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 Andrew Leroy on Jun 29, 2011 9:42:46 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,155
1
Jun 4, 2014 22:48:52 GMT -6
The day had started out well enough. He'd come into the city with the intention of getting a little something for Tasean. He hadn't had any idea what he'd get but that was what he'd meant to do. He'd gotten plenty side tracked along the way though. Now his original mission was forgotten as he wandered the streets gloomily. It had started on his way into the city. Perhaps he was just more aware of it now but he noticed more examples of the less than equal status mutants enjoyed with the populace at large. Leaflets and posters demonizing them were left in plain view of the public and in one case a playground, likely in the hope of steering the next generation in the direction deemed appropriate.
Of course that hadn't been enough to ruin his mood and send him wandering the city in gloom. No that came after he'd trashed the leaflets and tore down the posters. Andrew had continued on, still intent on his mission but had taken a wrong turn and gotten himself lost. That had led to him meeting a band of vagrants that turned out quite nice and had gotten him back to where he was intending to go. The entire group were mutants of varying sorts, all thrown out of their living situations when what they were was made evident. Some had shared their stories with him, others had refrained from doing so but his mood was quite spoiled when he got to the area he'd meant to go to regardless. He'd parted ways with them by giving them the number of Tasean's Social Services offices and the address of the Sanctuary.
And that led Andrew to his current situation, wandering aimlessly through the city and scowling at nearly everyone he met. His ever present gloves were off and since he was wearing a short sleeved shirt today as a concession to the summer heat the two bands around his arm were prominently displayed for the world to see. Let them see. Most of the idiots wouldn't recognize them for what they were. They'd just think him some young punk. Maybe the description fit, with how rebellious and angry he was feeling right now. In either case he wore this, his only badge of his mutation, proudly at that moment. Humans and their prejudices be damned.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jun 29, 2011 14:20:46 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Martin was, what some people called a cold individual. He had taken up residence in one of the poorest and most gang-ridden areas of the city without a second glance. In fact he had quite liked it to be there. It hid him from people who were in the habit of asking too many questions, who were in the habit of obeying the law all too quickly, of people who were nice to a hypocritical fault. In short it hid him from all those people he had worked and lived with for over a year of his life (it was not a timespan relevant to him, having eternity to look forward to and all...) quite amiably. The downsides of course were that he had been assaulted quite frequently during the first part of his stay. A few... well lets call them visits... to the right people had cut that short. Maybe the fact that he had given them a few of their peoples memorabilia had jogged this part of their memory. Right now everybody, or nearly so – he recalled an incident not too far in the past when it hadn't been so – was quite weary of the black cloth tied around his forehead. Not everyone knew the face. But everyone knew of the black cloth. And the youth dressed in somewhat shabby looking street-gear that could have been just anyone.
Today he was just anyone. Walking down the street. In one of the better parts of town. So the youth in street-gear had undergone one of his signature transformations. He now sported a cane, walking stick really, and managed to look quite dandy in a three piece suit, the chain of some vintage timing device hanging out from one of the vests pockets, hands covered in snowy white gloves. And on his head, put at quite a daring angle, was nothing but a top-hat. It bent forward far enough to look like the chimney of an old industrial plant in Leeds. In short: A structural hazard. But something (a string of rubber band) was keeping it up there nonetheless. Where he was going? In that attire? And in this part of town? Well... he was eating out tonight. Or was at least supposed to go eating out. Meeting a potential client always involved something fancy. Of course he would not meet the client face to face. He would meet a lawyer. Or another form of legal or illegal go-between. They would possibly hand him some email address or another, assuming that he was the same kind of person. Especially in this kind of somewhat flashy outfit. Slightly out of place, slightly out of time. He was. With a purpose. He liked judging possible clients himself. The Kabal had, after all, not supplied an endless stream of money and he had to work. Not as a gardener, he would not consider much of it after his time in the Mansion, much too well-known now; maybe also another reason beyond that. But his reasons were his, so get out of my head. Suffice it to say he had a reason for trying to get a job, of the illegal kind, mind you. So he went out eating. At a fancy place. Or was going to at least.
