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.
Booker was a focus-minded individual but the one thing that could derail his attention was the prospect of food. Booker had the body of an Adonis so the fact that he could still track down a fried, sugary treat like a hog hunting for truffles was a bit, well, unfair. The man looked as if he was an extreme vegetarian who ate only soy-based products without a drop of processed sugar passing his lips, and yet here he was, hunting down churros. The world was sometimes so unfair but to Booker, he didn’t care; he was happy just living his life and that was all he wanted.
Hunting through the venue, Booker turned and lifted his head, following the scent of what could only be attached to churros. Rebecca followed behind, her smile lost to him as he was busy seeking out their treat. However, as the seconds ticked by, her faith in his abilities to track down the sugary treat was clearing coming into question.
>> Okay, Book, Ah’m pretty sure yer making up thes whole—”
He didn’t have time to listen to her grumble about whether or not his power to find greasy snack foods was real. As he rounded a corner, he grinned from ear-to-ear, crossed his arms over his massive chest, and lifted an eyebrow to her. As she came to his side, she too stopped and noticed the Mexican food stand that was off to side, selling everything, including churros. The man couldn’t help but grin as she eyed him.
The look of “I-told-ya-so” didn’t escape the man’s face quickly. As he loomed over the woman, he chuckled.
”I find your lack of faith disturbing.” he said, yes, quoting one of his favorite movie villains ever.
>>”…Sae, is heightened churro detection a power of Th’ Atlantean ur of Booker Bookman?”
As the duo marched over to the vendor, Booker couldn’t help but chuckle at the question that had been asked of him. Many times in the past Nessa had inquired about his ability but eventually just accepted it as part of his person. After all, even if she was a vegetarian, Booker still could use his abilities to find her some of the best junk good that was animal free. Of course it didn’t help that some of the best food he found usually was mixed with cooking animal flesh, but such was the problem with requesting Booker’s assistance. He was a carnivore, through and through.
Except for right now. Right he was a churro-vore.
He shrugged his shoulders as he finally answered her. ”What can I say? It’s a gift that span’s universes.” At the vendor, he smiled sweetly as he ordered a churro, and proceeded to pull some cash from his badge holder. He turned to Rebecca. ”Care for one? My treat.” After she accepted or declined, Booker turned, exchanged money and waited for the vendor to produced both churros (regular and jam filled) and sweet dipping sauces. As they waited, Booker glanced over to Rebecca and smiled. ”So…um…how are you doing?” he asked, knowing full well she knew of what he spoke. ”Happy?”
The squeal was probably the most adorable he had heard in the longest time. An impish smirk on his lips, he couldn’t help breaking a smile as he watched the young Scot suddenly shout in surprise and turn to face him. The best part was that it seemed as if the whole incident had been caught on camera, as evident by the young fangirl who was standing there, posed and taking a few snapshots with her camera. The giant, muscular man in the teeny, tiny green underwear simply smiled his broadest of smiles and waved innocently to the younger woman before turning his attention back to Rebecca.
Her cosplay was absolutely amazing. It was clear that she had practice doing this, judging by the choice of paint she used on her skin and the careful runes she had created on her body. For a second he wondered what the look on Nessa’s face was at having to help Rebecca with this, but he was quickly reminded that that wasn’t the case anymore. Alone or with Agnes was probably how Rebecca had done this. Yeah…totally not awkward.
Shaken from his thoughts, he smiled down at the much shorter woman as she turned and started to admonish him for his behavior.
>> ”Ye know, it’s hard tae see hoo Th' Atlantean can be sic' a buzzkill dressed loch 'at…Ah’m sorry, did ye get th’ shot?”
Booker once more adorned his heroic persona of The Atlantean by looked proud, regal, and somewhat offended by the tone that the younger redhead took with him. He sneered in a royal way, pretending that the woman was somehow beneath him. That seemed to stir a passerby with a comic-book themed shirt to stop and snap a candid photo of the moment. After the picture was taken, and Rebecca to inquire if the young fangirl got her shot, Booker back to the passing photograph and gave him a thumbs up.
His thumbs up and smile faded when he turned back around, just in time to see Rebecca return her gaze to him. The smile was soft on her lips and a look of appreciation in her eyes. The man had to smile. It was a moment that reminded him that the two of them had been good friends when she and Nessa were together. It was a shame that wasn’t the case anymore. Still, he wasn’t about to go down that road. They were here as friends and to have fun.
