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.
Andrew recognized his folly within a few moments of actually breaching the Mansion grounds. As he stood, taking in the magnificent old building and the finely landscaped land around it, he realized vaguely that he had absolutely no idea who it was he was supposed to speak to about an actual job. Sam's card had his name and address. but Andrew had been too distracted by everything going on to actually ask the question of who might oversee the hiring of new teachers. He chastised himself silently as he slowly walked forward, his brown eyes hidden behind sunglasses and the wind pulling at his curly brown-grey hair. He'd put on a clean suit and carried his resume, references, and immediate hiring materials in case things went well. He'd found his way to the Mansion with little difficulty. Everything was smooth and beautiful - but now he moved apprehensively, considering his next option.
He could simply go inside, walk around until he found his way to some administrative offices. Though a stranger wandering the halls was likely to get noticed and possibly not in the best way.
"Aren't you brilliant," he muttered aloud. "Has it been so long that you've completely forgotten the etiquette of finding a new job? Or are you simply so eager to help that manners and procedures be damned?" He hand tightened on his portfolio and he took a deep breath. "Perhaps I will come back later, after I've regained my senses."
The smell of the food hit his nose and Andrew had to subtly swallow as his mouth watered. He carefully picked up the sandwich and took a bite, his eyes involuntarily fluttering closed as the flavors filled his mouth. With a small sigh, he chewed, swallowed, and nodded to Sam. "This is delicious. My compliments to your cook."
He nodded as Sam easily received and responded to his compliment, grinning in agreement at his comments about making life easier by laughing, and acknowledging that Andrew's perception of him was right. He agreed that it was fortunate he was meeting the man at a bar during off hours (so to speak) instead of at the school. He suspected under the kind, no-nonsense exterior rested a firm hand and a solid instructor. The school he was at certainly indicated good quality with him as one of their teachers.
"How do you think I wind up with so many patrons."
"Well, part of it is your charm, I am sure, but your cook certainly helps." Andrew continued eating, testing the asparagus as well. Soft but not mushy, and seasoned. Very good indeed!
"Give me a shout if you need anything else. Doubt I'll be here for much longer though. You're bartender should be back in no time though. Less spontaneous hopefully."
"Ah, spontaneity. A delightful thing, in moderation!" Andrew inclined his head. "No, it was a fortunate pleasure meeting you and I imagine you will see me visiting your school before too long. Then, I can understand why meeting you off of the grounds was a better option." He winked playfully. "My thanks, Sam."
Sam brushed off Andrew's comment about healing, noting that it would neither do much good nor prevent him from getting into any further scrapes. He followed it up with a quip about his eyesight that made Andrew snort. "It is fortunate that you find humor in your circumstances." He pointed to the eye and the hand. "Would that many in your position should still enjoy life and be at ease." It was supposed to be a compliment but as the words came out of his mouth he couldn't help but feel like an old man saying old man things to younger generations. He wondered how old the owner was. Battle could age a person well beyond their actual years, and while humor was a magnificent balm for old age, some wounds took too much soul energy from a person. He himself had one or two of those.
Sometimes he truly did feel like an old man waiting to die. And, as he often thought when that crossed his mind, he wished it were not so.
Sam then began to elaborate on the term 'adapted' and Andrew found himself leaning forward, captivated by the discussion. Not a mutant, then, but someone who was resistant to their abilities? The danger level was really no less, but rather the way Sam described it it sounded much more positive than the dark worries Andrew's vivid imagination had stirred up. He hadn't considered that some mutants would enjoy his powers...no, his adaptation.
A little kernel of hope sprang to life in his chest.
There was an 'adapted' teaching at the school already, a 'motherly' figure as Sam put it (but don't tell her that). Andrew smiled, sipping his bourbon and noticing the glass was nearly empty. He would not get a refill, not if he was about to interview. He was grateful Sam withdrew the offer of a ride - he would have denied it anyway. While extremely polite, he wanted to take the time to pull himself together and learn the way to the school on his own. But the kernel of hope began to catch light when Sam mentioned that they had work, and Andrew's being there might help him sleep better as long as he helped some of the children. That's all I ever wanted. This sounded like it could be an exciting opportunity and the first good one he had seen in several days.
He read the card. "Instructor of Self-Defense and Mansion Greeter?" He looked up at Sam with a smirk. "Not much in the way of riffraff gets past you, now does it? I imagine quite a few parents and students do a double take when you show up. Perhaps I should consider myself lucky to have met you off of the grounds." Stop it. He was too excited by the job offer to come up with a good tease. He tucked the card into his wallet, and set Great Expectations further to the side to make room for the incoming plate.
