The X-men run missions and work together with the NYPD, striving to maintain a peaceful balance between humans and mutants. When it comes to a fight, they won't back down from protecting those who need their help.
Haven presents itself as a humanitarian organization for activists, leaders, and high society, yet mutants are the secret leaders working to protect and serve their kind. Behind the scenes they bring their goals into reality.
From the time when mutants became known to the world, SUPER was founded as a black-ops division of the CIA in an attempt to classify, observe, and learn more about this new and rising threat.
The Syndicate works to help bring mutantkind to the forefront of the world. They work from the shadows, a beacon of hope for mutants, but a bane to mankind. With their guiding hand, humanity will finally find extinction.
Since the existence of mutants was first revealed in the nineties, the world has become a changed place. Whether they're genetic misfits or the next stage in humanity's evolution, there's no denying their growing numbers, especially in hubs like New York City. The NYPD has a division devoted to mutant related crimes. Super-powered vigilantes help to maintain the peace. Those who style themselves as Homo Superior work to tear society apart for rebuilding in their own image.
MRO is an intermediate to advanced writing level original character, original plot X-Men RPG. We've been open and active since October of 2005. You can play as a mutant, human, or Adapted— one of the rare humans who nullify mutant powers by their very existence. Goodies, baddies, and neutrals are all welcome.
Short Term Plots:Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
The Fountain of Youth
A chemical serum has been released that's shaving a few years off of the population. In some cases, found to be temporary, and in others...?
MRO MOVES WITH CURRENT TIME: What month and year it is now in real life, it's the same for MRO, too.
Fuegogrande: "Fuegogrande" player of The Ranger, Ion, Rhia, and Null
Neopolitan: "Aly" player of Rebecca Grey, Stephanie Graves, Marisol Cervantes, Vanessa Bookman, Chrysanthemum Van Hart, Sabine Sang, Eupraxia
Ongoing Plots
Magic and Mystics
After the events of the 2020 Harvest Moon and the following Winter Solstice, magic has started manifesting in the MROvere! With the efforts of the Welldrinker Cult, people are being converted into Mystics, a species of people genetically disposed to be great conduits for magical energy.
The Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
Are They Coming for You?
There have been whispers on the streets lately of a boogeyman... mutant and humans, young and old, all have been targets of trafficking.
Adapteds
What if the human race began to adapt to the mutant threat? What if the human race changed ever so subtly... without the x-gene.
Atlanteans
The lost city of Atlantis has been found! Refugees from this undersea mutant dystopia have started to filter in to New York as citizens and businessfolk. You may make one as a player character of run into one on the street.
Got a plot in mind?
MRO plots are player-created the Mods facilitate and organize the big ones, but we get the ideas from you. Do you have a plot in mind, and want to know whether it needs Mod approval? Check out our plot guidelines.
It had been a whole lot of work; it had taken a whole lot of planning.
He'd had to milk all of his contacts and spend long nights observing; learning his new friend's schedules, habits, abilities and any other details he might have to hammer out.
For instance, the main water line for the apartment building his... target? (Such a sour word for it) lived in was in the basement, controlled by a simple shutoff lever. He knew, though, from a stint as a foster child in a plumber's house(the guy got both money and free help from the deal, so it was a win-win, right?) that within minutes of turning that lever, someone would complain, and the landlord would just fix it...
So, as he stood in the basement, staring at the lever, turned off, he decided a good knock with a hammer would solve that problem.
CRASH!
It was late- they probably wouldn't be able to fix it until the next morning.
Golden.
He left quickly- he had a lot more to do, and his target wouldn't be at work forever.
From then on, he'd gone about tackling all of the objectives on a long to do list all so that he could sit right where he was sitting right now.
In detective Jorge Cervantes' living room, in the dark, a nice little bulldog at his side. He'd come prepared with hush puppies- worked every time. He pet the dog patiently as we waited for the owner of the house to get home. He'd emptied the ice box out the back, the hot water heater as well, and run the remaining water in the pipes dry... The whole apartment was dry... as least as far as he knew. Still, there was that lingering doubt that his range would reach to the next building over. That just made things exciting.
