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.
That cat wasn't a cat Des could tell almost instantly. It, she, didn't smell right for a pure cat. Pure cat was more animalistic to his nose and she had a touch of human to her that didn't quite fit with her appearance. Still it wasn't in his nature to intervene in a good fishnapping and he just grinned a wide manic grin at the sneaky thief as she ran out the door.
"Tell ya what, sir, lemme buy tha fish that cat just stole. I also want that salmon over there too, if ya could be so kind as ta get it." Desire drawled out, fishing for his wallet as the man looked at him in surprise. Still he was a paying customer and he was covering what could have been a loss. Packaging up the fish for Des the man handed it over to the handsome neko.
Walking outside Des let his nose tell him where to go as he followed the scent of the stolen fish. Standing under the tree he looked up and smiled his friendliest smile. "Stealin' fish ain't very nice darlin'. Ya need help or somethin' or are ya in it fer tha thrill?"
It had taken him days of searching but he had finally found it. A fishmarket that had actual fish and not, whatever it was the last two had been offering. Japan had spoiled him on fish markets that was for sure and he had always tried to find the best of the best in whatever place he lived in afterwards. Though nothing could compare to waking up at three in the morning to make it by four to the fish market to get the best deals on whatever was freshest that day.
Sometimes he missed his SEAL pay because if he was still in the navy he'd be able to afford that delicious looking tuna right in front of him.
But buying an entire blue fin tuna was expensive and he had to budget his money until he got a job somewhere in the city. He was procrastinating at this point when it came to the school but he was enjoying being a bum and exploring the city whenever he pleased. And right now he pleased at five in the morning at a tiny little fish market on the harbor. He got stares as per usual but he didn't care at this point, right now his only mission in life was to get himself something delicious to eat.
Wandering away from the tuna he followed his nose to the freshest scent he could find. Salmon. Hmmmm that seemed delicious and much much cheaper than the tuna. His wallet and stomach agreed for once and he patiently hovered in the back of the line waiting to be called upon for his turn with the fish. Maybe he could make some salmon with miso paste? That seemed like a good idea. Already listing the ingredients he'd need in his head he focused his eerie eyes on his delicious prize, tail twitching in anticipation. Yes, it would do. It would do very nicely.
"'n how not ta embarrass yer country in front o' tha Ruskies." Russians were probably one of the worst in Des' opinion when it came to manners in general. The international dance competitions had had tons of them in his day and he'd just wanted to take the sticks out of their asses and beat them to death with them. His dislike of Russians had only grown when he'd been captured as a SEAL and now...let's just say it was better if Des AVOIDED them.
"I'll try ta stop ya then but that's fer an unlikely future. Only Job is in tha military right now 'n he's off active duty." Des shrugged not wanting to start a fight that he might lose with his new friend. Dead people were incredibly hard to take down in his estimation and she acted like she was invincible. Which depending on her mutation she could be. He wasn't about to pry.
"Ya figure I can find someone ta test my flexibility out on?" The question was genuine because he hadn't been aiming for a gay bar just a dance one. Though if he thought about it gays did tend to flock to the dance bars like moths to flames. So there was a possibility that she'd be able to find a gay guy who'd want a fling with a neko. He was slowly finding out that New York was nothing like the previous places he had lived.
"What a terrible curse it'll be havin' ya call me up fer dance dates." Des said drily as he followed her into the cab, having to duck down low to get inside. The curse of his height and ears. Leaning back into the seat he felt a minor sense of unease as he watched her not breathe or move or do anything else to betray her presence to the cat mutant other than talk and smell. "So what's yer 'usual' sugar biscuit?"
Years of military service and living in the south had taught Des some semblance of manners. That and it didn't feel right to ask a stranger to help and call them hot stuff. That would make him sound even more like a troublemaking prostitute and Des didn't want the rather attractive man to think he was being hit up for a quickie for cash. Nope this was pure solicitation of tomfoolery.
"Sir ya don't even know me now." He teased perfectly fine with the arrangement. He was used to taking all the blame for shenangins usually because all shenangins were instigated by him. What could he say? He was the embodiment of the Chinese curse 'may you live in interesting times'. "But I'm grateful fer tha help."
When AJ began to run his interference Desire got to work. It was amazing to watch a six foot two cat man who looked like a fever dream disappear into thin air. Nothing was left of his presence, not even a wayward flick of hair. He didn't waste time in watching what AJ did to keep the guard occupied, he just had to trust that AJ did his job while Des did his. Reappearing on the other side of the door to the security office Des was grateful to find it empty, it kept the damage he would have to do to their overall systems to a minimum. Locking the door and putting one of the convenient chairs behind it Des set to work. Finding switches and flipping them he began to manually shut down the entire system, motion detectors, cameras, the works. He'd feel terrible if today was a day that a terrorist group decided to blow up the statute but he'd rather have some fun then live life only following the rules laid out for him.
