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 Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
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.
It was interesting having straight friends. Sveta was not a "token" straight by any means; Zselyke had associations and friendships with plenty of people in her political sphere ranging from debatably to unfortunately straight. Zselyke made sure to pick a club where Sveta could appreciate some eye candy, but there would still be half-naked women around and how straight women reacted to that revealed a lot about their comfort zones and lived experiences. It was also entertaining.
Sveta had every opportunity to ask Zselyke for details. She put her foot down and told Sveta they were having a night on the town. They would take in a show, appreciate the New York nightlife, and Sveta had to be mentally prepared to experience new things with an open mind. All the dots were there, but Sveta was too tired to put them together.
Zselyke touched up her lipstick in a pocket mirror, not that it would matter all that much in the lowlight of a club. "First of all, male politicians go to strip clubs all the time and do a lot worse than I intend to do tonight. I will not be shamed for my sexuality in the face of a double standard." That said, she did still confirm Hexes and Hos had a policy against photography in the club to limit the possible backlash. "If this blows back on me, I'll absolutely get on my pedestal about heteronormativity and giving men free passes to indulge in their sexuality."
Zselyke tilted her champagne flute toward Sveta. "It'll be a harmless night. We'll enjoy some excellent drinks and hors d'oeuvres, be thoroughly impressed by some very sexy pole dancers, and... yep, absolutely no other plans. No other surprises for you to worry about," she lied. Like a liar. She raised her flute for a toast as the car arrived. "So here's one chance to back out. But I'll remind you that you've been in a rut and deserve to spend a night unabashedly ogling pretty people who have enthusiastically consented to be ogled. So what do you say; shall we?"
Being a politician in America was exhausting. Not that Zselyke worked harder than anyone else; she did not, but it was draining to constantly run your head into a wall of bureaucracy and bad faith arguments from spineless men trying to appeal to their wingnuttiest of their right-wing base. The only silver lining to her endless petitioning and backroom dealing over the past months came from the organization backing her in the background. Zselyke was as good at negotiating as any politician, but Haven's research team made sure she was equipped for every meeting with a few silver bullets in her holster.
Sveta had held up her end of the bargain and Zselyke was doing her part by championing efforts that would benefit mutantkind and Haven-favored initiatives. There were initial concerns over spending too much time publicly involved with one another, but politicians in America were constantly courting the attention of corporation owners and special interest leaders. If her colleagues could speak at events for the gun lobby, she could take Sveta out to a business dinner.
Or, more realistically, swing by Sveta's high-rise apartment for beers and Binge. Sveta, her amazing colleague, was in a rut. She had the Haven workload on her plate after the founder went on an extended hiatus, but that was compounded by a dating drought Zselyke was politely not saying anything about. Through their conversations, it was clear Sveta had a... track record with men. Sveta would call it a curse and Zselyke would call it being into men, which was a curse she was unfortunately also burdened with some days.
Wanting to believe they were becoming friends, Zselyke decided a good friend would push Sveta out of her comfort zone. Tonight... well, she was definitely going to do that. "Okay, I want you to remember that this is going to be fun. I had my assistant call ahead; this place is big on discretion, has entertainers of multiple genders, and I carefully finagled a request for possible mutant staff to give us space without making us sound like bigots." Zselyke kept her explanation vague, but the owner seemed understanding when she explained that someone in their party had an adverse effect on mutants.
"You need to do something exciting and sexy, which does not mean a movie with handsome shirtless men." Not that she would typically oppose those films, but Sveta's situation called for extreme measures-- that she somehow agreed to, against better judgement. "Plus, come on; it's a witchy-themed strip club. How could we have not fun?"
If college Zselyke could see her future self giving life advice, she would have called bullshit. Those formative years were a messy point in her life. It took her longer than her peers to find direction, and her decision making was questionable at best. (With how she got roped into joining Haven, maybe some things did not change as much as she assumed.)
The circumstances were different, but Zselyke felt kinship with a young woman looking for a purpose and feeling lost along the way.
Quin’s question was existential, whether or not she intended it that way. When Zselyke thought about her passions, some related to her job, but her work was not her passion. ”That’s evolved a lot, honestly.” The politician rested her hands behind her head, thinking back to college.
She smirked. ”After things with that girl I was smitten with tanked tremendously, I drifted for a bit. I finally decided to be passionate about life. I just wanted to focus on experiences. That led to getting passionate about people. Knowing people,” she clarified. Passions and people could go different directions, and while they did in college, she wanted to stay productive. ”Understanding how people lived and what they loved. The way life was less fair for some.”