Andrew laughed and raised his glass in a mock-cheer to the bartender. "Touche." He followed it with a wink before taking another sip. If only the trouble he had had with his coworkers was limited to his former abuse issue.
He watched as the owner...no, Sam. Sam was his name. No last name, but then again who really offered their last name in this time period? He was really a relic of a long-gone time at this point. He wondered vaguely when his learned mannerisms and social etiquette had become out of style.
He watched as Sam iced over his hand in a further attempt to heal it, but then as he drew near the ice fell apart once more. "If you are looking to heal your injuries, perhaps it is best if you avoid getting too close. It would seem my abilities...cancel yours. Cancel anyone's, really."
"Adapted? Noticed it when I came in. Couldn't feel you."
Adapted? That was a term he was unfamiliar with. Was that what mutants called themselves these days? "I developed thermal vision to make up for the lack of peripheral." Probably a joke; he had not heard anything about mutations being developed on their own but rather due to a gene that already existed within the body. "She confirmed it." A gesture to the waitress engaging with the bikers, and Andrew recalled her speaking about being unable to appear much closer to him than she had.
"Adapted? Is that the term for a mutant now? I've not heard of it before."
"I think that department is short handed, though."
Two pieces of very important information back to back, and Andrew prioritized. "If you can give me the contact information for the school, I can offer them my resume. Unless an application is...online." He had known how to navigate a computer in his day, oh had he, but it had been a long time and the world had jumped ahead very swiftly. "I have no wish to appear desperate but I have found few opportunities and, as you know, one requires money to live."
Andrew barely heard the owner apologize for the young woman - his gaze was instead locked on her, eyes wide and a smile on his face. She was a mutant, and one so bold as to just use her abilities in public! Of course, he was no fool - mutants weren't exactly hidden from view nowadays, but it said a lot about the location, the owner, the neighborhood, that she could feel so confident as to just teleport around. Teleportation. His mind worked on that word for a moment, his curiosity engaged. What possible sequence of genes had set up to give her the ability to disappear from one place and appear in another? How did the laws of science - physics, biology, even chemistry - bend for her? What kind of an effect did she have on the world around her - the immediate air, for example - when she activated her abilities? He was no scientist, but the concept of mutation often made him wish he knew a little more math.
He looked back over to see the owner offering a fist. Ah. He had seen students do this, and it never failed to amuse him. He wondered if the owner knew that the concept had originated from a germaphobe who wanted to balance the social niceties of 'shaking hands' with his own (not unjustified) fear of germs. Thus was born the 'fist bump'. He quelled the urge to give the man a history lesson and instead carefully reached out his own hand, tapping fists as was appropriate. "A pleasure, Sam."
"I too happen to be a teacher of sorts."
That was unsurprising. Andrew could feel himself relaxing more and more by the minute in this man's presence. As whirlwind as he had entered, he carried himself with a confidence and grace that belied his sharp eyes and quick reflexes. He had a pleasant voice and a welcoming, if blunt, manner that lent itself to engaging speech. Perfect for a bartender, and a welcome attribute to have as a teacher. He wondered what he taught. Something as simple as math? He seemed a little too powerful for history, and a little too dangerous for science. Perhaps some sort of physical instruction - that might explain his injuries.
He watched as the man suddenly activated his own ability, as easily as breathing and with no concern for the crowd of bikers animatedly chatting with the young waitress. Andrew's eyebrows went up at the blue light that froze the bucket. He didn't miss that the man had had to move the bucket away from him, and he quickly ran through previous interactions in his mind. It would appear his ability to nullify mutations was closer to six feet than four, as he had originally estimated with Violet. Had it gotten bigger, or was he just more aware of it now?
"Can I ask why you had to relocate? I know my school is always looking for an extra set of hands." The question Andrew didn't want to answer, followed by a wry joke that brought a small snort and snicker to his lips. He rather liked the self-deprecating, dry humor. He decided to risk a response.
"Certain revelations about myself came to light that...instigated conflict with my coworkers. The work environment became...uncomfortable." He gestured. "As you no doubt can see, there are certain persons that find my...condition...intolerable." He hoped he didn't have to elaborate beyond that. "If your school has an opening and sufficient interest for an instructor of theatre and film, I would be delighted to send in my resume."
