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.
She was struck frozen by his words. Leave the others? Abandon the children? SHe outright laughed at him before she could stop herself. Even as the battle wage outside the flimsy tent walls, Megan let out a bark of laughter so filled with raw nerves and uncertainly that it hurt the back of her throat a little. "I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen... I need to be out there... I need to help them."
...Was it just her, or was there a hint of desperation in her voice? Fidgeting on the spot, she was suddenly aware of how vastly unprepared she was for a fight. She hadn't laid so much as a finger on anyone in... in nearly a year. Everything had gone to hell, and with it had gone the urge to take her frustrations out on the world. As this fact slowly dawned on her, she found herself wondering if she was trying to convince this man of where she needed to be, or if she was trying to convince herself. She fiddled with the safety on her gun, slinging the bag over her shoulder, and took a hesitant step toward the door.
"We can come back for them... but if you don't want to die, you need to come with me. Do you hear me?"
Her lips curled into a tight, anxious smile. If she didn't want to die... how many times had she heard that before? She felt suddenly dizzy, and couldn't figure out if it was the tension in the air... or if she had stopped breathing at some point. She let out a breathy reply, just in case... "...I have to try... I can't just...just... " More random images distracted her, forcing her to furrow her brow and pause mid-sentence. With them came the sudden onset of a headache... a dull throbbing at the back of her head, spreading slowly toward her eyes. "..leave them here."
Outside more men fell. Raider and settler alike... but her burned companion was right, even if she wasn't aware. Their forces were being cut down quickly, too quickly. Every man and boy with a gun fell as the enemy rolled in. Their targets were food, weapons, the medical supplies they had heard about... and women. The camp wouldn't survive through the night.
She chose to ignore his comment entirely. Responding to things like that had only ever opened up opportunities for arguments in the past and she honestly rather liked not having to get heated about anything these days. With tensions already as strained as they were, and the level of stress at an all time high, it was best to just let it be and keep her trap shut... It didn't stop her from smirking ever so slightly, however. Lifting her book and flipping a well worn page, Megan proceeded to bury her nose as far into it as she could and attempted to lose herself in the story.
She had found over the months that reading took the edge off of the real world and gave her something else to think about while she was elbow deep in other peoples problems. Recently she had taken to fictional stories. Tales with dashing heroes in not-so-shiny armor who took on dragons with magical swords and wooed damsels in distress (or tavern wenches, as it were). Though it wasn't as realistic as some of the other books she had already conquered, like the 'Soup for the chickens soul' series, or a few of the books recommended by Dr. Hill... It was nice to read about someone, even if they were a complete tool (and imaginary), who was worse off that her.
... at least for the moment, anyway.
The usual silence had settled over them, something that had become a habit in her time spent with the burned man. Until the sharp echos of what sounded like gunfire reached their ears. She didn't pay attention to it at first, not until her companion voiced a question about it and she forced herself to pay attention. Her book lowered, blue eyes rose and pinned themselves on the entrance to the medical tent, Megan frowned in concentration.
What's going on?
...nothing. Her spiders were uncomfortably silent. The frown deepened with agitation, and she slapped her book closed. It landed with a soft thump in her seat as she stood, "I dunno... I'm gonna go find out though. Be right back." Her feet moved her swiftly toward the door, but before she managed to so much as set a toe outside something small and fast punctured through the tent wall to her left. The canvas was suddenly imprinted with clean new holes, and the bullets smacked into a metal tray beside a cot, sending it flying across the rooms length.
Megan flinched, caught completely off guard.. and then screaming reached them. Fear jolted up her spine, followed quickly by adrenaline. Something was wrong... She reached out to her spiders again instantly. After a moment that seemed like forever, one of them got back to her.
Danger... death... weapons.
It was a raid!