That was what led her into student government and law. ”That’s basically when I started picking fights. Racial rights, queer rights, mutant rights. I got hooked on being a person who fought to make things better.” Zselyke laughed, realizing she was monologuing. How typical. ”But in the interest of not talking your ear off with a speech, add almost two decades and you end up with a Junior Senator. Who still picks fights, of course.” Legal fights. Mostly.
The bar patrons seemed willing to believe the special effects they saw were the result of the bar’s special mutant magic. Still, Svetlana knew about Zselyke’s gift now; no putting that egg back in the basket. Given her profession, Zselyke kept knowledge of her mutation to people she trusted.
Svetlana was starting to earn that kind of trust. ”Oh, I doubt anyone would dare silence you, Miss Sergeyeva.” Nope, those days were in the past. The two strong women from Eastern Europe were going to make themselves known.
Through her slightly slurred, more accented speech, she smirked. ”It sounds like secret keeping is about to become a big part of this partnership.” When two people knew a secret, you accepted mutually assured destruction. (Or, you know, you killed the other person, but she doubted Svetlana would hire an assassin for her own shiny new asset.)
”Now I don’t know about you, but I’m craving a McGreasy Burger.” She looked back over her cute but monochrome friend. ”Though… maybe we should go to your place and just order it with Epic Treats.”
The music faded away, leaving two out-of-breath women reveling in the afterglow of a splendid performance and a productive negotiation. Zselyke should have been more careful with her powers, but the patrons seemed unfazed by the display. Clearly, they were used to the musical elements, so no one thought much of the illusions adding to the show.
If they were going to question it, they could go screw. Zselyke was feeling great! She was making political moves, she felt closer to a potential friend, and she was drunk as a skunk! Those shots certainly were not props.
They settled back down, and as onlookers returned to their own conversations and the illusions faded around them, Svetlana used her powers of observation and her common sense. "Yes," she answered quietly, not wanting to advertise her powers too vocally. "I siphon color around me and I can make illusions with them. I normally consume in moderation but..."
She tapped Svetlana's cheek, sucking away some of the remaining blush. "It seems like someone may have been offering more than a morale boost out there," she teased. "Though if it's any consolation, you would have been the most stunning starlet of the black and white era. Your color should be back by morning, assuming I keep my hands off of you."
It was not easy carving a new path for yourself amidst the pressure of expectations. Parents were bad enough without dealing with your own legacy. If Zselyke was meant to do her part to help Haven grow, in a small way, helping Quin work past her own expectations fit the bill. She could relate to that initial motivation; making an educational decision based on staying close to someone. "I went to college in America because I was smitten, so jumping into a Calculus class doesn't seem like much of a stretch."
At her core, it sounded like Quin was motivated to help. The old her was a cop, (hopefully a just one,) and before her de-aging, she wanted to protect the world. She was not motivated by money or fame or status, all of which were draws for some students of law. It was an idealist's answer, and while Zselyke was too jaded and experienced to be a true idealist, she remembered what that was like once upon a time. "I think I understand where you're coming from. I was aimless early in my college years-- that's what happens when your choice to chase a girl to another country goes wrong." It was funny to think now how that impulsive decision and the equally impulsive decision for that girlfriend to cheat on her set her down this path.
"Still, I got my feet under me, I found the causes I was passionate about. That desire to help people got me to where I am now. Well, that, a ton of work, and a knack for public speaking." Passion was just one tool in a politician's arsenal.
The de-aging epidemic was a touchy subject, particularly with those whose lives were displaced by it. Zselyke tried to picture how she would feel in their shoes, waking up, potentially in a different country in a position of power and a career she never imagined for herself. So much to live up to, so many life choices to question. The feeling that she was suddenly set back and had to catch up with the world around her.
Hopefully, Haven could help with that. Not everyone had that opportunity, but this frustrated young redhead did.
"You don't need it, but you took it both times." Zselyke smiled warmly, gesturing toward the seat as a request to sit and join her. "Sounds like either an overachiever or a masochist. Sadly, I'd be more likely to help with your law work than math. At least that has overlap with Poli-Sci." Zselyke knew people like that; taking classes they did not need to prove they could. Maybe Quin had something to prove.
As far as Americans went, for a first attempt, Quin did well to repeat her name. The effort was appreciated. "Nice to meet you, Quin. And you're not rude, you're pre-occupied. I'm debatable rude, interrupting your studying," she joked. Zselyke was a firm believer in not apologizing when something did not warrant it. She considered it a habit worth breaking.
