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.
Posted by aurethius on Mar 6, 2011 23:58:56 GMT -6
Guest
The sun set in the distance, being incapable of anything else. It was its time to sink into the west, and at the MetLife Building where our story begins, the view was remarkable. The setting sun thrust its red rays desperately at the sky, like the hands of a drowning man grasping for salvation. White clouds looked down as the sun sank, taking their usual sick pleasure in something they watched every day; an unnecessary metaphorical death that they allowed to happen. One might imagine those clouds, laughing, as the high and mighty ball of fire fell madly into darkness.
Or at least, this is what the mutant Maksimilian imagined. Vaguely, he recalled that thoughts like that were called 'poetry'. People placed these painfully inane words into a neat little pile, swirling and dancing with adjectives and metaphors and saying quite a bit without saying anything at all.
"Hate poetry." he mumbles.
Maks had become accustomed to talking to himself. Having spent the last several years alone and below ground, he had only the stones and the incessant dripping of water to talk to. His voice echoed in those depths, and within his mind, they were a chorus of listeners. It had been years until he had found himself yearning for real company. If any part of his mind was still human, the fact that it had taken so long would've worried him.
"Does the insane man... know he is insane."
Maks shrugs, taking in his immediate surroundings. The helicopter pad of the building was his current resting place; the chopper was out on some unknown mission tonight. The rest of the roof was sparse, save a few raised entranceways that led into stairwells down. The air was remarkably clean up here; warm updrafts vented skyward, lifting late-flying birds up to their homes amid the skyscrapers and commercial buildings. Maks takes it all in, forgetting for a moment to control his own mutation...
Gradually, his skin begins to spread out of his makeshift clothing, spawning a broad circle around him of squirming, tumescent fungal growth. The stuff was purple, identical to the lumpy matter that had composed Maks' body for so long. This particular carpet was harmless, and if there were any nearby buildings tall enough to see, Maks would appear as a lump inside a living, growing purple circle.
Luckily, there wasn't anyone high enough to see...
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Mar 7, 2011 9:49:32 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
The early evening was Gina's favorite time of day to fly. Though the setting sun made visibility less-than-favorable, it was by far one of the prettiest sights to see. Most New Yorkers were commuting home or settling down for the evening, to preoccupied with their own lives to turn their gaze skyward. From here, where the smog didn't choke her, where the noise could barely reach, and where none would notice her, Gina found sanctuary. She lingered over rooftops, letting an unseasonably warm thermal carry her wherever it chose. She barely beat her wings, spare the occasional tilt here or there to readjust her position.
Gina squinted her eyes against the light, relishing the warmth that washed over her face from the sun's light. It was nice to get out of the Mansion-- it wasn't that she didn't love Xavier's, it was just that, after a while, any walls began to feel like a cage to her, which made her feel like she had to get out. For the most part, she'd simply walk around the grounds, or the neighborhood, but there were occasionally times where she'd take off and let her wings carry her over the city. This evening was such an evening as that.
She'd gotten more adept at recognizing buildings by their roofs, having come to familiarize herself with the city little-by-little over the past few months. However, Gina's confidence wasn't so great that she would dare to stay out past sunset. It was much more challenging to navigate in the dark. She drew close to the MetLife building, which she knew to be said building by its heliport. Many buildings had their own pads for helicopters to land on, but she knew this one to be MetLife by the surrounding buildings. The helicopter was not home this evening, its pad instead occupied by a man who was watching the sunset.
"Funny place to watch a sunset," Gina murmured, cutting to the left so as to opt for a different route. She wasn't used to seeing other people up here, and thought it funny for a human to be standing on the roof, watching the sun set. But, however strange it was for a man to be on the roof, it was even stranger for a gargoyle to be flying over the city. Since Gina didn't want to startle him into a stupor, she began to redirect where she was flying, making the careful attempt to stay out of sight.
Gina was about to turn her attention away from the man when something about him took a hold of her attention once more and wouldn't let it go. Where the nondescript man had once stood, a strange mass now grew, rippling out from around him. A mutant man? Gina turned, retracing her path towards MetLife once again. When she was just over the heliport, she swooped down and suddenly veered upwards before settling on ground that was unclaimed by... whatever that purple stuff was. A small breeze kicked up around her, announcing her presence as she landed.