But that was before. As was...
~~~
Once Madelaine had had a life. That was before she got a boyfriend. That was before said boyfriend had got her with child. And then left her, as these things usually go. She had not wanted a child, not really, being too young and all, but she had had a child she had not really wanted. Because it was a child. The child had blue skin. And a Fur instead of hair. This had come somewhat as a shock. But she had had a child, was expectant, expecting for something wonderful to happen. And she had a child. And she was happy, for there was a child. In her life. With blue skin. And fur. And blue eyes that were adorable.
What she did not care for were the eyes of her friends that narrowed at seeing the child, the eyes they had for a woman who had been with one of 'them', these things she did not see. Did they matter? No, she had a child. Caring was difficult. Staying anywhere was difficult, even with her parents. There had been fights. And reconciliations. There had been looks, of joy and fear. All of those things had been and were.
Panic superseded them right now, for there was more. Much more hatred here then she had ever encountered. Here, in the beautiful place. Here, where she bought her child biologic-dynamically produced produce. Here, where she got her Milk and Honey from happy cows and bees. In a fancy organic foodstore. A mob was forming of smiling people, who were really snarling. Snarling at the child strapped on her chest. This was not a happy place. Or a happy time. Not for young mothers, or for anyone else.
The first bottle of juice (organic) flew through the window of the shop, through the glass that shattered. “HELP!” That cry could not be mistaken. There was a sea of red forming. It had been cherry, a onetime favorite. Near that shattered glass was walking one... with a top hat sitting nearly lopsided.
Posted by Andrew Leroy on Jun 29, 2011 16:27:35 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,155
1
Jun 4, 2014 22:48:52 GMT -6
His wandering had brought him to a more upscale part of town. The kind of place that had boutiques instead of stores and organic groceries instead of supermarkets. His left arm seemed to attract glares in this neighborhood, as if the mere presence of the tattoo-like markings was offensive. For all he knew it might have been offensive to them. Andrew certainly didn't know or care. At the moment he wouldn't have cared if they all suddenly decided to conga line off of a bridge or something. It was in fact a humorously macabre thought and made him smirk for a solid minute before he tried to reprimand himself for thinking of such a thing.
Some months ago he would have felt horrible for thinking like that, if he'd even thought like that at all. The contrast from then and now was a little sobering. He'd been so...naive back then. Cutting short those thoughts he went back to looking around and scowling. Was that a top hat? Who wore those anymore? Thoughts of fashion were cut short as well, though not willfully, when a bottle shattered a window and an unmistakable shout for help could be heard through the broken glass. Whatever red liquid the bottle had contained now spread across the ground as though someone had died there. The tophat was right there when this all occurred.
Andrew was very tempted not to do anything. However some small part of him that was busy not being jaded and broody pointed out that no matter how he felt about humans there might be a mutant in there in trouble. He owed it to them to at least check the situation out. Andrew agreed with this, though he wondered just when he'd obtained a voice in his head. Shaking that off he sped his gait and glanced at the man in the tophat before using the broken window as a door and clambering inside, heedless of his own safety.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 2, 2011 3:21:35 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
> “Help!”
The cry of a female voice could not be mistaken for anything other then what it was. Especially not if Said voice was carrying a terror that was primal and undiluted by social constraints. Constricting his heart, catching it with a leash of signs, vocal. Subvocally shifting. The crash of glass was just the last piece of a puzzle that was assembling in Martins mind. Martins racing mind, racing ahead of its time, slow the world around him. The man with the top hat needed only a second, altering his path. He entered the food store through the door, a metal chime announcing his presence, calmly ever so calm. Nothing changing.
Everything.
