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.
It had been two days... two days since she had... er... since she had woken up in a very odd predicament. She hadn't slept since then, too afraid of the incident being repeated, and she hadn't been able to eat a single thing. Everything just didn't taste the same.
Since she'd gotten home she'd tried to pretend like everything was normal. She locked herself in her room at the usual time she'd go to bed, spend all night going something to keep her mind active, like knitting, and then 'wake up' and start the next day like normal. She cooked, cleaned (perhaps a bit more vigorously than normal), but she adamantly refused to go near the meats in the fridge. Just looking at them made her want to hurl.
The second day, mid-afternoon, she was in her room finishing up a sweater she'd started months back, when she felt a prickle of hunger spark to like in her stomach. At first, she felt a flicker of fear, then relief that her system was going back to normal, and then... noticed how unusually delicious her pet tarantula looked.
That thought had her up and out of her room so fast the door swung shut with a resounding bang. The next moment she was in the kitchen, dragged out vegetables and crackers, and dropped them onto the dining-room table. She was going to gorge herself on not-living things until there was no more room left in her stomach, and then maybe go see a shrink.
Three crackers and half a stick of celery in, she felt her stomach lurch and gagged, but managed to hold everything in. Commence the whining.
Smirking as he actually managed to distract her from the pain for a moment, she chuchkled. "Yeah, heard that before." Now days it did seem like she went out looking for trouble, and she couldn't exactly argue the point either. Deep down she knew she was, because as much as she hated the end results from what she did, they always managed to make her feel better in a dark, twisted kinda way.
"Actually..." She started, while putting in the second to last loop needed to close the wound. "..there is something you could do for me."
She knew now from dealing with the front that dealing with the back would be near impossible. The angle at which she'd need to crane her arms and neck to get the job done was something only double joints would allow her to manage. After tying a few knots in her thread, she moved to put the needle and other supplied back in the box, grabbed a pair of small scissors to snip the extra thread off, and set about making herself a few large bandages. Luckily for her the silk she made was basically sterile, save for a little saliva, so she didn't need to worry about medical grade bandages. The unfortunate side was it could take a few minutes to make it all, and she needed Sylar's help in order to wide it around her shoulder and upper torso so the wound would be sealed shut from the elements.
First, though, she set about making a palm sized square of silk, thick enough to catch any stray blood, and layered a few disinfectant napkins on it.
"I'm gonna need you to press this on the back wound, and help me wind around extra silk to keep it on me... can you do that?" Holding the patch out at him, she was already making more silk in her mouth. It just needed to be pulled out and pulled apart slightly to be effective.
Weeks passed, and the weirdness of the nighttime events gradually faded. What had started off as a series of weird, strangely real dreams became nothing but a distant memory. Life continued on as normally for Megan as it could, and she was content to forget about the whole thing.
That is until...
Frantic squeaking filled the night air. It mattered little to her, nor the mouse. Nothing would come to its aid save for other hungry creatures. With a strangely gentle grip she held her meal still, waiting for the poison she'd filled it with to take effect. It wasn't long until it stopped struggling entirely. The squeaks silenced forever. She hovered over the dead mouse, her thick, hairy legs nearly blocking it from view, and set about devouring her meal...
This time when Megan woke, she wasn't in her bed. She wasn't even in her room. It was cold and murky, and everything smelled like rot and literal shit. Yet, when she turned her head to get her bearings, she found that she was more or less lounging in a large, giant really, spider web. It was dark, but from the thin rays of light that filtered in from above, she could make out what was around her. She was in a sewer, if the smell and the unmistakable surroundings were anything to go off of.
The 'web' was littered with misshapen silk balls. Some the sizes of rats or... cats, maybe, but one was significantly larger. Her eyes fixed on it, and a morbid sense of curiosity filled her. Just where the hell was she? How had she gotten there? Deciding to end the 'is this real life' questions sooner rather than later, she pinched herself mercilessly on the arm. It hurt, and bruised, and f*uck she wasn't dreaming.
The next thing she noticed was that her nightshirt was stained in blotches of red and... green. Gross. She assumed the green and various black smudges were from however she managed to end up in a sewer. The red, though, she wasn't too sure about. It wasn't hers, seeing as she couldn't find a single wound on her person. There wasn't anyone else around, so.. that ruled out that. Which left... the large vaguely humane-shaped silk form in the far corner of the web.
