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.
Merc thanked the cabby, paid him the exact fare, and got out in front of ‘Mick’s Garage’, a quaint little auto garage on the outskirts of New York. The place fixed cars, bikes, trucks, and just about anything else with an engine for a reasonable rate. Mick, the proprietor, would even check cars out for free and offer advice on how to fix it at home to those who could not afford the services of even a ‘cheap’ mechanic.
This made him the perfect person to go to when Merc had to have his vehicle fixed. Not that he was hurting for money to spend to get his car fixed, he had disposable income from his ‘day job’, but rather… Mick did not ask questions most the time. When Merc needed to make sure his vehicle disappeared for a few days, Mick was more than glad to have a look at it.
This was not the case for now. Merc had a legitimate reason for having his car worked on. Rebuilding the transmission on a car was something Merc lacked the technical expertise to do. His specialization was in other areas, though he could, and regularly did, maintain his own car. But now, with a transmission that was slipping, he needed to fall back on the skills of someone else. It might as well be someone he trusted.
Merc passage through the door into the ‘office’ was announced by a soft ‘ding-dong’. He cast a pleasant smile to the receptionist as he approached the front desk, a tall desk in an empty office, not surprising given the size of the garage. “Good morning Sherry, Mick in yet? He said yesterday my car was ready, and that he wanted to show me something.”
Sherry, a shapely redhead, nodded to Merc’s statement, smiling as he addressed her. “He is. Go on back, you know which office is his Mr. Xavier.”
Merc nodded and moved around the counter, unbuttoning his black suit jacket to further reveal a burgundy silk dress shirt beneath. He went down the short hallway and rounded the corner and tapped on the door labeled ‘Mick Sanders, Proprietor’ in gold lettering. Merc had always felt the lettering to be a little over the top, but he was also not one to pass judgment on someone else’s enterprise.
“It’s open,” a husky voice from the other side of the door sounded. Merc opened the door and stepped inside. “Ahh, Mr. Xavier. All dressed up for little ole me?”
Merc did not smile at that. “No, I’ve got business to attend to following our business Mick.”
“Righto, well then. I would hate to hold up one of my more important customers,” Mick rose from his seat and moved around his desk, which was piled with papers concerning various vehicles in his garage. “Come with me,” he said as he led Merc out of the office and into the actual garage.
Posted by freshgal on May 24, 2007 12:44:10 GMT -6
Guest
Iara had been working at Mick's since a few weeks after she moved to New York. He seemed like a good guy who wanted to help out the little man. Most of the guys working in his garage were learning the trade as a living. She didn't need the pay but it was nice to help out people and help teach the guy.
It was usually a weekend thing since she still had classes at the institute. She usually got along with the other guys but now and then there was a bit jealousy because she, being the more experienced mechanic, got the more important clients.
Today some really nice dressed guy walked in looking for Mick but she didn't really let it phase her. She sat on the hood of one of the cars they were holding and meditated as the others worked around her and sometimes yelled out questions. She'd answer without ever opening her eyes.
She heard footsteps approaching but didn't move. She really looked like she didn't belong there. She wore tight dark-wash flared jeans and black boots with a light brown halter top and a pretty wooden beaded headband holding back the mess of waves.
Merc followed Mick across the floor through the garage. It smelled of engine grease, oil and exhaust, and despite being very well ventilated, and it being a rather coolish day for late May, was overly warm. He picked out his car at the other end of the garage, and the woman sitting on its hood. He ran his tongue over his teeth. “She work on my Car Mick? Where’s Sawyer?”
“Vacation, and yes,” Mick replied. "Iara?"
"Yea Mickey."
"I want you to meet my friend Mr. Xavier."
"Hello Mr. Xavier."
”Pleasure Miss Iara,” Merc responded. “Mind hopping off my hood please?”
Merc looked from the woman to Mick. “She the one you wanted me to meet, or see?”
Posted by freshgal on May 24, 2007 13:17:39 GMT -6
Guest
”Pleasure Miss Iara,” Merc responded. “Mind hopping off my hood please?”