"Good evening," Gina called out, her voice a few notches below a holler as she approached the man. She only drew within three feet of where the purple matter was, as she was uncertain of what it was or what it would do to her if it touched her. Either way, it looked gross, so even if it didn't do anything, she didn't want it on her feet, "Lovely sunset, this evening."
Come to think of it, she didn't know the man, either, but there was a certain community in amongst mutants. Even mutants that were mentally pretty far gone or downright evil still treated others of their kind with a grain of a humanity, at least in Gina's experience. She was sure that there was a mutant, somewhere, who was just a butt to everyone. Well, if the man that she now addressed was any such man, she could just as easily jump off the roof and return home, without so much as a second thought.
Posted by aurethius on Mar 7, 2011 11:57:55 GMT -6
Guest
Maks turns with a wet squelch to regard the stranger. At first glance, it seemed the stone he had always talked to had finally come alive, until he really had a good look. With rotting eyes, he scans this being from head to toe. Attractive gray skin, elegant spotting along her shoulders and back, a tail that seemed to twist with curiosity, clawed feet... Eyes wondering if he was a threat.
Maksimilian looks back to the dying sun, and to the birth of the evening. He knew now that his carpet had spread around him; even with the thick trenchcoat, the back of his neck was a living mass of fungi, and the pool of life on the cold concrete betrayed him just as easily as this girl's graceful wings betrayed her. In the span of one brief moment, each of them knew what the other was. The question now, was what would the other do. When he speaks, the voice seemed to lurch harshly out of his throat.
"First one I've seen... In seven years. It hasn't changed."
For a moment, he does his best to recall the rules for strangers meeting. People needed titles. Names. In the wild, things knew what they were from appearance; certain colors meant poison, certain movements meant prey, certain teeth meant predator. For humans, even those who had lost the soft pink skin and comparatively delicate feet of their species to a mutation, appearance wasn't enough. They needed a name to go with it. Maks offers his now, saying it as much to the sunset as he is saying it to the stone girl.
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Mar 7, 2011 15:38:10 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
The man turned, studying her with an unreadable gaze. Gina held her arms clasped behind her back, still skirting the edge of the purple mass that surrounded him. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, forcing her gaze away from the gunk as the man spoke. His voice was no more than a growl, as if it were a rusted hinge squeaking under the strain of disuse. It was very difficult to hear.
'First one I've seen... in seven years. It hasn't changed.'
"Seven years?" Gina echoed, almost floored by the idea. Inside, for seven years? She went crazy when she was inside for a matter of days, the idea of being stuck inside for a week terrifying her. Seven years was inconceivable, "That's a very long time." She could imagine that, after not seeing the sky for seven years, the sunset would be quite beautiful, "I'd go crazy if I was stuck inside for seven years." She was quiet as the man seemed to speculate for a moment, as if attempting to work through what to say next.
'Trenchfoot,' he said simply, before returning his attention to the sunset.
Gina tilted her head in confusion, arching her brow as she attempted to piece together what the word meant. Trenchfoot. She gradually came to figure that was his name, or what he opted to go by.
Surveying her surroundings, she noticed that there was a wall encompassing the perimeter of the roof, a wall that was both unclaimed by the purple gunk and wide enough to perch on. She fluttered over to the wall and curled her feet around it for balance. Teetering as she went, she wobbled her way along the unclaimed wall until she was within about two yards of the other mutant, Trenchfoot. She then plopped down, adjusting herself so that one foot dangled off of the roof's edge, and the other was tucked up under her.
"Gina," she replied, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Trenchfoot." She wasn't sure about his age, as the stuff that covered him made it difficult to perceive, but she assumed that he was older than her. Though humans would react with a knee-jerk unease, or perhaps fear, at such drastic mutations, Gina was more intrigued. From this new position, she had a better perspective at which to give to give Trenchfoot a once over. His face was human, but his skin was covered in a coat of the purplish, greenish-reddish gunk. She returned her gaze from his skin to his face again, perplexed by the contrast of the humanoid flesh on the distinctly inhuman skin. His eyes were interesting, though, which is where Gina directed her gaze. They were almost hazel, but with a sicklier tint.
