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.
”Oh, he’s dead.” Carrick said a bit awkwardly at first then filled the silence with a sip from his pint. ”Sorry, wish mine was. Big guy took the wrong parent.” he said. The shifter did believe in the man upstairs but over the years and watching his mother suffer the way she did (something he remembers little of), he thought the relationship was bit strained. Like it didn’t matter who died even good people.
”Oh good on ya!” the shifter said raising a pint to taking a sip showed off his wings and tail a bit, ”Afraid Cash will have ta do so long as it gets into the right hands. Don’t think anyone wants me clothes. They are tailored.” by himself. The stitching was rough and it was clear some points were over cut then crudely stitched back up.
While the man muttered the prayers he picked up on a few of the words. The ones in Latin stood out and then the ones in Spanish (yes, Carrick loved Spanish soap operas). However only having any experience speaking the one (years of catholic school) Carrick responded in kind with a, ” hic mihi erat mortuus lingua” ‘here I thought it was a dead language’. He sipped again then pointed to the stranger as the bartender approached, ”I’ll get his next round! Someone else speaks Latin!” While he wasn’t practiced he wanted to see what he remembered.
The shifter coughed slightly spitting out a little more saltwater from his lungs as he inhaled finally catching his breath the pain in his foot was still there but it hurt a lot less than it did while he was swimming. His clothes, shoes and wings were all water logged. Sitting up slowly then standing he looked back into the tank and saw it was pretty close to empty as a few of the sharks sat at the mouth of the exit of the tank.
”**** ya waited till after I was out ta do this?” Carrick shouted snapping open his wings and shaking the water off of them. Between the music and the light show someone could have enjoyed him cleaning his wings off. The small droplets reflected the light as he took off.
Flapping once overhead he surveyed Zek smashing a mace into the shark guy who, lets face it was nothing more than a fancy punching back that occasionally tried to eat them. Poor guy was getting from all angles. Carrick touched down several feet from Zek so the shifter wouldn’t be hit by mistake. ”Think ya got him.” it wasn’t a warning telling him he had enough more of a ‘I don’t think we got to worry about him anymore’ the shark-man tried to eat him.
The elf like ears on Carrick perked when he heard more commotion echoing from the other side. The point they entered. ”Zeeky, sounds like it’s the popo.” Carrick knew when to run. When the police showed up. He stood out, and was easy to identify due to the wings. ”Time fer an escape!” The shifter was already looking up at the ceiling seeing the light illuminate sections tipping off there were people coming their way.
The pair of targets started to run and Tom was about to give chase when Rhia stepped in between him and his half-brother. Tom glared back after a moment irritated that anyone would be willing to come between him and his brother. How long had he dreamed about being an olnly child. No longer compared to anything about his brother who could fly, sing, perform magic and still gain the attention of their father.
No, this was a long time coming and no one was going to stop him. Not even the one who made it possible.
>>>Are you trying to kill him?
The glare turned into confusion and he raised an eyebrow and threw up his hands. ‘Yeah, what does it look like?’ he took a step forward and that hand raised to Rhia lifting her off the ground with his telekinetic powers and waved her off to the side. He was contemplating killing her but she was a mutant. Like him. If he could use her again at some point it be better not to kill her. He didn't’ focus on how she’d land. He was too busy catching up with his younger brother.
With Rhia no longer blocking him Tommy practically skipped towards the two as the ran into the nearest alley. While he was confident that he’d have no problem with them he was still a little cautious. The main reason Tom hadn’t killed Carrick yet was because of his powers, however he was still an O’Conner and while they might be at a disadvantage no one should ever underestimate an O’Conner.
-----
--------
-----
”Not asking ya to love, asking ya to run!” she said feeling a bit winded. Carrick didn’t know if it was because he was out of his body or because he was in hers but he suddenly felt fatigued like he was running a marathon. ”How am I already this winded?” he asked pulling his body who was inhabited by his girlfriend.