Before she could turn and bolt for the small stash of weapons in the tent, her vision was once again flooded by erratic flashes of images. Red... red... bodies... flashes of light and glimpses of people fleeing. The screams grew in numbers quickly, as the rest of the camp started to react to what was going on, as did the sound of gunfire. Someone flew into the tent in a blur, one of the nurses, and moved directly to the stash of weapons Megan had been aiming for. "We're under attack! Megan, you need to help Sasha and the Derick get the children out of here, they're waiting for you over by the su-" The rest of what he was saying was cut off abruptly as another small spray of bullets whizzed through the thin canvas walls. THe man collapsed, his rifle clattering to the floor as Megan dropped to the ground and covered her head.
"..Oh.. oh #@%$.." She waited until it was safe to look up, and flinched. The guy was dead.. there was no way he was would survive such a head wound. Her instincts and minimal training took over and she scrambled for the gun. Megan was up on her feet in a flat second and already tossing all sorts of medical supplies into a messenger bag before she even realized she was doing it. A glance over her shoulder at her injured companion came a moment later, to see if he was even still among the living.
She didn't bat an eyelash at the guys comment, simply replying with a airy chuckle. She was used to that sort of attitude by now, from more than just him, and accepted it. It wasn't like he was rude or outright nasty to anyone, anyway, so there was really no reason to make a big fuss over it. After everything he'd been through just from the looks of him, she was more than willing to at least let him grump at people to his hearts content.
"When you stop wincing like that every time you move too fast." She responded back, biting off a small chunk of bread. Another nurse finished his task off in a corner of the tent and carried his bundle of dirty bandages out with him. Megan watched him leave, her eyes momentarily lifted from her book, before she pinned them on the man at her side. With a sniff, her gaze shifted back down to the blur of words she had read one to many times... but she wasn't really paying attention to them anymore. She had more than a few spiders scattered around the campgrounds, who had been ordered to radio in every now and then to inform her of the what was going on outside of her line of sight. As she concentrated on the murmurer of arachnid voices, her vision actually blurred momentarily and a sudden dizziness overcame her. Flashes of random, incoherent images swam before her eyes... and then with a blink they were gone.
The twenty six year old shook her head, pressing a palm to her temple, and frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd experienced that... whatever it was. Each time she'd see things she couldn't quite make out and then it would be gone, just like that. It was distressing, really. She was starting to feel like she was losing her marbles, and it didn't help that the only other person she's mentioned the strange occurrences to called her a hopeless loony.
As the dizziness lifted, she picked her book up again and glanced back toward the man, her unnamed patient. "Next time i'll make sure to tell the cook to add less ass. Maybe that will make it taste better."
A string of nasty expletives jumped to mind the moment she turned and found her road blocked. She backed up a step before she could stop herself, what with being blocked by a guy a lot larger than herself, but managed not to let the pang of fear she felt show. Instead, her face screwed up in a rather unpleasant manner, and her cheeks darkened further.
He was enjoying this, damnit! "That's not surprising, i'm sure you don't remember a lot of things at your age." She felt her lip curl before the words were even out of her mouth, and had to mentally slam the lid back down on her emotions. Anger wasn't helping anything, especially since he only seemed to be enjoying the show of her growing temper.
With a huff, she tossed her sweater over one shoulder. Her shoulders squared, back straightened, and she forced a calm expression on over the boiling anger within. She needed to say her peace and politely excuse herself. Be the bigger man, as they said... even if the bigger man was the only actual man in the room.
"If you'll excuse me." She couldn't stop herself from gritting her teeth, which all but ruined the effort she had put into her mask.
Time seemed to fly by before her eyes. Weeks passed, and before she knew it all of the people she had been tending to no longer needed her. Some healed and were able to move on, others fell into worse condition and needed someone with more knowledge at their sides. She did not find herself bored, however... New faces seemed to show up daily, crawling out of the shadows to offer their services to the small community in exchange for medical attention and food. Megan found herself dolling out rations twice a day, as well as stopping by to help out in the infirmary tents when she had the time.
With lunch over and nothing better to do, she tucked two quarters of bread under an arm and carried a bowl of soup with her toward one of the large medical tents. As she approached the makeshift shelter, she narrowly avoided walking straight into a woman who was storming her way out.
"I can't believe that man! Never listens to a damn word out of my mouth, and I know it's not because of his damn hearing!" Tired, icy eyes watched the women stomp away, all while muttering soft curses under her breath, before Megan smirked and turned back to the tent.