>> ”Sae ye came. Ah’m glad,”
He just snorted. ”Pfft! Of course I was going to come,” he beamed goofily. ”Did you think I was going to let you find some other ruggedly handsome man who was willing to dress like the Atlantean and was also named Booker to come with you? Come on, now.” he grinned again. ”Seriously, though, you look amazing. Great job on your costume and your fans are seemingly loving it.” he nodded matter of factly to her.
He hoped it wouldn’t be weird, her hanging out with him at this thing. The last thing he wanted was for things to be weird between them but there was no way to test that out until they actually tried. So, with a determined nod, he hefted up his trident and pointed towards the entrance.
”Are you ready, cousin? To face the unknown? The collaborate with our fellow heroes? TO TOPPLE THE FORCES OF EV—“ he stopped…sniffing in the air and a look of childish glee filled his eyes. ”Oh! Churros.” He waved for Rebecca to follow as he hunted for the wily churro vendor in order to conquer his ware!
If there was one thing that Booker B. Bookman was known for, it was his protection of his younger sister. The man had dedicated a vast majority of his life to doing that, to ensuring that she was safe, at least until Nessa could stand on her own two legs. This, of course, meant taking her side in disagreements with her lovers and Booker was always happy to do it. She was his sister, after all, and he considered it a privilege to defend her honor in such a way. He loved her, after all.
However, this was obviously put to the test when it came to ComVention and the person that he would be attending with. Truth was that of all of Nessa’s girlfriends, Becca had been one of his favorites. She was a sweet girl, she had a rockin’ accent, and she was something whom he could be palsy with. When the invitation first was offered to him, Booker was absolutely ecstatic. Nessa wasn’t one for the costumes but Booker absolutely loved them and the fact that he had been invited by a willing participant was just utterly awesome. How could he turn it down?
Trouble would rear its ugly head when he received word that Nessa and Becca were broken up. Apparently she went back to her ex-girlfriend while dating his sister. Booker was all for the hatefire he felt churning in his belly but found that it was hard to execute around the young woman. She was too sweet, too kind, and judging from a quick web search for the girl she jilted his sister for, well, he got it. Now, that’s not to say that Nessa deserved this; no one deserves that. But, there was something about the look of Agnes’ picture and his interactions with Rebecca that just made it feel right to him. Those two belonged together – even he could see that; but that was not a point he would bring up to Nessa. That would be rude.
When ComVention got closer and closer, Booker found himself unsure of what was going to happen. He had Becca had made so many plans for an awesome cosplay together that he felt like a shame to just toss them out the window on a matter of principle. He was sure that Nessa would not have appreciated it but in the entirety of his life, Booker was rarely a selfish person. He wanted to be selfish, if only this one time.
The day drew closer and he didn’t contact Rebecca to cancel and Rebecca never called him to convince him to stay home. Therefore, why should he not follow through with it? Besides, his costume was absolutely perfect…
Outside the convention hall, Booker strolled with the crowd of costumed individuals. Of everyone he received the most catcalls and whistles. He slightly blushed at the attention but deep down he knew it wasn’t going to last long. At the end of the day, Booker liked attention when it was for something right that he did. Today? He totally nailed his costume and he was willing to bask in the attention that he received.
Strolling down the concrete sidewalk in winged flip-flops, Booker B. Bookman showed up at the convention in the extremely risqué outfit of the The Atlantean. His muscular chest, arms, and legs were all on display. The only modest he wore was a small, green and fish-scaled speedo with a gold belt wrapped around his waist. The man kept his eyes forward, grinning from ear to ear as people gave him a thumbs up or congratulated him on his costume choice. In one hand he carried a large gold trident that he had crafted on his spare time and the way it shimmered and moved was enough to scare anyone into thinking it was real. The man was a sight to behold.
Stopping outside the convention doors, Booker chewed on his lip as he peered left and right for his partner. Rebecca and he had made plans to meet up at the front doors and he already knew her costume of Atlantis Lass, the fiery cousin to his own character (he loved paired costumes). For a few moments Booker wandered, wondering if maybe the redhead had changed her mind about going, but stopped when he saw that flare of white hair as she posed for a picture with an energetic looking fan.
Booker stepped up, grinning wide as she loomed behind her. His arms crossed over his impressive chest, the man arched a regal eyebrow, trying to not crack a smile at the look the person with the camera was giving them. He poked his friend on the shoulder and gave her a stern look.
”Atlantis Lass. That hardly seems like the royal behavior of our people.”
He smirked as he bowed his head. ”Thank you for your most gracious generosity.”