When he was done Des nodded to himself in satisfaction. It'd take awhile before the cameras were turned back on now and he didn't cause thousands of dollars worth of damage. Good job him. He ghosted again immediately seeking out his partner in crime sitting off to the side and reappeared at his side. "Cameras are down now, now we can have all tha naughty times we want without Uncle Sam recordin'."
"I can do that. Despite tha accent 'n all I can blend in with high society. Gotta learn fancy life stuff if ya go ta fancy ballroom competitions." Knowing how to act in formal settings was a skill that Des didn't apply very often. He was more likely to be found in some dive bar drinking the local special than he was sipping champagne and eating caviar. Which was a favorite of his he had to guiltily admit. Fish anything was soooo tempting to just smell and eat. Tuna heads were especially good and he vaguely wondered if he could find a good Japanese restaurant to enjoy one at.
"It might. Just don't kill anyone in my family, I like them. They don't judge me on my looks just on tha stupid shit I pull." There had been many times when he'd gotten looks from his family but it was never in conjunction with his visible mutation. His invisible mutation did receive annoyed groans when he employed it at times and had lost his clothing. Good thing he'd learned how to take his clothes with him into his ghost zone. Running around naked in combat situations got real old real fast.
Desire snorted at Remy, knowing she meant it probably in a deadly way. It was nice to touch her, a warm body was always something Des rarely got to encounter unless he was actively in a hostile situation. His new friend was turning out to be awesome. Who knew he could find such sheer fuck it all attitudes in anyone now a days. It was comforting to know that she cared more about his sass than his tabby striped ass. "They won't know what hit 'em sugar biscuit." He said as he began to scroll through dance club listings. Aha! Latin style would be perfect for them both, a good way to blow off steam and probably get at least Remy laid. Her grave tone did nothing to phase him, he knew that winning on enemy territory was a rush in and of itself. If he focused on this like a mission it'd have more chance of succeeding.
Quirking an eyebrow at the morse code Des stood idly by as he dialled up a cab. This was far easier to do than trying to hail a taxi in his experience. He didn't even startle when she hopped onto the desk and trapped the manager like a spider. A small part of him found vicious glee in the fact that she was whispering very creative threats to the manager.
"Latin dance club, figure ya can shake yer tits 'n ass as much as ya want there." He said with a grin.
"Well he only sells it ta people who won't rat him out 'n gifts it ta family. If ya got a flavor yer itchin' fer tell me 'n I'll pass it along. Won't be free like this stuff but it'll be worth it." Just because she was a friend didn't mean she'd get everything for free. It was a privilege in itself that he was willing to pass along a booze request to Bobby. She wouldn't rat Bobby out though, not if her earlier actions spoke of her nature at all.
"'s hard but 's fun. Don't mind teachin' ya anythin' ya wanna learn dance wise. That's how I've been supportin' myself since I left tha service a year ago. Dance instruction not strippin', sadly where I come from I'd starve if I had ta make a livin' off of strippin'." Des said mournfully. It'd be easy to take his clothes off and just dance for money but alas his catlike features tended to turn people away rather than towards him despite his handsome features. "We'll see if ya can keep up with me." It wasn't an empty boast to say he was fantastic. He'd travelled the States and Internationally to compete and had been performing in ballet almost as soon as he had started.
The large man was graceful in a predatory way. His movements exuded lethal power in a controlled way. His body was a weapon, a finely honed weapon. "Well let's get ya comfy fer dancin' 'cause I plan ta get ya hot 'n sweaty by tha time this night is over." He playfully swatted her shoulder as he let her take the garbage bag out. No way was he going to be sleeping in a room with that sort of stench if he could help it. Sometimes sleeping next to dead things was an unavoidable happenstance, but he could at least be free of the dead people juice.
"Gonna have ta google a club. Any particular kind o' dancin' ya want or are ya gonna let me choose?"
Des knew trouble when he saw it and the handsome brick house of a man was trouble. Not a bad kind in his estimation, didn't seem to have weapons on him and he didn't have the air of murder that most combatants had. No, this man was looking for the kind of trouble Des thrived in. The fun kind. The kind that made friends from strangers if his experience with Remy had anything to do with it.
