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.
Vicente had slipped away, knowing that the sound he heard could have only come from his real target, Leon. The boy was to come back with him to Falcone’s home, with not a hair harmed on his head. The assassin didn’t want to get rough, but he would have been more than happy to do so if the boy refused to cooperate. After all, above all else, he needed to get that boy back to his boss’ home or he would not get paid. Money was his only real motivation here, though part of him really wanted to know what the boy was all about. After all, he didn’t know what the fuss was. It would be nice to know…for once…
Strolling through the empty warehouse, Vicente remained in the shadows, trying to keep his eyes and ears open as he listened for further movement. So far he had not heard any motion again, but he was sure that he heard something. It could not have been a mistake. But gazing into the blackness, it was easy to see how the warehouse could have played tricks on him.
He stopped and stood absolutely still, his eyes roaming over the emptiness and straining to find absolutely evidence of someone else’s presence. As the seconds ticked away, Vicente began to grasp that maybe he had been wrong. Maybe he didn’t really hear anything after all. With a irritated grunt, he turned to leave when—
Sniffle…
He paused. He knew that he heard that! Turning back around, he narrowed his eyes in the direction of that sound. Slowly he stalked eyes, eyes peeled and staring into the blackness while his ears twitched at every sound that was not his silent footfall. When he rounded a certain corner, though, he heard the shuffling of feet.
A smirk appeared across his face. That had to be the boy.
Peering around, he rounded the corner and paused at the sight. There, indeed, was the boy, Leon, that he had been looking for. Leon was curled up, under the tattered remains of a blanket, with his thick glasses sitting next to him. It was as if the boy was practically gift wrapped just for him. Vicente grinned wide as he slowly crept on, edging closer and closer to the boy. He was thin, frail, and looked like a cry baby. Why the hell was HE so important?
Vicente shrugged it off. A job was a job.
Narrowing the gap between them, Vicente sighed as he slowly began to reach out, massive hands ready to pluck him up and carry him off to Falcone. But, just as Vicente leaned down, hands mere inches from the boy—
“Meeeew?!”
He jumped and spun around to face a curious looking black kitten. It had shuffled out from the boy’s blanket and was purring at Vicente’s feet. That was a cry of hunger. He snarled at the distraction but as he turned back to the boy, he found his wide and terrified eyes staring up at him. A second of silence passed between them before…
“NOOO!!! I’M NOT GOING BACK!!!” Leon screamed in protest.
Vicente was fast, though, faster than he looked. Quickly he managed to reach down and pluck the boy up and off the ground. The child squirmed and struggled but Vicente was not going to let him out of his grasp. He growled as he squeezed the boy tightly to his massive chest.
“Stop it! Kid! Stop it!” he growled as he tried to tuck him under his arm to carrying him out.
“NO! NO NO!!” Leon screamed once again.
Vicente sighed as he lifted the boy up and stared at him directly in the eyes. He would threaten a world of harm against the child. A harm from which he would never grow up to be a normal boy. But before he could…
SPIIIIIT!!![/b]
A large, glob of spit landed across Vicente’s lips and he grimaced. He growled as he readied himself to knock the child out, but before he could…a strange sensation overtook his body. At first Vicente felt the world tilt and spin. Then his body wracked with pain as he felt like his body was being deluged with icy water. He ground his teeth, loosened his grip on the boy ( enough for Leon to squirm out and take off running) , and Vicente collapsed to his knees. He shook all over the iciness fill his very bones before finally…he felt them begin to crack and reshape.
“ARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!” he screamed as he collapsed to the ground, his body changing…shifting…and growing younger…but at the risk of pain.
Her nice quiet moment of contemplation shattered in an instant. The brood-mother sat bolt upright, icy eyes startled. What the hell was that? It didn't sound like a roar... not like the last one she had heard, anyway. It sounded... pained. Her brows drew together, and she wiped her hands off on the wooden crate, abandoning her dewy web. Snatching up her knife, she let herself down off her crate. The jolt from her feet slapping against the floor set the pain in her shoulder off, earning a hiss and a muffled curse word. With her knife in hand, she glanced around.
"...Rafael?" She called, her voice echoing out into the shadows around her. If someone was still creeping around from the incident out on the dock, then there was still the possibility of her life being in danger. Edging forward, she headed toward where the sound had come from. The sound of hurried footsteps headed her way, and she braced to meet whoever it was. A child flew past, barely even sparing her a glance. "...what the- HEY!" She started after, figuring he might know what had happened. But the brat was fast, and she didn't feel like sprinting after him. Cursing under her breath, she ordered her spiders to tail the boy as far as they could, before turning back. Rafael was in the warehouse somewhere... she just needed to find him. "Rafael!?" She hollered, marching back toward where she had come from.