Booker was all for people having varied styles but considering that he knew nothing about it, and it didn’t want to flail spastically or hurt the young woman, he figured it was best that they worked within the confines of some kind of rules. It was just appropriate that way and, let’s face it, just a little more fair. He had a pretty face, after all, and he didn’t want to risk it getting smooshed onto the ground.
Now that they were sparring under a better sense of the rules, Booker had a clearer head to think. The woman was talented but it was clear that she had a wider set of skills than Booker did. He jabbed, she blocked and dodged, and the two of them continued to dance around one another. He was sure that she could probably really kick his butt if she wanted to, and it was a challenge that he didn’t want her to take on just yet. For the time being he was find with some friendly sparring as it had been some time since he had a willing partner – or, well, a partner of any kind to train with.
Still, as the two continued to jab and test the other’s defenses, Booker couldn’t help a nagging question that formed in the back of his mind. She knew what he was, that was an adapted, but that could only mean one thing – she had to be a mutant. A human wouldn’t have known on sight alone that he was one, so the only way that she would have known was if her powers were affected. She did seem extremely skittish when she first stepped up to him but, after a few moments, was almost…relieved? It begged the question – what exactly could she do?
So, without beating around the bush (and giving her the opportunity to opt out) he inquired. What could she do?
>> "I'm... I have an aura, like you…I am like coffee, to people. Like a coffee buzz…I give extra energy to people who stand close to me."
He raised his eyebrows as he listened to her. That sounded like…quite the ability. Maybe not as impressive as firing beams from your eyes or summoning water with a gesture, but still it sounded like it was something that was tough to live with. He couldn’t imagine what that was like, to be near someone and to know that you were affecting them without meaning to. And he knew some people were didn’t drink caffeine because it made them anxious – would being around Svetlana just be absolute hell? He could scarcely wrap his mind around it.
Now would have been the time that Booker would have made some joke along the lines of “Wow, so you’re the best part of waking up?” or something that could be taken wrong like that. Booker did have a tendency to put his foot in his mouth. But the man also had an unbelievable amount of compassion and understanding a little of what the woman could do immediately made him feel just a tinge of sympathy for her. Not pity, mind you, but sadness that she can affect people without their knowing. In some ways, he was the same…
He sighed. ”Wow…sounds tough,” Booker said. Jab. Jab. ”And, like, all the time, I’m guessing?” Jab. Dance dance. Jab. ”Heh, and guess we’re more alike than figured.” He gave her a beaming smile before he shrugged. ”Except for the obvious…I’m way prettier.” Cocky grin and another jab.
This is just a note to tell everyone that I may be a bit slower than I normally am starting next week. I have been accepted at a new job, with different hours, so there is going to be a bit of a learning period for me as I try to figure out the best posting time for me. Normally I write posts at work but considering that this is a new and more important position, I dunno if I will have that same creative time. I'm hoping that I will find a chance during my lunch break but we'll see. I will do my best to stay caught up but I just don't know how things will play out until I start.
Therefore, effective May 22nd, I will be a little slower in replies until I get a handle on things. I may be able to reply to some threads but maybe not everything as I'm used to doing. Hopefully I should get my groove soon enough.
Thanks a bunch for your patience!
This affects: Jorge Cervantes, Agnes Nicholas, and Booker B. Bookman
So…Booker’s approach was a tad different than most other librarians. For the most part the man didn’t sugar coat things. The others liked to slowly ease new employees into projects like this. They liked to tout about the good things with working in the library, including someplace cool during the summer time, not an insane amount of work, and a really flexible schedule. Over-all, they painted a picture that, in all honesty, was just too good to be true – and it was. It was dusty, days could be exhausting, patrons even more exhausting, and the first victims for massive projects like this were always the interns. That was why they hired them.
Booker liked honesty. He didn’t want to sell the kid on working here, he wanted to be upfront and to honestly tell him what kind of world it would be. He tossed out a few duties here and there but his main point was going to center on the shifting of the entire collection because that was simply what this was going to be about. There was no reason to lie to the kid at this point, especially since, if he decided he didn’t want to be here after all, it would give Booker plenty of time to find another.
Plus, and this was just the slight sadist in Booker talking, he kind of enjoyed the panicked and shocked look on the boy’s face when his task sunk in. Hah, sometimes he really did wish that he had a camera.
>> "Move the entire library? You're kidding, right? This is when you have a bunch of people jump out and yell about some t.v. show? No one, actually moves a library, do they?"
