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.
>>"What did I tell you about taking pictures?!" Sveta wheeled on the original copy of the guy, glaring at the camera. At least she had a specific direction for her anger now "Seriously, did they even train you, or did they just send you on the field as a joke?"
“Could you explain what you mean by that?” Linc carried the camera away from his face and raised his eyebrows at the female.
“We’re still fighting. I can’t believe we’re still fighting.” The one clone picked himself up off the ground and wiped the slobber off his jaw. He wrapped an arm around his waist and got up from the ground, hesitant but determined to be a part of the conversation.
“I'm still mad as s***.” The irate clone cracked his knuckles together and rubbed his face. He stepped toward the woman, head cocked to the side. “This ain’t a time to play photographer!”
“Linc, stop.” The fearful clone reached out to the irate one again, this time keeping a few footsteps away.
Linc flinched at hearing his own name. So did the angry clone.
“Let her explain before anyone else gets hurt.”
“Like hell… Her baby face is sof***ing annoying. She has ten seconds to explain her f***ing idiocy and paranoia.”
Linc lifted himself from his knees and gave a blank stare towards the blonde female.
“I don’t exactly know how we got to this point, but I speak on behalf of myself here. Why did you punch me?”
This wasn't well thought out, was it? Linc breathed with labored breaths as he slowed down and waited for the street sign to give him permission to cross. Great. He thought to himself as he tapped his foot against the ground. He lost them.
"Ma purse is gone. Can't stop now!" The woman, with squeaking leather boots and matching coat, walked to the edge of the street. Linc shoved the bass case in front of her and pushed back against her stomach.
"You can't just walk out into traffic! Ma'am, don't be rash."
"That's a $5000 dollar purse! Don't touch me with that." She growled, but Linc held his ground.
"Your life is worth more than that purse." He kept the bass in front of her. The wind of the speeding cars blew her hair against her face. She paused, taken aback by the comment, but unlike the previous times, she didn't bark back at him.
"He's probably headed to the Subway station. Security should stop him there, if my friend hasn't done so yet."
Men in uniform stood in front of the entrance to the subway. D*** it. D*** it all. The thief stopped in his tracks and turned back around. This can't be happening.
"At least that f***ckin mutt isn't-" he was cut short by the sound of gasping, as the crowd behind him started parting. [/i]That had to be that dog.[/i] The blood curdled in his legs, turning into a thick mush that froze him like a statue. He brought a communicator to his ear with his other hand, spitting directions into the person at the other end.
"Mickey. They caught me. I know, I know. Just get your a** up here! This is the last f***ing time you get my help."
As a last resort, he rummaged through the purse and pocketed a small black box, before holding the black leather in front of him, waiting til he spotted the dog's glistening teeth.
Linc stood up, pumping as much energy as he could into his tired limbs, and opened his camera case. They were fighting because of this camera. He had to stop it, somehow, even if his arms swung like hollow pipes.
"He's still kicking!" The other clone called out. He gave out a groan when he took an elbow to his stomach, his grip loosening on the other clone's neck.
>>"What the hell is wrong with you people?..."
"You f***ing touched my face. You're gonna get it." He rubbed his sore neck and shot a glare at the female with his crooked brow and bare teeth.
Linc flipped open the camera case and observed the insides. The black plastic of the machine had its dull sheen, and it was flattened. Dented. But not entirely broken. His camera shouldn't even need repair. This incident shouldn't have caused him to split at all. So, why did it? Did it have to do with the surge of energy he felt after that woman punched him?
Wait. This opportunity is perfect. Linc thought to himself, as he took out the camera and let the shutter loose. A flash lit up the street and caused his clone to pause, mid-lunge.
"Wait? It's not broken?" His clone turned around, his face still fuming but his eyebrows raised in confusion.
Linc took another photo, this time making sure to have both clones and the female in his picture. Another collection to his mutant album, this time featuring Me, Myself and I.
"Sorry, pup." The thief laughed like a maniac. Seeing that he wasn't fast enough on his feet with the canine slobbering at his heels, he sprung on top of the nearby parked car, and leaped across the street. Sirens alarmed and people screamed. He then continued to run, purse still clutched to his chest. He sprinted down a couple of blocks away, aiming for a busy intersection. The fast lanes of cars failed to make him flinch, as he vaulted his weight over three lanes of traffic, to a center divide, and again, to the other side, landing softly, unscathed.
Linc was finding it harder to keep up, resorting to asking strangers if they had seen a dog run in a certain direction.