Something was making noise... she could hear it. She followed the sounds as best she could, and eventually stumbled close by. It didn't sound like the man. No one was yelling... there wasn't blood on the floor. Marching on, now determined to figure out what was going on, she came right up on someone. Someone on the floor, making the noises she had heard. Stopping in her tracks, Megan eyed the guy. It was dark, but even in the darkness she could see that whoever it was was not Rafael.... and that he was wearing the mutants clothes. "Who the hell are you?" She questioned, her voice quiet and sharp. She glanced around them, looking for any sign of a struggle... and coming up with nothing. Just the guy, a blanket on the floor, and a... kitten? She blinked. There was a kitten, small and frightened, backed up against the wall. Pinning her eyes on the stranger, she edged over and picked it up by the scruff of it's neck. Maybe the guy was a mutant... and he had turned her friend into a cat? One look into the cat's large yellow eyes and she scoffed at the very thought.
...Though... best to hold onto the animal... just in case, at least until she figured out what was going on.
A haze of colors erupted around the inside of Vicente’s skull. It truly felt as if everything was on fire and he had absolutely no idea what was going on. All that the assassin knew for sure was that he was in pain and that something had happened to him. But as he tried to think about what it was…he soon found that he found not remember. He could not wrap his mind around the extra large black cloud that had taken residence where his most recent memories were.
A gasp of breath and the limp form of Vicente de la Sangre groaned as he tried to move his limbs. The haziness of his brain was only matched by the absolute pain that his body was wracked in. He did not know why he was in such pain, only that it was there and it needed to be solved.
With a groan he moved into a sitting position and cracked his neck to the side. Everything was sore but the assassin had pushed through, knowing full well that if he did nothing, it would only make the matters worse. So the assassin moved, but as he did so, any passerby would notice something odd. This was not the body of the old and experienced assassin that had moments ago run in to kidnap the boy. Instead, this was a much younger, much firmer body of the assassin when he was 25 years old.
He head snapped up at the sudden sound. That was an alias he used once or twice, but if so, who was calling out to him? Did he botch some mission for Los Lobos? Vicente was better than that! He growled a little as he tried to maneuver onto his feet but promptly fell hard onto his rear. He groaned as pain wracked throughout his body and he sat once again. Panic tore through him. Did he really botch a job? What about his family? His father?
He blinked as suddenly a woman appeared from around the corner. The short, dirty blonde hair, the odd clothing and the disgruntled expression. She looked like she stepped out of some punk concert. Was that where he was? A punk concert?
>> "Who the hell are you?" [/color]
He say the knife in her hand and instantly he sprang to his feet, despite his pain, and produced his own knife from his belt. The young man, narrowed his eyes as he kept a defensive position and glared at her, not at all noticing that they had the same style of knives.
“Nevermind that! Who are you? Why am I here?” he growled. He archdd a brow at her exposed hip. “W-What’re you? Some hooker?”
Megan was... caught off guard? No... no. She was blind sided. The guy who had stood up, quickly drawn a knife and turned on her... was talking in the same voice as the assassin. Same voice, but younger. She blinked, taken aback, and glanced at the struggling kitten in her hand. Okay, so it wasn't him. So much for dressing it in embarrassing outfits and taking pictures.
She'd just had to feed it to Roach later, then. Stupid cats. The lack of memory also caught her off guard, as well as being referred to as a prostitute. Again. He was on a roll with that little joke.
"...How many times're you gonna to call me a hooker? It's getting pretty tiring." She snapped. Seriously... she didn't look that much like a street walker!
She had to assume that the kid who had run past her had done... something... to him. Though she didn't know exactly what that would be. "What do you mean, 'where am i', Did you hit your head or something?" Megan stood her ground, which she was sure wasn't the best choice, but... meh. With her stolen knife at her side, held tightly in her palm, she tucked the frightened cat in the crook of her elbow, letting it tremble against her stomach. If he came at her, she'd just throw it at him. See how he fared against small claws and fur while she turned and ran.
"I heard a noise and came to find y--...wait, you don't remember me?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she tapped her blade against her thigh. He really seemed confused, but she couldn't see any wounds on him that would have caused trauma great enough to wipe his memory. Which pretty much left whatever that kid had done to him as the cause. She did however, finally spot the injury he had on his hand. A burn of some sort, that had blistered the skin. "That's not good... You must have gotten whacked pretty hard if you were able to forget who I am." She stated, managing to sound a little hurt.
She wondered to what extent his memory he been messed with. Maybe he had actually completely forgotten who she was... and if so, maybe she could use that in her favor. "Come here, let me see your hand. ....What is the last thing you remember?" She asked, leaning down to tuck her knife into her boot, then straightened and held her hand out for his.
>> "...How many times're you gonna to call me a hooker? It's getting pretty tiring."[/color]
Vicente was knocked off guard by that statement. She made it sound as if he was actually supposed to know her, but whenever he looked at her face, all he saw was a stranger, someone that could possibly be an enemy. The young assassin couldn’t risk trust someone he didn’t know, right? Especially if he were on the job. After all, why else would he be in this place? This had to be part of some job that was quickly going wrong.
