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.
For however irritating the young woman was, she really was just as enticing. Though the assassin knew that he should not waste his time with such a thing (since she usually ended up being more trouble than she was worth), he still allowed this little affair to continue. But, to be honest, he really had not expected Megan to follow him into the room. Yet he turned around and saw her standing there.
She looked just slightly confused and unsure of how to proceed. He could only a smirk a little at that; there was definitely a certain allure about this situation...
>> "....So...."[/color]
Casually he walked up to her, still devoid of any upper clothing. With a gentleness that did not seem existent in the man, his strong hands carefully seized her and pulled her into another kiss. In the whirlwind of confusion that followed, he flicked the lights off and everything Faded to Black.
Hours later, Megan found herself curled up under a blanket with a pillow clutched in her arms, peeking up over the soft, fluffy fabric to stare blatantly (and maybe a little vacantly) at the Assassin. She was sleepy, had yawned more than once, and was in a rather pleasant mental state of not-giving-a-damn.
Her mind had started to wander off without her realizing, and pretty soon she was lost in a void filled with not so distant memories. Some good... most of them bad. She thought fondly, er...well.. as fondly as she could manage, about having woken up on a couch in one of Vicente's safe houses. Tucked under a warm blanket... but still in a sh*t ton of pain from a fractured rib. She thought back to the trip she'd made to the hospital, the nice mutant lady who'd all but healed her injury (without asking any questions, even!), and then... the trip back home...
Her empty apartment. No singing... no hat-less cockroach frolicking. No breaking in door while she was trying to nap, or working. No... No watching old movies and quoting the actors line for line.
She managed to keep tears away, even though she could feel them hot and frustrated behind her eyes... and sank into the pillow more. In the time that had passes since--... since that day... she'd fought tooth and nail to keep herself from dwelling on it. Roach was gone... he was never coming back, and she would just have to deal with it. Like it or not.
Still, it managed to weigh heavily on her. He'd come to save her... burst into the church with such an air of confidence around him that she'd fully expected him to rip Trent to shreds before her very eyes. But then... then Trent had laid a hand on him, and he'd just... just fallen apart. She hadn't even realized that his shell had been hard enough for Trent's mutation to affect it.
Sucking in a shallow breath, she held it for a moment before letting it slowly out. She'd killed a ghost from her past that day... lured him in and kissed him... then latched on and forced as many spiders down his throat as she could manage. She could see his expression clearly; betrayal. Pure betrayal... and maybe even a little heart break.
"...Vicente...?" She didn't know why she was talking, really.. or if he was even paying attention to her. It wouldn't surprise her at all if he wasn't. "...What would have happened to Gregory.. after he died, according to your religion... ?" Maybe she was fishing for comfort, and that was why she found herself asking about things she normally didn't care for.
But... maybe she also didn't care anymore. Pain was pain, one way or another. If anything could lessen it, even in the slightest, she was more than willing to try.
Vicente was resting comfortable in bed, a blanket pulled up to cover him just from the waist down. After his evening, he was looking forward to a restful night’s sleep. But he soon felt those eyes staring at him, blatantly from the side. Megan was still there, lying next to him, curled up under the blankets and watching him. What was she waiting for? A tip? An offer for breakfast? It was obviously not the type of thing that Vicente was into and if she didn’t realize that by now then he felt sorry for her.
But he didn’t say anything of the kind. He accused her of nothing and simply remained silent as he looked at the darkness behind his closed eyes. But even as the seconds passed, he knew that she was still staring at him. Like her spider, he could feel her eyes crawling across his features.
Just what the hell did she want? Maybe if he ignored her farther, pretended to snore, she would get the hint and leave…
>> "...Vicente...?”
Maybe not, he thought with an irritated manner.
Though he barely stirred and didn’t open his eyes, he did acknowledge her presence and question by grunting in response. That should be enough to prove he was at least still awake.
>> “What would have happened to Gregory.. after he died, according to your religion... ?"[/color]
He arched a brow. It had been awhile since anyone had ever really asked about his religion. Vicente followed the old ways, the path of the Authority was not his own and something that he felt should be toppled. But, in the meantime, he had no problem converting a person or two back into believe the old ways. Though Megan was not of his descent or culture, it didn’t matter to his gods, since they were starving for the attention of the masses. They would take it whenever and wherever they could.
But Gregory…that giant roach? He remembered him. He was…odd. The bug had stepped in when he, Megan, and another bystander were taken by a madman from Megan’s past. It was because of him that the roach died. But…what would happen to him?
He did finally open his eyes, but as he did, he stared up and at the ceiling.
“He fell in battle,” Vicente finally said. “according to my religion, a fallen warrior has earned the right to follow the path of the sun, to help illuminate the rest of the world.” he muttered, remembering his father’s lessons one-by-one. “At death, his soul, his…essence…would be shaped into that of a hummingbird. And with other fallen warriors, he would then follow the path to the sun and finally live amongst the stars in the upper plane. He earned that.”