”Ames, when we get out of this we are gonna start running. Ya got no cardio.” he said looking around for the nearest weapon. Frontal assaults on Tom didn’t work. Carrick always beat him by taking him by surprise. A bottle, a roar, a beast. The former shifter and now true royal looked to his old body and wondered if he should trigger a shift. One that could fight his brother and save them but quickly he decided that was out of the question. Carrick wasn’t worried about himself making it out of here the former Irishman was more concerned about her.
Rhia had given them enough distance, his manicured hands reached to his old face and he grabbed it with both hands. ”I need ya to focus love, my brother is gonna try to kill me. Well, You now. I don’t want ya ta fly I want ya ta run.” Carrick stole an extra second to gaze into his mismatched colored eyes for a sign. A pupil turning to slits, anything that would help her survive. She was the only reason he was still at the mansion trying to finish school. Well that and a promise he already broke once to his mother.
”It’s gonna be fine.” he lied letting go of his old face, ”Ya got me phone? Hand it over, quickly.” he said taking a breath and started to make his way down the alley. Dumpsters, garbage cans and empty cases of beer bottles lined the dimly lit back alley. One thing would have been clear though if he still had his night vision, the alley they turned into stretched almost a block but it was a dead end.
It seemed Rhia wanted to watch the show, that was fine maybe she would be the one he finally settled down with. She’d swap people, he’d take advantage and torture them. You know the things people look for in a life partner. Tom didn’t mind.
With his brother not behind the wheel of his difficult to deal with shifting powers Tom finally felt like things were finally turning up him. So much so his strut became a little two step as he sauntered over to the pair. His hands shot up as he started to finally talk with his hands. Not in the signing sense but rather as if he was conducting something only he could hear. Tom was in pure ecstasy thinking about what he was about to do to the ‘favorite’ son.
One hand reached an overture then waved quickly to the side as the telekinetic wound up for the strike. Where the two were standing a large gouge of concreate appeared as if something ethereal carved it. Tears started to well up, this might have been the happiest day of his life. Even better than ending the life of Carrick’s mother something only he knew about.
His father was too weak when it came to both Carrick and the bastards mother. Oh the pain it caused Carrick, the sadness that followed, Tom had to saver this feeling. Take things slowly. Another hand wave this time a horizontal slash one that missed it’s targets and sliced through a ‘no parking’ sign. He shrugged and strut after them.
------
-------
------
”Move!” it wasn’t a request this time. She might have been smaller than him but that didn’t seem to matter. He was motivated to keep himself and his girlfriend alive. Where his old body stood seconds ago a large gouge of concreate seemed to be missing where Tom’s power hit. It had been years since he had seen his brothers powers in action. How many nightmares did he have of Tom standing over him with a malicious smile?
”**** off, ya can’t handle me when I’m at me best so ya try to get me when I’m at me worst?” he shouted taunting his brother. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best method but he knew if he could get Tom flustered they might be able to get some distance.
”You did this ta us Blondie!” Carrick shouted as he dragged his body along. ”Duck!” he saw the hand motion and pushed down quickly on his old head which his girlfriend now inhabited.
”Better in yer head than all over the pavement!” he shouted in his girlfriends voice. He didn’t have time to be as sweet to her as she normally was to him. Life or death situations had a way of making people direct. ”Come on! Making a run fer it! I can’t stop Tom like this!” she was weak now. Her powers of creating gemstones didn’t matter at the moment. They wouldn’t help.
”Royal we? Or us?” the Irishman asked suddenly relaxing a bit when she grabbed his hand. His beast form even shut up for a moment. Only a moment though. It quickly added ‘mate’ to it’s repetition as he slowly forgot he ran into his half brother who wanted so badly to cut off the wings from Carrick and keep them as some sick trophy. He hated all the living members of his family. Why couldn’t they be the ones to have died painfully?
”So whe-” the world spun, colors flashed before him and he felt himself looking at his own self from above. Was this it? Did his brother finally do it or was there someone else who pulled the trigger and killed him? Carrick’s vision went dark and he opened his eyes.
The dead didn’t open their eyes. Unless he was a zombie, which would only have been bad if he was one of those slow moving zombies that were an easy kill. No one wanted to be those zombies.