Andrew gratefully accepted the pen and paper. “Thank you.” Now that the man was close enough to hand him something he stole a more curious look at him, and noticed that a patch covered one eye. Apparently, injuries were something common to this gentleman. Good to know. He resisted the urge to ask about it, quelling his ever-rising curiosity, and flipped open the paper, settling into the rhythm of the next few minutes. Eating, drinking, perusing, marking…the outside world could drift away, Charles Dickens could go silent, and he could focus on the next step towards establishing himself. He vaguely heard his order being called into the back, and his mouth watered slightly at the memory of his last Philadelphia cheesesteak. He was sure the New York style would be delicious.
“Where you looking?” The owner’s voice sounded conversational, casually trying to decipher more about him, he supposed. As the owner continued to speak, however, Andrew deduced that he was, in fact, genuinely interested, not just making small talk as bartenders so often did. He chuckled under his breath as the man mentioned the bar being frequented by police and bikers as potential trades. Do I appear to be either of those types of men? He wasn’t sure if it was flattering or not, but he had a feeling the man was honestly trying to help.
He set down the pen and picked up his drink, prepared to introduce himself, and stopped short as a young woman appeared behind the bar. He recognized her rather swiftly as the waitress who had first given him his bourbon, but he found himself wondering if the owner had simply pulled her up from behind the bar or if she had actually appeared because said bar due to supernatural means.
You are being paranoid and hypervigilant, he chided himself gently. Now that he had abilities, he did feel like his senses were permanently dialed up to 11, on the lookout for mutants and anti-mutant humans alike, trying to get used to this new world that he had already been living in. The shift in his perspective had opened up a lot of new ways of looking at things and he knew he could become easily overwhelmed by it all if he allowed it to dominate him.
The young woman inquired about the owner’s hand, and Andrew visibly leaned a little closer, wondering about that answer himself.
“Firecrackers in a mailbox. One of the kids gave them a boost. Wasn’t expecting the force behind it.”
Ah. That certainly explained a lot. Firecrackers were dangerous. Firecrackers mixed with kids were often worse. In a mailbox? Clearly, the kids the owner spent time with were little pyromaniacs. Andrew wondered if the man’s missing eye had come from an overeager teenager wielding a Roman candle. He’d certainly been in that situation when he was younger (as the overeager teenager).
The owner assigned the young woman to an empty table, a move that perplexed both her and Andrew until the door suddenly opened, admitting a crowd of bikers. The midday peace of the bar instantly began to fade away, and Andrew turned back to the owner, anxious to glean as much information as he could before he had to return to work. “Andrew Fletcher,” he said. “My name, that is. Former professor of theatre and film for the University of Pittsburgh. I…have had to relocate, and I am in the market for a teaching position at a local school. If such a position is available.”
Jul 20, 2021 15:14:23 GMT -6
Andrew Fletcher: good golly, this site doesn't like Microsoft Word. Got it!
By this point, Andrew was pretty sure the man who had come stumbling in injured was the very owner of the bar he was now settled in. He also had picked up on the man's movements, watching him draw closer and then further away, being casual but definitely curious about Andrew's presence. Maybe, even, sensing Andrew's abilities and measuring them against a mental yardstick. Dangerous? Not dangerous? The paranoia was not something Andrew had felt in a long time, and was in fact a sensation he had hoped to feel little of ever again. But the man was smoothly moving around the bar, cleaning and treating his wounds and not regarding Andrew with any suspicion or fear. It was best he not bring anything up at all.
"They rarely are but it doesn't look as good if I say I'm always right. People might stop coming to this place."
Andrew chuckled. "Quite." He closed the book and inspected the casual menu tucked behind a napkin dispenser, considering the options. Bars were famous for their junk food, and Andrew was learning that fried and fatty was not going along with his digestive system quite as much as it used to. However, it would be rude if he settled in a place of business for several hours musing over his personal problems and nursing a single bourbon. Maybe he could permit himself four drinks today, and get a second bourbon. Especially if he drank with food. It would certainly help.
He pushed the thought away and tapped the menu. "Thank you for asking, I believe I will take you up on that. A Philadelphia cheesesteak and roasted asparagus, please." A sudden thought occurred to him. "Also, might you have a newspaper? I need to familiarize myself with the classified section. Though never fear, I am perfectly capable of paying my bar tab." He offered a friendly, teasing smile even though a sensation of silliness washed over him. An ad would not be so blatant. 'Teacher wanted for mutant school'! Things were not possibly so easy as that. And truthfully he wasn't sure if job postings even happened in newspapers anymore, or if they were strictly online. But he had no desire to walk to the Public Library to go job hunting at this time. At least, not until after lunch.