"Is the purple stuff dangerous?" she asked hesitantly, glancing down at the ground below them. If some of it got on her, she wouldn't fuss, even if it was quite the sight to behold. However, it was dangerous or corrosive, she'd be certain to avoid it. Even if Trenchfoot didn't seem all too threatening, she didn't want to be the victim of an unintentional purple-gunk attack.
Posted by aurethius on Mar 7, 2011 16:05:44 GMT -6
Guest
The circle of muck slowly retracts, snaking back up underneath his clothing. The effect, and the sound, was not unlike a video of a man vomiting being played in reverse.
"Not Dangerous. Just Living."
As the sun finally surrenders itself to the horizon, the creature began to stand up. It bent over weirdly, betraying an inhuman flexibility. With no ribcage to prevent the movement, or diaphrahm to be crushed by it, he bent nearly in half as he rose. Thick legs that ended in laceless black boots slid under him, allowing the entire form to finally stand. He sways there for a moment, buoyed by the winds over the top of the MetLife building. His purple, rotten hands flex before slinking up into the slime-soaked sleeves of his coat. Maks recalls that she came here for a reason, and had been asking questions. He was now beginning to believe that prehaps he was an intruder.
"Is this... your Domain? Do you... make your 'eyrie' here?"
He wasn't sure if that was the right term, recalling that it applied to birds of some kind, which she appeared to be. Perhaps she would appreciate his attempt to use a phrase attributed to creatures with wings... Or perhaps she would be offended, if she still clung to the notion that she was still human... with some inhuman qualities. He turns to watch her, wondering which it would be.
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Mar 7, 2011 16:38:58 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
The goop retracted following her question, retreating back under Trenchfoot's attire. It retracted with a strange crawling noise that made Gina's skin crawl. She rubbed her arms, pushing the goosebumps down. She wore a couple of camisoles which, though unseasonable for most, was perfect for her in this kind of weather. She also wore a hoodie, which was fastened around her waist, and a pair of jeans with tattered hems. It didn't feel very cold but, if it was, she'd use that as an excuse for the shivers of her skin.
'Not dangerous. Just living.' Gina nodded to show that she comprehended. Okay, then-- if it wasn't dangerous, then it wasn't any concern of hers. She turned to face him, swinging around so that both feet were on the roof-side of the wall and her tail now hung over the edge. She clasped the wall with one hand and leaned to the side, allowing for Trenchfoot to literally "pull himself together" in silence.
When the gunk had finally, fully retracted, Trenchfoot stood up, much in the fashion that Gumby would stand, curling away from the ground. From this new stance, she was able to see him fully. He furled and unfurled his hands, before turning to Gina inquiringly.
'Is this your domain?' he inquired, 'Do you make your 'eyrie' here?'
"You mean, do I live on the roof?" Gina reiterated, snorting back a laugh. For a moment, she questioned if the man was being literal, but his expression showed that he was quite serious, perhaps even concerned, with the idea of intrusion. She was more amused than offended, any potential for annoyance quelled by the fact that, hey, this guy hadn't left wherever he had lived for seven years. He was bound to say something ridiculous. She stifled the laugh until it faded into silence, hoping that her reaction hadn't embarrassed him.
"No, sir," she admitted, "I make my 'eyrie' at Xavier's. It's a mutant school, off in that direction-" she pointed past a sea of buildings, in the direction from whence she'd come, "I was just taking myself out on a little evening excursion and happened to notice you, so I thought that I'd investigate." She smiled at the notion of living on a roof. She'd often fantasized living on a hilltop or the top story of a skyscraper, but never the roof-- she did have some grain of civility, after all, contrary to her appearance.
"Don't worry yourself," she assured Trenchfoot, still wearing a humored smile, "You aren't trespassing any more than I am-- I'd never live on a rooftop, particularly that of a... hospital? It's far too exposed to the elements, and I'd rather not get crushed to death by a wayward helicopter."
Posted by aurethius on Mar 7, 2011 17:05:25 GMT -6
Guest
The creature nods in response, understanding the logic behind it. It was exposed, even at night. Despite his quiet madness, Maksimilian recognized one important fact about his nature as a Mutant.
"Exposed. To be seen. What was the term... Squeaky wheel... gets the grease? More appropriate... visible infection... Gets the cure. Amputation. Harumph."