He stomped his boots, shaking off some more salt from the plant at Watkin's Glen- he'd been sure to line them, and his hammer with a material that could only be found in one place- it would both lead the detective on a wild goose chase later, and, if he actually visited the plant, it would assure the Judge that this man was actually worth his, pardon the pun, salt.
"Lizzie my dear... I think daddy is gonna be home soon. Want another treat?" He scratched the bull dog behind the ear, and fed her another little snack, which she happily scarfed down, licking her jowls clean afterward.
He'd made his move- now it was time for the detective to come home.
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Jorge
Jorge worked long days and as tiring as that was, he still loved his job. He loved knowing that he was out there actually helping people living happy and nice lives. There were times where he questioned what it was he was doing though. It seemed that everyday there was another problem nearly identical to the one from the day before. People never seemed to learn and always seemed to slip into new levels of foolishness, all in the name of trying to go against the law. But every day, Jorge knew that he would gladly face it again and again. He had to believe that eventually he would not be needed, that the world would eventually learn to take care of itself.
He had faith in that. But until then, he was still a cop.
So as he pulled up to his building, he detective gave a small sigh of relief. It was a good day, but he was still happy to be home. He felt like he had scarcely spent more than a couple hours in it every day. He wanted to be around his books, his crappy cough, even his mischief maker of a dog, Lizzie. Thankfully she was trained not to cause a mess when he was not around but lately he had been absent so much that she had taken to chewing up his favorite pair of shoes.
Climbing out of his ’67 Chevy Impala, the detective groaned as he stretched, cracked his back, and slammed the door closed. Dressed in his usual cheap blue suit, the detective adjusted his dark gray trench coat as he shoved his hands into his pockets, fishing for his keys. But once he stepped inside the building…something odd struck him.
He stopped in foyer, closing the door behind him as he turned and looked around the lobby of the apartment building. Something felt…off. He could not immediately pick up on what it was so he continued on to the stairs but with every step, he knew that something was different. His keys jingled briefly in his hands, but as they did he still found himself distracted by the notion of something being wrong, but what was it? He tilted his head as he looked around curiously.
It was only when he reached his floor that it finally snapped into place. Looking up, he spied the cheap sprinkler system and knew instantly that there was no water in that pipe. As a matter of fact…there was no water anywhere around him. That was certainly odd. Usually whenever he walked into the building he could feel the water running through every pipe, ever faucet on his floor, but…there was nothing this time. Was the water shut off for the whole building? Why?
Walking up to his front door, he spied that there was a note posted on it, one that was posted on the doors of other tenants who weren’t home either. “Broken Water Pipe. Will Be Fixed Tomorrow – Management.” There detective sighed as he rolled his eyes.
“Great,” he muttered. He was really looking forward to a shower too. Maybe he could stay with Gemma at the mansion tonight. Might be easier…
Shaking his head, he unlocked his front door.
“Alright, you little beast,” Jorge sighed as he called out to Lizzie. “What mess did you leave for me this time?” He muttered as he stepped into his apartment.
The sound of a key driving into a lock placed a grin on the mask covered face of the Judge.
Right on time.
The dog next to him's tail wagged as a chance to greet her owner presented itself, and the armored vigilante fed her the last hush puppy to prevent her from running up to the door. It was a little petty, yes, but the dog was a sort of security measure... to make sure the detective didn't just run or try to shoot him. He scratched her behind the ear, and then rested his hand on her collar gently. Truthfully, he probably couldn't bear to actually hurt the animal, but the good detective didn't know that.
The door opened, shedding some light on the dark room.
“Alright, you little beast, what mess did you leave for me this time?”
Perfect. He was totally unaware. His hand moved to rest on the handle of his hammer, which leaned against the couch next to him.
A low, gravelly voice reported from the darkness. "None at all... She's been a doll." His hand strayed from the hammer to click on the lamp next to him, and then dropped to the tool once more.
"Why don't you have a seat, detective? I want to have a little talk..." If he was going to try something, now would be the time. The Judge would look relaxed, and off guard in his comfortable seat, but in truth he was alert, and ready to jump into action should the need arise. He hoped it wouldn't.