At first he didn’t say anything. Booker just stood there and listened to the young man as he struggled to find the words and grasp the concept of moving an entire library. For those in the field, it wasn’t that strange of a concept. The library was constantly changing, evolving into shapes and forms that were required of it. This mean that it wasn’t some rigid place there the books never moved, it had to be an living organism, a place would evolve with the times and that included making room for the every expanding collection of material that made their way into the front doors.
Booker waited until the young man was done. As much as he wanted to keep listening to him fumble over the idea, they needed to press on. Still, he would answer the younger man’s questions. His arms crossed over his chest, a sly smile on his lips.
”Would it make you feel better if I told you that behind that door behind me are all your friends and family watching your reaction live on a monitor for our new web series ‘Gotcha!’?” He shrugged his shoulders. ”That’s not happening.” Another grin. ”Seriously, kid, that’s the library life. The collection is always being processed, put up, weeded, and shifted.” He smirked. ”It’s the circle of life. But, fear not, it’s not like you’ll be expected to do it all in one go. This is a process that takes months. Honestly you probably won’t stick around long enough to see if through to completion. Few do.”
Why was it always the cute people that Booker made a fool of himself in front of? He remembered once in college, when he was lusting after a rather beautiful young woman named Zoe that the young man had attempted to walk her back to her dorm, the interest flashing in her eyes, when he suddenly tripped and fell into a puddle that absolutely soaked him to the bone. Of course Zoe found the whole incident a little endearing but it definitely marred his chances with her. Next had been when he first started working for the New York Public Library and there was this extreme hot part-time library named Jean whom Booker tried to impress by carrying one-too-many books in his strong arms. The broken toe that followed him dropping said books didn’t help paint himself in the best light.
Needless to say, the man just had a knack for making himself look foolish whenever he was in front of a pretty face. It was just his lot in life but he had hoped that it was something he would eventually grow out of. But, in the meantime, for as embarrassing as such things could be, Booker wasn’t going to allow it to bring down his state of mind. Instead it was almost as if Booker had an unconscious shield against such things because he was quick to make fun of himself or turn it into a joke.
He guessed correctly that he wouldn’t be bringing home the coveted Dance King title and nurse DJ Dizzle confirmed by stating his opponent had deserved the win. Booker snorted and nodded his head, lightly, because too much movement tended to hurt. With a sigh he sat up (with her assistance) and gave her a shy but thankful smile as she tended to his wounds.
He couldn’t help but continue with his good-natured dialogue as he inquired if he would ever be able to dance again. It was just a joke, of course, but it almost felt like a sin if he didn’t ask it. How can one not ask something like this when they are injured in a hospital? It was like sacrilege to the gods of comedy and Booker must appease them.
>> "Probably not. We'll have to have both of your feet amputated,"
It was only for half a second that Booker thought she was serious but when he caught that tiny little smile on her lips, he had to grin. Okay…he could play along. Lord knows he put enough people through his sass. ”Wow…well…don’t you think that’s taking the whole motto of ‘costing an arm and a leg’ a bit too far?” He sighed. ”I guess that’s the American healthcare system for you.”
He beamed a smile to her. Afterwards she lifted her finger up in front of his eyes and started to move it back and forth. Booker blinked but started to track the finger with his eyes, knowing that she was still doing her job and ensuring that he was okay. All-in-all, except for a slight headache, the man felt absolutely fine. But he knew she needed to do her job because, if not, people less scrupulous than Booker would take advantage and sue (not that he had any intention of going so).
>> "Alright, do you feel dizzy at all? Disoriented?...I'd like to move you to an examination room, if possible. If you think you can walk, then that's great. If not, I can bring a wheelchair or a stretcher around."
He shook his head that he didn’t feel dizzy or disorientated. But when she stated that she wanted to move him to an exam room and inquired on if he could walk. ”Walk? And here I was hoping be carried away in your strong arms like a damsel being rescued from distress.” He teased her with that impish smile of his and a glint in his jade eyes. But after a moment, the man conceded and nodded. ”I’m pretty sure I can walk.”
>> "I'm Juliette, by the way…the wandering nurse."
Before Booker would attempt to stand, Nurse DJ Dizzle introduced herself. He took a second to sit there, watching her, smiling a little smile and nodding his head in greeting. He certainly wouldn’t be forgetting the name of his rescuer.
"Juliette..." he echoed with a kind grin. "...like Romeo and Juliette. On of my favorite of Shakespeare's." He took a second to watch her before he gestured to himself. ”Booker,” he said. She had already called him by that name when she was checking on him so most of the nurses here already knew his name. Still, it would have been rude to not introduce himself. ”Booker B. Bookman.”