Eyes still narrowed, knife twirled in hand, he bared his teeth as he eyed her closely, trying to keep an eye out for any sudden movements. He wouldn’t relax, not until he figured out exactly what was going on.
>> "What do you mean, 'where am i', Did you hit your head or something? I heard a noise and came to find y--...wait, you don't remember me?" [/color]
He growled as he shook his head. For all he knew SHE could have been the one to do this to him. After meeting Reaper, he had found out that there were others gifted by the gods like he was. What was to say that this minx wasn’t one of his kind?
His grip on the knife didn’t waver as he slowly circled her while she carried the little kitten in her arms. She really was of the attractive sort, but he needed to confirm whether she was friend or foe. Moments ago, she could have ended his life if she wanted to. But instead she actually looked both surprised and concerned. Either he really was supposed to know her or she was a terrific actoress.
>> "That's not good... You must have gotten whacked pretty hard if you were able to forget who I am…Come here, let me see your hand. ....What is the last thing you remember?"[/color]
The tone of her voice did make her seem caring, but Vicente still was not sure he could trust her. After all, he had given her his alias, Rafael. If she were someone he truly trusted, wouldn’t he have given her his real name? As a show of faith? But a quick glance to her hand and he spied a very familiar throwing knife…his own. He glanced at the one he held and he very slowly began to calm down. Though he was unsure of what that meant, the assassin was a little more willing to listen.
Very slowly he lowered his guard, but still kept her within his field of vision. The knife lowered, but he didn’t sheath it just yet. He carefully edged forward, but he didn’t dare lower his guard just yet. Instead he tried to answer her question while keeping his injured wrist close to himself.
“Um….I…” he blinked as he looked away, trying to figure out what he remembered. Remembering what had happened was going to be impossible, because all he could recall was a black haze. But he could recall the last thing. He blinked as he shook his head and returned his gaze to her. “I just returned home, from New Orleans. I…I…just got off the plane yesterday.”
“I just returned home, from New Orleans. I…I…just got off the plane yesterday.”
Blinking right back at him, she pursed her lips, still holding her hand out at him. Just as stubborn as ever, it seemed. "Well, I don't know anything about that." Megan muttered, attempting to ignore the mewling cat burrowing into her coat. She didn't know enough about him to know what he was talking about, and she figured that trying to make up things about his life was probably a no-go. So she was going to leave that memory alone. Instead, she decided to try and go with what she did know about him, hazard a guess and hope it was correct. "But I do know some things... First off, My name is Charlotte."
Softening her voice, she shot him a crooked smile and backed up until she hit the wall, hand still waiting in the air. He was stubborn, sure, but she was pretty sure she had him beaten in that department. "We're in new York. I was paid to do a job with you, but I don't know by who, or why. I'm not privileged enough for information like that... Mostly just here as eyes, ears, and bullet protection." The lies falling out of her face sounded painful to her own ears, considering she knew what had actually happened.. but it was worth a shot, and she was getting a little bit of a thrill out of trying to dupe him. He deserved it, for that hooker jab. "You took care of the guys we were sent here after, some minor gang leader or something... they're somewhere out there by one of the docks. Guess there must have been another one, though... You heard something and went to check it out."
God... she felt like she was reciting lines from a mob movie. All she was missing was a baseball bat and a cigar. "I saw someone run off as I was coming up, but i'm not really suited for combat... So I came to find you." Megan shrugged one shoulder, feeling the bruise under her coat protest as she did so. She hoped her web of events was convincing enough, because if not she'd probably have a lot of explaining to do, possibly at knife point. "I don't know much more than that. ...I...I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner, Rafael. Maybe I could'a stopped him."
>> "Well, I don't know anything about that…But I do know some things... First off, My name is Charlotte." [/color]
Vicente blinked as he stared at the unfamiliar woman. There was absolutely nothing about her appearance or the tone of her voice that denoted anything even remotely close to recognition. Whoever she was, he could not remember her in the least. She could have been lying, that was always a possibility. But as much as he wanted to pin whatever happened to him on her, for whatever reason, he just couldn’t. Something, he didn’t know what, told him that she had nothing to do with it.
He narrowed his eyes as she backed away but he no longer looked ready to take the offensive. Calm settled over his body for just a moment as he watched her closely. She still was not making any motions to attack him or to appear threatening. Slowly he relaxed more.
>> "We're in New York. I was paid to do a job with you, but I don't know by who, or why. I'm not privileged enough for information like that... Mostly just here as eyes, ears, and bullet protection…You took care of the guys we were sent here after, some minor gang leader or something... they're somewhere out there by one of the docks. Guess there must have been another one, though... You heard something and went to check it out."[/color]
Vicente looked away, his mind reeling as he tried to grab onto any piece of that information that sounded familiar. New York? That was impossible! He had just touched down in New Orleans, yesterday! How could he have already been in New York? Then again, his memory was gone, who knew how much time had passed between then and now. It was nearly impossible to for him to tell.