Inside: It was not the first bottle that had flown. Not the only thing. Glass on the ground, glass and metal. And a group of men and women, looking quite ordinary, quite normal. Quite unlike the new customer. One of the was wearing the vestment of a store clerk. Blue eyes were flashing, powerfully flashing, menacing. The new arrival taking in the situation, with every step shedding images, skinning things away.
Normalcy, goodbye. A kiss on the cheek for you. Just for you. Deathbed. The walking stick that had been swung coily forward with every step, that dandy way, it shifted. Top hat became a living weapon. Or rather, he unsheathed himself. The stick cam up once more. And stayed there. A wooden stick. Weapon walking, forward. The woman and her child were facing a mass of faces. Hands that clung to things like metal shopping containers, like broke flask, held at the head, top. “Get out, I'll manage.” Martin told the woman, coming up on her from behind. She jumped into the air. She really jumped. And turned around snarling, ready to take at least the eyes of the one attacking her from behind...
Posted by Andrew Leroy on Jul 2, 2011 15:52:42 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,155
1
Jun 4, 2014 22:48:52 GMT -6
His hand was cut, bleeding from the shards of glass. That however was less than important in Andrew's view. The background of the tableau before him was that of a slightly self important grocery in shambles. The bottle of juice that had shattered the window was not the only casualty of this sudden eruption of violence. The actors were a group of average, to the area in question at least, shoppers grouped menacingly about a woman with a baby that was obviously a mutant. Makeshift weapons were grasped in various hands through out the mass of people. What had previously only been a morose anger became much more. Andrew was thoroughly ticked off.
Before he had a chance to act on that roiling animosity a bell rung. A small charming little bell that signaled the entrance of a new player. Andrew would soon learn to associate that innocent sounding bell with the turning point of this venture. The new arrival was the man from the street. Andrew had scoffed at his attire but seeing him now the clothes didn't matter. Whoever he'd been just moments before on the street had been neatly stripped away to reveal someone much more dangerous. Andrew made to join the man in defeating the crowd.
Except the woman was not the sort who kept calm under pressure. She'd given way to that primal flight or fight response, trusting in it to keep herself and her child from harm. She whirled on her would be savior and then...Andrew stopped short. He wasn't entirely sure what he was seeing. She'd tried to attack him. Tried to do harm to one that seemed to only be trying to help. But the attack hadn't gone as she'd planned. No, it went much worse. Andrew seethed and then turned to vent on the only thing he could. The crowd. Within moments he'd crossed the space to the closest target. He had no weapons. Andrew punched and kicked. He lashed out with elbows and knees. Whatever bits of training from Jorge and Rhythm he could remember he unleashed on these fools.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 3, 2011 15:52:21 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Martin had a problem. He had not expected the woman to jump him. Her hand went for his face. This was all he could see, as it had already closed in, narrowing his face of vision. He, of course, now watched calmly – or rather wishing to be calm – while time had been slowed to a barely noticeable crawl. It was the thing that usually happened around him when unexpected things happened. Taking his time he would analyze the situation and find the best possible solution. For him or his employers. He was actually quite good at that. Now there was a face and a hand destined to connect. This was ungood in many ways.
Firstly: Martin did not mind scars. Or wounds. But he would avoid them if he could. He rather liked integrity of his physique. He needed that for the crowd. Secondly: He rather liked his eyes. Right now those were going to need a thorough makeover soon. He also liked to be able to see and all these pretty things. Like guns pointed at him. Or said hand incoming. Thirdly: It was a bare hand, this being ungood because his skin and other peoples skin did very strange things when they connected. He did not want to harm the mother of a blue child. Nor any other mother. They were much needed by their offspring. The cub in this case. Though it was a blue cub.
Conundrum time!
How to avoid that hand trying to claw your face off when its already really close? There were several possible responses. But really only one that did not involve him trying to strangle the mother. Which he did not want to do. Martin let himself fall backwards. There was neither time or room for a spin. But there was room to fall. Cue: Time lurching forward.