She was rather familiar with the few regulars that still remained from the months prior, but she know only one who managed to throw the other nurses into such fits. ""Riling up the staff again, are you?" Barely casting a glance his way, Megan set the bowl she carried down on metal tray that sat next to his cot, and dragged her usual chair over. After dropping one of the chunks of bread, she sat herself down and tugged her book out from under her other armpit.
"Today's some kind of chowder, pretty good if I do say so myself." The old, worn out book cracked open and she crossed her legs lazily. She'd read the thing five times now at least, but it always helped to calm down the speedy pace at which her mind liked to travel these days.
The twenty six year old reached over to the metal tray at her side and lifted a Styrofoam cup. Standing, she gently hooked her fingers under his head. "I'm going to help you tip your head up so you can take a drink, okay?" Every action came with a soft warning these days. After the last time she had been socked in the chest for trying to arrange a pillow under a blind man's head. "Alright, here we go..."
With slight pressure, she let the guy do most of the moving and angled the cup toward him. A slight tip, minimal pressure against him in case he passed out again, she let the water flow in short spurts until he was finished. With the task complete, she removed herself from her bubble in order to let him relax again. Over the months she had spent in the camp she had learned not to try and baby people. Some wanted attention, sure, but most were content with knowing that help was never to far away and simply wished to be left alone. While she didn't know which type this guy would turn out to be, she was comfortable with letting him adjust to his surroundings and the situation at hand, before she accidentally overwhelmed him.
"You should rest. I will be right here if you need anything else." Reclaiming her seat, the wooden chair creaked quietly and she opened her book once more.
Hours passed by. He moved in small fits, legs or arms twitching every now and then and a soft writhing... as if he were touched by a bad dream. It wasn't the first time she had seen it. More than a few of the poor souls that ended up in the camp were plagued by nightmares. Of what exactly, she wasn't sure. She'd learned not to ask, but to simply sit and offer a patient smile when the victim awoke.
It was no different this time. The man's voice awoke her from a dreamless nap. The book she had been reading had fallen from her lap onto the ground. She paid little heed to it as she retrieved the cloth from the man's forehead and stood to re-soak it. "..No, you aren't." Once the rags were cold and moist again, she returned to his side.
Gently, the cool cloth was laid back against his forehead, and she bent to retrieve her book. "I would rest if I were you, though, and not get too exited about all that living you get to do just yet. You need to catch your strength, and let your wound heal." Megan let her book close and folded her hands over it. The guy was a walking trove of scar tissue. The doctors had told her that he would have issues with his eyes, due to the scarring over them, as well as issued with his hearing. Really, Megan didn't even know how it was that he had been out there moving around on his own. If she had been subjected to whatever it was, massive amounts of heat if she had any guesses, she would have curled up into a ball and let herself die a long time ago.
... which, only made her reflect back to the very reason she was still alive in the first place. Someone throwing away his life for hers. In a terrible way, she wished he had survived so that she could tell him what a terrible mistake he had made.
Megan wiped sweat from her brow and sighed wearily. It had been a long, hot day... the many who still needed tending too were numerous, and those who were capable of cleaning and patching wounds, changing bandages, or giving out proper doses of the few medicines they had. She'd been learning for nearly a year now all of the duties of a nurse. She'd learned the proper techniques for dealing with many different types of injuries. She knew three different ways to sew someone up with sutures. At the moment, she was elbow deep in cleaning out an infection from a gaping wound in a man's leg... and yet there was still so much more she needed to learn.
Pouring the last of her clean water over the injury, she dabbed gently at the leakage spilling out. She would need more water before it was clean enough to slather in ointment and patch up. "Keep really still, okay? I need to go grab some more water." The man she was nursing nodded weakly, unable to look at her through the bandages covering his eyes. With another sigh, she hefted herself up and grabbed her bucket. Halfway to the supply tent, however, she was stopped in her tracks. Three men were rushing into the camp, another held aloft between them. Her training kicked in and she set her bucket down in order to rush over and assist them. Another, thankfully professional, medic joined her. The unmoving male was hauled quickly into the largest of the tents, a makeshift operating room. He was deposited on a table while doctors and nurses of all sorts huddled above him. They knew the man... he had been in the camp before for a long while.