Then he glanced at his…partner. She really didn’t look like anything much. Then again he had assumed the same about Reaper and she had nearly killed him…twice! So maybe this young woman was more dangerous that he thought.
Her story seemed odd but definitely something that was up his alley. A glance at his clothes and he saw the fresh droplets of blood, even the wound on his wrist. The blood could have come from anywhere, but everything she said seemed more than likely the story. The evidence did seem to point that what she was telling him was true. What was the worst that could happen if he believed her.
He knew the answer to that all too well. Still…it seemed as if he were sorely lacking options.
>> "I saw someone run off as I was coming up, but i'm not really suited for combat... So I came to find you…I don't know much more than that. ...I...I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner, Rafael. Maybe I could'a stopped him."[/color]
He arched his brow. The assassin had pretty fine-tuned way of picking up when someone was lying to him. Or at least he liked to think so. The problem was that he was so confused as to what was going on that her tone seemed just as genuine as if she were really a partner. And not only that, but she sounded apologetic for letting him get hurt. In a way it partially reminded him of Reaper after their whole debacle. The woman was tough as stone but finally, towards the end, he saw a side of her that let him know that she really did care about something in this world.
Reaching up, he rubbed the back of his neck, but winced when he shot his hand back down to look at it closely. That burn mark was still pretty noticeable. He should get that taken care of as soon as he could.
He glanced up again at the woman, Charlotte, and sighed.
“It’s…fine,” he muttered. “Just…wish I knew what was going on,” he said in a grumbly tone. He shook his head as he turned his attention back to her. “So…what was our job, anyways?” Maybe that would job his memory.
“It’s…fine,”“Just…wish I knew what was going on,”“So…what was our job, anyways?”
She was almost stunned by the fact that her lie had worked. She had to actively keep herself from grinning, by forcing a wince and reaching over to rub her shoulder. The kitten mewed again in her arm. She resisted the urge to scowl at it, and instead decided to unzip her coat and tuck it inside, half zipping it back up. The vest she wore underneath was covered by her short, but still obvious from how it prevented any of her upper curves from showing. "Like I said... I don't know much. Kinda like it that way... helps me sleep better, ya know?" She chuckled, pinning her eyes back on him.
"I was hired under the table, paid up front to show up here and scout out the area. You were here already," at least, she was pretty sure he had been there before her," ...Some guy, I think he called himself ken?, was your target... He had some body guards with him. Kinda looked like we were breaking up a meeting." Yeah.. a meeting. Totally not a failed murder attempt. An attempt that had been thwarted by the youngish man standing before her. She blinked at that thought.
....Aww, F&%#!!.... she still owed him.
All thoughts of using his confused, memory-less state to her advantage, to gain some upper-hand on him, flew out of her head. She openly frowned, groaning inwardly and pushed herself away from the wall. Goddammit... there went all of her fun in one foul swoop. "...I can't tell you anymore than that. I don't know who you answer to... or what you're supposed to do now that the jobs done..." Most of that was the truth, too. She didn't know who he worked for, or what he had been doing at the docks. She didn't know how any of his day job actually worked. And she was quite happy with it that way.
"I owe you, you know... for letting me keep the vest.. Don't know if I would have survived otherwise." She stepped closer to him, reaching out to grab his wrist, since he wasn't going to give it to her willingly. It didn't look like he was paying much attention, so she figured that she'd be able to get a hold of it before he could snatch it away. Of course, he was still an assassin, and a lot faster than her, so it was a gamble."What are you gonna do now though...? If you don't even remember why you're here?" With the kitten tucked snugly in her coat, she was able to reach up and pull a few silken strands from between her lips with her other. It would probably be a little alarming, but she wasn't thinking about it. His older self had already seen what her mutation could do, so she just set about repeating something she had done the last time they had met.
She wasn't sure what to do, now that her scheming had been ruined. Her lips pursed as she drew her attention fully to gathering enough silk for a quick bandage, and she set about forming a new plan. Since she owed him, she couldn't just leave him at the docks alone. She had no idea what had been done to him, or if it would ever wear off. At the same time, though, she couldn't keep up the act forever. He was bound to ask more questions, and aside from making up small things and altering the events that had actually transpired, she was running out of material. She didn't know his past, or all that much about him. It was inevitable that she'd mess up and say something that didn't sit right. Considering that she had just gotten him to believe her, she needed to keep him believing her... but steer him away from the 'job'. Short of knocking him out (Ha! As if that would happen) and dragging him off to a doctor, she had no ideas.
>> "Like I said... I don't know much. Kinda like it that way... helps me sleep better, ya know? I was hired under the table, paid up front to show up here and scout out the area. You were here already...Some guy, I think he called himself ken?, was your target... He had some body guards with him. Kinda looked like we were breaking up a meeting."[/color]
Vicente continued to eye her closely but at least the tension in his body had loosened up a bit. He was suspicious but his confusion was slowly beginning to make those feelings wane. For whatever reason, he trusted the young woman. Maybe he was catching a glimmer of something remembered. Vicente had learned to trust his gut instincts, especially when it came to working on the job. He had to because he always believed that the gods were nudging him to where he always needed to be.