”re we want to go.... awww.... fer **** sakes!” he shouted wishing he was dead. Being dead would have been better than losing his wings again. It seemed Carrick had switched places with someone again. His voice was different again, his balance was off again and he suddenly felt colder and less constricted.
His head shot around to see if he could find his old self (which he did) and within seconds he was helping himself to his feet. ”We got freaky-fridayed.” Carrick said struggling to pull his old body up. ”Blondie in there did it. Second time now.” Carrick said sighing, ”Guess she’s just best to be avoided.”
”Take a breath handsome.” he said finally looking down at his now darker skin and perfectly manicured nails. ”Look at me, I’m beautiful.” he said grabbing a bit of the green dress the Princess was wearing the one he was now wearing. The distraction was welcomed and he almost forgot everything that happened that evening.
”Wings are just like moving yer arms. Keep ‘em down till we can figure out where blondie is. She can change us back.” last time wasn’t permeant which meant this time wouldn’t be either.
”Ah ****” the now royal said as she looked up to see Rhia and Tommy in the door way. ”Love, figure out the limbs later! Time to go.” he grabbed his old body by the hand and pulled.
-----
-------
-----
The older O’Conner brother’s eyebrow remained raised as he was even more curious about the next encounter with his brother. A new perspective? Did that mean he’d be smaller? Different? Weaker? His bloodlust started to grow as he thought of all the knew ways he might just become an only child. The lie of what happened was already starting to form in his mind. ‘I got there and Carrick was dead. Your intel was wrong.’ No, he could flesh out the lie after.
She was on her feet and Tom was already moving to the door to see what she meant. Clearly this was going to be a reveal of some kind and Tommy was practically giddy with the thoughts of torturing Carrick. Maybe he’d start by plucking the feathers from the wings?
His date did whatever she said she was going to do. Fun. Tom smiled more and gestured to the door as he pushed it open. Their bodies were swapped. Carrick was in the green dress.
His jaw dropped and he witnessed something he never thought he’d get to see. The biggest target he was ever going to get. Not only could he hurt his brother physically once but twice! Tommy’s eyes started to water and he grabbed Rhia by the cheeks and kissed her on the mouth.
Without waiting for a reaction he walked out of the bar and started slowly strutting to his brother and his brother’s body. Tommy almost felt bad for the woman who introduced herself as a princess. Almost.
”Got it.” the shifter said clenching his jaw and his fists. Amethyst said he needed to stay calm. If anything he should have turned and jumped his brother and ended the fight before it started. They didn’t know his brother like he did. Didn’t know what he was thinking or what he was capable of. The way he tortured Carrick when he was younger and smaller. How he tried to pull the wings from Carrick’s back and when that didn’t work he tried to cut them off.
Carrick growled frustrated with everyone feeling like no one was on his side. He looked to the princess though and his pupils rounded when he saw the look on her face. She was concerned. ”I never wanted ya to meet anyone from my family.” he said stubbornly.
They got to the door and Carrick didn’t look back. He didn’t want to see the smug look on his brothers face when he did so he made sure he fought the urge. His wing was still behind the Amethyst making sure there wouldn’t be anything that could hurt her while anyone from his family was around. She didn’t know them and Carrick wasn’t going to let the most important person in his life come to any harm.
The door shut behind him and he relaxed a little. ”..... Sorry about that....” he started to apologize. He didn’t like losing control. She knew that much. ”There’s a reason I don’t talk about my family too much.” he said unclenching his fists revealing his elongated finger nails had dug so far into his skin they broke it.
”I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” his tail flicked behind him furiously. His beast form didn’t let him think this was over. ‘Fight!’ ‘Kill!’ ‘Protect!’ was being repeated in the back of his mind.
---------
-------------
---------
Tom felt Rhia look at him then felt his phone go off. He however didn’t bother looking to his phone or to her till his brother left. He knew where he lived so he could always confront him then. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal right? When the golden wings of his brother disappeared from the other side of the door he relaxed slightly. How much he hated those wings.