Martin was now sitting neatly on his backside. The woman had managed to aptly remove from his head his hat. It now lay near the door, revolving lazily around some invisible axis, spinning on its side. The woman was still snarling at floorbound Martin with a much too bright gleam in her eyes. Conundrumx2: How do you face a mother with a threatened child? Easy answer: You don't. It made for some awkward shuffling of all four limbs to get off to the side staying on the ground and a nonthreatening entity. With a chime of the bells, mother left. Finally. But this was not enough now, was it? That hat had served a purpose. Now Martins third eye was open for the world to see. The crowd screamed bloody murder. And there was a mutant in the room. Nothing can ever be easy, can it? Luckily Martin had not let go of the walking stick. That would be needed now. Those people were coming closer, a thong of them moving more slowly.
Posted by Andrew Leroy on Jul 3, 2011 16:47:59 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,155
1
Jun 4, 2014 22:48:52 GMT -6
Andrew barely noticed that Tophat had hit the ground. By then he'd already been charging the group of bigoted shoppers. It was hard to focus on much besides the impact of his fist, foot, or whatever he was using to strike them. The cuts from a broken bottle wielded by a heavy set woman went unheeded as he lashed out wildly. He didn't seem to be doing much damage other than bruising. Every now and then he'd hit someone just right and put them out of commission somehow. However there were enough there and enough of them were armed that the few he managed to put out of commission didn't make much difference.
Andrew barely made out the chime of the bells again and looked about. He couldn't tell but he didn't see the mother and child anymore. They were no longer in danger. That satisfied a small part of him but the majority was still furious and insisting he beat these people to a pulp. For once Andrew was glad to oblige that notion. One man in particular was proving tougher than the rest. He seemed to be the one that had incited the others into this rash action. Not only that but he was attempting to talk Andrew down.
"What are you doing?! You're one of us! You should be helping us destroy freaks like that!" the man insisted as he brandished a finger in Tophat's direction. Andrew threw a kick at the man's gut that left him out of breath and then he grabbed the man's collar. He hadn't bothered to look over at Tophat when he'd pointed at him. No, he'd kept his attention on this guy.
"Let me set you straight." Andrew said in a voice thick with anger, "I am no human and you're going to regret calling me one."
He then hauled back and punch the guy right on the nose. A sickening crunch sounded as the bone and cartilage gave way. Andrew let go of the man's collar and he barely kept his feet.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 6, 2011 13:57:56 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
There were people closing in around him. He still was on the ground, lying here, the walking stick in his hands. Only after he had used it (with a most satisfying thump) to make the first two would-be attackers stagger back was it that Martin nimbly scrambled to his feet.
His third eye looked all normal still, much too normal and a bit too calm for a situation like this. He moved now, in swift motions that had a touch of a dance here and there, flowing around the crowd, stepping in between people where they hindered each others movements, using their own strikes against each other. A glassen bottle, swung by a female shopper in her mid 50s hit another mans back. He went down and stirred no more. Just like that. It was a thing to be seen, him just moving around like there was no group of people hindering. He seemed to know where to step to avoid being closed in upon. And to step where he could most easily hurt them. His stick... it was a thing that poked, prodded and hit in The Places That Hurt. There was one hit in an eye even. It would not see any more.
Fewer and fewer people remained standing. Blood was on the ground now. The crowds will to fight was lessening by the second. And still Martins eyes held that calm that still made no secret about the utter fury that was tightly reined in behind. What he thought about those people around him was no mystery. How he dealt with them was not one either. The woman who had held the bottle went down clutching her stomach. She got dealt a blow over the head with ruthless efficiency. One loud crack. She was now lying limply. As many others. Blood, their blood was mingling on the ground.
It was done soon. The last ones left through the door, were running now. And cursing mutants, cursing at 'them', at their way of life. At their brutality. Hah. Martin went over to Andrew. The thing in the suit began to look more normal by the second. “Thank you.” It said. And casually drove its stick down onto a humans hand. Why, yes... those were the boned you heard. The one was unconscious already. This was good for him. Probably. Martin did not even look winded much. There was a single scratch running down his cheek from where he had been grazed by one of their weapons. Them... there were about six or seven lying around, their limbs unmoving.