He sighed, practically hearing his father speak through his own voice. It was odd thinking about these questions since they were things he refused to acknowledge when he would eventually meet his fate. Would he die before he was granted favor by the gods? Would follow the path of the sun? Or would be stumble into the darkness of the Mictlan? He was a warrior…wasn’t he?
He shook the thought away, still looking up and past the ceiling.
“The sun goes through a cycle of rebirth, every day,” Vicente said. “Some of those souls are granted the same. Maybe your…Gregory…will eventually find his way back.”
“At death, his soul, his…essence…would be shaped into that of a hummingbird. And with other fallen warriors, he would then follow the path to the sun and finally live amongst the stars in the upper plane. He earned that.”
She smirked halfheartedly. Greg had never been much of a follower, in the time that she'd known him.... but she wondered if he'd jump at the chance to be a humming bird... even if in some sort of spirit form. Her Roach would probably also love being on the 'upper plane' the assassin spoke of. She could see him now, gracefully backstroking through the constellations....
“The sun goes through a cycle of rebirth, every day, Some of those souls are granted the same. Maybe your…Gregory…will eventually find his way back.”
There was... something poetic about the way he spoke. It was less aggressive than all of the modern day religious gibber-jabber she'd ever heard in her life... and strangely less crazy. "...I think he'd like that." She mused, finally prying her eyes away from the man, since he'd answered the question that had been nagging her for the better part of an hour. Turning, she pushed herself up and sat cross legged on the bed, covering herself with the sheet.
It was... mostly the truth, what she'd replied with. Though, it was probably more the journey that she could see him enjoying, rather than the entirety of the whole thing. Greg was too chaotic, in her opinion, too remain in one place, doing one thing for too long. She'd often wondered why exactly he hadn't gotten bored of having her around, considering they spent so much time together. It was just another quirk of his that always managed to mystify her.
"...I grew up in a Mormon house hold..." She muttered again quietly. "My parents weren't really strict, but they were definitely devout... I got baptized when I was two weeks old, put into religious schools with my sister and brother, and dragged along to church every chance they got. Every Sunday was family day... where we'd all stay home, turn off the TV and play board games until it was time for dinner." A genuine smile settled on her lips, and she sighed. "Those were some of the best years of my life. I was one of the happiest kids in the world, so long as I had a scheduled to follow and someone to hold my hand." But... then everything had changed. "Then I got older though... and started thinking things through. Why did I go to church? Why did I listen to grown ass men preaching about how they spoke to god the night before?... I started realizing that everything around me was... really silly. People that i'd grown up with would cross themselves when someone with a tattoo walked by, but think nothing of going under a knife to get the double D's they'd been saving up for."
It had always irked her to no end how people could blindly follow something, not bothering to ask any questions, and yet partake in things that went completely against their faith. "I started to see that the friends I had were complete biggots, and that the members of my church were egotistical jerks who wouldn't bat an eye at some poor sob dying in the gutter, unless it somehow made them look better." A bitterness crept into her tone without her realizing, and she continued on. "When I dropped the church.. or, rather, was excommunicated, I was told by the priest that I was going straight to hell. They even threatened to toss the rest of my family out of the church with me... but didn't really have the wind to back it up." Her mother had been red in the face with rage, one of the only times Megan had seen her truly angry, when she'd found out what happened. Of course, it hadn't changed the fact that Megan was no longer part of the church community, but the rest of her family had maintained their various positions.
"... I wish sometimes that i'd grown up with something less hateful... because I remember having something to believe in being really... comforting... even if I was doing it wrong at the time." Shifting slightly, she glanced over at him, a little embarrassed at her long winded statement. (which was also a more than a little random, and unneeded. Quick! Come up with something to tie it all together!)
"... What was it like for you...?" She wondered if he'd answer... considering that it was a rather personal question. But, even in the event that he just gruffly barked at her to shut up, or leave even, she at least felt a little better about what had originally been bothering her.
Apparently his answer was satisfactory. Vicente was hoping that would have been the end of it; after all she had learned a little about his religion and she seemed almost pleased with the answer. All that needed to happen now was for her to accept that that was a viable option for her deceased friend and return to the comfort of silence. The assassin sighed, closed his eyes, and prepared to fall into the dark chasms of sleep once again.
But, as he should have known, his little explanation only got the woman talking. He guessed that was a risk one took when speaking with a woman, especially one that has gone through as much trauma as Megan. He could almost punch himself for not attempting to go back to sleep after she asked him the first question.