The easiness of speaking to the young woman in front of him could have been a clue from the gods and goddess that he was on the right track. After all, again, he had no options at the moment. Maybe by siding with her he would eventually find out what happened to him.
>> "...I can't tell you anymore than that. I don't know who you answer to... or what you're supposed to do now that the jobs done..."[/color]
He lowered his gaze. By the looks of things it seemed that at least most of his job was complete. If those people were indeed dead (and the evidence of the blood splatter on him seemed to suggest that) then what was there to do? If he tried to contact Los Lobos about what had happened to him, they might take that as a sign of weakness. He could not risk his father being injured because of his mistake. No, he would need to focus on finding out what happened to him and maybe tracking down that last person that Charlotte said had run on by.
Until then…he would have to lay low…
>> "I owe you, you know... for letting me keep the vest.. Don't know if I would have survived otherwise…What are you gonna do now though...? If you don't even remember why you're here?"[/color]
He blinked. His confusion slowed his response time so Vicente barely had time to acknowledge that he hand was being grabbed. For a second he wanted to pull away and snarl at her, but the tenderness at which she checked his wound stopped him. He still eyed her but winced as she began to check the wound.
Then….he watched as she began to pull silk from between her lips. At first he really did not know what to think. He had so few meetings with fellow blessed that for the longest time he really thought he was the only one. But then he met Reaper, Terra, and Dr. Adonis. All creatures gifted by his gods. Slowly he realized that he was not the only one and this meeting with this woman was beginning to drill that point home.
He watched her in awe as she pulled silk from between her lips and bandaged his wound. It felt sticky…like a spider’s silk. He quickly made the connection between this woman’s gift and the pantheon of gods that he knew…
“Great Goddess of Teotihuacan…” he gasped. “Y-You’ve been blessed as well?” he shook his head as he tried to wrap his mind around that. But in doing so, her question rebounded in his head. What was he going to do? He lowered his gaze as he shook his head. “I…need to lay low. I have…family. I cannot allow them to come to harm because my contacts would see my current condition as weakness. We need to find out what happened to my memories and retrieve them. Can you help me?”
“Great Goddess of Teotihuacan…”“Y-You’ve been blessed as well?”
She openly laughed at him. Only... it didn't come out as the harsh, mocking laugh she was used to. It was a soft giggle, one she blamed entirely on not wanting to get stabbed for mocking him while he had a knife in hand. The whole blessed thing was funny, and yet interesting. It appeared that it wasn't just some passing fancy of his either. It seemed he had held onto his beliefs for a long while, taken them to heart and all of that other wishy-washy nonsense. It was... actually kind of admirable. A person who didn't flip flop between things when something more exciting came along.... she could respect that kind of dedication. Even if it was foreign to her.
"If you can call it being blessed, then yeah... I guess I am. Mines not nearly as exciting as yours though." She joked, before he continued on. She recalled how his face had shifted from Lion to man, and the insane monkey arm thing. Yeah... She could spit sticky things and teach spiders to waltz. Not even remotely as impressive.
“I…need to lay low. I have…family. I cannot allow them to come to harm because my contacts would see my current condition as weakness. We need to find out what happened to my memories and retrieve them. Can you help me?”
Her hands paused momentarily while winding her silk around his wound. He had family? ...Was that why he was running around the city taking those jobs of his? He was protecting them? Her pattern picked up again, without a word spoken on her part, until his wound was sufficiently wrapped. She clipped through the silk with her teeth, leaving a good amount of sticky goop on the end, so she could tuck it in and the whole bandage would stay tightly wrapped.
Megan had never felt like such an ass in all her life... well, only one other time had she worn that particular shame. That was different, though. She told herself. ...A lot different. She had a family too... one she loved dearly. She could understand the want to protect them. It really spoke something about his character... and for the first time when she looked at him she saw something other than an a stubborn jerk who was fun to follow around. If he had spent all his years doing terrible things to keep people he loved safe.. then she had greatly misjudged him. She thought of the family she had left behind... one she hadn't even really stayed in contact with when she so easily could... and she called herself an ass again.
After a few quiet moments of studying the ground and berating herself inwardly, she raised her eyes back to him and shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah...I'll help... not sure now much good it will do, but i'll try at least." She took a step back, raising a hand to touch the bruised portion of her shoulder, and let out a little sigh. "Didn't really have anything planned after this other than patching my vest up and going to sleep anyway. ...and who knows, maybe we'll have some fun while hunting for info, right?"