"That way? Thanks, ma'am." A couple more yes sirs and yes ma'ams, and he hoped his pal had found a way to stop the criminal. He had passed a few burger shops already, and by now he could have settled for any of them. His legs ached with the added weight he had to carry, but he had been feeling pretty good the past few leg days, that running this much was only slightly tedious.
"Now, where did they go? This shouldn't be so hard."
Linc's stomach wasn't the only canine. He had to squint again in the dim streetlight, to see the gruff, quadruped that leaped over his head. A pair of solid boxer briefs, drifted through the wind and smacked Linc in the face.
Two mutants? In the same day? Link threw himself to his feet, and reached for the phone in his pocket. That shapeshifting mutant was going to be his next instagram post. The thief and his puppy pal raced ahead of him, faster than sliding into someone's DM's. The victim of the theft also trailed behind, screeching at the top of her heavy lungs.
"Wait up!", Linc called out as he hopped back on his two feet and ran a few steps after the two that left him in the dust. Then he paused, swiveled back and picked up the guy's bass, gym bag, and the clothes he shed. Even the Haynes. He'll need these.
With the crowd in awe of the chase, Linc could track where they were headed, though he was quickly falling behind. The bags that pulled on his body and his growling stomach weighed him down, not helping his situation at all.
The thief continued to sprint through the streets, his heart rate still steady but he no longer held his breaths. He was almost to the subway, there he could disappear. He laughed a pre-victory laugh that shook his shoulders, and he took a quick glance back to revel in the success of his escapade. Then he noticed something furry making its way through the crowds, speeding toward his heels.
"K9 forces? How'd the cops catch up?" He began to sweat beads. His eyes looked up, searching for any outcroppings he could latch onto. Seeing none, he powered more energy into his heels. There's no way i'm losing to a dog. His dark, silk scarf trailed behind him.
"Move outta the way!", he yelled at the pedestrians in his path. He was bookin' it. Power to the max!
>>"You go high, I go low,", he said with a face that meant business. The dude was confident.
And, the dude was quick. With the way he tossed his items aside with little hesitation, he had to be some pro-fighter. Linc nodded his head at the blond with a surge of respect. Not many people were as compelled to act, nowadays. Technology did a serious toll on the average human's reflexes. Linc's muscles relaxed slightly, knowing he had a capable partner.
>>"Okay....now," the guy gave the signal, and as he aimed for the legs, Linc waited to spring at the man's torso, arms forward, ready to grab him and slam him against the wall.
The thief came closer, and realizing what was happening, threw them a short, cocky laugh. The thief, robed in black, saw them preparing their assault and readied himself to spring. Just as his pal aimed for the thief's legs, the thief jumped up and used his shoulder as a stepping stone to leap into the air, smooth as a missile. Linc craned his head above his head, squinting. Was he seeing this right?
"Mutant thief?" Linc said, unbelieving. He heard his partner's grunts as he fell to the ground, but he had no time to help him out. He watched the thief sail over their heads. As he turned around to chase after the thief, his feet stumbled over something black. The sticky sidewalk smacked against Linc's hands as he floundered and fell, catching himself right before his face hit the concrete. He had tripped over his pal's bass. Crap
"Run! Get 'im! Get up! He runnin' away!" The female from before screamed her head off in frustration.
The guy was opening up, and he got his directions. Linc checked his watch. The glow of the alley light forced him to squint, but he didn't really care about what time it was. He and Rainee had requested permission to set-up shop in the office for the night. He didn't live far, but didn't want to take his editing assignments home with him, and he didn't have too much to do. If he returned to Rainee in fifteen minutes or fifty, it wouldn't make that much of a difference. Being cramped up in that room with her tempted him to take his work home, but he'd follow through with his original decision.
>>"Coming from practice, actually," the guy murmured. "And I've learned I don't necessarily have to look for trouble, it just sort of....shows up, in this city."
The dude was right. Linc took a glance left, and a glance right as he spoke, a habit he had acquired and utilized on nights like these.
>>"Let's see...I think if you walk about eight blocks in the direction you're going, then hand a right for about....four blocks, then left for three more, that should take you there," he said thoughtfully.
A faint scream could be heard in the background. Amidst the general street noise, Linc dismissed it another sound of the city life, like a sniffle during the flu season.
"That's far. You wouldn't happen to have any other burger recommendations, do you? McD's and Burger King don't count." Linc said, scratching the back of his neck. The scream sounded again, this time the voice was close enough to discern the plea.