Megan watched from the sidelines, a tray of sterilized utensils clutched in her hands. She recognized him as well. She had never spoken to him directly, but his wounds had been some of the worst she had ever seen. "I don't seen any wounds... no blood either. Let's get this clothing off." They set about peeling stripping him of the upper half of his wardrobe, only.. some of it refused to budge. Mummers and curious whispers floated around the table as they snipped around what appeared to be a solid chunk of rock fused into his chest.
... in the shape of a human hand.
They thought it was fascinating. Megan thought it was downright creepy.
"...he's... still breathing. I don't see any trauma, and his pupils are still dilating correctly." It was decided rather quickly that with such a strange injury, they would simply have to leave it alone. He was moved into a different tent, one filled with cots and many injured and dying people tucked away with in. Megan found herself swiftly re-assigned to aid the man until he woke up, seeing as he couldn't aid himself. She didn't bother arguing. Instead she dragged a small stool over and fished out a cool water drenched washcloth. In the heat beating down on them, anyone who didn't attempt to keep hydrated and cool themselves down was sure to expire quickly.
With another sigh, she wrung the cloth out and pressed it gently against the scarred man's forehead.
After he had finally gotten it on, she circled around him. She watched the way her seams held together, made sure to pay attention to how it stretched when he turned, and felt another rush of pride flood into her.
It was her best work yet, in her opinion. It wasn't the prettiest thing in the world, that was for sure, but when it was intended for being worn under clothing that didn't really matter. A pleased grin hard worked it's way onto her lips, the closest she had been to actually smiling in months, as she finished up prodding here and there. Her need to make sure everything was perfect was dealt with for the moment. She felt content.
“Seems you remember my…anatomy…fairly well.”
...and then he went and opened his mouth again.
The happy grin was instantaneously replaced with a sour scowl. Of course he'd pick up on what was making her uncomfortable. Pale cheeks started to redden again, but this time it was with anger. She fought with herself for a few silent moments, unable to form sharp words to throw at him. Half of her was instantly on the offensive, but the other half knew that opening her mouth and spewing hateful things at him would only serve to get herself into more trouble.
"That's assuming that you have anything worthy of memorizing."
Turns out she wasn't very good at controlling her tongue. She turned her back on him, marching over to retrieve her sweater. He had his damn vest and he had told her himself that she didn't owe him anything anymore. There was no reason for her to stay any longer.
“Wow, Well, I guess you can consider your debt paid off. I take it you must really like seeing me around.”
The twenty five year old bristled visibly at the comment. It didn't stop a wave of pride from washing over her, but it did cause her blush to intensify for a moment longer before she managed to beat it back into the depths from whence it came. Why did he always have to say things like that? It was so annoying! Even if there was a hint of truth to his words, that she did like having hm around, it's not like she was going to openly admit such a thing. Least of all to him personally.
"Make whatever assumptions you want, they will undoubtedly be wrong." She would have snubbed her nose at him, but she was too busy eyeballing her work again. The problem with creating things for other people was that you only ever seemed to notice mistakes once it had already been handed over. She did managed to cross her arms over her chest and nonchalantly lean back against the couch while she studied him.
The fact that he likes it, maybe even appreciated it was thrilling. She wanted him to put the damn thing on already so she could see how it fit him, and calculate any needed adjustments. It was starting to make her itch, and she felt the urge to walk over and put it on for him. "Are you gonna stand there and stare at it all day, or try it on? I need to see if it fits right on you." Wearing ill fitting armor would get you killed as sure as not having any at all.
Pushing herself away from the couch, she moseyed on over to stand and wait in front of him impatiently, trying all the while to push the memories of that night into the recesses of her mind.
“Oh good. We caught the train, Come on, you want to live, then we gotta make that train.”