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Jorge
The second that Jorge stepped inside of his apartment, he knew that something was very wrong. He could not really put his finger on what it was, but he knew something was off. Again, he was sensing no water from inside his own apartment. And while he was already prepared for that, the problem was that he did not sense any water at all. There was none in the stockpile he usually kept in his fridge, the boxes of it he store under the cabinet, he could not even sense the small gathering of water he felt at the front of his door from Lizzie’s water bowl.
He never left Lizzie without water, and she never drank it all before he got home.
One foot inside the door and Jorge immediately drew his gun and aimed it around the dark apartment. It was only then that he heard the voice call out…
>> "None at all... She's been a doll."
Snapping in the direction of the voice, Jorge trained his gun directly at seated figure. A man sat there, one which any other day Jorge would have fired a warning shot and then arrested, but something about his clothing caused the detective to stop. First of all, it was not so much clothing, but a costume…one that he had seen before.
But what really made him see red…was that he had his dog by her collar. No one…touched his dog…
>> "Why don't you have a seat, detective? I want to have a little talk..."
No running water around, no still water around, the man had planned the perfect time to show up. He remembered him well from the incident with Firearm. This man was a psychotic who was willing to kill that criminal rather than let the police deal with him. In the detective’s mind, that made him a little bit of a wild card.
Gun still trained and steady, Jorge narrowed his eyes glared daggers back at the man.
"I have a different suggestion," he said with as much cold authority as he could muster, also glancing at the hammer in the man’s hand. "You let my dog go before I put a slug right between your -EXPLICATIVE DELETEVED--ing eyes? Cause I can assure you, I’m a goddamn surgeon with this gun."
The metal clad judge simply stared as the detective pulled his gun and proceeded to freak out. Hmm... Perhaps he'd chosen wrong; he'd picked this man because he was good, but if he wasn't able to keep a level head...
Still, the one thing a man held more dear than anything else was his dog- the loss of composure was acceptable.
The dog was starting to get confused, though. It wanted to go to it's owner, but it was being held rather securely. The Judge remained calm through the whole ordeal, though. Jorge would not try to shoot him, the dog would pass out soon, due to the moderate tranquilizer he'd put in the hush puppies, and they would be able to get down to business...
Still, he had to say something to get the good detective to restrain himself. He spoke in his low, grating judge voice once more.
"Think, detective. You've seen it yourself. You could put that whole clip into my head and the worst it would give me is a head ache. You, on the other hand, wouldn't be so fortunate. Once again... Think. If I wanted you, or your dog dead, you would have come home to a dead dog, and died before you ever knew I was here." It was a little bit of a bluff in some aspects, but for the most part he wasn't lying. He could have killed this man, and considering the detective hadn't found some way to use his ability, yet, he still could.
The dog sagged a little, and laid down, licking it's jowls sleepily. "Now, detective... Have a seat. We need to talk."
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Jorge
Gun trained, the detective looked ready to take down this intruder. He knew who he was. He remembered back to that day when that man nearly killed Firearm in cold blood. He fully believed that he was not going a damn thing wrong. And maybe he wasn’t. But the truth was that judging and taking lives was really none of this man’s business. He had no right to choose who lived and who died. No one made him the judge, jury and executioner. No one except probably the man’s self-delusion. Being a vigilante and fighting crime was one thing, running around killing criminals was quite another.
But as the detective stood there, gun raised up and watching this man petting his dog who was eager to run to his side, he truly felt the blood boiling. He wanted this man out of his house. Having Rhythm or Carrick break in to raid his fridge for food was one thing, but this psychopath was quite another.
Yet…the detective knew he was acting out. He needed to gain some kind of foothold in this situation and standing here pointing a gun at this man was not going to help. Especially not when he still had his dog in his grasp…
>> "Think, detective. You've seen it yourself. You could put that whole clip into my head and the worst it would give me is a head ache. You, on the other hand, wouldn't be so fortunate. Once again... Think. If I wanted you, or your dog dead, you would have come home to a dead dog, and died before you ever knew I was here."
