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.
Blaine's eyes suddenly flew open, rocking Sinclaire with an uppercut that sent the knife to the floor, then, he grabbed the other man's head and placed his shin under the man's chin, pressing against his trachea as his eyes went red with fury. Sinclaire struggled against the locoplata at first, but the move was locked in, and there was no remorse.
Something in the mutant had snapped, but on the other hand he found that edge that Sinclaire claimed he needed in order to best him.
Soon...the other mutant's body quit struggling, but Blaine didn't release the hold, despite the fact that the SUPER soldier's life had left him. When he finally did let go, the short-haired version of himself dropped to the floor, unmoving, an eerie reflection of Blaine himself.
The next thing Blaine knew, he was in the bathroom, his stomach heaving as the sight of what was basically himself refused to leave his mind. He'd...killed someone. Quickly, Blaine left the apartment, leaving everything on the curb as he pulled out his phone. There were going to be grave consequences for this...consequences he couldn't face. Blaine knew what he had to do.
Blaine had admittedly been doing much better these days, partly because of the medication, but mostly because of Lee's support. The nightmares had subsided for the most part, and he only had the occasional bout with insomnia. Hell, he was even leaving the house again. And he hadn't seen his short-haired doppelganger since their first and only meeting, so maybe it was just a one time thing. Maybe he'd never see the bastard again.
Today, he has something to take care of; he'd been paying rent on the apartment so Skye could use it, but she was living at the mansion now, and no one was using it. So, he'd made the trip to his old apartment to clean it out. No need in spending that much money if it wasn't going to do any good, right? The entire day he'd spent carrying out furniture to the curb; most of it they weren't going to need, anyway. What he decided to keep, could fit into a cab, and anything he didn't, he could sell and give what money he got from that to Skye as sort of a present.
Now, the apartment was almost empty, and all he'd had left was one suitcase full of stuff. The food had already been thrown out, and the furniture was sitting on the curb. He took one last look around the apartment, a smirk on his face and a feeling of accomplishment welling up in his stomach. This was looking to be a new, happier Blaine.
Until he heard the door close from across the room.
"Well aren't you a hard man to find?"
Blaine's blood ran cold. He spun to face the man that had haunted his nightmares and daydreams alike. In an instant, Blaine rushed him, his arms wrapping around Sinclaire's waist and using the momentum to turn and take him to the floor, already showering him with punches.
But the other guy managed to roll and match him punch for punch. Blaine knocked him off, and rolled to his feet, only to find himself suddenly pushed against the wall as Sinclaire met him with a knee to the gut. Though there was no pain to be felt, that kind of blow still knocks the wind out of a guy.
For hours, the fight went back and forth, with neither man keeping the upper hand for long. Brutish strikes clashed with military tactics, and both were evenly matched.
That is, until Sinclaire landed a tough blow to the side of the head and followed up with a stiff headbutt and a knee to the chest, then another shot to the head that dropped Blaine to the floor with an impact that rattled the building. The long haired man lay there motionless, and Sinclaire stood over him, smirking evilly.
"Nice try...now I guess I need to visit the rainbow-haired girl or the pregnant bitch..." Drawing a knife, Sinclaire leaned down to finish the job...
Sinclaire smirked, shaking his head. "Probably not. I have made a living of studying my surroundings and sometimes other people," he admitted with a smile. "And you? I've had five whole years to learn." Granted he was paying to learn this about her, but once again, that was quite okay by the big guy.
And then the conversation got more serious; it did that from time to time. They didn't just joke and have fun all of the time, and sex wasn't something they did every appointment. Sometimes, like now, they just bounced ideas off of each other, talked about what they were thinking. Deep stuff.
"If that's what you want to do, I say go for it. I mean, I never went to college, but I plan to do what I'm doing until I can't anymore, so I'm happy." Well, as happy as he could be, anyway. Granted, on night like this, he didn't feel so....empty. He knew he was just a tool to SUPER, and he was okay with that. But...sometimes he thought maybe there was more.
"If you think you can juggle, I think you can do it," he said as he took a sip of his wine. "It's good to have dreams, after all."
"That, I can get behind. To one hell of a last date, though hopefully not the very last," he said with a dry laugh as he clinked his glass against hers and took a sip. Sinclaire was no stranger to getting drunk, but he didn't necessarily do it with company. Though with Isabella, he'd likely be willing to make an exception.
Sure, he wasn't aiming for that, but if that was to happen, then so be it.
"Well, I know what dishes you gravitate towards, so I got you the Carne de Vitello," he answered, taking another sip of wine as he looked over at her. He never told her this, but he did miss her when he was on an assignment. It wasn't a feeling, per se, but he'd grown rather accustomed to their monthly dates.
He watched her leave, and he couldn't help but let his eyes linger as she walked away. He was fond of her, but as far as he was concerned, it stopped there. In all honesty, it had to. The waiter had brought their wine and was ready for their orders while she was gone, so Sinclaire did get to surprise her, anyway.