A glance down at her clothing, which was more or less still soaked from her night swim in the ocean, brought a scowl to her face. "I'm not going anywhere like this, though. I'll need to stop by my apartment and change... maybe get you some real bandages for that wound too." Turning, she started back the way she had come, zipping her her coat all the way as she moved. It was freaking cold out, and if she didn't change he'd have to drag a Megan Popsicle around with him on his search. She bypassed heading back to the place he had left her waiting, instead heading out toward the street. He had to have gotten to the docks somehow, and she doubted that he had been forced to sprint from his apartment all the way there.
Sure enough, outside she spotted a bike. His bike, if she remembered correctly. With a grin, she pointed at it. "That's yours... let's go, I'll give you directions on the way." She waited for him to climb on, then hopped on the back. Just like old times... painful, expensive old times. The drive there was quick and painless. Once he had stopped the bike, she crawled off. The kitten was still tucked snugly against her... only, now sh wasn't so sure if she wanted to hand it over to the giant bug. It was kind of cute... for a cat. Maybe she'd name it Oliver, and teach it to hunt roaches in her spare time.
Speaking of Roach... She turned her eyes back to Rafael, a sheepish grin curving her lips. "...Eh... before we go in. Few things I should say." Watch out for his leftovers, and don't open any closet doors came to mind, and she scratched at the back of her head. It was hard to bring company around, while a giant cockroach living with you."... My real names Megan... sorry bout' fibbing, but my roommates probably going to blab it anyway. Also, ignore the mess. He's hard to clean up after... and... he can be a little...uh... spontaneous. So watch yourself." A simple enough explanation. If a little too simple. She continued on up the stairs to her door, and slipped her key into the lock. Stepping inside, she kicked a knife out of the way, ignoring the pile of blades that had built up in the corner, and unzipped her jacket, pulling the kitten out as she threw the coat over the back of the couch.
"...Greg? You here?" Maybe she'd luck out, and he'd be gone.
It had been an eventful day. Down right productive! Sure, it had had a slump in the middle, but after that it had become productive again! Now that the day was re-productive, he would set up for a weekly ritual that had become bug-house tradition!
He would need to pop some popcorn! He could get to that after this, though... In the way of a delicate ballet, he tippietoed on over to the remote, spun, and clicked the TV on. From there, he put on his favorite episode of any show ever. The Freaky Fred episode of Courage, the cowardly dog. Before he knew it, he was absorbed in it.
Of course, before we go any further, it should be mentioned that Gregory was not so shameless as to prance about the apartment in the buff! Oh no! He was wearing a towel.
On his head.
The giant bug pressed his eyes right against the glass and recited in perfect tone and mimicry, with perfect memorization, the words that dear Fred spoke. "Hello, new friend, my name is Fred, the words you hear are in my head. I say, I said, my name is Fred... And I've been... Very Naaaaaughty." He cackled a little, and continued to recite the words as he hopped up, and skittered into the kitchen, pulling an old decayed bag of popcorn from it. Next to it was a fresh one. He grabbed that too.
From there, he popped the fresh one into a clean, neat looking microwave with 'Megan' printed upon it. He set the timer, and let it run as he reached into the fridge, shifting aside a severed hand to grab a block of moldy cheese ,which he tossed into the decayed bag, and shoved into a dirty old microwave with 'Roa-oh a hat!' scrawled upon it. He smacked the button thingies a few times and pressed the start button, skipping off to grab the TV guide. It was glued to the wall. He yanked it off.
Ohhh~ This episode, Samantha was going to struggle with the concept of commitment! Goodie! You see, today was the day of the week that his rebellious little ruffian and he sat to watch three girls and a horse in a dress talk about this and that while they poked fun at them and threw popcorn at the screen. They hadn't missed a day in months, and while the little vixen was often out nowadays, she surely wouldn't have forgotten.
Ding.... DING! Both of the popcorns were done! Goodie! He spoke the words of his beloved episode of the pink dog's exploits as he skipped on into the kitchen, grabbed the two bags, and skipped back into the living room, making such a racket that he didn't hear Megan entering. He was in mid speech as he noticed the two. "Perhaps I was... Naaaaaaugh- huh?" It was at this time, due to all of that skipping, that his towel fell from his head.
He was nude in front of a total stranger! Needless to say, he let out a loud. "EEE!" perfectly mimicking the scream of a wee little school girl. The popcorn went up to the ceiling. His stuck, hers fell on the couch, scattering kernels everywhere. A random Pizza fell from the ceiling.
The Roach disappeared into the kitchen, and came back out with a toaster on his head.
"... Ahem... Megan... I was expecting you sooner..." His eyes wandered over to their guest. "May I... Inquire as to who this is?"
Thanks to Andrea and Jorge for my sigs! I WABBLE YOUUU! AV Roach~
Everything that followed was nearly a blur. A thick haze stuck over Vicente’s head as he decided to place his trust in the young woman. She had agreed to help him. At least he had one ally so far, but honestly part of him did not know if it was the best idea. After all, with his memories this messed up, how was he supposed to know who to trust? Though the idea that she was working for the enemy all along began to wane, he still had some suspicions.