When the door shut Tommy felt his interest in staying leaving. Maybe it was time to end the date. His cover was blown anyways and the way his brother threatened him he figured he’d better hurry. While he doubted his brother would actually kill him (he was too soft) the threat of calling the police was a different matter. Tom had been warned by their father don’t get caught in New York. Between the police and the X-men they were far trained to deal with mutants. Blood traitors. If Tommy had his way he’d cut them all down.
Looking to his phone he raised an eyebrow and started typing, ‘How do you plan on doing that?’ he waited a second suddenly becoming very interested in his date again. If She could neutralize that unpredictable beast Carrick has changed up in him. The reason why his father was so interested in him... ‘I’m very curious now. Another reason you Texas girls are in a league of your own.’ he sent the text and smiled. Once again hiding his intentions.
He ignored the boo’s from his ‘friend’ as he furiously fought through the water when he got to a certain point of the surface his wings tried to kick off but were still too water logged to get anywhere. Knowing he was the best suited for the water he ignored the cries from the other two voices in the back of his head. Both thought they could handle the situation better.
Luckily for Carrick were busy fighting who was better in the water. ”**** off I’m handling it!” he said to himself as he grabbed the ladder and started to pull himself up. His hands were still on the stick. No way in hell he was letting go of the thing.
The stick kept playing music, “Something’s wrong, shut the light heavy thoughts tonight and they aren’t of snow white.” he was almost out. He could hear the boo’s still coming from Zek who had been less than helpful. Even after he fixed the magic ‘do random ****’ stick. Two fins appeared behind him in the water. One was at a constant diagonal and the other was going straight for him. A webbed hand erupted from the water and grabbed on to Carrick’s foot and pulled. It was shark-man with a latched shark-shark on him.
”@@@@ off!” he leaned forward and held his death grip. Shark-man gave a yank and Carrick responded with a kick of his other foot. One that was perfectly placed for the nose of shark-man. Shifting his grip he went back under with one of Carrick’s shoes and the other shark. Carrick rolled from the ledge and laid on his back. ”**** sharks.” his heart was racing and his pupils were complete slits. ”I want ta go home.” he said looking down to his socks one with a large hole that revealed his big toe.
After a moment, ”Yer boos mean nothing ta me. I’ve seen what makes ya cheer!” he shouted to Zek clearly exhausted.
Tom’s eyebrows raised when the princess introduced herself. He didn’t need to say anything. His eyes said it all to Carrick like Tom just discovered Carrick’s new favorite toy. Just like when they were kids. Setting his pint glass down he leaned back in his chair and eyed the fingers that had started to turn.
The golden boy’s trump card. If he couldn’t talk his way out of something he’d turn wreak havoc and then leave. Just like when he was back home. Ever since their father had seen this side of Carrick he wanted him back even more. To join the fight. Prove mutant superiority. How would argue if they could sick Carrick on them?
The half brother knew however that he wouldn’t come willingly. Tom turned his head to the princess and smiled flashing all his teeth. ‘I like her.’ No longer was he concerned with his date and keeping things civil. The wanted man had a reason to be here.
----
-------
----
Carrick’s eyes narrowed and turned more cat like. His tail flicked behind him now wildly like he was going to pounce. At this time a few people were watching the exchange. Ignoring the princess for a moment he continued to stare to see his brother flash his hands in an attack. His hair stood on end waiting to warn him of the attack.
”Best make it yer last if ya don’t want to get dragged down into the O’Conner ****show. Ruined a lot of peoples lives.” his hands flashed in the air as he signed what he said. At this point it was who could piss the other off the most to force someone to make the first move. 'fight’
”We were here first.” ‘and I’ve been running all my life from them. I don’t want to run anymore.’ he didn’t say the words but his low growl started to rumble in his chest. ”Fine...” Carrick said waiting for the princess to move first so he could make sure she wouldn’t be attack from behind when she turned her back. ‘Fight!’
”**** on back home. Run ta da and tell him I’m never joining his little club. I didn’t want ta when I was older and I sure as hell don’t now. Ya got one day. I find out yer still here I’ll be coming fer ya. Only warning ya get. I’ll kill ya if I have to. Yer done ruining me life. Both of ya.” he huffed and it sounded like the beast from the back of his mind let out a low warning growl. 'Kill! Danger!’