Zselyke folded her arms and crossed one leg over the other, leaning in curiously. "So assuming I care more about what this Quin ends up being than some cop Quin I didn't know..." and she did, because that last Quin was not the one she was meeting, and based on Quin's tone, she had some thoughts on her older self. "Law is a big field. Any particular paths a young woman like yourself has an eye on?" You have new opportunities and a fresh start; what do you do with it?
Sveta might have been the begrudging face of Haven lately, but her presence made boring political evenings much more tolerable for Zselyke. Having ten free passes to drag her along was not as serious a part of the bartering, but it was a nice cherry on top.
Despite her hesitance, Sveta agreed on one condition. Smirking, Zselyke slapped her debit card down on the bar and accepted a handshake, draining most of Sveta’s remaining color away. In contrast, Zselyke was filled to the brim with vibrant color she needed to release. Thankfully, the music kicked back into action.
They jumped back in, singing together, punctuating lines and sometimes words by alternating shots. This was reckless; they would definitely feel this in the morning. That was fine; they would own the night.
Turning away from the bar with nary a wobble (just yet,) Zselyke exhaled her biochromatic breath, unfurling an illusionary red carpet for the pair to follow.
”So if you do like I do—so if you do like me!” ”Forget the cage ‘cause we know how to make the key. Oh! Damn! Suddenly We’re free to fly! We’re going to the other side!”
They danced along the path toward the billiard room in the back, giving them the room to cut loose. Sveta was going to need two hours to regain her color anyway, so Zselyke took her hand and they twirled one another, even dipping to the music.
”So if you do like I do,” ”To the other side,” ”So if you do like me,” ”Going to the other side,”
With one final burst of breath, the back wall of the bar transformed into the sight of the ascending White House steps. If you were going to aim high, might as well aim the highest.
”We’re going to the other side!”
The number ended with the women clasped at the hand, raising their arms with an exhausted flourish to the applause of the handful of patrons who got to enjoy the display.
“Damn, Mel, your production value’s gone up,” an older woman said.
“Yeah… something like that,” she mumbled, smirking at the colorful Senator and her black-and-white co-conspirator.
Haven was such an interesting blend of people. There were business-minded individuals like the founder, (wherever he ran off to,) political assets, organizational fixtures. The group had plenty of age and experience and knowledge.
It also had youth and potential. The room was being used by a pretty young redhead, (who was definitely way too young for Zselyke to entertain thoughts of,) doing her best to focus on very boring homework. She could be a runaway taken in; they were literally a haven, after all. Zselyke also wondered if she was part of Haven’s effort to bring up young talent to further its future.
The disappointed explanation shed more light than Zselyke could have hoped for. She passed the first time. Implying this was a re-do at a very young age. She smiled warmly, walking toward the other side of this young woman’s table. ”Ah, you’re one of the age-displaced. I’m sorry to hear that.” She felt the plight of these people whose lives were upended. She also felt frustrated that there were enough voices arguing about “misusing tax-payer dollars” and “pulling themselves up by their bootstraps” that she struggled to pass as much legislative support for them as she wanted.
”Well, a transcript shows you results. It doesn’t show you effort. Maybe your past self hit this wall too, but you were too stubborn and clever a young woman to let it stop you,” she proposed, leaning on the back of a chair. ”Or maybe any host of things have changed your perspective now and you realize how dull calculus is.” So said the political science major.
”My name is Zselyke,” She tried to introduce herself clearly, because Americans struggled with her name. At least she was not spelling it. ”What might you be studying that you’re going to need calculus, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Everyone knew in a negotiation, you always started high and gave yourself room to negotiate downward. Even with the political leverage a US Senator could offer to Haven, she was still a new asset and coming in at the highest level of the organization without spending time and earning her place and that trust was unrealistic. She did like the notion of a promotion track. She could not climb to the highest seat of authority in the country, but this could be a new goal for her.
That said, she could not just say yes so easily, right? She smirked, playing hard to get.
Zselyke did not need to say it, but she was sure Svetlana understood that was the number of public events she was allowed to drag the blonde to, assuming she'd agree to the terms as the Senator looked at her expectantly.
The Haven Headquarters was an impressive building, and not one to which Zselyke was a total stranger. When she was running for her most recent re-election bid, she had a meeting with some of Hadden’s political advisors, talking about policies Haven wanted to advocate for and the support they wanted to throw behind her campaign.