Sigh. If only he could remember how he got like this. But he would have to remain calm. The answers would come, he just needed to be patient and hope that the gods would be edging him along the correct path. His father would not allow him to lose faith at a time like this, therefore he needed to keep focused.
Outside he was led into the bright light of the day. Again, absolutely nothing look familiar, but it certainly did have the feel of New York City. So, Charlotte was right. They were here in New York…but why? He grumbled as he tried to remember any more facts about his current predicament but instead found himself being shown to a rather large motorcycle. By the appearance of it, he sighed, that at least felt familiar. His father loved classic cars and bikes so it was of little wonder that he would own one himself.
Vicente climbed on and Charlotte was quick to climb on behind him. Apparently this was something they had done before because even as he felt her arms wrap around his stomach to remain on the bike, he had to admit that it did feel familiar. Maybe she was his partner. If so, he needed to know what the rest of his mission was.
Following her directions, Vicente rode through the streets of New York. The one thing that struck him as odd was the fact that everything looked so…different. Almost as if it were out of place. He had heard such about New York, that it was a weird place that took a lot of getting used to. This was especially true because the two sources of trends in the country were Los Angeles and New York so they always seemed odd when compared to a place like Corpus Christi. But Vicente did not have long to muse on the thought since he was following Charlotte’s directions.
By the time they finally came to a stop, the assassin paused as he looked up at the building. He climbed off his bike, after the young woman and was ready to follow her when she suddenly stopped him.
>> "...Eh... before we go in. Few things I should say."[/color]
“Uh, okay,” he muttered suspiciously as he eyed her.
>> "... My real names Megan... sorry bout' fibbing, but my roommates probably going to blab it anyway. Also, ignore the mess. He's hard to clean up after... and... he can be a little...uh... spontaneous. So watch yourself."[/color]
Megan? Something tickled in the back of his mind. That sounded a hell of a lot more familiar than “Charlotte” did but Vicente was not entirely sure why it was familiar. For whatever reason the name connected with something in his memory but it was still too hazy for him to remember. He would have to hope it was a good sign.
Though most would have thought it off to give an alias to a partner, Vicente was guilty of the same thing. But, as Char—Megan said, she liked to be kept a little in the dark. It was best for her protection.
Vicente simply shrugged and nodded. He was fine with knowing her real name. It at least helped to show that she trusted him a bit. At least he hoped it did. Saying nothing, he allowed the woman to lead on as he tried to keep in his mind everything that she had said. She lived with someone, someone who was spontaneous and dirty. Why should he care? So long as the man didn’t come at him with a knife or something, Vicente would not draw unnecessary attention to himself.
Then they arrived at the door and it opened…
>> "...Greg? You here?"[/color]
>> "Perhaps I was... Naaaaaaugh- huh? EEE!"
“Whoa!” Vicente muttered as he bared his teeth and took on a more defensive stance. That had to be the largest bug he had ever seen! AND it talked! His mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do next. Figure out its weaknesses, find the nearest weapons, get Megan to saf---
He paused when he realized that the roach had skittered away to the kitchen and returned, wearing a toaster. The assassin arched a brow at its odd behavior. Apparently his first instinct was not to attack. He eyed the large bug closely as he it peered at both himself and Megan.
>> "... Ahem... Megan... I was expecting you sooner...May I... Inquire as to who this is?"
Well….that was a large piece of information that Megan had neglected to tell him. That her roommate, boyfriend, or whatever it was, was actually as giant roach! Vicente eyed the beast. Maybe it escaped from the Mictlan and was now parading around in the human realm, or it could be another blessed, or maybe Megan’s room was actually a doorway into the Spirit World and she simply was not aware. Hmm…whatever the case, Vicente needed to play along. He was too confused and weakened to really be able to defend himself. Spirit creatures preyed on confusion…
He nodded to the beast. “Rafael de Sol,” he answered. “I’m merely a friend…” he said and gave a short, respectful bow.
Cringing at the squeal, Megan held the squirming feline in her hands and strode into the room. "Gregory! Clothe yourself with something other than the toaster, please!" Though it was silly, and made her giggle inwardly, she had told him many times not to use the kitchen utensils as accessories. She had lost many a good plates that way, and was fairly certain that all of the missing silverware was his doing. Still... she couldn't keep a crooked smile from twisting her lips. He had wormed his way into her life, and she couldn't imagine it without him. Turning to her companion, she grinned. "Rafael... this is Gregory. He's my roomie."