Wouldn’t be so fortunate? Mentally the detective just grinned. You obviously don’t have all the facts either.
He said nothing of these assumptions and merely narrowed his eyes. The police detective in him told him not to lower his gun. This was an intruder in his home and he could not simply allow the man think he can simply break in, remove all elements of water and then walk out whenever he pleased, just for the sake of a chat. That was not how things in his world ran.
But mind whirled the second her saw Lizzie’s head drop back down onto the intruder’s lap. For a moment he thought that the bastard had poisoned his dog but before he flew into a flying rage, all he heard was her soft, deep rooted snoring. He had put his dog to sleep? He still growled at the thought but at least she wasn’t dead…
>> "Now, detective... Have a seat. We need to talk."
Jorge narrowed his eyes as he very, very slowly lowered his gun and once more replaced it into its holster. Carefully he walked up to a chair that sat across from the intruder and confirmed that Lizzie was indeed snoring. Standing behind the chair, Jorge glared at the man, obviously refusing to take a seat just now.
Posted by Saphirus on Oct 27, 2011 13:42:26 GMT -6
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Puck
The air was tense; it was like any moment the fabric of reality, wound tight about itself, would rip, and engulf the two men.
Jorge made the right choice. He lowered his gun, and the scene went from a potential battle to something just a high strung, but perhaps less violent. Saph's eyes followed the detective like a hawk; he was sure to let the detective see them as well, as he'd gone through the painstaking trouble of putting in brown contacts.
Would they convince the detective? He had no idea, but it concealed his eyes nonetheless.
The detective stopped behind the chair... he refused to sit. Very well, at least the gun was holstered. More important that his stubborn refusal was the question he asked.
“What do you want?”
"Justice." It was, most likely, not the type of answer the detective had been looking for, but it was the perfect answer for the Judge.
"You feel it, don't you? That feeling that no matter how hard you work, nothing changes? You follow the rules, you put the criminals behind bars, they do their time, and they go out and do exactly what they were doing before. Even worse, there are criminals... Monsters out there who do horrible things, and go completely unpunished because of the burden of proof obtained by "fair" circumstance."
The armored man gently nudged the pooches head from his lap, and sat forward.
"I want all of that to end. I want the criminals to be afraid that if they do something wrong, I will be there. I will stop them. I will make them regret they ever took a step off the straight and narrow. That is what I want, detective..."
His hand wandered down to his side, and reached into a small pouch.
"I also want to do what is right. I want to help."
From the pouch he produced a small baggy with three pills in it. The bag looked clean and crisp- he'd found the drugs while under the moniker of The Masochist, and had opted to trade bags from the one he'd found it in- the other might have his finger prints on it. He tossed the bag to the standing detective.
"Do you know what those are?"
He was doing this partially to see how much the detective knew about the pills in the bag, dubbed 'M'... the drug that made you a mutant. If he knew nothing, then it was high time he did... Because the Judge knew much more than anyone else he'd talked to, and with a little help, he might be able to actually do something with that knowledge.
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Jorge
Jorge eyed his dog that slept soundly in the man’s lap. He knew that that was very unlike Lizzie. Lizzie picked up on his own emotions a lot. If he was tense, the dog should have been tense. But not so this time. No. The man must have done something to her. While he did not believe that Lizzie was dead, that did not make the situation any better. But the detective managed to keep his cool, at least for now. The sooner he could glean what it was that this man wanted, the sooner that he could get him out of his apartment.
So he asked.
And the man answered…
>> "Justice.”
Siiiiiiiigh. the Detective thought to himself. Was this going to become some lame type of monologue better suited for the comic books?
>> “You feel it, don't you?”
Yup. That’s exactly what this was going to turn into. Jorge mentally growled at the idea. Really? This man who just broke into his apartment, did everything possible to cut him off from his supply of water and this was the best and most interesting he could do? Monologue?