The crash of the door slamming open made Andrew jump, and his hands instinctively tightened on both the book and the glass, his mind prepared to use either as a weapon - or a weapon and a distraction, depending on the situation, he wasn't picky. He watched with alert eyes and tense legs as a handsome, rugged-looking fellow charged into the bar, the dim lights giving hints of injuries on the man's skin. He considered calling out for the owner of the establishment to come assist the newcomer, but the extra moment's pause answered a whole different question: this man was well acquainted with the bar, and if not staff of it, then intimate enough with those that were to treat it as thought he owned the place. Andrew's body slowly began to relax as the man muttered something about firecrackers before grabbing a random rag and pressing it to wounded skin.
Andrew cringed. The rag was filthy, and placing it on an open wound such as that...well, the place was filled with alcohol so there was likely some way to clean the wound. He thought of the handkerchief in his pocket to offer the man, but then pushed the thought away as the man barked for a rag - specifically a clean one.
Andrew now worked to relax himself completely and return to his thoughts. However, the man didn't stay silent for long, calling out a "Morning" before asking if Andrew wanted the lights up.
"Ah, no, thank you," he said kindly. "It's really more of a way to focus my thoughts than actual retention of the words. And as I've read this book...numerous times...it would be a waste of the electricity and I shan't want to put the owner out. The customer is...not always right." A little smile formed after this last sentence, and he shyly looked away, wondering if he'd said too much in response to a simple question. The side effect of being a professor - a short answer was often difficult to find.
It was a rather painful irony that one of the only places Andrew Fletcher felt comfortable in - in New York City at least - was a bar. Sure, he would have much preferred the lobbies or waiting rooms of one of the city's many theatres, but he had left that world behind so harshly and so long ago, he still wondered if it would be possible to ever again set foot on the velveteen carpet without the waves of agonizing guilt. That would be a battle for another day. He had not been back in New York City long, and he still didn't quite have a real place to live. The hotel was fine enough, but it was expensive, and keeping the rest of his life in storage was rapidly draining his accounts. He needed employment, and he needed it soon.
For now, however, he was silently enjoying his bourbon (his first, and he could not permit himself to go past three drinks for the day), and flipping the pages of Great Expectations. He knew, of course, that reading a book in a dive bar was not the wisest course of action, but in all honesty he had a lot to digest lately, he didn't feel like doing it in the bright light of day, and reading a familiar book would help him organize his thoughts. While Great Expectations was a magnificent piece of literature, there was so much to it that one could sufficiently let their mind wander for several pages before another moment important to the plot came up.
A mutant. He was a mutant. He could still remember the look on Violet's face, that powerful expression of compassion that had solidified his decision to leave the University of Pittsburgh. Violet had been witness to the birth of a whole new Andrew, and she had told him she would do whatever she could to help him. And then she had vanished. The story he had been told was that she had dropped out, but he didn't buy that for a moment. Unfortunately, he had not been able to dig up any information on her, and had been forced to retreat from his hunt for the time being. Once he was re-established somewhere, he would start looking again.
He turned the page and took a sip, savoring the liquid. A mutant who could nullify abilities. That was likely a dangerous kind of mutant to be.
My gosh it really is, I am sorry and yet I am grateful! Thank you so much for these! I do like the signature but I realized I asked for the wrong thing - I mixed up avatar and cover image. Do you think you might be able to do a cover image? I'm so sorry I mixed them up! The avatar I am using now was what I had intended to use for said cover image but the resolution is bad even though the age is right! Argh!
I actually love these, I seriously do!! I do want to ask though: I fully intend on using the shots of him in sunglasses for another version of the character (younger), so if you are able to use a different shot for the avatar at least, I would appreciate it!
Thank you thank you!
My current avatar with him can also work if you can find a better resolution!
If you are able to do this I would appreciate it so much. The actor is older than the character so you may want to look for photos from 2000-2015. Can also use photos of him in various roles from his stage performances. Please let me know if you need more information from me. Thank you.
Character Name: Andrew Fletcher Play-by: Scott Wentworth Type of Graphic: Signature and avatar Desired Text: To be...or not...to be. Additional Details: He was a stage actor and loves it so theatre themed would be good.
Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: Andrew. He doesn’t care for Andy or Drew
Gender:Male
Age: 51
Date of Birth: 10/02/1969
Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Portsmouth, New Hampshire
Nationality: American
Ethnicity/ Cultural Heritage: British/French
Appearance
Hair color and style: Short but fluffy dark brown hair with greying streak, normally neat but can get a little windblown if he doesn’t pay attention.
