m scared.”
>> ”I know, baby, but it’s going to be okay. Mister Khalil will keep us safe. Right?”
"That's right," Khalil managed a bright response, kneeling down to Malia's level, "I'll keep you safe. Can you keep my coat safe for me?"
Malia gave him a solemn nod, and Khalil draped the massive suit coat around her shoulders.
"If anyone gives you or Mommy any trouble," Khalil assured the kid, his voice dropping to furtive tones, "I'll burn them in the butt! Just like in the cartoons! Wouldn't that be funny?"
Malia gave him a little half-smile, but didn't laugh. Ah, well, couldn't blame him for trying. He didn't expect her to take the bait that easily, either. Kids were smart. They knew when grown-ups were scared.
"Someone's probably just playing a mean trick on us, is all," Khalil declared, rising to his full height once again. His honey-gold eyes cut towards Stephanie again, waiting for her command. He kept his wings slightly fanned, as if ready to shield them at any moment.
>> ”Khalil… if that guy… or thing… or whatever gets too close, you have my every blessing to blast him…”
What guy? He followed her gaze, humming quietly to himself. There was a rather interesting character striding towards them, toting a sword and looking rather... anachronistic. But it was also Halloween. And, as someone who looked distinctly hell-borne, Khalil wasn't really in the position to be placing blame on people. He elected for a casual approach.
"Evening!" Khalil called-out in an almost sing-song to the kilt-wearing man, "Quite the, uh, Halloween weather we're having, huh?"
Though his greeting was pleasant enough, his body language was contrary-- his twitching tail, his slightly-fanned wings, the heat that was starting to emanate from the palms of his hands. He wasn't standing still, either. He stood to one side of the ladies, but he was on high-alert, eyes combing the darkness for additional threats.
Slowing as he got closer to the shadowy figures, the sense of unease mounted. What if they were responsible? What if they had some part in this darkness? Worse what if they had been affected by whatever the hell was happening? Drawing the plastic sword, he knew it was a pretty useless gesture, it'd hardly do damage. But the familiar weight was comforting.
A few more steps forward, something about the sound being off to him, and the forms resolved into more than than just the two he'd guessed of. A mother and daughter, that much was obvious from the costumes, and a skeleton man. Or most of one at least, he'd apparently shed some costume pieces after the fog had passed over them. Oh and he red skin. Like a demon. And wings. Like a demon. Now Artair wasn't particularly superstitious or religious, but with the very weird events happening and the appearance of someone straight out of the bible, well he couldn't help but be suspicious. True, he was probably just an ordinary mutant with some rather interesting physical features but with the date, the time and what was happening, well the Scot wasn't taking chances.
Forming a weapon in his mind just in case he took a last couple of steps until he stood maybe ten feet from them. "Aye, you could say that. This normal round here or something just a wee bit new?" He tried to be friendly, for the kids sake if nothing else but frankly he was way to on edge for it to come out as anything but stony. With the accent and costume, probably not the best first impression.
"You get any idea where this came from? Not that directions mean much right now but still, any info would help." He wasn't sure quite how it would help, or what he'd do with that information if they had it but logical questions were easy. Gave him something to focus on rather than the damp, oppressive darkness.
Noting the wide eyed little uns' curious glances and obvious fear, he belted the fake sword back on. It probably didn't help the somewhat fierce look he had going and the man had a bit of a soft spot for frightened children. "Bonnie costumes you and your lassie have," he started trying to put the mood at ease. Artair wasn't a people person but even he could tell she wasn't quite his biggest fan right now. Nothing quite as dangerous as a scared mother in a weird, possibly dangerous situation.
Glancing over his shoulder to confirm a few suspicions, the way back was completely black. The rolling darkness sending minor alarm up his spine. "Well I'd say you could head that way," indicating the direction he'd come in to the pair, "If you wanted to leave but, well I can't say it's actually the way out now."
The sound of spurs on concrete echoed off the buildings as Ranger headed toward where he’d seen the darkness roll in from. There hadn’t been a significant number of people on the street when it had rolled in and it seemed the few that were had ducked into buildings. The darkness had limited his vision and as an automatic response to it his power shifted his vision to infrared.
Muted colors changed from the near greys that made things hard to distinguish as they were through the darkness and replaced them with their being visible by how hot they were. The road was easy to see as the black was still holding some heat from the day, some cars were still illuminated as their engines had recently stopped, glass reflected Ranger’s image back at him, and people were easy to see against all these cooler objects.
Mostly.
The darkness had invaded his infrared vision as well. It was as if a light fog had rolled in and it fuzzed and distorted his perception of objects. The people he say gathered were easy to pick out as people, but their shapes were warped by whatever the darkness was.