A kind smile and he held his hand out for her to shake. Whether or not she did, Booker retracted his hand afterward, took a breath, and sighed. Okay, it was time to make sure he still had enough brain power to stand. Slowly, and carefully with the nurse’s persistent assistance, Booker stood up to his full, 6’2 height. He took it slow since moving too fast led to some light dizziness but nothing that seemed overtly bad. Standing tall, the man placed his hand on a nearby desk and remained there for a second, blinking, looking around, and just testing his range of vision. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and turned to his new nurse friend.
”I…feel okay,” he explained. ”Just a light headache. But…” he eyed her for a second. ”I have a feeling you’re one of those nurses that won’t let me escape until your satisfied that I am actually okay so…” he charmingly held out his arm for her to slip hers into his. ”If you could kindly lead the way?”
Okay so this was certainly not what Booker was expecting. When he agreed to spar with the young woman, his mindset had been totally set on a regular boxing match, not a free-for-all. She didn’t necessarily hurt him when she swept his legs out from under him but the man hadn’t been prepared for it so when he tumbled to the ground he was caught just a little off his guard. Lying flat on his back, he took a second to regain his sense of being, commenting that he wasn’t aware that sweeping the leg was in boxing. Thankfully the woman was at least a little remorseful for having done it to him.
>> "Sorry. Force of habit…I'm... mostly self-taught."
He chuckled and sat up, pulling himself up onto his feet. ”S’all good,” he said with a grin. ”Never could say it before but I guess I can now tell people I got swept head over heels.” His own words of wit made the man grin. He was so intelligent.
Standing and brushing himself off with those oversized gloves, the man shook his head a little as he rubbed the back of his head with the padded fists and took a deep breath to shake off the last of the discomfort he felt from landing so hard. With that taken care of, he turn Svetlana who was further explaining her training history.
>> "I'm used to sparring with... less rules."
He nodded his head understandingly. ”Duly noted,” he said lightly. ”Though, you know, maybe keep the legwork to just bobbing and weaving?” He gave her a well-meaning, suggested smile. ”After all, everyone says that the best part of me are my legs.” He lifted one to show off his calf muscles in a joking manner.
When he was clearly ready to continue, Booker resumed his stance, waiting for Svetlana to do the same. When she did, he continued his testing technique, bouncing on his feet around her, fists up. He threw another few testing jabs, nothing too strong or weird. After a jab he stepped back started to walk around her, his fists lowered briefly to give his arms a rest. A look of curiosity rolled across his features as he continued to eye the blonde he was sparring with. There was a question on his lips.
Arms up, he moved in again for few more testing jabs. ”Mind if I ask you a question?” he started. Jab. Jab. ”Feel free not to answer – and I promise it’s nothing creepy.” Impish grin. Jab. ”You know what I am. I take it that means you’re one of…you…them? A mutant, right?” He didn’t say the name in any detesting way but more out of respect. And he kept his voice low so that only she could hear. Jab. ”What can you do? If I may ask?”
He gave the kid a beaming smile. He could only imagine that Bailey was thinking nothing but excited thoughts in his head about actually getting the job. He liked to keep people on the tips of their toes and while the kid would have clearly lost the job if anyone else in the building had interviewed him, Booker watched to keep things interesting. Truth was that the kid seemed capable and smart, as well as seeming moldable. Booker decided to take the kid on as an experiment, of sorts, just to see what he could help the kid turn into. Really he could be wasting his time but why not have a go at it? That was Booker’s opinion anyways. And, besides, he could always just fire him if things didn’t work out.
With a smirk on his lips he walked passed the kid and out into the hall, but not before he stopped and explained to him that he was going to show the kid around to see how he felt about working here. Sure there was a not-so-thinly veiled threat about killing him should he decide to not take the job.
>> ”Sounds, uh, good? I think?”
He grinned. ”Perfect!”
Turning on his heel, he stepped out into the hallway and waited for young Mr. Bailey to join him. When he did, Booker reached over and pulled the door closed. It closed and locked with an audible snap. With his door closed and locked, Booker took a deep breath and turned around, eyeing the kid closely, almost as if he were going to be revealing to him the greatest secrets of the universe, but instead just smirked and gestured for him to follow.
As they moved down the stairs, back onto the first floor where the reference desk was, Booker decided that then would be the best time to begin to explain some of the job to the kid.