Carefully, she inched her way closer to it until she could make out a few large, already dried red patches on the outer silken layers. That was enough evidence for her, screw investigating further.
Megan hauled ass off the web, out of the sewer, ditched the bloodied nighty in a dumpster and ran the rest of the way home in boxer shorts and a bra. It wasn't until she was home and standing in the bathroom that she finally got a good look at herself. Her front was stained pink, her cheeks and lips were crusted with little bits of dried blood, and her teeth were stained burgundy. Not to mention a strange lingering taste in her mouth that she couldn't quite place.
Pale, confused, and frankly, terrified, she promptly vomited everything in her stomach out into the toilet, scalded her body clean in the shower, and then spent the rest of the day brushing her teeth on repeat.
Her claws hooked into the texture of the wall, finding purchase easily. Eight experienced limbs lifted her body up, inch by inch as she made her way toward the darkness of a corner. It was time to make a new web. Find a new home where she could anchor her brood and wait out the season. Other spiders were on the prowl, some hungry for spiderling. It was her duty to protect her babies, and the first step was staking out the prefect place for a web.
Carefully she scaled the wall. Once she was high enough, she set an anchor line and started the methodical process of spinning her web. Three lines quickly became six. Then nine. Then she wove a net through them until it was steady and sturdy enough for her to rest upon. The threads would give her young a place to grow, catch her meals, and warn her if any other predators approached.
Carefully, she positioned herself in the center of the web, body dangling from where four sturdy legs kept her rooted to the ceiling. Head lolling from one side to the other, Megan caught a glimpse of her bed from above through half lidded sleep filled eyes, not fully asleep but not yet awake.
Oh... she was having one of those flying dreams, then? She saw her toes wiggle beneath her, yawned, and closed her eyes again. She could deal with flying dreams. They were kinda cool.
---
WHAM
She was immediately alert when face met hardwood floor. Bright blue eyes flashed open, a colorful array of curses left her lips, and she pushed herself up into a sitting position.
She was on the floor next to her bed. Her blankets were ruffled and in a mess. She... rolled out of bed? So it seemed. Still, she'd hit the floor like she'd fallen off the ceiling. The clock across the room glared at her in angry red numbers. It was seven in the afternoon. She'd slept most of the day away. Groaning, the mutant pushed herself to her feet, scratching gently at her back (which was itchy as all hell for some reason) and headed for the bathroom.
Shaded from the light by a rather large leaf, she watched her prey go about it's business from undercover. The Grasshopper was unaware of her presence so far. She'd been stealthy, sneaky, and cleaver; using foliage as cover and little gusts of wind to stifle the sound of her movement. Now, from her vantage point from above the insect, she had the perfect ambush point lined up.
It only had to move a little to the left... just... a... little... more...
The bug inched sideways, moving down the side of the leaf it was munching on, and into her line of fire. Her back legs tensed, front legs rose in preparation. Just as her prey got it's first mouthful of fresh new leaf, she leaped from her nook. A silken line sailed behind her-- her escape cord for if the plan failed, but it wouldn't be needed. She landed with perfect accuracy on her target, encasing it like a cage with her body and legs, and quickly drove her fangs into the soft flesh of its neck. Though it struggled, she venom was already invading its system, liquefying the softer tissue even while it still fought her. Greedily, she drank it up, her many eyes surveying the area around her while she feasted...
Groaning, Megan woke again. It had been a few weeks since the first strange dream with no other incidents. She'd put it from her mind easily. What was one weird vision anyway, right? People had weird pillow-eating-dreams all the time.
Cracking her eyes open to peek at her clock this time, she was surprised when she also found that she could see the ceiling. And the wall behind her. And what she assumed was her pillow... and was that a leg? With a grunt of surprise, she sat bolt upright.
... and regretted it immediately. Her brain was assaulted with so many different visions of her room, from different angles, that she felt dizzy. What the hell was going on? And why the f*ck could she see herself in some of those images?! Holy Jesus, she looked terrible without makeup-- Shut up brain! More important things to worry about!