With easy grace Iara lept from the car next to Mick and batted open her dark brown eyes. Mr. Xavier was younger than she expected but it didn't matter.
“She the one you wanted me to meet, or see?”
"Yup. Xavier, this girl can make a car do things that should be illegal in 30 states. You ever need a car fixed for ... whatever it is that you do... you get her."
Iara wasn't really paying attention. Her eyes wandered around the garage and she pulled out a wrench and began to twirl it.
Merc eyed the twirling wrench for a moment. He would dip out of the way and go for his gun if she did something drastic. Not trusting much of anyone had a few drawbacks, such as being paranoid at times. He looked back to Mick. "How much is the bill this time?"
"1,800," Mick replied. "Just under the estimate I gave you last week."
Merc opened his suit jacket and pulled his wallet out of a pocket on the inside. He flipped out a card from it and handed the card to Mick. Mick smiled and left. Mick chose to not ask questions, and typically so did Merc, though curiosity got the better of him. He looked over at Iara. "These illegal things you can do to cars, I don't have any surprises a waiting under my hood do I?"
Posted by freshgal on May 24, 2007 13:33:55 GMT -6
Guest
"Nope but it'll go a hell of a lot faster when you want it."
She smiled and flipped the wrench before catching it in the other hand. She looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow but let the question she wished to say go.
"Just how fast and via what method?" Merc glanced towards the door to see if Mick was on his way back with a statement, Merc's card and a pen to sign for the keys. He looked towards Iara, and saw the question in her eyes. Not the specific question mind you, he was no telepath, but rather the aspect of a question there. "You wanted to ask something else? And I am beginning to suspect Mick had more in mind than just introducing us. What is it you desired to ask?"
Merc folded his arms over his chest, watching Iara and the spinning wrench and listening to her explanation about what would make his car go faster in a pinch. His mind wandered to the letter of the law. Nitrous oxide was legal in New York, though usually only when employed on a track. Speeding was speeding and nitrous oxide, while helpful in a pinch, was something that should only be used in a pinch. He knew this and would only use it as such.
He watched Iara's face as she began to form the other question on her mind when the shot rang out. His mind clicked over to analysis, judging distance and rolling through what different calibers sounded like. Most likely a pistol, smaller caliber, 9mm, maybe even a .38. Disgruntled employee maybe? Unsatisfied customer? Merc did not really care, and as much could be seen in his gait, though it could also be interpreted as cautiousness. Iara sprinted across the garage floor while he moved at a quick walk, observing the other mechanics around. Most were taking cover, while others were outright fleeing. He reached the door just as it clacked back closed.
No second shots, no screams just yet, the silence of death. Something he was quite used to.
Posted by freshgal on May 25, 2007 14:16:58 GMT -6
Guest
Iara burst through the door and there Mick lay in a pool of his own blood. She went to him and put her head in his lap as tore off the bottom of her shirt and tried to press it into his wound.
"Mickey? Mickey, who did this? Mick, stay with me. Who did this?"
A little bit of blood leaked from the corners of his mouth as he held her arm and looked up at her in his final minutes.
"Sloven.."
With that his body went into pure calm and he was gone.
Merc moved down the hall, Sherry's chair was empty. She was either killed silently or had fled at the first sign of trouble. He rounded the corner towards Mick's office and found Iara cradling his head while trying to stop the blood flow from an abdomen wound. Survivable if it had not hit something vital, though given that Mick was completely relaxed, such was not the case. He immediately glanced around the office. No shell casings meant a revolver or the shooter had taken the time to collect the casing.
No wonder it was messy, and the fellow had used a small caliber. They had apparently attempted to mimic his approach to hits. He found it funny that Sloven had not simply gone to him for it. He was too professional to let a personal acquaintance get between him and a hit. His face certainly did not mirror what he thought, it was quiet and impassive as he looked back down into Iara. More out of curiosity, than concern, he asked "What do you intend to do?"