" 'scuse me a second sir." Des asked abruptly, quite willing to take a chance. What sort of life could he have if he didn't take chances? He wouldn't get out of bed in the morning if he was that chicken. "Willin' ta watch my back while I hit security? Cameras are such a pain when ya wanna really look at shit. Promise I won't do anythin' ta permenantly damage tha statue but c'mon wanna have fun instead o' listen ta Perky McPerkison throw up facts we learned in highschool?" Des knew he sounded sketchy and he looked it too, with his multicolored hair, stripes, cat attributes, and scars. He figured the tanned skin wouldn't matter to a fellow person of color and wouldn't set off alarm bells like it did with white people.
Ugh. White people. Des might be half hillbilly but he wasn't fond of middle class white Americans. They were the worst when it came to bullying and staring and just being wholly unpleasant to deal with. He'd lost count of how many people he'd punched for calling him a terrorist or muslim. Thank you but he was Presbyterian, one of God's frozen chosen. He even attended church on a semi regular basis.
"Whaddya say?" Des asked knowing he sounded like some sort of troublemaking prostitute. Not that he'd mind a quickie with the handsome stranger near him but that wasn't the point of today's exercise.
Desire knew that this was probably the most cliché thing he could do while in New York but he wanted to see it just the same. There was history here that couldn't be ignored. This country was built on the backs of immigrants and as the son of one himself he wanted to get in touch with this part of his country's history. Even if it was freezing cold outside with flurries of snow. He wanted to go curl up in some nice warm soft place, maybe in the sun, and rest awhile, but that would mean not using the tickets he bought weeks ago. Nope Des was going to tough it out. The man had been to Siberia this was truly nothing compared to that, even if given the chance he'd complain about it.
Ears twitching in just minor annoyance at the overly perky guide the tall man stood at the edge of the crowd waiting for the bulk of the group to pass him. No point in being in the middle when he planned on skipping out and exploring the place at his leisure. He just needed to get near the security control room and he could wreck havoc as much as his dark little heart desired.
It was a very good thing that Desire didn't have ulterior motives other than to explore the statue. If he had a whole lot of trouble could have been created and a symbol of America would forever be in rubble. No, the world was better off that Des was generally a good guy and not a villain.
Hovering back Des tilted his head in the direction of security. There weren't many witnesses now. He could do it. Maybe. There was another man there also looking as if he was waiting for an opportunity.
"Can't say I'm surprised that animals get weirded out, ya got no heart yet yer movin' around 'n ya just smell off. Like...dirt meybbe." Des explained as best he could to why he wasn't going to go effusively explain why she smelled great. She no longer smelled of a days old corpse and that's what mattered the most. "I was told by my team once that I had tha ass that America deserved. That was after we stole a bunch o' booze from an enemy stronghold 'n I stripper climbed a flag pole ta steal their flag. But yer ass beats my bubble butt anyday."
"'s inspired by Moroccan mint tea. My cousin on my papa's side has an illegal distillery 'n he makes it fer my 'um. I might've taken a few bottles before I left." Des explained as he took a swig from his own glass. It was a shame that Remy couldn't get drunk, being drunk helped dull a lot of things when it needed to be dulled and to lose that escape was a tragedy. Sitting on his bed and relaxing Des took another swig.
"Used ta compete before I went inta tha service 'b I used ta perform too. Ballet, ballroom, 'n pole are my specialties, though I can do a bit o' hip hop 'n tap. My parents took an overactive child 'n placed him in dance ta give me a chance ta constructively work tha energy out. Even went ta a performin' arts highschool ta better fit my gayness." Des explained with a happy grin of his own. He loved dancing, breathed it, and there was rarely a day that went by that Des didn't dance in some capacity. He didn't care how much a stereotype it made him, he would flip anyone off who looked down on him for it.
"That's it we're goin' dancin'. 'cause I'm a cat, a kitty cat, 'n I dance, dance, dance, 'n I dance, dance, dance." He half sung, swinging his arms out in parody of the old meme. There was more life to him now that he knew he was going to dance with someone competent. It had been weeks since he'd had a partner and his ballroom was getting 'rusty' so to speak. Draining his glass in one fell swoop he stood up, offering his hand out to her graciously. "Shall we go sugar biscuit? We need ta get ya better clothes if we're gonna show off that fabulous body o' yers."
"I know right? I look sexy as hell." Came the confident reply from the confident man. He liked how he looked, odds and ends and all. No one else came close to looking like him and it was something of a relief to stand out amongst so many similar looking people. "Ya smell less like death now. Sugar the difference between my hips 'n yer hips are pretty significant. Ya got more ass than I do too." He pointed out, not phased by the threat to his life. She wasn't joking, well she was and wasn't all at once as far as Des could tell. Still it was no skin off his fangs to keep a secret. Lord knew he had enough of them to fill a regular person to insanity.