Another grumbling noise. He couldn't come up with the right metaphor for what he was trying to say. Being exposed was dangerous, especially for a predator that looked like a predator. Tigers had stripes to hide them among shadows. Snapping turtles could lie motionless at the bottom of the river until it was time to strike. Hawks could float high above, out of view of their prey. Not so for Maks, and perhaps this girl as well. He speaks again, not realizing that he was voicing his thoughts aloud, half-finished.
"No stripes... no camoflage for us. To look... is to see the Mutant."
The thing shakes his head slowly.
"What is a Mutant School? You are... taught how to be... what you are?"
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Mar 7, 2011 17:50:51 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
'Exposed. To be seen. What was the term... Squeaky wheel... gets the grease? More appropriate... visible infection... Gets the cure. Amputation. Harumph.'
Gina smiled patiently, allowing Trenchfoot to work through the idea on his own-- he seemed to be understanding what she was saying, at first, but then he completely missed the mark. Gina had meant that, if she lived on a roof, she would get wet when it rained, frozen when it snowed, or fried to a crisp when the sun was atrociously hot. She hadn't though of it in Trenchfoot's respect. She didn't correct him, though, seeing that his attempt to find the right words was bothering him. She simply nodded and agreed, "Yeah, sort of like that."
He continued to struggle with his words, though, his struggle for clarity only becoming more and more confounding.
'No stripes... no camoflage for us. To look... is to see the Mutant.'
Trenchfoot shook his head then, as if he wasn't quite sure of how he'd phrased things. Gina, however, understood quite well what he was getting at now.
"That is quite true," she agreed, bobbing her head, "We are what we are."
'What is a Mutant School? You are... taught how to be... what you are?'
"Kind of," Gina explained, looking for the Reader's Digest version of what Xavier's was, "It's a boarding school, with all these normal classes, for mutants, as well as a safe place for people that have nowhere else to go, and a place where you learn how to be a mutant, too, I suppose." She undid the Scrunchi that had drawn her wild hair against her skull, running a pensive hand through it before refastening it in a tight ponytail once again. She wasn't certain of how to explain it simply, but her "clear as mud" explanation was as good as it was going to get. She couldn't figure out how to word it differently.
"I'm just there for school, though," Gina explained, "Homeschooling was much too... boring." Gina let her feet swing absently in front of her in a fidgety, distracted sort of way. She was originally going to opt for the word "lonely", but recalled that she was talking to a person that had been locked away for seven years.
"What about you, Mr. Trenchfoot?" Gina countered in an "enough about me" kind of tone, standing up to stretch, before plopping back down, "Where is your domain?" Gina simply had to know, especially since he hadn't seen the sun in seven years. Her blindly bleeding heart bled for Trenchfoot, an image of him being forcibly hidden away arising in her mind. If it was his decision to hide, so be it, but if he needed a different place to stay, Gina would propose Xavier's to him. It was simply the kind of person that she was.
Posted by aurethius on Mar 7, 2011 18:20:54 GMT -6
Guest
Just as Gina allowed Maks to try and understand what he was thinking, so too did he wait for Gina to explain her Mutant School. It seemed that she had a place with others, and only flew in the City out of choice, not out of necessity. If Trenchfoot still felt, he might have experienced disappointment that he had been denied a kindred spirit; another fellow predator with whom to share a hunting space.
"My Domain..." he begins, and then stops. She had mentioned a school. An institution. An organization.
"Do not have a Domain. Do not want to... be in an institution. Not my... style."
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Mar 7, 2011 20:10:32 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
'My domain,' Trenchfoot echoed, the gears obviously at work in his head, 'Do not have a Domain. Do not want to... be in an institution. Not my... style.'
Gina held up her hands placatingly. Her brows furrowed, and an apologetic smile touched her face, teeth peeking through her parted lips as she gave such an uncertain smile. Sheesh, ask one question, and he turns it into something all personal, Gina thought.
"Hey, I wasn't going to invite you unless you needed some place to stay," Gina said defensively, letting her hands drop to the wall once again, "I was just asking because seven years seems like an awfully long time to stay... wherever you were. I assumed that you either liked it there, or that you weren't there because you wanted to be." Gina gave Trenchfoot a purposeful stare, her face settling into an offhand expression, "But if you're alright with where you are, I'll leave you be-- just trying to make small talk, is all."