“O’Conners!” the bartender shouted from across the bar. ”Got it! I’m leaving.” Carrick stood abruptly and waited for the princess. ”Let’s go get blasted somewhere else. Got a bad taste in me mouth now.” he said showing off his superior pointed canines.
”Best of luck blondie. Ames, ya ready?” Carrick waited till they were up then wrapped one of his wings around the princess’s back to block any attack as they walked to the door.
The man seemed irritated. Carrick’s tail flicked behind him as he sipped his pint and then rested it on the counter. It was like talking with a warmer version of Sammy-boy. Though he was sure the icemancer was started to warm up to him. ”Charity huh?” the shifter asked wondering which charity the guy was trying to get. Bar tab, cash...
”Yer Da hear?” he asked smirking to Rex now that he had a name. The fella didn’t need to give a name he could have said, ‘doesn’t matter’ or responded with a nod when Carrick introduced himself. Bar etiquette. This was a holy place a neutral territory. Until it wasn’t.
”Which charity you working fer?” he asked curiously. ”Depending how ya sell it I might have a little extra cash coming my way. Don’t know if ya saw the set but I believe it was a good one.” he flashed his pointed teeth in a grin.
”Always believe ya should help the less fortunate.” especially when it was just a few bucks. A small amount Carrick was okay with parting from. If there was a heaven and he was going there Carrick would be happy to point out that he was generous with other peoples money.
Between the water and his movements under the water Carrick only managed to hear Zek with muffled hearing. He looked over to his ‘partner in alleged crimes’ and shot up a familiar hand gesture they both threw to each other often. ‘Whatever you make of it’ he said but through the water it was a ”Blub blub arrrgggghhhh”
One of the buttons he pressed was a smokescreen which was odd considering he was underwater and that the device still worked. Between that and the music that echoed underwater he was suddenly grateful he had selfishly hung on to the thing. The mace would have been more useful probably but Carrick prided himself on his creativity and resourcefulness.
The tank started to turn black with smoke, as it exited from the stick. A shark swam overhead and Carrick slowed his ascent to the surface till it passed overhead. He started to swim upwards then felt the hand tug him back down. It seemed the shark man had no problem fighting him surrounded by other sharks and distractions.
”@@@@ off!” he shouted underwater again ”Blub blub” the water translated poorly as he took the odd weapon of mystics and jammed the thing down hard aiming for the eye of his attacker. The hand pulling him under released at once as the shark guy grabbed his eye as black ooze ejected from the wound. One of the sharks picked up the scent and shifted it’s attention from Carrick to the shark guy.
Carrick kicked to the surface with his wings and feet and exhaled and inhaled quickly. His wings trying to lift him out of the water but failed because they were water logged. ”@@@@ @@@@ @@@@” he shouted as he started to swim to the nearest edge of the water. Now out from under the water the music started to blast clearly throughout the aquarium. “Exit ligggggghttt, Enter Niiiight, Take my hand, we’re off to never, neverland!” the drums matched his strokes as he beelined for the ladder of the tank.
The Irishman leaned up on the bar and gave a little huff when the non-alcoholic beer was severed before his round of drinks. Carrick silently wondered why someone would drink a non-alcholic drink but then he wasn’t an alcoholic. No, he was Irish.
Someone else patted him on the back, or rather the wing and then got swatted by his tail for touching his wing. Another spot Carrick liked getting touched by strangers even less. The feeling of his more arrogant and majestic form was the one to make it clear they weren’t to touch him again without permission.
His chest rumbled in a low growl and he washed it down with the shot that appeared moments later along with his pint. Carrick was out in public, his stage. Meaning he had to keep himself approachable if he was to work this bar ever again. ”Aye, relax a little. No harm, no foul.” he said to himself after quickly giving his head a little shake.
Carrick needed a distraction. ”Ya got business with the owner too?” he asked his tail flicking behind him warding all who tried to approach away. ”Let me guess, owes ya money too?” Carrick hadn’t been paid yet for his most recent performance meaning he’d be drinking until that time.