Posted by Andrew Leroy on Jul 6, 2011 17:57:02 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,155
1
Jun 4, 2014 22:48:52 GMT -6
The fight was over much quicker than Andrew had expected it to be. He'd caught a few glimpses of Tophat during the fight. When he'd actually gotten to fighting he was good. Looking at him now it was clear that they'd barely been able to touch him. Andrew was more wounded than that. There were some glass shards from a broken bottle his left shoulder and he was well bruised in several places. He'd definitely come off the worse in that battle. However he hadn't been trying to avoid injury. He'd been furious, and still was to a point. That had manifested in a fight that had been more about hurting his opponents than protecting himself. Tophat casually strolled over. He seemed less dangerous now, even as he walked among the fallen bodies of those he had easily defeated.
"I did it for her, that baby, and to teach these people a lesson. Glad I could help though."
Andrew gave the man a tense smile. The adrenaline and anger that were there made it difficult to smile genuinely even though he meant it that way. In an attempt to be civil Andrew held his hand forward intending to shake Tophat's hand.
"My name's Andrew by the way. You fought well. Better than I did."
He didn't like to admit it but it was the truth and there was no point in denying it. Of course he could have not pointed it out but that didn't occur to him really. He was so used to being out done despite every attempt to grow and become better that it was an easy admission even if it was no less bitter. There is always someone better, or so the saying went. Platitudes like that did nothing to ease the sting of it though. The tense smile lingered.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 7, 2011 2:26:46 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Ah so it was a young mutant who had joined him. With less fighting experience, obviously. And with a few scrapes and bruises. His eyes were still glimmering with barely-suppressed rage as he introduced himself to Martin. Said Martin was now looking quite ordinary again. Outwardly that was. Except for the three eyes on his head that were open for the world to see. Three eyes that scanned Andrew with an air of friendly casualty. “Thank you very much Andrew. My name is Martin, very pleased to meet you.” He deserved to know the real name of his. He even got an outstreched ahnd for a shake. Why? Because he had bloodied himself fighting with him. This was a very good reason to give Andrew Martins real name in his mind, also for being polite. Around them people were slowly recovering. A few pained sighs could be heard, but not yet anything that suggested definite return from unconsciousness. “Would you mind getting a bottle of water for me from that aisle over there?” He said quite calmly while pointing to the object of his desire. A water that was much too expensive for just being water. Probably it was only bottled during the dark times of the moon or something. For extra energetic vibrations. It was a glass bottle though. And water. Both of which Martin needed.
Inside his world was still filmed over with that cool rage that suggested a purpose. He did not approve of mindless killings. He did certainly not approve of attacking babes. And their mothers. There were simply Things One Did Not Do. These being two of the most inexcusable offenses in his mind that merited an immediate and absolute repression. Return of the favor so to speak. So were his thoughts, drifting in the cold and dark places, as he walked over to retrieve his slightly damaged hat. When he held it firmly in one hand and the walking stick in the other (it had received a few dents and bruises from the fight but was still in workable condition) he waited calmly for Andrews return.
Posted by Andrew Leroy on Jul 7, 2011 15:29:09 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,155
1
Jun 4, 2014 22:48:52 GMT -6
His smile became a little more genuine at Martin's politeness. At least the dangerous man had manners. Andrew inclined his head to him as they shook hands.
"The pleasure's all mine."
Andrew would admit, at least privately, that the three eyed gaze was a little bit creepy. However after some of the other things he'd seen it wasn't all that odd. The people around them began to stir from their stillness but it wasn't anywhere near full wakefulness. Upon seeing this Martin made a fairly odd request for a bottle of water. Specifically an expensive one made of glass. Andrew saw no harm in this, aside from the fact that the bottle in question was glass and could be used in a weapon if need be.