"He took ma purse! Ma purse! He tookit!" A man sprinted down the alley, headed in their direction. His face was covered, and he was giving a good hustle, ready to barge past Linc and his new acquaintance. A bad person, common as a street rat, headed their way? Not unheard of, but also not expected. Linc's instincts kicked in and he took on a defensive stance, aiming to block off the incoming crook's advance.
Then he looked to his partner, who seemed like a guy with some fight in him. There were two of them, and one thief. This should be easy.
Linc grunted, and picked his sore self off the ground. He just did the one thing he spent his last few years of living avoiding, and he didn't know how to feel. He could not feel a thing. Maybe it was the cold, or the shake of his fall, but all the emotion in his chest was flushed out of him. He almost didn't care about what just happened, and hobbled forward, knowing that logically, he was supposed to prevent something bad from happening, but somewhere along the link from his brain to his heart, was a short fuse. There was no point in fighting over the camera. No point, but his clones seemed to disagree.
The woman had just backed up from his clone's clumsy attempt at knocking her down, and he responded with an irritated grunt.
>> "I am not going back to SUPER. And you are not taking any pictures back either."
"You just punched me in the face! What f***ing nonsense are you saying, right now?" The angry clone wound a fist back, and took steps forward, seething as he paused. Before he could throw the punch, Linc's other clone reached out and pulled his elbow back, and shoved him to the side, knocking him off balance. As soon as he did so, he placed his hands on his cheeks and whimpered.
"I can't let you fight her. Can't you see this is our fault?" The clone put up a brave face, shivering as he stood in between the one wrapped in rage and the woman.
"You scaredy-a** f***er! Always getting in my way, pushing me aside. Stop suppressing me and let me do you a favor for once! We could easily take her out if you stopped being against me!" The clone threw himself at the other, hands ready to strangle. Despite the trepidation in the other clone's stance, he diverted the oncoming attack and swung around to the clone's back, locking him in a chokehold.
He turned to the female and he pleaded with a crack in his voice, "Knock him out. Quick. Help me out here!"
Linc stood, watching, knowing not what to do. He fell to his knees in defeat.
Central Park sat a few blocks away from his apartment complex. The view from his balcony hovered over the park's brilliance on the twenty-fourth floor, a floor that was high enough for Linc to risk his life if he were to topple over his balcony fence. With his camera stowed away, and the new photos he had taken tucked away in its memory, Linc envisioned himself sitting at the edge of peril, savoring a hot cup of chamomile tea, editing the pictures to his standard of perfection. The day was still young, and high with the adolescent energy of noontime. A trip to the nearest Deli for lunch was also an option he balanced on his shoe-tips. He had only to swing his foot to the right to change his mind and direction.
Linc received a swing to the face instead.
He heard the pop of his jaw, a nice clean pop that a champagne bottle would envy. The light of the soft sky flickered. The straight-on collision left him with a split second to react, and he swung his bags to his side, so that he wouldn't topple on his equipment. Holding his left hand out to catch his fall, his palm fell straight onto a patch of ice that yanked stability from underneath him. A loud crack resounded once he hit the ground.
Shaking off the faint soreness that covered his underside, Linc pushed himself up quick. The cracking sound wasn't made by ice. The case of his favorite camera lay crushed underneath his throbbing pelvis. Linc's world froze.
"No... No. No. No. Nooo!" He slid the camera case from under his side and a burning sensation started within his chest. The punch, when it landed, should've knocked some wind out of him, but instead a swirling cyclone of energy rose in his chest and spread throughout his limbs.
Stay calm, Linc. He closed his eyes, shutting the world out and keeping the darkness in. Remember to stay, calm. The energy built up inside his chest. A scream coiled within itself, squeezing tightly in his throat. Dread flooded his temples. Anger welled up in his torso.
Don't lose yourself. Stay cal- A sharp, stabbing pain pierced his back and the energy built up inside of him popped. A searing feeling spread along his spine, like a branding iron streaking against his vertebrae. He felt an unmistakable sensation return that he hadn't felt for years now, a sensation he had been avoiding for years.
"F*** your calm!", one voice boomed.
"Nooo! Don't!" A second voice, both identical in pitch and in tenor. They called out from behind him, voices shot out of mouths that weren't on his face. Linc looked up to see a back just like his get up off the ground and aim a low sweep at their assaulter's legs.
"You b****!"