"Want moonshine? My bitch beers don't seem like they'd amuse such a refined palette as yers. Tha mooonshine is smooth 'n shit but it puts most people on their asses." He said as he immediately began to hunt for his bottle of illegal moonshine. The scent of sweet mint filled the room when he poured two generous glasses of it to serve, finding comfort in being able to play host to his new friend.
"Gotta go grocery shoppin' can't live off takeout 'n 'm out o' shit in tha kitchenette. But I can put it off 'n do somethin' more fun. Like dancin' hot stuff?"
Des was as stereotypically gay as most men were stereotypically straight. He loved musical theatre, dancing, good food, being catty in more than one sense of the word. He also had crushed men's still beating hearts in their chests and snapped necks, not to mention eating raw snake and getting covered in literal shit to hide from enemy forces. Des was just Des, a strange man who could pirouette and kick your face in all at once.
There was something special about Remy when she assumed that HE was the prostitute at first go rather than she. He was offended by the insinuation by the patrolmen but warmed by Remy's defense. It was something of a breath of fresh air not to be thrown under a bus for once and actually defended by someone who was a relative stranger. That was it, Des was in love. He was going to marry this woman. Just because he was flamingly gay didn't mean much, not like tons of guys were beating down his door to have a go anyway.
"Ya see officers I ain't prostitutin' myself 'n neither is she. We're just buddies catchin' up." Des explained in as level a voice as he could manage. He was still somewhere between highly amused and extremely pissed off, but he kept a neutral poker face on. "I better go clean up tha mess now, so excuse me." He wanted to tell them to fuck off but it was likely not the sort of thing that being a potential instructor of small children would do. It was a careful balance now of doing what he wanted and being a goodish role model.
Closing the door on the police felt good, not letting them get any more words in to try and question him about why he and his friend were doing what they were doing. As a gay minority mutant he didn't trust the police as far as he could throw them. He only trusted his fellow soldiers to keep his back and not shoot him for doing something as innocuous as stretching. He moved deeper into the room where he kept his clothing and selected a pair of sweatpants and a plain dark t-shirt. Nothing fancy and nothing he'd miss if Remy decided to not return his clothes later on.
"Thank ya fer bein' pissed off." Des called out into the bathroom. "Ain't used ta not havin' ta go with tha patrol officers to tha prescient 'cause I look too suspicious."
"Nice ta meet ya Remy." There were some manners beaten into his thick kitty skull. His mother and father had had a time of teaching him respect, but when he learned it he learned it. He could do manners when he chose to and he chose to at this moment. It was the extent of his manners though as he practically stuck his head out the window of the taxi to get air.
"I'm an affront ta God, everythin' I do is offensive." The cat man quipped with a grin. Well it explained the smell despite Remy looking so healthy. Being a gay SEAL meant nakedness from a fellow soldier didn't phase him. Not that he'd been phased as a teen either, not with his powers making him naked whenever they were activated. He'd had shame carved out of him young and while he looked at Remy like she was an interesting piece of art, he felt no lust or wanting towards her. Letting her get to his stash of vanilla jasmine toiletries he wandered over to the kitchenette area and began to rummage around. He had tea and he had alcohol. Not much of a selection but it was something.
"Lookin' ta try 'n be tha dance instructor over at tha X Mansion. Just haven't gotten 'round ta askin' fer it yet 'cause-" He was cut off by a sharp rap on the door. Ears twitching Des turned and headed to the opening. "Hold up someone's at tha door." He warned Remy as he cautiously peered through the peephole. Two uniformed police officers looked tense and wary on the other side.
Swearing loudly in arabic Des opened the door with narrowed eyes. There had never been a time when the police had come looking for him that something had gone right. "Yes?" He coldly asked leaning against the doorframe in a faux relaxed pose. "We're sorry to disturb you sir but we got a report that possible prostitution was happening."
"Don't got no exes so ta speak. Where I come from even tha liberals don' wanna date such an obvious mutant." It wasn't a sore spot, but it wasn't a good one either. Desire had never dated anyone before, not because he didn't want to but because he was too wrong to be boyfriend material for anyone. Then there had been the twelve years under Don't Ask that had really put a crimp on any potential dating. So he was thirty and never had a boyfriend but it wasn't so bad. He'd gotten to have one nighters with very drunk and curious boys in his teens and twenties.
Raising an eyebrow at her Des just mutely shook his head in amusement. Nope not calling her Rick today. Which reminded him that while he'd introduced himself she'd failed to do so. "Soooo what's yer name sugar?" He asked, wanting to know at least even a lie so he had something other than Rick to call her in his head. She was going to borrow his clothes in the most unsexy manner of the idea.