She didn't budge at first. Rumbling down a flight of stairs had taken a direct toll on her. Maybe it was the fact that she had bounced into his knees more than once, or maybe it was because the pain had caused her to black out completely. She really didn't know. All she knew was that when he nudged her it took her longer than she liked to come back to the waking world. Even that was probably only because he had decided to mention the 'if you want to live' part. If there was anything left in her at this point to drive her onward, it was the will to survive. She didn't want to be found by some depraves mobsters, nor did she want to be found passed out, half naked in a Hello Kitty car crammed full of creepy Asian dolls.
With what little strength she could muster, she pushed herself out of his lap... or at least tried to. She wobbled more than once, and had to rely heavily on the steering wheel in order to remain upright once she got there."...I don't know how you do this sort of thing all the time... really... " One good crack to the ribs, and she was down for the count. She honestly didn't want to know what being electrocuted felt like... but hell if he didn't mystify her constantly with the ability to simply shrug off most wounds. it either led her to believe that he had seen and been through some pretty hairy shit, or that he simply had a higher tolerance to pain that she did.
..which, was pretty likely. She was usually the first to admit that she was weaker, slower, or less interested in throwing her life on the line that people she seemed to hang around. Well, except when pride came into play. That old demon had a way of making her clam up and get herself into tough situation simply because she refused to admit that she was less than someone else. Thankfully, that usually took someone directly telling her that she couldn't do something.
"... I... I may need help." She stated quietly, pressing a hand to her eyes. It was starting to feel like she was going to be sick... but she still had the mental capacity left to know that if she heaved anything up, it would only cause her wounds more distress. The sudden onset of sickness was brought on my adrenaline washing away, and everything finally catching up to her. The torture, the escape... all of the blood and pain. Everything had gone by so fast that she hadn't really had time to process anything yet. She could feel her arms and legs trembling slightly, and even as her companion hauled her out of the car, she felt a weakness setting in. She wasn't going to be able to walk anyway... and with the train on a time limit, that left them with few options.
...She would have been rather surprised that the Assassin chose to lift her like a sack of potatoes into his arms, rather than abandon her in the car like she had first suspected, but she was already losing her battle with exhaustion. She struggled to keep her eyes open, before they closed and she felt herself sinking into the open arms a blissful numbness.
“Megan, What crap did you managed to get into this time?”
"I owed some old pickled fart." She made sure to add extra oomph to the owed part, just in case he didn't get it when she the package out at him, and shouldered past into his apartment. She also chose to ignore the implications that she had been the one getting herself into trouble. As far as she saw it, he always seemed to be the cause of her problems.
...well, at least within the span of time that she had known the man.
"I decided to be fancy and wrap your gifts.. because everyone knows a gift just isn't the same without paper involved." She stopped just inside the doorway, tapping her fingers on her leg, and held the bulky package out for him to take. She hadn't received any strange looks on the way in, even though she wasn't dressed in her usual manner and had a brown paper packed tucked securely under her arm.
"Since our last lovely meeting, i've had plenty of time to ponder on how often people shoot at you. I thought this might make up for a few things i've dragged you into... as well as keep you from getting a few bullets to the gut." She waited for him to accept the package, before turning to skip her sweater off. The twenty five year old folded the yellow top, and laid it carefully atop the back of the couch, before turning her attention to a small spot that had appeared at the hem of her dress. The bright colors of summer were a stark contrast to the dark clothing she had fallen into wearing. With her sweater gone, there was nothing to hide the many scars that graced her arms and shoulders, a tapestry of white specks on pale skin. Nor did she bother to hide any of the bandages peeking out from various injuries she had received from the last time they had met. She tapped a foot as she waited, bulky boots replaced with lean sneakers, and chewed on her bottom lip like a teenager waiting to here a test score.
What if he didn't like it?... What if she had measured wrong and it didn't fit him? A million nagging little questions flew through her mind. She batted them away like annoying flies, and attempted to turn her thoughts elsewhere. Where her mind. and eyes, ended up going happened to him a bare chest. A sweaty bare chest. She was near instantly transported back to the night he had been a younger version of himself, and fought back a blush with everything she had in her.