>> “That feeling that no matter how hard you work, nothing changes? You follow the rules, you put the criminals behind bars, they do their time, and they go out and do exactly what they were doing before. Even worse, there are criminals... Monsters out there who do horrible things, and go completely unpunished because of the burden of proof obtained by "fair" circumstance…I want all of that to end. I want the criminals to be afraid that if they do something wrong, I will be there. I will stop them. I will make them regret they ever took a step off the straight and narrow. That is what I want, detective…I also want to do what is right. I want to help."
Jorge shook his head. He would have railed against the man. People who really want to help don’t go around crushing people’s skulls in simply for the fact of doing it in some misguided name of justice. Judge obviously had his priorities seriously out of whack but Jorge knew that no matter what, there was no way this man was going to listen to reason. He was delusional and delusional people have accepted their realities as the single true one. No one could make them see otherwise.
But of course that did not mean that Jorge was not going to attempt to try. But just as he was about to open his mouth, suddenly the man produced a baggie from his pocket. In this baggie were several small items, pills. Great, so he was going to take drugs while he broke into his apartment? Fantastic.
>> "Do you know what those are?"
They were tossed to him and deftly Jorge snagged them out of the air. He arched a brow as he looked down at them. They seemed familiar. As he gently turned one of them over inside the bag, he suddenly saw why they were so familiar.
“M.” was all he grumbled in response. He shook his head turned his gaze up to the Judge. “We know about it. We’ve been cracking down as hard as we can on it but we can’t find the source.”
The detective caught the bag, and eyed it for a moment. The masked man eyed him steadily as he took a moment to identify the substance. Bingo. It was good to know that the NYPD wasn't just sleeping behind their desks. They knew what the drug was. What it did. How dangerous it was.
And from there, the detective let slip a nice little detail that put a smile on the masked man's face; not that his gracious host would even see it. It was just as he thought. The fuzz had no idea where the drug was coming from. The Judge had already been able to identify several dealers, and even the sub-distributors where they got their product from. He'd been able to discern that the drug was definitely not coming from out of state, or even from out of the city itself. With a little arm bending(or breaking), he was sure he could find the point of origin in weeks; something that would take even the most brilliant detective at least a year.
Like it or not, this man could use his help.
"What would you do if I told you I could give you the people responsible for this drug's distribution on a silver platter... And ask for nothing in return, provided you just don't get in my way."
He gently lifted the dog from his lap, and placed it on the floor, where it whined adorably,and got comfortable. From there he stood and grabbed his hammer; it was getting close to time for him to leave.
"I won't kill any of them. I only kill murderers, rapists, and those would would try to kill me. Of course... I wouldn't follow your protocols. Any evidence would have to be provided by you through lawful means. But I could tell you exactly where to look."
He slung the hammer over his shoulder non threateningly, and finished his thought.
"Could you accept the help of a vigilante if it meant justice could be done your way?" In the Judge's mind, it was a win/win for the detective. The perps would go to jail where they belonged, and they wouldn't get the full brunt of the punishment the vigilante thought they deserved(at the least a ferocious beating for selling drugs to kids. Most likely maiming.)
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M-Drug. Take one and you become a god. At least that was the promo he heard on many of the lips of people who were busted because of it. The detective shook his head as he stared at the pills. He still could not believe that someone had been able to do it; somebody put evolution into pill form for regular humans to take. It was insane! Humans either hated them for being different, or hated them because they had powers they could never possess. Now the lines were crossing all the more and what was the purpose? To cause mayhem? For money?
Distastefully Jorge set the bag of pills down next to him on the sofa. Obviously he was going to have to take these in for evidence.
>> "What would you do if I told you I could give you the people responsible for this drug's distribution on a silver platter... And ask for nothing in return, provided you just don't get in my way."
He saw the man set his dog down and then begin to stand. Jorge did the same, but slowly so that the vigilante did not get spooked by a sudden movement. And as he did so, he listened. Then he groaned. If there was one thing that the detective did not like was making deals with less than reputable people. The Judge, from what he knew, was a cold-blooded man who killed people in the name of “justice”. Not really the detective’s cup of tea. It seemed that no matter how much he wanted to commit many of the same acts, at least he had the law to keep him wrangled in.