For himself he ordered tagliatelle bolognese, and for her, carne de vitello. He knew that was one of her favorites, so he was sure he made the right choice. Though....he had to wonder if he could find something like they had without having to pay for it. At the same time...he wasn't sure he could open himself up to that level of trust. And, he liked that she was the only one he opened up to, for some reason. She was his safe place, and the fact that money changed hands made him feel more secure in this.
He shook any thoughts out of his head as he saw her coming back to the table, and he smiled softly, genuinely...
Sinclaire gave a simple nod at her words; he knew that their relationship wasn't really. Sure, it was obvious she had some connection to him, which was why he got the special treatment that he did. But he knew that neither of them really showed emotion; feelings were dangerous in both of their lines of work. But, their professional relationship, if one would call it that, did work. And that was enough for him.
"Yeah; I've grown quite fond of these," he said matter-of-factly. Then, he nodded at the other part of her statement; he couldn't tell her much, but he did at least let her know the basics, like when he thought he'd be back, how dangerous he thought it'd be, and the like.
He smiled, nodding again. "That we do," he murmured with a slight wink.
He couldn't help but smile at the kiss; it was her greeting for him, and since he couldn't even feel it, it somewhat meant more that way. He saw the frown, which only confirmed that she was at least as fond of these dates as he was. He knew this was her job, but after five years, he noticed certain things she did that others probably didn't get. Such as her canceling a date last minute to make room for him. And the frown, though it was quickly covered by a smile...he was going to miss these dates. Not that he had feelings for her; this was just his way to unwind. His way to feel remotely human.
"I'm not at liberty to discuss it, and I'm not sure. Maybe several months or so. Maybe I'll be able to come back from time to time and visit," he said. He'd never disclosed his actual job to her, but that was for the best. Though, she did know more about his overall life than any other living being on the planet.
"I'd say two," he answered with a smirk. "Like you said, we might as well have fun. Make it something worth remembering. Or not remembering, whatever the case may be."
By this time, Sinclair knew what she went through to get him a date like this; he didn't do it often, but the mutant was full aware that he had special...privileges as one of her long-time clients. She showed up in his favorite dress, as usual, and it made him grin, though he felt the slightest tug at his emotions. Those, he hated, but it was something he'd deal with; after all, he'd grown accustomed to seeing her once a month, sometimes more if he was given a particularly long assignment. For him, it wasn't about the sex; sure, every now and then they would, but most of the time he just took her out on a nice dinner, then they went back to a hotel somewhere and talked or something like that. She was sort of his window into another life. He could never 'be' normal, but about once a month, he got pretty damn close.
She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, and even though it did nothing for him, he smiled. "Hey. You can say that. I've got something to talk to you about," he said simply before taking her arm and leading her inside. They were seated fairly quickly; this was a nice Italian restaurant, and one of a few places where they came regularly. As he glanced at his menu, he looked over at her.
"You know I don't give too much information about my job, but...I'm being reassigned. This is likely going to be our last date for a little while," he said sadly.
Sinclaire had retrieved his orders; he was to be stationed on the other side of the rip. And that meant there was one thing he had to do before he left. He pulled out his phone, and made a call.
"Isabella, if you've got an opening, I need a date," was all he'd said. With her, that's all he needed to say. He'd gotten his favorite suit, a solid black number with a silken red shirt and a black tie, and he'd made reservations at the nice Italian restaurant in town. Dates with Isabella were expensive, but he didn't mind. After all, she was who he had.
He'd been seeing her for five years, so she never knew his days before SUPER, but there were times when he wasn't all about work. In fact, there was a side of him that only she saw. The side of him that liked to talk, the side of him that liked fancy food and dressing nice. The side of him that....was a person. She never saw the side of him that took pleasure in the killing, in the rush of battle, and if he had his way, she never would.
Tonight, Sinclaire wasn't a shoulder. He stood right outside the restaurant, against a light-post, like he always did when they went here. Though it kind of pained him that this would be the last time.
He had to admit, her interest in him was rather intriguing. Most of his fellow soldiers and agents tended to keep their distance, but she was asking all the questions that no one else had the nerve to ask. So, he didn't mind answering them, but he did answer them in a hushed enough tone that anyone else would have to earn the answers themselves. No need in letting others benefit from her curiosity, after all.
And boy did she ask the bold questions. He thought about it for a moment, never once breaking eye contact. "Honestly? The people in this room are my kind now," he said bluntly, before elaborating. "After I graduated high school, I gave my life to the government. After ten years, SUPER took over the payments." His eyes sort of glanced to his shocked colleagues, though he still kept his voice rather low, just to keep them guessing.
"I can tell you first hand how dangerous mutants are. Someone needs to put a cap on that, make the world safe. Let's say I wasn't the patriotic soldier that I am today, and decided to choose a life of crime instead, and let's say you're the cop tasked to bring me in. I look normal, just in great shape. You'd never guess that I can't feel. What I do, is for the greater good. And if other mutants have to hate me so those who weren't blessed with my kind of gift don't have to live their lives in fear, then I'm okay with that."