That possibility ran through Andrew's mind as he moved to get the bottle in question. Such an eventuality seemed a bit shady considering they'd already won but Andrew refused to sympathize with people who were quite willing to murder a mother and child. Whatever Martin intended to do, if he meant to hurt them some more, was nothing more than they deserved. He could also have been thirsty but somehow Andrew doubted that. Andrew retrieved the bottle in question. It advertised that the water came from a secret spring in the Alps that was purported to have mystical powers. That made Andrew snort. He muttered under his breath.
"Probably nothing more than tap water."
He crossed the small distance between him and Martin, accidentally kicking one of the men on the floor on the way. Andrew held out the bottle to Martin.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 8, 2011 5:56:53 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
“Thank you very much, Andrew.” Martin said calmly, already unscrewing the cap on the bottle. He still looked mostly at the other mutant and not what his hands were doing, seemingly working on their own. “Would you mind telling me...” At this point the cap had come off the bottle and was unceremoniously thrown aside. It joined the rest of the fighting on the ground with a quiet * ping *. “...the nature of...” Martin walked over to the person he presumed to be the instigator of this bout of violence, calmly holding the bottle in his right hand. It was the same man whose nose had been bloodied by Andrew. His head just scanned the way while he was more or less listening to Andrew.Now, boy, might I teach you a lesson you will not soon forget – to leave the children, their mothers, alone. “...your mutation?” The water went over the mans head. Gluckgluckgluggggg.... it went, wetting hair and clothes and eyes, washing away some of the blood that had begun to dry on the face. It gathered around him in a small puddle.
Suddenly the man began stirring. As he did, his nose began bleeding slightly again. Martins eyes were set on him, seeing him wind himself, wiggle awake slowly emerging from what might have been a wonderful dream. The limbs were slowly twitching on the floor. After what seemed to be an hour, the man sat up dazedly, hands moving over the eyes. “Andrew, if you don't like this, turn around please.” he said without even looking up. He was smiling at the man, the older man. At his chino pants, bloodstained. At his fancy button down shirt. And that face. It looked sickly, eyes fixed upwards to where he was standing. Fixed on that very small smile in his face, hanging under the three eyes lie a small crescent moon. Shining through the darkness. Oldies hands went up somewhat jerkily, maybe to protect himself from the evil eye. The mouth opened. But ere speech was produced, Martin had snapped one of them, the hands, with his left. He bore down on it with his weight until it was lying in the puddle of energized mystic water on the ground. Then the bottle flashed. There was crunching. And maybe a bit of screaming. And there was Martins cold voice addressing the man. “You will never do this again.” It was more of a promise than a threat. All of them knew it. Everyone in the room. Martin actually felt somewhat good about that. The bottle went down again. Exactly the same spot. Because tis better to be safe then sorry. So the proverb says. Did I say something about screaming? Yes, there might have been screaming.
Posted by Andrew Leroy on Jul 8, 2011 22:58:08 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,155
1
Jun 4, 2014 22:48:52 GMT -6
Andrew nodded in response to the thanks.
"You're welcome."
Unlike Martin, Andrew's focus was on Martin's actions as he asked his question. The man didn't seem to be sparing them much attention but they seemed so precise and deliberate. Andrew realized that what he'd thought the bottle would be used for was what would happen here and his conscience surged back into life only to be shouted down by his anger. Instead of dwelling on it he focused on the question Martin had put forth. His mutation? Well since Martin was a fellow mutant, if somewhat cruel, he saw no harm in revealing it.
"I have to keep the promises I make. Otherwise I end up hurting, injured, maybe dead depending on the promise."
That was the short version. There was no need to go into the specifics while they were surrounded by humans. Martin's warning brought the moral conflict back to the front of his mind. He wasn't comfortable with what was about to happen but sometimes gruesome things were necessary. That was what he told himself to stifle the growing sense of guilt over not stopping this man. Plus, they were only humans and murderous ones at that. They had attacked a mother and child. They deserved it.