”Alright! So, I’m going to give you a quick rundown of what will be expected to of you.” Once they got to the first floor, Booker’s long legs carried him swiftly across the floor until they reached the a staffing area available for workers. ”Alright…so here’s the basics – you are essentially going to be hired for a variety of tasks. Cleaning, dusting, arranging book displays, etc.,” Booker said. ”But, the real reason that we have been aggressive about hiring interns for this summer is for the Big Shift.” He waited, a dramatic pause in the air. When Bailey said nothing, he continued. ”Well…we just finished a huge weeding project so that we can make room for new books. Shifting, you’ll come to learn, it when we start moving the books around to make the new space available and keep everything else organized.” He grinned and nodded his head. ”Yup…we’re moving the ENTIRE library.” A shrug. ”Or, actually, you will be.” he smiled and gave him a thumbs up. ”Welcome aboard, slugger!”
She had a good defense. Booker could admit that as he danced around Svetlana, his hands up and in position. While Booker wasn’t an expert in this field of fighting, he was practiced enough to know what to do when presented with certain situations. In the case of the young blonde, he was popping and weaving, getting in a few experimental jabs with hopes of discovering a weak spot somewhere on her person. Her positioning was tight but there were a few spots that seemed ripe for a punch or two. While they weren’t vital, they would cause enough of a twist or distraction from the woman to open herself up for another hit.
He went in for it. Booker distracted with a few jabs, which she took, and then ducked in for a quick punch to the kidneys. He would pull back some of his strength as to not hurt her; however, none of it would go as planned. Just as Booker felt like he was about to make contact with his target, the blonde moved in a manner that he most certainly didn’t expected.
She dropped, low. But it wasn’t as a result of his punch landing (which it didn’t) but more because she purposefully dropped low to the ground and lashed out with her leg. It was such an unexpected move (because this was boxing) that the much larger man was unprepared for the kick. Feeling her leg connect with his, he stumbled, feeling his leg bend under the pressure she added.
”Whooa WHOA!!” he shouted and squeaked, feeling himself dance awkwardly backwards before gravity got a good hold of him and pulled him down to the ground with an unforgiving THUD! The breath momentarily knocked out of him, Booker just laid there, staring up at the ceiling and trying to remember how to breathe again. Once he did, he had a critique or two for her. ”Huh. I don’t recall being taught that kicks were allowed by my trainer…”
So in hindsight, maybe this wasn’t the best idea. First of all, never engage in a dance off with a kid because you will most certainly lose (and if you win, you’re pretty much a d***; second, he really needed to mind his surroundings. While the man was pretty well practiced and had good form, he didn’t accommodate for some things when he started this dance, namely the fact that he was kneeling on the ground and trying to perform some of these complicated moves. Really, it was his fault for being silly and not watching what he was doing.
Booker felt bad. Not just because of the two headwounds he now suffered, but because from the sounds that were managing to slip through the ringing in his head, it sounded like Sammy was just a little worried. He heard another voice, that of a woman, who had quickly intervened, announced Sammy as the winner and assured the young girl that he was okay. Not really looking where anyone was, Booker simply lifted his thumb to the girl to mime that he was okay. There was no need to cause her any unnecessary worry.
His head was slowly starting to stop spinning but the pain wasn’t going to subside quickly. His head was throbbing, feeling expert hands take him, turn, and the sounds of inspection. Wincing at the sensation, Booker blinked a few times to get the blurriness out from over his eyes and caught sight of a tanned skin tone belonging to the person who was checking him out.
>> ”Mr. Booker? Can you hear me?”
He nodded his head. Gingerly he began to sit up, grinding his teeth in momentary discomfort. His head still swam a little bit but he couldn’t keep lying there on the ground lest he make the kids whom he visited panic about his health. Clearly that was the last thing that he wanted, was for them to have to suffer through watching him be sprawled out on the ground like some uncoordinated cartoon character. He could practically see the animated stars swirling above his head.
Turning to the woman, the nurse who was checking him out, he winced at her touch but just smirked a little, going along with the embarrassment he felt coloring his cheeks. ”Something tells me I won’t be bringing home the Dance King title?” He smirked. As his eyes began to focused, he soon realized whom he was looking at. ”Ah, DJ Nurse Dizzle…”
She was the one he had pointed to and asked to turn up the music before. She wasn’t a face that he recalled (even with a now injured brain his eidetic memory couldn’t place her). However it wasn’t uncommon for hospitals to shift nurses around to fit whatever scheduling needs that they had. Her look of concern on her tanned cheeks was adorable and he could see the compassion that she held. The man suddenly felt a little stupid for hurting himself in such a way in front of her and he turned his eyes away.
Moron.