She was trying to be patient, desperately, for she really wanted to learn more about this man, but his social skills made it difficult for Gina. After all, she was a fourteen-year-old, and had a fourteen-year-old's patience for somewhat difficult people.
"Let's try a different question," Gina said quickly, "How old are you, and how long have you been a mutant?" They were pretty simple questions, pretty noninvasive, or so she thought, and were relatively difficult to misinterpret. Very to-the-point, just as Trenchfoot seemed to be.
Posted by aurethius on Mar 8, 2011 10:25:15 GMT -6
Guest
Maks takes a long time before he's able to answer that last question. He understood seven years, having done the math from a newspaper that had served as a blanket for a homeless man he had met, but his age... Even something as basic as the concept of time was rough to remember. It was like re-learning how to ride a bike after having your legs removed.
"Was born... in nine-teen eighty three." he asserts. "Was able to... legally purchase alcohol in... Hrmm. The Americans... had gone to Iraq then. Was the same year. Went underground. I was... Me, by that point."
He rotates mechanically, turning to the edge of the roof and beginning to approach it. His footsteps become heavy, and he pauses a few feet away from the stone-skinned girl.
"I should be... twenty eight. Have been Me since... twenty one."
He pulls his feet up and out of his boots with a wet sucking noise. The footwear seemed to shrink, and as his bare feet touch the stone of the building's roof, it's clear that they are no more than stubby trunks. The thing reaches down, grabs the boots, and slips them somewhere inside his coat; not into a pocket though. Perhaps a belt?
"I think you are... the first other... I have met." he declares honestly. Technically, she was the third living human being he had met since sinking himself into the deep. "Other than... your 'place to stay', you are alone? Just you in the skies?"
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Mar 8, 2011 13:49:28 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
Trenchfoot worked his way through the math of his age, announcing the year in which he was born, and when he'd gone underground because of his mutation. He turned and approached her, reading the conclusion that, 'I should be... twenty-eight. Have been Me since... twenty-one.'
"I was born 'Me'," Gina offered in reply, even though Trenchfoot had not asked, "I'm fourteen." She was half his age, and had been a mutant twice as long. Funny, how things worked like that. She watched Trenchfoot remove his shoes, quietly pondering how life might have been for him, had he been born into his mutation. She could only imagine how his parents might have reacted to him when he was born as "himself".
'I think that you are... the first other... I have met, Trenchfoot informed her, before breaking off once again, and then shifting the conversation into a slightly different direction, 'Other than... your place to stay, are you alone? Just you in the skies?'
Gina stared down at the pavement, gaze pointed towards, but not nearly at, Trenchfoot's stubby little feet as she sank into speculation, sort of taken aback by the sudden question. It wasn't invasive, but it gave her something to think about.
"I've never met another gargoyle," Gina ratoionalized hesitantly, after pausing to interpret what Trenchfoot had meant, "So, I'm kind of alone, I guess. But, there are other mutants,-" she twitched one of her shoulders in a faint shrug, "-There are definitely other mutants that can fly, but I've never seen another gargoyle." She imagined this meeting, meeting any other gargoyle, be they male or female. They would be instant friends, she was sure. And if it was a guy... oh, baby... Gina smiled at the notion of a gargoyle guy, though she knew the chances of finding another just like her was slim-to-none in a probability of occurring.
She then shifted to the idea of having a parent with the same mutation as her-- but, had her biological parents, or at least one of them, looked like her, they probably wouldn't have surrendered her at a fire station. Was she really the only gargoyle around? Was she alone? She had friends, and a foster family, but were there other gargoyles? Or, was Gina truly one of a kind? Part of her wanted to glow with pride at the notion of being unique, but another part of her was a bit uneasy at that idea. She couldn't be the only one.
"What about you," Gina inquired, "Are there others walking around, underground?"
Posted by aurethius on Mar 8, 2011 20:39:34 GMT -6
Guest
'Gargoyle'... so she did identify herself for what she was. Good.
"I believe that... the only other... 'things' like you... are made of stone. Gushing water from their mouths... at the tops of old... buildings. No offense intended... if you do not gush water."