With a mental grumble, he found himself listening to her very long story. It was one that he had heard before, from other dissatisfied people who no longer believed in the mainstream Authority. What was most interesting, though, was the fact that Megan had actually considered herself happy at some point. It seemed that ever since he knew her, all she had ever been was cynical, snarky, and full of sass; it was actually hard to imagine her in the life that she was describing. Being part of a system, following rules, actually not having any worries, it seemed so alien for Megan.
And then she lowered the boom. As all people eventually go through, she grew out of her life; she questioned her world and the people in it. In the process, people revealed who they really were and turned their backs on her. It was a terrifying prospect to know that everything you ever believed in was pretty much nothing more than a gold house built on sand.
So, that it was led to the woman he knew today. He didn’t find it interesting, really, but he had listened.
>> "... I wish sometimes that i'd grown up with something less hateful... because I remember having something to believe in being really... comforting... even if I was doing it wrong at the time."[/color]
The assassin said nothing. Regrets of the past were nothing to dwell over. That was something he both learned in the past and not too long ago thanks to his journey into youthfulness. Fighting against the tides of time was not something that any could do. They could only either drown themselves in the past, or accept their fate and trudge on. There was no grey area when it came to that.
>> "... What was it like for you...?"[/color]
He, again, arched a brow. He was feeling a little like she was trying everything she could to either learn more about him or to fill in the dead, awkward air between them. In all honesty, he really didn’t think it was necessary. They could just sit in silence until she decided to leave and he would have been fine with it. Unless she wanted to…you know…again…
But, through closed eyes, he simply sighed as he decided to answer her question. There was nothing wrong with inane chit-chat. Besides, it wasn’t like they were friends or anything…
“No. Just my father and me,” he muttered after a lengthy silence. “No one believed in the old ways anymore; thought my father was crazy, obsessed with a dead belief. But he still believed. And he taught me the same thing too…”
He actually smirked a little as he thought about everything that his father had taught him; all the lessons that he was forced to go through. While most people would have thought his father was cruel, Vicente actually learned how to survive because of him. He learned how to maintain his beliefs in a world that wanted to stamp them out. Through all the fighting, the mysticism, the rituals, Vicente learned the most important lesson from his father…to be a man.
“He was a good man,” he finally said. “I carry his beliefs with me.”
The assassin shook his head. Why was he really saying all of this? What was the point of it all? He attempted to contemplate this in the darkness of his bedroom, even as a chorus of sirens echoed out from the streets below. What was that, the 4th or 5th one now? What on earth was happening in the city tonight?
His story was... a lot less wordy. Megan felt her face heat up, and fiddled with her hair absently. It was getting long... too long. She mentally berated herself for letting it grow out, while grumbling to herself about how she'd went and blabbed about things she shouldn't have. The vast differences between herself and him were suddenly blatantly obvious, and she felt silly for even attempting conversation. Of course he'd have a background starkly different than her own, what had she expected?
...well, actually, she knew what she'd expected. Some fanciful tale of some sort. Her inner gossip monger was rearing it's ugly head, and she full well knew it.
The sirens racing past somewhere down below caught her attention, and she fidgeted. Now was as good a time as any to cut her losses and run. "I'd better go... Traffic is already probably going to be a b*tch." Yes... blame the sirens, slip from bed and try not to run for the front door. She was at least glad that the lack of light in the room managed to cover her frustrated blush.
With a practiced ease, she tracked her clothing down and slipped it all back on. Once her shoes were on her feet, she headed for the bedroom door and quietly let herself out. As she passed by the living room, however... she felt an odd tremor run through the floor and up her legs. Her first thought was of course an earth quake. Blue eyes pointed out the large window, she watched the city lights flicker, and felt a ball of fear gather in her throat. Good god, she really didn't want to be trapped up as high as she was in the middle of an earth quake!
As she turned to take a step past the couch, another, bigger, building shaking tremor shook the apartment. She turned her attention away from the front door, toward a hallway, just in time for the entire building to shudder violently, and the living room widows to blow inward. Glass pelted the floor and walls, peppering the furniture as it embedded itself in damn near everything. Megan shrieked, managing to avoid being stabbed to death by flying glass only because she instantly dropped to the floor and covered her head.
>> "I'd better go... Traffic is already probably going to be a b*tch."[/color]
Silence…was quickly followed by a need for escape. It seemed to be a common occurrence with Megan; whenever things got too heated or strained or emotional, she always sought an exit. It just seemed like the thing to do for her. He was not going to question or argue against it, as a matter of fact, he was relieved. The last thing he wanted was a heart-to-heart with someone who constantly irritated him the way she did. But, in the end, he knew that she would always find her way back to him. She always did.
He could only shake his head at the thought as he sat up. She was already off the bed and fumbling through the dark, seeking her clothing. A smirk crossed his lips when he caught glimpse of her body in the pale light of the moon and filtered in through his large windows. She was irritating, yet, but that didn’t take away from the fact that she was attractive.