”Name’s Carrick.” it was the bar, anyone who sat at the bar new that they’d be subject to other patrons and unwanted conversations. Them were the rules. Lucky for Carrick as long as no one was touching him or his wings without permission he was a pretty sociable.
Carrick technically wasn’t old enough to drink at a bar in the states, that however never had stopped him before. He told the bartender that yes that was indeed his valid I.D. and yes that was indeed his real age. He just neglected to mention he deaged himself and became a teenager again. The bartender couldn’t say much because it wasn’t like wings were exactly common in I.D. cards and well... the shifter flexed his wings behind him and flicked his tail.
Pulling the guitar pick out of his mouth and placing it into his pocket he grinned, ”And no, this isn’t me brother I.D. either. Sorry bastard doesn’t have wings or a tail.” his tail flicked again behind him as he felt someone walk behind him. Instinctively he pulled the guitar at his side a little closer. It wasn’t that he was worried that someone was going to steal it but rather someone would damage it.
The Irishman had little luck lately keeping an instrument longer than two weeks and he had been nearing the two week mark. He had made sure not to bring it on any of his ‘outings’ with Zek and whenever he wasn’t playing a gig he left it home at the mansion.
Someone clasped his shoulder with a hand and he turned irritated someone touched him, putting on his ‘stage’ face though he smiled wide and exposed his pointed canines in a smile and a mock bow after they said he put on a great show, ”Thank ya sir, ma’am.” he nodded to both of them as a shot of whiskey was placed in front of him, ”Little bit of practice is all it takes.” he said faking modesty it took him a decade so far. His tail flicked behind him, ”If ya liked this show I got another tomorrow night at the Iceberg should come out and request something. Anything ya want me to learn?”
Knocking back the shot Carrick placed the glass on the table while he half listened to the request, ”Ah... Country? Well, not exactly the venue for it.” the pint arrived next on the bar in front of him, ”Well, I haven’t played weddings yet. Always up fer a little experimenting though.” he said half listening again taking a sip of the dark stuff in his glass.
”Rates aren’t cheap fer something like that. I have something of a short attention span.” he chuckled, ”That and having an angel at the wedding might get ya some looks.” Carrick took the card and shook the hands when they were offered. ”Cheers! See you two tomorrow then!” he raised a glass and then watched them leave.
”Apparently I put on a good show.” Carrick boasted to the bartender who was half listening. ”Another round, please. Long day.”
“Yer not welcome here! I moved out of the city to get away from thugs like you.” his mother Janice said as she fought through the words trying to convince herself. There was a time she would have done anything for the man at the door but that time long since passed, it had been twelve years. “Come ‘on, you never could say no to me, just in the area thought I’d come see ya.” the man said leaning on the door frame.
The young Irishman stood behind his door quietly listening to everything now that he had calmed down. The sudden fear he felt vanished when he stepped away from the window and towards the door. Who was the guy and why was he here so late? Did his mom need help? The winged mutant reached for the nearest weapon he could find. A worn baseball bat his grandfather had given him. While Carrick didn’t care much for the sport anything his grandfather left was a cherished item. Having been raised by him for a few years alongside his mother.
”Don’t worry gramps, I’ll protect her.” he whispered recalling a few of the words that was spoken to him on his grandfather’s death bed. His mother was frail and always had been, recently her health had been declining more since her father passed and it was noticeable to the young boy which was why he was ready to try and fight someone off. He was the man of the house after all.
“Fine. But ya can’t stay long and keep yer voice down, Carrick’s sleeping... or should be.” she said in now a hushed tone as the door opened more. The man had loud footsteps, so much so it seemed to match the thunder as he walked as if he was the storm himself. Carrick shook his head, his ears were picking up more than they should have again.
“I’ll take a pint if ya got one, been too long. How is he? He a fighter like his old man?” the gruff voice asked. “He isn’t thank god, I couldn’t handle him if he was.” Jaince his mother replied. There was a sad tone in her voice when she spoke as if she was recalling something. Carrick creaked the door open bat in hand.