Unable to comprehend what the hell was going on, she squeezed her eyes shut, the two human eyes on her face that is. When that didn't help, she threw herself back down into her pillow and yanked the covers over her head. For some strange reason she could still see the end of her bed and the wall across from it, but that ended with she curled up under the blankets in a fetal position and buried her face under her pillow.
She didn't know what she had to have eaten to cause such a bizarre dream, but after about ten minutes of nearly smothering herself she managed to fall back asleep. When she woke up a few hours later she was relieved to find that she could only see what was directly in front of her. No more kaleidoscope vision.
The silk vibrated under her feet. Gentle reverberations that woke her up and alerted her to somethings presence in her home. Hesitantly she un-tucked a leg from under her, reaching out to settle it's claws on the vibrating line. The thrum of something living, a gentle drum beat as it struggled in her silken snare. Like a moth to a flame it drew her in, slowly she crept toward the source of the disturbance.
Up, up, up... light gradually filtered into her eyes. A noonday sun shone over head, but her attention was captured by her prey. An ant. Black shiny skin gleamed at her as it struggled, but only succeeded in tangling itself more. As if it sensed the looming danger, it's antennae jerked frantically in all directions, legs and pincers squirming against her lines. She hesitated briefly, fangs nearly dripping with a ready supply of venom, before lurching forward with a speed that didn't quite match her bulbous body.
Soon the poor ant was trapped under her, heald tightly in her embrace as she avoided it's dangerous mouth and sank her fangs into it's softer abdomen. It wriggled all the more, but as soon as she had pumped enough of her poison in, she set about wrapping her soon-to-be meal in more of her fine, silken thread...
Blearily, Megan cracked an eye open. Something woke her from a rather deep slumber. Some distant sound that didn't bother repeating. She waited for a moment in silence, before cracking the other eye open and angling both toward her bedside clock.
2 am.
What the hell. A mouthful of grumble all ready to go, the twenty seven year old started to sit up, when she realized that one side of her face was covered in semi dried saliva, and there was fuzz in her mouth. Her pillow was equally slobbered on. Had she been chewing on her pillow? ....nope. She wasn't even going to admit that to herself.
She attempted to draw her hand out from under said pillow in order to wipe her face clean of evidence, but found that she was stuck. Or, rather, the pillow was stuck to her. "The hell...?" Voice husky from having just woken up, the confused mutant sat up in bed and eyeballed the spectacle.
Both of her hands were glued to her pillow. It refused to let her go, no matter how hard she tugged. Like a Chinese finger trap, it held on tightly, even when she hooked it around her foot and attempted to kick the damn thing off. It took two feet and a good amount of cursing to pry the pillow away, and to her surprise when it left, it trailed little bursts of silk after it. She punted it across the room, stared at her hands suspiciously, and decided to go get a glass of milk to help wake herself up.
To her horror, she also stuck to the doorknob. And the wall. And the light switch in the kitchen. An the fridge door. By the time she got her damn glass of milk, she didn't very well feel like drinking it anymore, but it was stuck to her goddamn hand anyway.
Obviously this was still part of her dream. Or another dream completely. Maybe she was sleep walking or something. With her mind settled firmly on the fact that the weird things happening couldn't really be real, she took her cup and a few napkins stuck to her other arm and the sock she didn't realize was stuck to her leg, and went back to bed. She'd wake up sooner or later and have a good laugh at such a weird dream.
- - -
Six or so hours later, she woke again. Peering out from under the covers of her bed, she eyed the time and yawned. Throwing back the covers, the first thing Megan noticed was that she'd kicked her socks off at some point in the night, and that she'd drooled on her pillow again. The second thing she noticed was that she was free to move around without everything gluing itself to her for some reason. That settled it for her that she'd been dreaming earlier. Without another thought on the matter, she set about getting ready for the day, and managed not to notice any of the hand shaped silken prints left on the doors and walls all the way into the kitchen...
"Feels like..." Hmm. What did it feel like? Not like a spiders skin. Their bulbous backsides were soft and fizzy, or smooth like polished leather. It wasn't exactly like Roach's shell, but probably came closest to something to compare it with. In the end she shrugged, prodding his arm once more before removing her hand. "Feels like you."
Turning her attention back to the needle, she frowned at it. "It's not big deal. Hurts, but s'not gonna kill me. I've been through worse."