Before he knew it, she was dressed and out of the bedroom. Casually he slipped out of bed and grabbed a pair of sweats from the ground. He slipped them on and tied the knot as he began to head towards the door. He wanted to see if she were really going to leave (finally), or if she was going to convince herself to stay for some other inane reason.
A large hand grazed the doorknob, but just as it did so, the sounds or rumbling tore through his apartment. Vicente looked around confused, until he heard more sirens, and what sounded like screams coming from other apartments and maybe even buildings across from his own. For a second his mind was in a whirl as he tried to conceive of what could be causing all this. An earthquake? Tornado? Hurricane? War? There were simply too many options.
Then, he heard the rattle pick up in force and he felt everything down to his bones want to crumble into dust. He growled as he grabbed the doorknob and swung the door open…just in time to hear Megan shriek as glass erupted in the living room.
He shielded his eyes as he ran in. Megan was cowering on the ground, covering her face with crumbled, shiny bits covering her almost like a fine dust. Carefully, the man growled as he climbed through it all, shredding his feet as he stepped on glass and cursing in every available language that he knew. As he moved through the hall, he spied the fallen Megan and growled. She had a few cuts but at least she was breathing.
Kneeling, he hefted up, lifting her by her armpits.
“Come on, Megan,” he growled. “Get up! Now!” While trying to revive her, he looked out at his massive view and spied something glowing in the sky ahead of him. Some just shining through the silhouettes of the buildings; something…that looked rather dangerous. He was getting a bad feeling about it and could only come to one conclusion…his safe room. The only place in this apartment that was safe from any form of attack. But…could he get them both in there?
He growled as he slung her over his shoulder and ran back into his bedroom where the safe room door was hidden in the wall. There was not enough supplies in there for two. He’d make a decision about who got to live once he got there…
Jesus... she really, really, really didn't want to die from being buried and crushed under an entire building. All possible reasons and theories as to what was happening flew in and out of her head in an instant. She was left with a foreign silence inside, the same she felt when she had no spiders around her. Then she heard swearing, and crunching feet on glass heading toward her, and lifted her head a little. Shards like little razors cascaded down from her hair, and for a moment she panicked again. Vicente hauled her quickly to her feet, then just as quickly onto his shoulder.
As he sped back toward the bedroom, her eyes were fixed on the view outside. The glow... unearthly and unnatural. The first thing that came to mind was a bomb... and if that was the case, the whole city would crumble. For the first time in a long while. Megan felt her insides clench.... She didn't want to die... not like this. She'd just started to piece her life back together, and... and now...?
As she was hauled back into the darkness of the bedroom, a terrible trembling started up again. Hard enough to rattle pictures on the walls, and cause anything on top of shelves or tables to toppled off. The twenty five year old squeezed her eyes shut, throwing her arms back over her head, and whimpered. This... this wasn't something she could fight against. She couldn't kick, or scream, or bite, or curse loud enough at whatever was happening to make it stop. She felt helpless... and terrified.
It was almost as if Vicente could feel the world crumbling around them. Megan shivered and curled up in his arms as he carried her and the noise and flashes of light from outside his windows attempted to distract. But, Vicente was a man on a mission—his safe room was the goal and he couldn’t let anything stop him. Not the pain from his cut feet, or the deafness that now overtook one of his ears (due to a blown eardrum), none of it was able to dissuade him from his path.
Once in the bedroom, the man hefted Megan close to him as he reached out to a nearby panel on the wall. It was invisible to the naked eye and only the person who knew of its location would have ever found it. Carefully his fingers slid across just the right spot and he shoved down. Immediately there was a hiss of air as the panel collapsed inward forming an outline of a doorway. It always paid to be secure.
His fingers slide into the crevice and hauled the hidden sliding door aside that revealed a heavy, metal door that was partially open. Peeking in, he noted that the whole room was metal and was stocked with supplies as well as video feeds that sprang the life the second that the room detected motion. It was the perfect safe room…but it was perfect for only one person.
A glance to Megan, then the room, and he turned to toss her aside. After all, it was his home, his safe room, why should he care about what happens to her. All he knew was that if he didn’t get in that room, whatever was happening out in the world, it was going to be the end of him. If he was in the room, he would have the smallest chance of survival.
He eyed the dark room, coldly, as thoughts flashed through his mind. Thoughts and ideas about his place in the universe of his gods. Maybe it was those thoughts that influenced his decision…
Suddenly he hefted up Megan more boldly, stepped into the safe room and set her down on the bed (the only piece of furniture in the room), and turned his back to her. He didn’t give her time to acknowledge, protest, or ask him what was going on. Instead, he stepped out of the room, and slammed the heavy metal door behind him. As the locks engaged and the vents opened to let in clean air, Vicente strolled into the middle of the bedroom to look out the window.
All he saw was a flash of bright light, felt the blistering of heat, and finally…peace. He would walk the path of the sun…