Oh... well, that explained everything splendidly. They thought he had killed someone important to them, and that was why they were intent on blowing his face off- as well as hers. She decided not to comment on it, being all out of spitfire and snark at the moment, and chose instead to hold onto her seat for dear life.
The swerving, screeching, and groaning of gears and metal as the Assassin forced them through the narrow gaps in traffic was a little hard to talk over anyway. She would have been ecstatic that it seemed as though his plan was working, if it hadn't have been for each bump and jerk- which sent her side into fits and caused her breath to hitch in her throat.
Finally, when everything calmed and a moment of peace fell over her, Megan sagged against the car seat. Her seat belt was digging painfully into the back of her thighs. She gave half a mind to slip back properly into her seat when her driving companion suddenly latched into her hair dragged her back into his lap. She let out a muffled curse as he folded himself over her, more because of the searing bolt of pain that flew up her side, and curled her arms up over her head. Briefly, she felt herself fade in and out of awareness. Sounds muted temporarily, and she was overcome with that blissful feeling of sleep... before a bump in the road jerked her back into semi-alertness. Glass had showered down on her from above, bouncing off of her cheeks and forehead, and nestling in the cracks between where she had pressed herself into him. Thank god every car was manufactured with safety glass nowadays, otherwise she would have been pressing her face into sharp edges and pointy bits.
Still.... she didn't really want to move from her safe i-won't-get-shot spot so soon.
A stroke of luck assisted them as the perusing car swerved back onto the road beside them. It looked as if their attackers were going to steer their much larger vehicle straight into the side of the smart car, probably an attempt to send then into a sideways spin... but, at the last moment, a jeep sped out of a side street and effectively cut the larger car off. They were graced with a small window of time as their pursuers slammed on the breaks and swerved to avoid colliding with the jeep.
...it wouldn't be long before they got around the Jeep and were back on the hunt.
Megan huffed as she trudged along. If it hadn't been for him saving her hide more than a few times, she wouldn't have bothered to try and track him down at all. Unfortunately, that wasn't how it had turned out. She owed him money, as he had told her himself, and now she felt as though she owed him om a personal level.
Hopefully, the package she had tucked under her arm would solve her problem quickly. Through the lobby of a building she had been in far too many times, up a swift elevator ride, and before she knew it, she was at his door. She briefly considered just ditching the package there, knocking and running off before he spotted her... but she was suspicious of whether he would claim that she hadn't in fact paid him back if she didn't hand it to him in person. There may have also been a little nagging pride festering around under her anger. She'd made him a custom vest... woven the silk as tightly as she could get it, and added reinforcements to the in-between layers just to make sure it was bullet proof. She'd even thrown in a prototype she was working on... Silken grieves that he could velcro on over his forearms to protect them from getting sliced or slashed. Considering how many knives he always seemed to have hidden away on his person, she had thought it a nice touch.
Still... she hated that she even owed the big lummox at all. Giving away something she had worked blood, sweat, and tears into over the course of a few weeks for free wasn't exactly how she had envisioned her business starting up... but, if it would get him off her back, then she was more than willing to part with the items.
...if he'd even accept them.
If he didn't, she'd have to dip into her funding for a new apartment to pay him back, and that would be greatly annoying. Megan heaved a little sigh, blowing her bangs from her eyes, and tucked a few stray strands of midnight hair behind her ear. "Here goes nothing..." She mumbled to herself, before rapping on the door a couple of times.
Good afternoon everybody! It’s 53degrees and climbing today, so we’re looking at a relatively calm afternoon, with a chance of rain...
Fluffy grey clouds passed by slowly overhead. A few tiny drops of moisture fell as if to emphasize the weather man’s statement. The crackle and drone of the little battery powered radio at her side fell on deaf ears, however. Megan was elsewhere...
...Traffic is slowing down a little as the lunch hour passes, so make sure you give yourself a few extra minutes before heading back home or to the office...
The water stretched out before her churned and splashed upon itself. Waves lapped greedily at the thick wooden support beams of the boardwalk she has chosen to perch on. Her legs dangled over the ledge, hooked beneath one of the boards that made up the safety railing.
..was great, Shirley! And now, back to the muuuuusic~!