She turned back around, just noticing the popcorn bag that had spilled all over the floor, and her smile vanished. "Ah! Did I miss it? Is the show on?" She scrambled over the back of the couch, crunching a few kernels of corn on the way, and stared at the tv as a dull commercial droned on. Guilt overwhelmed her, and she hung her head. She had been with him every time it had been one, and thoroughly enjoyed cracking jokes with her buggy friend. But... she had forgotten tonight. Ken's little plan had driven her off of her path, away from home, and Rafael showing up had knocked all plans completely from her mind. Turning around, she frowned at the big bug, all thoughts of reprimanding him about the toaster tumbling off her to do list. "...Roach... I'm sorry. I won't be able to join you tonight... Some things came up." She'd made a some-what promise to help him out, after all. She couldn't back out of it now. Chewing on her bottom lip, she squirmed out of her seat and hurried around the couch. She said a mental goodbye to Oliver, and held the squirming kitten out to the big bug.
"...Forgive me?" She attempted her cheekiest smile, set the cat on the dining table, and rushed off to her room to change, shouting that she'd be right out as she went. If the cat wasn't enough, she'd have to make it up to him somehow later.
After shutting her door behind her, she set about peeling her wet clothes off, and digging out something else to wear. Eventually, she decided on a pair of loose jeans and a baggy shirt. But.. then she eyed her closet again. It had been so long since she had dressed up at all. Not a single dress had been touched, and all of her heels had been forgotten about. Unless Gregory has decided to try them on, but even she doubted that. He knew he wasn't allowed in her room. Before she decided on what to wear for certain, she set about removing the various bandages strapped across her back, and the puffy wet one taped to her shoulder. They needed changed, because old sea water did not feel good on healing wounds. Digging out her medical supplies, she called out to a few of the lurking spiders in her room, who had snapped back into their semi intelligence as soon she had entered the building. She'd take a few with her, so she wouldn't have to make anymore.
A large brown tarantula crawled out from under her bed, his movements slow and sluggish. He was three weeks old, and the eldest of her current batch of spiders. While she wrapped herself back up, he skittered up onto her bed, informing her of anything relevant that had happened while she had been gone...
The giant cockroach stood in relative stillness and silence as the man introduced himself, and Megan explained that she, in fact, wouldn't be able to stay and watch three woman and a horse in the city.
He remained silent, and nodded slowly, accepting the kitten, and placing it on the table next to him, finally breaking the silence. "You know I don't like cooking them... They make that hissing sound when you boil them. I know it's only the air escaping, but it freaks me out."
His hand wandered up to the toaster self consciously, and as she walked into her room to get changed, he tossed the metal box out the window, which was conveniently open. He looked to the darker pink skinned man, to Megan's door, back, and to the door again... And then he walked right on in, ignoring the probably naked woman in it. What he was after was her dresser, which he opened, and fished through. After a moment, he withdrew a bra, and placed it on his head.
After that, he casually strolled on out, ignoring anything she said in rebuttal to his intrusion, a bra clasped onto his dome. "So tell me, Estaban, Have you an interest in my daughter?" As he said this, he sat on the edge of the couch, folded both sets of his arms, and stared at the man intensely, clacking his mandibles slowly, at a constant pace.
Thanks to Andrea and Jorge for my sigs! I WABBLE YOUUU! AV Roach~
Her door creaked and swung open, and Megan swung around to face Gregory. She was momentarily startled by the intrusion, until he set about rifling through her underwear drawer. "ARGH! GET OUT! OUTOUTOUT!" Diving across her bed like she was being shot at, she picked up a pair of heels and chucked one out the door at his skittering form. The black shoe bounced out of the hallway, landing halfway into the living room. The sound of her door slamming violently shut shook the apartments walls slightly.
With a huff, her face beet red from anger, the twenty five year old turned back to her clothes. Her boring, dull clothes. She hated hiding... not being able to wear the thing she liked, or do fun things anymore. A scowl settled on her lips as she glanced back at her closet, one heel still angrily gripped in her hand. All because she was afraid of being spotted. As she looked over the many colorful, frilly things in her wardrobe. ....and an idea hatched. She was going out to help a man who she had seen easily take people down before. If anyone, she was sure she'd be safe enough around him to slip back into the old way of things a little, if only for a night, right?! Screw her dull clothing! She was going to wear some color, damnit! and $#%@ the consequences!
A few moments later, after finding a suitable pair of matching shoes that still allowed her to move, she marched back out into the living room. Her cheeks were still fiery red, and when she spotted what Roach had burst into her room for, she growled. "Put my bra back!" She crossed her arms over her chest, blue eyes narrowed, and huffed. "...color doesn't suit you anyway.." She added in a mumble, tapping one silver slipper on the floor. The dress she had chosen left her shoulders bare, leaving the speckled constellations of scars scattered across her arms, shoulders, and back open for the world to see. The bandages wrapped around her middle peeked up over the back of her dress, touching a band-aid covered wound her latest tarantula had left, and the bruise from her recent encounter with a bullet was just barely starting to show in the corner of her chest. Scowling at the big insect man, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her dress, where her on-the-go wallet resided, as well as a handy dandy little palm taser.
She almost felt naked without her boots on, having worn them for so long... and the uncomfortable absence of a knife banging into her ankle left her a little off balance. She'd been Chelsey for so long, that being Megan again felt.... odd.