Ranger moved through the darkness to the people; three adults and a child. One of the adults was holding something in his hand, it was long and much cooler than he was. A sword?
Unable to hear what they were saying Ranger approached, his power giving his eyes eyeshine like an animal. Two circles of reflected light approaching through the darkness.
”Evenin’. Yall doin’ alright?” Ranger said as he approached the group, noting the sword had returned to the man’s belt. And now that he was closer that one of the men had wings. With his infrared sight he couldn’t tell if it was part of his costume or not. What was interesting is that the man's hands were glowing, they were the warmest thing in his field of vision.
If Stephanie was keeping an eye out for out-of-place and unexpected things, the way Khalil handled himself around Malia fit the bill. The arsonist Stephanie knew was vain, selfish, and what charm he had was undercut by his shamelessness. The last thing Stephanie expected was to see the demonic man acting sweetly, trying to calm Malia down by offering his coat. He even tried to make a joke to lighten her spirits. It was nice to know Khalil could offer Stephanie support in her time of need.
Or were the actions of a mobster Firestarter too out of character? Everything she knew about Khalil was surface-level. What if he already had an ulterior motive? If he was smart, he had to realize a powerless non-combatant and a child were dead weight in the face of the mysterious smoke. That was even assuming the evil darkness was not a product of a power Stephanie was unaware of. Would it not be just like a demon to bring hell to earth?
It bothered her to hear Khalil take such a jovial, nonchalant tone when standing between Malia and the Scot. Leave it to him not to take something so dangerous seriously. The only reassurance she felt was the presence of nearby heat; despite his friendly attitude, Khalil was ready to attack if things turned south. Stephanie wanted to trust his motives, but she still had doubts she could not shake.
The warrior was oddly peaceful, responding politely to Khalil. He wanted to know more about the smoke, which could have meant he was as unaware of the phenomenon as they were. It also could have been a ruse. In fact, with how easily he and Khalil shared words, Stephanie worried she might have found herself outnumbered in a conspiracy to… well, she had not gotten that far yet. All she knew was the sense of powerlessness was starting to wear on her nerves and she could feel the pace of her heartbeat rapping against her chest.
She had to go along with the act, if it was an act. If they knew she was suspicious, there was no telling how they would have to respond. ”Best I could tell, this all started from…” Stephanie looked around, but she realized the landscape was almost impossible to recognize. The grass no longer looked green and the way it moved was… unnatural. The trees swayed ominously, but it felt like they had gotten closer. Shaking off the shiver that ran down her spine, she held her hands up. ”Well, I don’t know anymore. There was a playground a ways off, I think. Somewhere.”
From the corner of her eye, Steph spotted the reflection of two eyes in the darkness, prompting her to jump back, shout, and pull her daughter closer. Much to her chagrin, yet another mystery man was approaching.
And yet another conversational introduction! Was she the only one aware of their surroundings? Perturbed, Stephanie spat back, ”Oh, you know, we’re just dealing with some kind of hellish darkness descending, but otherwise, sure, we’re fu…freaking fine!” Even in the heat of her frustration, Stephanie still remembered Malia’s presence. They were going to make it out of the mess they were in, so Stephanie had to be conscious of not teaching her daughter a new world to bring to school.
Stephanie was unsure which of the three men she was speaking to, or if she was targeting one at all, but she was approaching the end of her patience. ”Listen. I need to get my daughter out of this. I don’t care if that means going up or around or away or toward the center of this thing. I’m ready to get the he…ck out of this universe, ASAP.” Stephanie was the only one not in the mood for friendly conversation, and it showed.
The man in the kilt closed-in on them, brandishing a weapon that looked plastic and blunt-- you had to be joking. Khalil continued his winsome tone, though the man practically grunted his response. Ruuuuude.
"Never seen anything like it~" Khalil assured the stranger. You'd have to be blind to miss the look in the Scot's eyes-- Khalil had seen that look a thousand times. It was the look of someone who'd passed judgement and found the guilty party, however misplaced the blame was. The demon pantomimed drawing an "X" over his heart with his right hand, and held his left hand upright, "Scout's honor."
He'd never been a Boy Scout, but that was irrelevant. When the Scot turned his attention to Stephanie and Malia, Khalil took the opportunity to scout the surroundings, and spied an approaching pair of glowing eyes. His right palm sparked but did not catch. It was enough to make his heart stutter a bit.
But then the glowing eyes belonged to an amicable looking cowboy. O-kay then. Stephanie handled the response to the cowboy, a sharp retort about the situation at-hand and her intention to get the Hell out of there by any means necessary. Khalil cast a quiet glance between her and the newcomer, smiling apologetically. He agreed that the best option was to get out of this predicament, but honestly had no idea about how that would be possible. Did they find the edge of this nightmare-scape and leave it for someone else to clean up? Or did they look for the source.