After that important note was taken, Booker smirked as he looked at her without trying to look at her. ”So…am I ever going to dance again?” He gave her a cheeky grin.
Booker lashed out like a man ready to fight. He had taken some punishment from Svetlana but it wasn’t the worst it could have been. Thanks to his larger stature and his curled defense, he managed to stave off most of her attacks except for a few that managed to weedle in plant. Booker didn’t appear as if they had hurt but they did sting just enough to cause a distraction. If she kept it up he eventually would have gone down from each strike and his defense would have been ruined. It was that reason, and that one alone, that he lashed out the way that he did, delivering two solid jabs, which she blocked, but the third snuck in, catching her in the ribs.
It was a good thing that he had pulled back some of his strength. He didn’t want to take it easy on the young woman (that would have been insulting) but he didn’t want to murderize her. This was just a sparring match and nothing more. He could have aimed for her face and easily broken her nose but, on top of not wanting to hurt her, it was a cute widdle nose too.
Ahem.
Watching as Svetlana stumbled back into the ropes with a huff. Booker momentarily broke his stance, straightening up and moving towards her, hand outraised to make sure that she was okay. The chivalrous side of him was hard to quiet down from time to time but the man managed to keep it somewhat in check. Again, he didn’t want to insult her. It was her suggestion that they get into the ring so she should know that doing so meant getting hit. Still, there was no harm in asking.
”You okay?”
>> "Not bad."
He smirked at her response. Thankfully she seemed fine. After a second, she grinned at him and bounced off the ropes, straightening her posture. Moving back towards the center of the ring, he joined her and watched as she slipped into a more defensive position. Hands up, stance lowered, Booker momentarily grumbled to himself about how small of a target she was able to make herself. THIS would be easy…
>> "Your turn, big guy.
Another grin on his lips and Booker provided her with an elegant bow of respect before he slipped into his own fighting stance. Gloves up, he bounced light on his feet as he moved around her, keeping her in his sights. When enough time had passed, Booker then took the offensive, striking out with a one-two jab combo before, dancing back and moving around her. He kept this up, testing her defenses with jabs, then moving back, then more jabs. When he finally jabbed and thought he spotted an opening, Booker arched his arm, aiming for a kidney hit.
Indeed, Booker was dancing with a paragon of absolutely excellence. Young Sammy did her best but what she lacked in the skill of a veteran dancer, she more than made up for with her tenacity and her passion. She was truly a beacon for hope in a place that could so easily succumb to sadness and despair. However, in his opinion, one of the things that mattered most in a hospital was ensuring that hope wasn’t lost. People needed to have hope because sometimes that was all they had and this was especially true for children. He didn’t like to think of any of the bad scenarios and instead just focus on the here, the now, and on the very, very good days.
The way that Sammy danced? That made this a very good day.
He smiled and clapped his hands, bobbing his head as he waited his turn. Sammy completed her little twirl and her flailed arms, nodding her head in an absolute adorable manner before she pointed a finger towards him, smiling the biggest and brightest smile that he had ever gotten from one of these kids. It made the heart swell to know that he was the cause of such an infectious smile. A glance to the nurse’s station showed that they too were getting into the groove and watching the interaction with awe smiles.
On top of that, DJ Nurse Dizzle had been on point with the song choice. That, mixed with Sammy’s dance moves, just lightened the man’s mood. So with a grin, he took the turn that Sammy so graciously offered him.
Still on his knees so that both man and child were on the same level, Booker danced to the best of his ability. His mismatching of dance moves (both new and old) was made only more comical by his self-imposed shorten stature. But, despite that, he danced his heart out. Moving into a DAP dance, he made good use of his space and made sure to not actually hit any of the other kids who were surrounding them, giggling and clapping their hands. However, the man grew just a little too enthusiastic as the music played on.
Attempting a rather daring move, Booker attempted to spin on his knee. He took it slow first, competing one three-hundred and sixty degree turn. It was much to the delight of the children but it also spurred him on to attempt another one. This one he took a little faster – a little too fast. As he spun on his knee, his weight shifted and Booker flailed, squeaked, and stumbled off to the side where he banged his head on a nearby desk with an audible THUD!
”Ow!” he yelped and then proceeded to hit his head again, this time, on the smooth, tied floor. ”…ow…”
It was clear that the winner of this dance-off would be Sammy.
The laughter was lyrical. Booker grinned as he followed the chuckling woman into the ring. Booker was a fan of making fun of himself, it was one of the ways he found make others giggle or snort the quickest. Besides, if you couldn’t make fun of yourself, what right did you have to make fun of others (not that Booker did that in any mean-spirited way). An added perk was that Svetlana’s laughter was actually quite pleasing to the ear. How fortunate for him to make a new friend that he could make laugh and who could make him laugh in return.