“Oh come’ on you loved that, what drew ya to me in the first place right?” the man asked as the sound of the fridge opened and closed. The sound of a bottle opening and a long drink being taken echoed in Carrick’s ears. His tail flicked in curiosity. Is that... was that his dad then? He wasn’t supposed to ask questions about him. The questions always made his mom sad and his grandfather spat every time the topic of his father came up. So much so Carrick decided he didn’t need to know. He built this complex illusion of his father being a hero that died.
His curiosity however got the better of him. While he couldn’t fly yet he was light on his feet for being so small. So he walked the length of the hallway and headed to the stairs. “Aye, there was a time I would have been fine with that but I’m not the young naïve woman I once was.” his mother replied opening a drink for herself. His mother never drank... Carrick’s eyes narrowed as he took a step closer.
“That might be the case, but yer beauty only grew.” said the man. “Always the smooth talker... why are ya here Eric?” she said. Carrick’s heart started to race... Eric was the name of his father. The one he never met.
Turning his flashlight off the young boy did a few quick steps to the door. It was late but not too late, the issue with people coming to the door during a storm was there was nothing for a few miles but fields and sheep farmers. Carrick doubted it was a farmer this late especially in this storm.
Another boom shook the house, the young winged boy wasn’t sure if it was from storm or another knock but he could here his mother. “Hold yer horses! I got a boy who refuses to sleep. Honestly, calling at this hour? In a storm? Some best have been struck or they will be.” Carrick could see her but could imagine her shaking her head.
The loud locking mechanisms shifted and the door opened. “No! What are ya doing here?!! Ya got no business here or with me anymore! I left you and the city fer a reason!” she practically shouted. His mom was in trouble, the tone in her voice was enough to give that away. “How’d ya find me? God, ya smell like the inside of a bar rag.” she said disapprovingly. Who was she talking to? Carrick wasn’t sure but he tiptoed across the across the small room to the nearest window and spotted an old beat up truck parked outside.
The truck wasn’t recognizable. He hadn’t seen it before. There was another flash of light and he spotted a head in the window of the vehicle and suddenly he felt uneasy. His stomach turned and he felt like throwing up. The boys eyes weren’t the best but he felt like someone was watching him. Or rather searching for him. He took a few steps away from the window and tried to catch his breath and calm down. He was having another panic attack.
“I don’t care what time it is! Came to see you, know yer the type to burn the midnight oil. Christ ya gonna let me in or should I stand out in the rain all night?” a gruff voiced asked as he heard the door open more scraping on the wooden floor. Carrick shifted his weight and stepped back towards his bedroom door. He didn’t recognize the voice either but he was curious if anything so he wanted to see who it was.
It was raining that day, Carrick recalled sitting on the stone ledge overlooking the city’s landscape as the sun started to set on the skyline. He opened his flask from Tiny, and took a small pull watching the sky glow purple and orange as the day receded into night. Amythest would love this would have loved the view but the Irishman needed time to reflect and she’d see him as sad. Carrick told her Irish didn’t really do sad so he was alone with his thoughts and memories. Of his half-brother, mother, and him.
----
------
----
It was a bad storm, one that kept the small boy awake. The light of his flashlight flickered as he moved it from panel to panel of his latest comic book. It was about heroes, redemption and justice. Something the boy told his mother he hated. It was too, cliché the bad guy always monologues and the heroes had capes which were impractical.
Carrick loved the stories though. From panel to panel they told a story through imagery. It was one of the few things he could focus on. That and the old tube television his mother refused to let him watch past a certain time. There was movement behind him lifting the covers, it was his tail something the child was still getting used to. That and the wings that had recently formed. He was a mutant, genetically ‘gifted’ the doctor told him.
They just brought him unwanted attention. Kids would tease him for having them, and the bigger kids in school liked to pluck the feathers from his bronzed wings. It hurt a lot but they kept doing it. It was bad enough when he just was the smallest kid in class.
The house shook with the next lighting bolt and Carrick jumped as light flashed in through the window, so much so it illuminated under the blankets. Carrick threw his blanket off to the side when he heard the front door practically cave in with a loud ‘knock’ on the door so much so it shook the old cottage style house more than the thunder did.