Ponderously, he steps up onto the edge of the immensely tall building, uncaring for the incredible height.
"Term is... 'Cleanliness is close to Godliness.'... Perhaps Loneliness is closer?"
At once, the being steps over the edge! His upper body falls first, dropping over like a stone, and just before his feet are about to leave the face of the building... he stops, halting shakily in place. His feet had turned a stale yellow, and a small pool of the gunk, similarly colored, had formed on the wall. Whatever it was, it was holding him to the face of the MetLife building! Strangely enough, Maks seemed surprised that this worked. Was he really prepared to just drop off the edge of the building?
"For me..." he answers cooly, his voice half-lost as he was over the edge. "There are no others. Sewers... are empty. My life... was empty. Thus... I am up here."
Posted by Gina Schuyler on Mar 9, 2011 9:04:22 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
palevioletred
pansexual
taken - by nessa
1,265
196
Apr 25, 2024 23:12:30 GMT -6
Sophy
Gina gave pursed her lips sulkily at the notion, but then laughed as Trenchfoot said the thing about gushing water. With a sigh, she replied, "I don't gush water. Perhaps drool, from time to time, but never gush water."
Trenchfoot then stepped off of the ground and onto the wall, teetering on the edge without any real fear in his eyes, as if the height didn't bother him. Gina went silent, watching him very closesly. What the Hell is he doing? Doesn't he know that isn't safe? The other mutant quoted something, but Gina had hardly heard him. She was more preoccupied with what he was going to do, and less worried about what it was that he was saying.
Suddenly, Trenchfoot leaned forward, his head leading the rest of him over the edge. Gina scrambled to her feet with a shout, adrenaline and fear bolting down her spine. Everything seemed in slow motion as Trenchfoot folded towards the ground, which rested quite far from the precarious drop.
"My God," Gina gasped, peering over the edge. Trenchfoot had suction-cupped himself to the side of the building, by virtue of a more dominantly yellowish gunk. He was suspended there quite awkwardly, but how long would the gunk hold his weight? How long would he let it?
Gina teased the potential of going after him. She probably wouldn't be able to bring him to a dead halt, unless he weighed only one hundred pounds, but she could slow his fall until he reached a lethal speed. Gina listened as Trenchfoot talked about the sewers in which he'd lived in an eerily placid voice. His voice trailed off in the wind, so that it was only a whisper to Gina's ears, but she still heard it. This guy is friggin' crazy.
"Mr. Trenchfoot," Gina adressed the man in a motherly tone, which was tight but betrayed no fear, "Please don't drop yourself off the side of the building. It would be an awful waste for you to have come above ground for this, just to throw yourself off a building. There are many other things to do."
She curled her claws into the roof, and leaned over the wall, using the lower half of her body as leverage. She extended her arms, lest he hadn't the strength to righten himself, and said, "Come on, Mr. Trenchfoot. We could find something else to do."
Something less dangerous than free-falling off of skyscrapers, Gina added on in her mind, grimacing at the thought. She wasn't certain that Trenchfoot would accept the offer of her outstretched hands, but Gina didn't care. She was more preoccupied with where the guy now stood, and gave almost no thought to the fact that, by taking his hands, she'd be touching the purple goopy stuff.
Posted by aurethius on Mar 9, 2011 10:45:10 GMT -6
Guest
His body still parallel to the street that lay nearly 800 feet below, Maks takes a long moment before responding.
"This is... how I got up here. Would survive... fall."
That last part was a guess. He had no way of knowing if he would survive such an incredible drop. Most likely, the impact would scatter him into pieces across the street, with no chance of being able to reform himself. Even when his body was bisected cleanly, it still took time to get the matter to stick back together. Still, it would be a new experience. Gina had her school to learn in, Maks had... the City.
"Wind not too... strong here." the thing says welcomingly.
It is then that his lower legs begin to creak, threatening to snap. Holding his upper body just by his feet, even with the adhesive mold he was secreting, was puttin serious stress on his flesh. He twists his body backward, placing his palms on the wall as well. At the end of it, he was crabwalking slowly downward, keeping three points of sticky contact on the face of the MetLife building.
"What is better... than understanding own... capabilitiesss?" he asks, trying to explain his actions to the girl.