The Judge, on the other hand, is a loose cannon.
>> "I won't kill any of them. I only kill murderers, rapists, and those who would try to kill me. Of course... I wouldn't follow your protocols. Any evidence would have to be provided by you through lawful means. But I could tell you exactly where to look."
The detective arched a brow as he listened closely. The Judge won’t kill anyone unless it’s self-defense? What were the odds that he would actually keep up with such guideline?
>> "Could you accept the help of a vigilante if it meant justice could be done your way?"
Jorge eyed the man closely. He was not stupid. The detective knew that the MRC was running into a brick wall with the M-Drug situation. They were tackling a few dealers here and there but nothing that could lead them to the big fish that was supporting the whole operation. He wanted nothing more than to end the madness by catching whoever it was that was responsible for the whole thing but they were finding nothing. Maybe having someone else out there actually looking for the M-Drug that already worked outside of the law was a good thing.
But was that really Jorge’s decision to make?
He eyed the Judge closely.
“You hurt and killed a lot of people. I can’t stop the rest of the precincts from looking for you, Judge.” the detective said. “But…if you can find something about sources for the M-Drug, I’ll see what I can do about keeping the focus off of you.”
This was it. What the detective said here would define the Judge's actions for months to come, maybe even for the rest of his life as a vigilante. Would he meet his end in the sights of a police sniper while trying to save lives, or would he work hand in hand with a detective in order to bring an organized drug syndicate to it's knees? The first one could happen either way, but then it would make it worth it in the end, perhaps.
“You hurt and killed a lot of people. I can’t stop the rest of the precincts from looking for you, Judge. But…if you can find something about sources for the M-Drug, I’ll see what I can do about keeping the focus off of you.”
That was it. Honestly, this was the best he could have hoped for from this situation. The detective wasn't the type to agree with the way he did things; they would probably never see eye to eye... That didn't mean they couldn't work together.
Of course, the man could be lying through his teeth, but the Judge honestly didn't think him the type. Still, he would have to be careful; Agreements like this tended to be fragile under the best circumstances.
After a moment of sizing up the integrity of the detective's words, the Judge nodded slightly, and stated in a calm tone. "That's all I ask."
He then turned to walk toward the window of the apartment, pausing only to turn back momentarily. "I'll find you when I have more. I look forward to working with you, Detective Cervantes."
He then climbed out of the apartment, and let himself fall. By the time the detective moved to the window to see him leave, if he even bothered, the vigilante would be long gone.
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Jorge
Jorge stood back and watched as the vigilante simply stood there to stare at him. The detective didn’t move, guessing that the man was probably judging on whether or not he could trust his word. If the tables were turned, Jorge would be doing exactly the same thing. As a matter of fact, he was. He heard only bad news about Judge, but they were from the lips of cops. Not every cop liked mutants and even further of them liked vigilantes. Judge definitely fit into both of categories by also being a killer. Jorge never liked to take a life, for him it was a last resort.
Judge didn’t suffer from that morality, though. Jorge could only wonder and hope if the man kept his word about only defending himself.
After a moment of sizing each other up, it seemed as if the Judge was finally satisfied by Jorge’s words and turned to take his leave.
>> "That's all I ask…I'll find you when I have more. I look forward to working with you, Detective Cervantes."
“Preferably you’ll knock next time,” Jorge muttered as he watched the man stand to go.
Before he knew it, the man was gone, out the window. A normal person would have freaked at that, but the detective knew enough to know that the man would be fine. On top of that, he was just used to the gesture. Carrick came and went from his window all the time so what would be the different with Judge, here? Jorge could only shake his head. He really needed to just plaster over all his windows with cement if he wanted to keep people out. This was starting to get ridiculous.
SNORT[/b]
Jorge turned back to his sleeping dog. He sighed as he moved to her side and slowly lifted her up. Lizzie was completely knocked out. One step followed another as he walked over to Lizzie’s dog bed and slipped her onto it. She was going to have to sleep off the effects. In the mean time, though, Jorge kept an eye on his window and prayed he didn’t get in over his head…