"Thank ya." He said gratefully when she rolled down the window. Politely he'd tell her that she smelled like shit, rudely he'd tell her in detail what kind of shit she smelled like. Keeping his mouth shut on the matter of how foul she was to him he settled for rattling off the address of his hotel. It wasn't too far from where they were to be honest a twenty minute walk at the most and a five minute taxi ride (if the traffic wasn't the hellish congestion that New York traffic was known to be). When they arrived Des practically dove out of the taxi, taking in the fresher air like a dying man. He didn't have to put on his mission mode face, he could emote just how foul Remy smelled to him without barfing.
Leading her to his room Des didn't even bother to notice the strange stare he got from the front desk manager as he passed by with his guest. That was unusual since the man had seemed unflappable when Des had first started coming and going from his room. Now he didn't notice the man discreetly dialing the phone behind his back, far more focused on getting Remy to his room. Once there he opened the door with a flourish and a bow. "Bathroom is there, toiletries are all in tha bathroom, don't got no razor. I'll pick out some clothes fer ya. Use as much o' my shit as ya need ta not smell like death."
"Mercenary is good, ya just seemed more professional about yer ass kickin' than most. Take 'em out without any fancy footwork." Des decided not to pick at her alive time. If it was in the past then it was in the past, no use bringing up what could be unpleasant memories. It'd be like her poking around about his scar if he had declined to tell the first time around. Some things were better left buried.
"Sounds like a fair deal ta me. Yer gonna have ta get tha cab though, folk don't like ta stop fer me. Meybbe they're just shy o' my good looks?" He said teasingly as he tilted his head in mock seriousness to show off his features. It wasn't to say he was bad looking, he was handsome enough even with the scars and catlike features, but he was very strange looking as well and he knew it. Well people who didn't appreciate his good looks could put it in the suck it bucket as far as the former SEAL was concerned.
Growing up as 'other' his entire life made Desire have a strange sense of self confidence. He was a beautiful person and anyone who thought otherwise could eat dirt, he loved his tanned skin and cat ears. He loved his gayness and his nerdiness and his varied interests. There had been a time when he hadn't been so self confident but with the help of a supportive family he grew to accept and love who he was. No one in the world was like him and that was probably for the best as the world probably couldn't handle a second one of him.
"Just ta warn ya I got tha girliest scented soaps 'n lotions. Got an old highschool buddy who does all this organic naturalistic stuff. I just wear it cause it smells nice 'n it used ta bother my CO whenever we were on base. 'McGee you're a SEAL not a highschool girl waiting for her prom date'. Used ta keep perfume in my drawer fer mission reports. Just ta let 'em know it was from me."
"Got nine lives sugar, ain't nothin' gonna take me down." He replied with a grin. 'Um had hated the fact he had taken up smoking as a recruit, but even his mother's disapproval didn't stop him. There was something cathartic about smoking, time passed easier with a cigarette in his mouth. Time was a problem with Des, it passed too quickly sometimes or far too slowly. The only things that made time work right at all were smoking and dancing.
"Papa picked out my first name. He's a bit peculiar 'n wanted ta have a kid that everyone else would envy. So he named me Desire fer what I shoulda elicited in others. Jokes on him, cats are abominations against God. Adorable abominations but abominations nonetheless." That reminded him that he needed to check out the local shelters in the area to see if they needed volunteers. Animals got Des and Des got animals. It was a feral thing.
It was good when his nerd references were acknowledged. He had spent many lonely hours watching terrible movies and playing video games when he wasn't dancing or doing work. A kindred spirit of sorts seemed to be found in the foul smelling woman. At least until she went for the drugs.
Des kept his face impassive as she began the deal. Dead woman doing drugs wasn't really a crime in his book. Some people had needs and it really wasn't like it was going to do her any harm. That's what mattered to Des. So long as your choices didn't hurt you to death then he was fine with it. Not like he would've done much good in trying to stop her.
Then she surprised him. Taking out the drug dealer quickly and cleanly he grinned a newfound confidence in his new companion beginning to take shape. Des was a good judge of character and he liked this crazy ass lady a lot now. Taking the offered cash he pocketed it. "You former military too?" He asked with confidence, having a gut feeling she'd say yes to his inquiry. "That gun looks shitty, all flash no substance. What's with criminals nowadays, yanno? At least get a gun that will murder yer target properly."
Laughing Des made a decision. It was admittedly a stupid decision but it was his decision nonetheless. "I got a shower in my hotel room. 'm new in town as well, lookin' fer a job, 'n don't got a permanent residence. I bet if we head ta Chinatown that ya can get good shit cheap. Whaddya say?"