Of course, that support was one small part of the grand machine that was Haven, and now the Headquarters held more open doors for the Junior Senator. She could not spend too much of her time in the building; people would accuse her of being in bed with lobbyists, which, yes, fair. Still, she had some time after a meeting and explored some of the facilities Haven was offering to its staff and residents.
That was the unique thing about the Headquarters; it had residents. Zoned for business and residential, a host of offices and facilities were balanced by high-rise apartments for some Haven higher ups, as well as slightly more modest accommodations for some employees, assets, and wards of Haven. Zselyke had a nice apartment of her own, but even she contemplated bugging Sveta about one of those high-floor suites, regardless of what her political opponents might say.
Wandering down a hall, Zselyke noticed a room with the door cracked open. Peeking inside, she was greeted with a open concept workspace. She was sure painstaking time and research was poured into the layout of the space, the ergonomic benefits of the furniture, and the psychological impact of the color palettes. Haven was that kind of organization; no “i” or “t” left undotted or uncrossed, respectively.
Her quiet musing was interrupted when a loud groan made her aware of the one occupant in the space, occupying a work area littered with papers. A young redheaded woman Zselyke did not recognize. ”Is the calculator causing you anguish or is it the papers?” Stepping in past the doorway, she added in her noticeably Hungarian accent, ”Paperwork gets me like that at times.”
Melody was putting in the work, getting shots ready across the bar. It would be an intimidating amount of alcohol if Zselyke was not wholly absorbed in the song and dance she took part in. The show must go on, alcohol poisoning risks be damned.
Despite no exposition, the Senator had an idea of what she was being offered. An Asset became more involved with the backroom dealings of Haven. She would offer information and work toward Haven goals within her sphere of influence. It was a step-up from a passive supporter.
But there was more; she could tell, like the notes of the song were passing along the details without Sveta delving deep into them. If Zselyke was going to be in for a penny, why not be in for a pound?
"I wasn't born this morning, IE would be just fine!"
Zselyke walked away from Svetlana as the Agent of Haven walked toward her, appealing to a sense of wonder and ambition she saw in Zselyke. Maybe it was the copious amounts of shots starting to course through her system, but it was the right appeal. Even as she stepped away, unseen by Svetlana, genuine consideration crossed Zsely's features. She draped her illusionary scarf over her shoulders in time with Sveta's furs.
And the music died, but the song was not over. It was waiting, hinging on her reply. The silence lingered for a few agonizing seconds, with Sveta waiting and Melody keeping a hand on a liquor bottle, preparing for what might come next.
And then her lips cracked into a smirk.
Zsely pivoted on the heel of her foot, marching toward Svetlana with purpose and Melody unsealed the bottle, getting to work.
"Well, it's intriguing but to go would cost me greatly So what's the role I get for the risk that I'll be taking?"
This woman. This bold, clever, troublesome woman Zselyke decided to befriend. They both knew the safe bet was to keep going on her current track. Sure, there was a ceiling for her, but at least she had less of a chance for the floor to fall out from under her.
And yet, knowing all that, Sveta still saw the crack in Zselyke. Sure, she enjoyed what she did, but there was a creeping sense of complacency. She had a limit to what she could do, and deep down, part of her did enjoy skirting the rules.
But she had to keep her head about her, smirking as she grabbed the shot from the top of the piano.
"If I were mixed up with you I'd be the talk of the town Disgraced and disowned, a misfit messing around!"
Sashaying away from the piano, she raised her shot to her lips, but did not knock it back just yet. This one, she sipped down, contemplating this offer and scolding herself for doing so.
After swinging elegantly around a pole, hat back in hand, Zselyke tossed the hat back, letting it flip to a nearby empty table.
"Don't you know that I'm okay with this uptown part I get to play 'Cause I got what I need and I don't want to take the ride I don't need to see the other side!"
Jumping onto one of the barstools, she stepped confidently atop the bar in front of her drinking buddy.
”So go and do like you do I'm good to do like me Ain't in a cage, so I don't need to take the key.”
With each of her pointed words, making it clear that she was just fine playing in her own political playing field, free from the risks Sveta offered, Zselyke danced across the bartop with a click for each footstep.
Committed to making her point, she jumped from the bar to a stool and to the wooden floor with a stomp.
”Oh, damn! Can't you see I'm doing fine I don't need to see the other side!”
And like she was swept up in some wind, she ran in step with Sveta to the nearby piano. It seemed like this discussion was not settled just yet.