Once in the ring, however, it was an entirely different story. Both their strides were confident with a dash of cockiness mixed in. They both had an idea of what they were doing but it was a little like David facing off against Goliath. Then again, look what happened to Goliath in that scenario…
Booker wanted to feel like he had too much of the upperhand but he knew better than to underestimate a smaller opponent. He may have been bigger and stronger and had the superior reach, but she was smaller, probably harder to hit, and he was going to guess a bit faster than him. The downside of having a tightly compact muscles as Booker did was that he telegraphed like a sonnavab****. Thankfully his time doing speed drills was working off and his trainer said that he didn’t showcase as much; still some, but not a lot.
An invisible bell went off the second that Booker passed the first move onto her. She came in, fast, a little angry puff ball with nubby little dukes up, ready to fight. Booker was already in his stance so he immediately brought his fists up to protect his face and curled her arms slightly lower to keep his body safe and accommodate her much shorter reach. Curled in like a protected armadillo, Booker winced when he felt punches flurry against his forearms, biceps, ribs and side. He did his best to maneuver and keep himself guard but, like he suspected, she moved fast and managed to get a few kidney shots in he wasn’t expecting.
Still, Booker didn’t break his guard. He kept his arms up, protect, protect, protect, until finally he spotted that signal he was looking for. You see Booker wasn’t just on his guard, he was scrutinizing her, studying, watching her movements until finally he could see a pattern. As much as everyone wanted to believe that they didn’t have one, they did and with Booker’s eidetic memory and his knack for following patterns, he managed to pluck it out.
Wait…
Wait…
Wait…
…there. He saw it and the man pounced. Before she could lash out with another punch, Booker suddenly jabbed out his glove-covered fist with surprising speed. This was followed by the same arm once it retracted back, and lastly was followed up by his other fist from his stronger arm, the one that had been coiled the whole time, tensing, and ready to snap. And snap it did, fast and hard, directly towards her…
For as charming and good looking and kind-hearted as Booker was, there was inevitable flaw in every polished, handsome face of armor. For Booker it was the fact that he didn’t always know when to let a joke drop. Really it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t doing it for the ego boost or to make someone feel like sh*t, he was doing it because it made them smile once so why not keep the smiling going? He liked it when people smiled. He liked humor. However there was such a thing as too much of a good thing, right? It was a lesson that Booker was still learning and, on occasion, needed to be corrected by.
Svetlana seemed over the fact that he figured she was hitting on him and merely gave him the hardest and most icy look that any woman could have given. While Booker towed that line of over-beating a dead horse, he knew damn well when to back off before it became a zombie. Right now, Svetlana was giving him that zombified horse look (…w-whatever that means) and he knew it was time to cut it out. So, he relented, bowing his head slightly as he explained that he was just teasing.
But, back to the matter at hand. She wanted to have a real workout. He noted that the she eyed the ring that was beginning to empty, the idea dawning on him on what she was suggesting. To be honest he was a little unsure of this. She was only about, what, 5’6 or 5’7, and he was a towering 6’2. The last thing he wanted was to hurt the poor girl, but considering that she came here of her own accord and knew the prep, it was clear she was experienced. Such prejudices were unwelcomed here so he voiced none of them.
Besides, he knew better than to assume that she wouldn’t be able to handle herself just because of her size. Hell, his sister was smaller than him and she had enough upper body strength to dip him while dancing! Plus, when he really pissed her off, she had a punch like a motherf—
>> "Well…We both have our boxing gear on, and the ring's about to open up, so I thought we might…play Scrabble or something."
As she began to explain her intentions, Booker smirked a little nodding his head, following the direction of her train of thought. However, once she revealed the faux-plan to play Scrabble instead, Booker placed his gloved hand over his heart, smirking and shaking his head.
”A-A-Ah-ouch.” he said, bending his knees a little to mime being injured but only bounced before straightening his legs again. ”First blood’s on you.”
>> "Coming?"
He chuckled as he followed her towards the ring. For a second he watched as she climbed in, waited, and then proceeded to climb in after her. There was an air of confidence about her that was more than striking. She definitely knew what she was doing in this ring so he was going to have to be on his guard. Once on, he sighed as he started to stretch out his limbs, twist his torso, and sigh as the muscles warmed and loosened even more. With a grin he turned back to face her, moving into a boxing position, gloves up, stance bent and loose.