"Stop, don't hurt her. Stop it, you idiot!"
They're back... They're... Back. His thoughts grew dull with the repetition of the hollow phrase. They're back.
The park was so white, a drop of blood would stand out in the snowfall. The silent wind tossed about falling ice crystals. The glistening snow rivaled the sheen of diamonds. The white powder sprinkled upon the grass and pavements, topped the fences that marched around the paths, and settled snug into the hugs of the branches high above woolen-capped heads.
Picture perfect. Linc bathed in that thought. The snapshot sounds of his camera ricocheted off the shivering barks of trees as his lens focused on capturing the powdered scene within the confines of the little machine. He lugged a backpack that weighed on his shoulders, packed with his photoshoot tools. A senior from the nearby high school, with jet black hair, a lisp when he spoke, and a slouched way of walking, had just finished his senior photo session with Linc. The kid insisted on having the photoshoot where the snow was freshly falling, so Linc came with his snug, obsidian jacket, and took photo after photo of the kid, looking like a walking, lump of coal in a sea of white.
The kid was long gone, the tip of his nose red from the cold, and the couple dollars of his measly tip, frostbitten like his ungloved hands.
All Linc wanted to do now was feel the cold wind filter through his lungs, and hear the cold snapshots of his camera picture the serene view of Central Park. Me-time, he called it. Time to wander through the ebb and flow of the crowds who came to take selfies of the same gorgeous scene.
Today he was feeling ambitious, and began taking photos of anything red he could find; the twin-knit crimson scarves a couple had been wearing, the scarlet, glittering shoes of a toddler, and even the cherry earrings of a elderly woman with snowy hair to match. What would finish his collection, would be anyone who strolled down the paths with a bright, sanguine coat. All a person had to do was walk down the middle of the lane he waited at, so the picture could gravitate towards the flaming red of their attire. Just like a drop of blood staining the blanket of white.
Bad things happened in the city. Bad people existed in the city. Overall bad existed in the city, but Linc saw the way the guy tensed, holding the instrument closer to his torso like a child its teddy bear. Or a father, his child. This guy wasn't bad. At least, not the way he saw it.
>>"I was leaning in the alley," he had said. Linc shrugged, seeing past his words. The dude wasn't having a great day. Many not-so-great days happened to most of the city dwellers. A not-so-great day was happening to him at this very moment. That's why he was going to get a burger. A burger never failed lifted up a person's spirits, that is, if it was a true, straight-from-the-cow, couldn't deny it burger.
"I'm not tryna start anything. You're probably headed somewhere to play epic music. Didn't want you to be mixed up with a crook, when all you were tryna do was be a musician." He said, with his hands in the air. Showing another person your palms was a way to show them you weren't armed with anything that could cause them harm. He had read that on a blog post.
"Now that I've stopped you. Wasn't my intention originally, bro. But say, you know where Joe Jr's is? The burger shop? Realized I didn't know how to get to it from here. Never walked to it from work before, now that I think about it." Linc leaned in forward, to close off the distance and not seem so foreign. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes people's personal bubbles were larger and easier to burst. Linc put on a smile, with quarter-teeth showing to show he wasn't a bad person himself, as far as the other guy knew.
Where are you, Joe Jr? Linc almost made himself laugh at his own joke. Then again, he didn't remember the last time he laughed. Nor did he remember the last time he heard a good joke. Humor was something he missed sorely, but the ache of his sides splitting was a memory faded, and nearly forgotten. Nearly. Linc's memory of humor was still alive enough for him to realize when something wasn't funny.
Linc continued down the street, his sneakers sticking to the sidewalks. Sidewalks shouldn't be sticky. They weren't sticky back in Ohio, but here in New York, the sidewalks were special. Gum, spit, the glue of someone's weave, it all stuck to the streets. The sidewalks were no exception, and sometimes it wasn't just his sneakers that got stuck, but full grown people. These New York sidewalks were difficult to traverse.
>>"****, sorry about that,"
Linc was unlucky enough to bump into a poor chap, who may have been caught by the sidewalk he himself was trying to cross. In terms of jokes, the sidewalk could have been funny, but a random guy bumping into him, on his search for Joe Jr? Definitely not joke-worthy.
"Pardon bro, but sidewalks are made for walking. Don't lean, please. That instrument could kill."
Linc stopped to let the guy pass, hoping his comment was good enough for the gentleman. Who knows, he could have saved the next person from not being hit by something unfunny.