Andrew turned his head ever so slightly away from the violence once Martin started in on the man. Not enough to avoid seeing all of it but enough to avoid seeing everything. The scream made him wince but Andrew stayed put. After all, he was in the middle of a conversation and it would be rude to walk out on that. Even if the background actions and noises were less than pleasant.
Posted by Martin Stein on Jul 9, 2011 5:46:22 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
760
0
Jul 2, 2013 5:22:49 GMT -6
Martin stopped for a second. Paused a bit at hearing this. Then he went on with what he was doing. Maybe a little more energetic then before. Maybe even a bit more then was necessary. For soon the man was slipping back into unconsciousness again, stirring only mildly. At least his hands were out of commission for good, so there would be no more mutant hunting or mutant hurting going on by this one.
As he finished what he was doing he turned around to Andrew. There still was the tophat in one hand. And bloodied bottle rested in the other. He let it drop to the ground quite carelessly. It did not make a ping. Instead it rolled around at his feet, coming to rest by the head of another unfortunate soul that had been dropped to the ground. A promise keeper? Really. Now that was more than useful. The implications were formidable. For him at least. In his business working with people always was a risk that you had to carefully weigh. It was more like juggling sharp knives then anything else. The more people knew about you, the more they became a risk and a liability. Now a promise keeper would be different there. If, if only he could play this right.
A potential ally without risk. This was worth a whole lot. This was worth breaking his own rules.
“I think we are done here.” He said, his voice still kept carefully friendly, nothing of his thoughts showing on the outside. If I can get him to promise... If I can get his loyalty... An ally indeed. And one he would not have to worry about. Training could follow after. He was a fighter, sure, but Martin deemed rough muscle a bit useless, not having much in that avenue at all. Swiftness, thought and a certain creativity when killing things was much better. And beautiful. Why he remembered now that time back in Hamburg when he had ambushed a group of three people with nothing but a knife. He had looked like a child back then. They had not even come to suspect him before the knife had slit their throats and he had stood in the middle of crumpled bodies. He had felt bad about that back then. He did not now, purposefully walking forward, stepping on limbs and bodies as he went along. “I think you and I could use a drink. On me. And to mutants.” Yes. A drink.
And maybe this would be enough. But this boy would not get away without making a promise today. A promise to him. He would do what it takes. His hand he waved to Andrew, his eyes set on him now. Not even blinking much. On his lips sat a small smile, invitingly. Just a social call. This is all. I am not here to harm you. Not at all.
Posted by Andrew Leroy on Jul 9, 2011 22:50:36 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,155
1
Jun 4, 2014 22:48:52 GMT -6
He didn't notice the pause, or the increased vigor with which Martin went about the grim task he'd taken on. No, Andrew didn't notice these things at all. He heard the bottle hit the floor and Martin's proclamation regarding being done with the task. His eyes confirmed this all to well and so instead of allowing his gaze to linger on the floor and it's decorations he forced himself to look at Martin directly. The man walked toward him and then mentioned going to get a drink. A drink?
Andrew hadn't even bothered to imbibe on his 21st birthday a little while back. It had been just another day that he had left to pass unobserved. Now here was an offer of drinks from a man he'd just met that, quite frankly, unsettled him a little. After all, Martin had shown very little emotion or anything on his face while working over that man. In fact he'd remained friendly through out. Still, a drink might not hurt and here Martin was offering to pay. Andrew offered up a smile, one that he hoped didn't seem too uncertain.
"Sure."
This wasn't exactly how he'd wanted to kick off his first drinking experience but this whole day was leaving him irritable and with a bad taste in his mouth. He'd catch one of his friends for drinks another time and claim that was his first time. They didn't have to know. Of course he said nothing of this to Martin. He was after all just a stranger in odd garb that had a top hat. Such personal musings were exactly that and not to be shared with strangers. He turned toward the door to walk out of the store. At the very least they'd be out of this place.