She could sorta remember doing something similar in the dream... but it was too fuzzy to pick out anything helpful. She'd done a lot of things that were nurse-like then; sewn up wounds, flushed out infections (probably), and helped make-shift doctors deal with rather bad wounds.
"The needle itself doesn't bother me too much, so long as it's far enough away from the wound. It's when you gotta get it close that it starts to sting."
Well, 'sting' wasn't the best word. Had she been alone in the house, she would have been swearing up a storm, wriggling insistently, and shedding quite a few irritated tears. Since someone was sitting right next to her though, she wouldn't allow herself to do any of those things.
"I've had doctors fix me up quick before, up I don't really like hospitals and... medical stuff. Too invasive. I'd rather just deal with it myself and get back to living." Deftly, with a wince here and there, she moved through the motions of patching herself up. It was only technically the first time she'd ever done something like it... so she was relying on knowledge snatched from various movies and shows in order to close the wound properly.
"That you know of." She muttered back, half jokingly.
She shrugged, tying the ends of the thread together. "Just remember that he can see what caused an injury, so if you want something kept secret, find another doctor to heal you."
Since she was done threading her needle, she looked up and fixed her eyes on him, cocking an eyebrow in the process. "I'm gonna close the wound... what else?" Of course, the back part was going to be a lot harder. She could reach it, but at an odd angle.
Glancing at the parts of him that were armored and visible, she mulled over what he'd said. "Under the skin, huh? Pretty handy." curious, she reached out to poke at part of the arm closest to her, that had the hard covering on it.
Panting almost as much as Ty was, she stopped on the next landing and let her eyes unfocused again. She could see through her spider's eyes again; more reeling and erratic movement, but darker this time. Shadows of a bed and desk, wall, floor, more wall. Through the door beside her she heard someone shouting, and snapped back into reality.
"Through the door! He's on this floor." Her vision was blurry from having used her second sight too often in the span of a few hours. Blink as she might, she couldn't seem to get it to snap back as quickly as she had before. "Go ahead of me.. I.. I need a minute."
Dammit, she'd been having that problem more and more often. Seemed like the more she used that power, the harder it was to see things normally.
On the other side of the door and down the hall, the wanted mutant was slapping at himself, hollering, and stumbling around in his room. Spider bites decorated the majority of his face, stretching over his lips and eyes, and spilling down his throat. Red and painful, they were already starting to swell as the toxins kicked in.
She grunted a yes at him, concentrating on not burning her own fingers.
It would take some getting used too, his power. The physical aspects were blatant and hard to ignore, but the ones working behind the scenes were what she always struggled with. "Don't blame ya. I'm not exactly good with people wither. They either piss me off, or I piss them off. Doesn't work out." ...Save for the few friends she'd somehow managed to snag. Still confused here, that.
"Don't ever go to that doctor there, Prof-something, unless you want him rooting around in your business. He'll heal you, but nag your ears off while he's at it."
Dropping the lighter back into the box, she let it cool while trying to gauge how much thread she would need. It was thick and waxy, more like twine than thread. The heavy stuff had always worked better when she needed to sew ribbons onto her shoes, or change the position of the elastic. Different, but it would get the job done.
Looping it through the needle, she started the impossible task for preparing herself mentally for what was to come. "...which reminds me, did you get hit at all in that fight? I've been so preoccupied, I totally forgot to ask." Blue eyes turned his way, visually scanning for injuries.
"Well I can hardly blame you for that... s'my fault for forgetting about that whole... blind thing." Reaching over to dig through the box again, she found the cording and lighter. "I'm hardly ever in there unless i'm sleeping, so I tend to forgot how much stuff I have, anyway."
Lapsing into a short silence as she tucked a leg under her, got comfy, and set about heating the needle up, she forgot about what was sitting on the table in front of her. For once, thanks in part to Sylar's mutation, she didn't need to stress out about the things from her past. It was... nice.
"So.. you've been to the mansion, then." It came out like a statement, even though she hadn't meant it that way. He'd brought up the doctor, so it was obvious, but she found herself wanting to know more about it. She had friends there after all, and didn't exactly like her apartment life sneaking into it.