Sinclaire chuckled a little; Sabine was someone he could stand to be around for a little while. Their views were similar, and they both understood their place in the works, unlike most of the wastes-of-space in this room. However, she asked a rather personal question, and he had to ponder a moment. He didn't mind her knowing where he came from, but to the eavesdroppers in the room....well, quite frankly Iota-eight was none of their business.
"I joined the army fresh out of high school. Not long after basic training, higher ups got wind of my skill--and my ability, and I was recruited into an experimental Special Ops Task force known as MIST. After ten years in the military, SUPER decided to snatch me up, and I've been here about...eight years now." He spoke quietly, so that anyone that wasn't the target of his conversation would have to work for this information. Not that getting too close was advised. In fact that would likely be a dumb move.
He lay on the grass, somewhat enjoying the view as she checked herself for damage. She stood, throwing a roll of bandages on his chest. He took it, rolling up his sleeve and bandaging the arm as his breath came out a little more labored than earlier. They had exerted a lot of energy after all. "I see four," he said with a shrug as he finished, sort of looking himself over briefly. "I know; I took a bullet, but I can finish this out. I make a habit of getting a thorough check after each mission," he said, smirking a little.
"Or is that an offer to give my examination later?" Sure, the look she gave him was less than amused by the big guy's style, but he wasn't going to pass up another opportunity to flirt. Hell, what's the worst that could happen? He was already failing, so he may as well just dig that hole as deep as he could while possible, right? He did have to admit, it was kind of enjoyable.
"Sometimes, strength helps you power through your weaknesses. But like I said, in my case I get thorough examinations in case I miss something. No pain means I can push through things normal people can't. And besides, when my time finally does come, at least I know I won't feel a thing." He tossed the bandage back to her once he'd finished.
"Alright then. You take the reigns. How do you wanna do this ****?"
The knife hadn't done anything against the jacket. It didn't take long to see why SUPER had taken an interest in her. Though most of her power was lost on him; since he wasn't actually feeling her assault, he wasn't even aware of it.
"If you should be so lucky," he said with a smirk in regards to the-come on comment. He was on top of her, giving him even more of an advantage than he already had. But he didn't want to hurt her. That wasn't the directive here, he gathered. She seemed to be of far more value alive, otherwise she'd have likely been dead already. Or at least unable to escape the way she had. But...that itself was an interesting conundrum.
What he attempted to do, was wrap his arms around her in a bear hug, effectively restraining her so he could pick her up and carry her back to...wherever the hell it was he needed to take her. That was his goal, anyway.
He nodded as she spoke, his arms folded across his chest. "I see. I never really paid much mind to defense, then again life blessed me to where defense isn't as necessary," he said with a slight shrug as he watched her. "I'm trained in kickboxing, so I can help you fill in the gaps there. In fact, if we can mix that with your akido, you'd be a force to be reckoned with."
He moved so he was standing in front of a bag next to her, demonstrating with a few mixed punches, occasionally following through with an elbow. Then, he stood back and landed a few kicks on the bag, then stepped back. "See? You want to mix it up to keep the opponent on their toes, but sometimes it's also smart to target certain limbs or areas to wear your opponent down. Especially if you know their style. If they're quick on their feet, that's no good if you take out a leg. Though you can never go wrong attacking the midsection. And never give a full-on punch to the face. Easy way to break your hand. If you want to hit the face, use a palm, he demonstrated, "Or an elbow," he demonstrated again.
"Or if you're flexible enough--and I'm not--you can always do some good with a well placed kick." He paused a moment. "As you perfect the technique, confidence comes. But you need both of those to be effective."
He'd finished his business with his own fight, then turned to see Lenna running again; poor girl seemed to be in over her head this time. She called his name, and he was on the way. But then one of his grenades jumped off of his belt and into her hand. Then, everything was a blur. The next thing he knew, he was sailing through the air, in her arms as the grenade did the hard work for them.
Okay, so maybe she did know what she was doing. The whirlpool even did them a favor and kept everything contained. He didn't make a sound as they hit, though his head conking against the hard-packed dirt and grass was pretty audible to someone as close as she was.
He smirked as he looked up at her; it was rather...interesting...how they'd landed. But truth be told they had no time for that right now. "Damn straight it was...good thinking with the grenade," he complimented. "Though...as much as I could get used to this, we've still got one more phase to this. Still for making a giant frag-bomb out of that compound?" he asked.
Though, he didn't move. Not yet. His arm was bleeding, and though he couldn't feel pain, or soreness, or sadly even the smaller woman's body sprawled on top of him, he was 'feeling' a little...slower. It was an odd sensation that wasn't really a sensation, but he was tired. Not exhausted; he still had plenty of gas in the tank. But the adrenaline was starting to wear off and he was going need to unwind once they got back on friendly grounds.