"I would offer to survey things from above, but I think flying's out of the question," Khalil advised the newcomers, "With how warped everything looks, I might fly into a building." And Heaven forbid he marr his perfect, painted face, "And besides, these two are my first priority-" he nodded to Stephanie and Malia, "-so I can't leave them behind."
Everything seemed to swim around them. Khalil though he'd had his back to the park, and-- hey, had that three always been there? Even if the two newcomers had come from the outside, it would be impossible to say if walking the same direction would lead them back out.
"So why don't we... choose a direction... and see where it takes us?" Khalil offered. And yes, he really did say we. Even though he had a niggling suspicion about these guys (stranger danger, and all that), it would be easier for three people to protect Stephanie and Malia then it would be for just him to protect them. And it was common knowledge that there was safety in numbers.
The man was way to friendly by half given the situation. That meant he was either responsible for this, or a complete moron. Chances are it'd be the later, only so much evil in the world. Stupid was everywhere. However, none of that matter because there was a child in danger and for better or worse, Artair wasn't going to leave them to the mercy of the rolling darkness.
Before he could respond to either of the adult people they had another friend wandering in from the mist. A cowboy. Like spurs and everything cowboy. That was new. It might be Halloween but this one looked like the real deal. Spoke like one too, given the southern accent. The Scot couldn't place it though, his ear for American dialects was still pretty inexperienced. Not that accents really matter at that point, having another person should be good. If he wasn't also a suspect.
The southern certainly was a big guy, well built and had that look of a brawler but something about him rang a bell. Artair was sure he'd seen him somewhere but he just couldn't place the face with the outfit and distortion effect playing across everything. Plus from the eyes he could probably see far better than anyone else there. Nodding a greeting and letting the other two take care of the speaking and planning he let the weapon in his mind slip, saving his focus for a better time. They were safe, for now at least. No point wasting energy yet.
Raising an eyebrow at the strange couple, as well as the 'this universe' comment he kept his mouth shut until there was a break between the upset mother and all too smarmy seeming demon-man person. "Aye, I can see the sense in sticking together. Whatever's doing this is probably dangerous and I b-----y doubt this is all it has to throw around." Something about the damp, clinging darkness spoke of things to come, "Don't worry lass. I can see you and your wee lassie out here safe, for what that's worth."
Turning and addressing their brand new cowboy, "What about you lad? If I'm right about those eyes you can see more than I can at least. You OK leading the vanguard?" Artair didn't expect anything from him in the comment, but to the currently blue painted warrior it made the most sense to put the person who could look the best at the front.
Leaving the question in the air, he rested his hand back on the pommel of the prob. That was real, at least. Something solid in this walking dream. Well and he could make it pretty deadly if need be. Thank god for magic brain knives.
Posted by Ranger on Oct 12, 2017 8:36:27 GMT -6
Neopolitan likes this
S.U.P.E.R.
S.U.P.E.R. Agent
Tan
Noel
1,780
381
Nov 21, 2024 20:17:52 GMT -6
Fuegogrande
Ranger’s question was met by a frustrated retort that narrowly avoided profanity. ”So that’s a yes?” Ranger asked curtly. He had wanted to check on the group to make sure they were alright. One of them could have been injured in the weird darkness.
Before he could leave, if they wanted to bite the head off someone lending who sought to lend aid he would just move on, the woman spoke. SHe announced that she didn’t care how, but she wanted out of this universe. This universe? She was from across the rip. The man with the hot hands nixed the idea of him flying to scout. Which meant his wings were real. They had looked warm enough to be real. The other man who had the sword stated that he could see the woman and the child out of whatever the fog was.
The man then asked Ranger if he was okay leading the vanguard. ”Tha’s fine.” Ranger responded turning to look at the man. Facial features were harder to make out with his current vision, but it was enough that when added to the Scottish accent Ranger had a feeling that he knew who it was. As head of security at Haven he not only saw most people that were members on security footage, he had files on the members so he could identify members he had not met yet.
”Let’s get movin’. Sooner we start, sooner we’re out.” Assuming the whole city hadn’t been covered.
Ranger picked a direction and started walking. He measured his steps to the child wouldn’t have trouble keeping up. His spurs went back to their metallic ringing as they struck concrete. The fog seemed to obscure his vision more than it did before he found the group. It was still better than his normal sight, but there seemed to be more tendrils moving and distorting everything.
The brief moment had somehow been enough for the Ranger to lose his sense of direction. ”We need t’ find an intersection. Get an idea of where we are, which direction we’re headed. “