Sylar shuffled off without a word, and she blinked. Well, okay then. At least he was eager to help? She'd turned back to cleaning the wound, blatantly ignoring what he'd said about peroxide because she knew that would sting like hell. She wasn't the smartest when it came to common sense things, and was just stubborn enough to willfully ignore good advice. When Sylar came back in she didn't look at him right away, too busy pulling little strands of hair and cloth from her shoulder.
Him setting down a bunch of boxes did catch her attention, though. "...er..." Those were definitely not her sewing box. One was a locked box with various keepsakes in it, another was a hatbox where she stashed things she didn't want Roach getting into-- like her more expensive unmentionables-- and the last was a larger box with a handle where she kept her ballet stuff.
.... Damnit, three boxes of her most private things. Half of her wanted to bolt upright, snatch the boxes, and vanish back into her room to find new hiding places for them, while the other half wanted to get the hole in her shoulder fixed now. She contemplated sending him back in, but knowing what else she had stashed inside her room, she thought better of it.
"Yeah... thanks." Her old dancing stuff had a needle and thread in it anyway, albeit a larger needed and thicker cording. She at least knew she has a lighter in there as well from having to melt the frayed ends of ribbon, so she could sterilize her needle without having to get alcohol from the bathroom.
Eyeing Sylar for a moment, as if he were lying about his blindness, she reached out for the box with her ballet supplies and settled it in her lap. She'd never told anyone about her past habit, not even Greg... and didn't want anyone getting wind of it. She had an image to keep up, after-all. "Sit here." Patting the cushion next to her, she flipped the cases lid open and started to dig though its contents. "...Hold this."
Needle in hand, she held the box out at him impatiently.
He... had a point, she guessed. Not being able to see it definitely canceled out the need for his help. It hurt enough on it's own and with her minimal poking and prodding, especially now that there wasn't anything working to keep the pain at bay, or her mind off of it.
Somewhere deep in the back of her throat, she whined. As tough as she could seem to some people, Megan still didn't like pain. Vicente had shown her that in the heat of battle you couldn't afford to waste time on bodily harm, and through everything she'd been through with him it had stuck on her. "No... no doctors. They ask too many questions." Especially not the school's doctor... he knew too much about her.
"just gonna have to suck it up and sew it shut myself." With maybe a little praying that she didn't get some kind of terrible infection on the side. "If you wouldn't mind, could you get me the sewing box? It's in my room under my desk. My spiders can't carry it."
Across the street in a flash, she threw open the door to the apartment complex. Thankfully, it wasn't locked, and didn't require a buzzer to get in. Not that it would have stopped her at this point, she probably would have just tried to bust out a window, or shimmy up a fire escape.
On the inside, she turned left and bolted for the stairwell. It was possible that her target could have bee-lined for the elevator, but Ty was waiting in the street for him-- she wasn't worried. Instead, she followed the silent directions from her kids, guided by various mental flashed of what the inside of the room looked like, and the view from the window.
The bastard had been watching them from the window the whole time... or at least, so she assumed.
Huffing as the hurried climb up flight after flight of stairs took it's toll on her, she paused on the second floor and shut her eyes, reaching for the connection with her spiders. The image she got back was erratic and blurred-- various abstract shapes being tossed around in one direction, then the next. Reeling from the dizziness caused by that, she wobbled back into action and headed for the next flight of stairs.
An eye twitched, a clear sign that he was in fact getting to her, and she resisted the urge to headbutt him in the face again. Ty was in there still... it was Ty'd face, even if someone else's words were coming out of it.
"Oh, it's killing me alright. It's killing me that I can't punch your face in, instead of Ty's. It's killing me that this whole goddamn game of yours is keeping me from caving in the skull of that slimy illusionist. It's killing me that--"
The words died on her lips and her eyes widened considerably. What had stopped her mid thought? The tingle of realization up the back of her neck. A beat passed, and her lips curved slightly at the corners. "... Found you."
Keeping her grip on him arm, she attempted to pull herself in towards him sharply, and drive her knee into his stomach. Her children had finally all gathered and were currently situated all over the prone man's face, neck, and hands. Megan gave the word and each and every spider dug it's fangs in.
Her plan now was to detach herself from Ty and make a break for the building, with every intention of exacting every pain imaginable on gheppetto's real body... if, of course, her first hit landed.