A soft song started to play. Piano keys sharp and lonely against the distant screeches of gulls and hushed sounds of the bay water. Megan sighed and set the clear bottle in her hand back at her side. With the label having been peeled off, the mystery liquid inside was left to the imagination of those wandering past. An experienced eye, however, would be able to tell that it was filled with rather strong alcohol. Of course, that would mean coming close enough to spot the bottle in the first place, and the thirty or so spiders she had crawling around her had so far kept annoying strangers from attempting to bother her.
She’d been sitting for.. an hour? Maybe less.. maybe more. Honestly, she hadn’t bothered to keep track. She was too busy trying to drink her problems away... and not succeeding. With half of a bottle sloshing around in her tummy, she should have felt something by now. Sleepy, sick, giddy, ready to march through town and hurl drunken slurs at people... and yet, she felt nothing. Not even the buzzing, fluttery feeling of being tipsy.
She would have considered the possibility that she had been tricked somehow, and that some interloper had switched out the alcohol in the bottle she purchased with something non-alcoholic... but it still tasted like alcohol.
She honestly didn’t know what was going on... and it was getting rather annoying.
Thankfully, though, her temper had been curbed by other thoughts.
A pale hand reached out at her other side, and carefully scooped up a large Wolf spider. The creature clung to her palm, more than willing to let his creator do with him what she willed. The twenty five year old hooked her arm back over another, higher, plank on the railing, and fixed blue eyes on the arachnid in her hand.
They were hers.... Her DNA. Literally, her blood, sweat, and tears. They shared her eye color, her hair color.. and sometimes her temperament. She had spent many years with only spiders by her side... and yet, they were still only spiders.
A moment later, the arachnid was flung out into the churning water. She watched and listened as it hit the surface, starting the long struggle to swim back to shore. Spiders could swim, but not very well. It took more than an hour for one to sink under the surface, and another twenty minutes for them to fully drown. She knew, for she had been watched it happen ten or more times already. The panicked scream of the arachnid echoed in her mind as all eight legs twitched and jerked. Asking, why? Why, mother? I don't want to die! It’s brothers and sisters behind her were silent...they already knew what fate awaited them. The screaming was only for her... only for her ears. No one else could hear it. No one else would even care.
It was a spider after all. A bug. Vermin. A creepy crawly to be stomped on, sprayed, flushed, and squished. There was no love for them... no bond, nor sympathy. They were like Roaches. Filthy animals that humans just loved to hate.
The twenty five year old picked up the bottle once more, and swept up another spider in her other hand. The fuzzy black creature squatted down. It waited. She gulped her fiery drink, before dropping it back at her side. Eight blue eyes locked on two. The same color... the same color. At one point, the spider would have called her mother.
...At one point, she would have cared.
But life is not fair... and Spiders have a funny way of screaming.
Life tosses out bones... tempting gifts to desperate souls. It lures people in with promises and hope, and when you're good and snagged, it reels you in. She had fallen for it, and she had paid the price.
Tears welled, hot as a cold wind rolled back her. She had taken a bite from a promise, and in return her heart had been ripped to shreds. She had opened herself up, let someone in... and he had died on her.
...He died for her.
Her fingers curled inward, entrapping the spider centered in her palm in a slow cage. Her expression never shifted, as she squeezed. There was no room for love.... not anymore. She would never make that mistake again. She would pull her feelings in, keep them buried, and direct them only at herself.
...yes. She could love herself... eventually. When the pain faded. When it felt like she could take a breath without gasping, and her eyes no longer leaked on their own whim. She would love herself. No one, nothing, could take that away from her.
Everyone else could die... but as long as she lived, she would have Megan.
Her fingers un-clenched.
..The black spider within shifted, unharmed, and watched her. After a few moments, she sighed and lowered her hand. The arachnid carefully crawled back onto the boardwalk to rejoin it's brethren. She didn't need to kill them to stop the pain anymore... To make herself feel better. They were a part of her. Her flesh and blood...
They were more than spiders, more than tools, and more than pets. They were brothers, sisters... children.
She would love them too... because no one could take them away.