Skin Tone: Generally pale but has a light tan
Eye Color: Dark brown
Height: 5’9”
Build: He is overall slender, but age and drink have made him a little comfortable around the waist.
Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: None known
Other features: Wide smile
Everyday clothing style: In general, Andrew likes to wear business casual clothing, typically black pants or khakis and button down shirts with a jacket and sometimes a tie. The tie will be either solid or patterned, but not garish. He sticks to neutrals and dark colors, though sometimes he will wear a white button down shirt. He is very rarely seen in jeans or khaki shorts (but sightings do happen) or solid color T-shirts (again, dark colors). He will also wear pullover sweaters over T-Shirts or polos. He wears Oxfords when at work, Oxfords or sneakers at home, usually black.
Uniform: Pretty much the same as his every day business casual clothing.
Sleepwear: Wears a pair of boxers and a T-shirt to bed
Miscellaneous clothing: Wears his class ring instead of a wedding band (he is unmarried). He also wears a simple black and gold leather banded analog watch. He carries reading glasses and a handkerchief.
Character
Personality: Andrew comes off as a quiet, calm, charming man, but it usually doesn’t take too long for someone to notice that there is a lot brewing under his surface. He is realistic (though some might call it cynical), and frank, but will soften his words in response to the emotional state of the person in front of him. Gracious and kind, Andrew does not inject himself into people’s lives unless he feels he must, and he does not often get involved in conflicts unless he is called out or he finds a personal reason to do so. He is content to sit and watch people suss out their own issues before offering his thoughts, though sometimes he will toss out a dry joke here and there to remind people of his presence. He is at rather constant war with himself, longing for friends and companionship due to being lonely, and then wanting to be alone because he doesn’t feel like he can trust anyone but himself. He loves to teach and discuss films, plays, and literature. Here is where you will see him brighten up, smile, his eyes sparkle, and in short, become beautiful. It takes a lot to make him angry, but if you come after his students or anyone he has decided is someone he cares about, he can become dangerous, wasting no time in using anything and everything he knows to protect them. He may be older, but he keeps in shape enough to throw a good punch.
Job or part time job and description: Former actor, former professor of film and theatre direction at University of Pittsburgh (left due to anti-mutant coworkers and wanting to be more involved in helping mutants find their place).
Fears/ phobias/ concerns: Has a drinking problem that he is working to keep under control. Has abandonment issues due to losing his family and growing up in the foster care system. Is sterile, so considers his students his children. Is afraid of flying.
Special talents: Weaponry. He’s a rather skilled archer, a good shot with a gun, and knows how to fence. He’s also a good actor with a modest career on the stage and a few television appearances, but he isn’t well-known. He speaks French and Latin.
Morality
Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: Overall good with some neutral leaning. His life has not been easy but he has come to rely on himself and believes that one should treat the world with good intention.
Feelings toward Mutants: Truly fascinating! He is enthusiastic about their existence and eager to help shape the lives of young mutants growing up. Plus, he really wants to learn about them. He may love to teach – but he also loves to learn.
Feelings toward Humans: Actually overall, Andrew’s kinda neutral towards humans. They’re a cruel, selfish, race more focused on what they can acquire rather than what they have, not to mention throwing hissy fits when something ‘new’ offers them a new challenge in life. He doesn’t hate humans or anything, but he has gathered a rather negative view of them.
Feelings toward Mystics: Almost more fascinating than mutants! Magic is a little frightening due to its unpredictability but if approached cautiously, it’s probably safe…
Adapted Aura
Adapted Range: Nullifies powers within a 6 foot radius
Physical Abilities
General Physical Capabilities: Andrew is in average shape for his age. He is a little weaker, a little less flexible than he used to be, but he tries to walk and practice his Wing Chun to keep himself at least healthy. His hand-eye coordination is still very good, and his hand only occasionally shakes when drawing a bow or holding a gun.
Fighting Style: Wing Chun. He is no master, and mostly uses it for self defense and exercise.
Fighting Style Pros/Cons: Very fast and very direct strikes that can block and incapacitate quickly. Sensitive to opponent’s attacks and so can often block them before they land. However, Wing Chun does not move around a lot, and has almost no ground fighting/grapple abilities, so if you can get past his strikes you’ve probably got him. And given that he’s older and a little slower, it’s easier to catch him than it used to be.
History Of Your Character
Andrew was second born of three, with an older brother and a younger sister. His family underwent some severe shakeups in the first few years of his life, however. His father, a veteran of Vietnam, was a violent drunk at home, often beating his wife and Andrew’s older brother. After his abusive behavior landed his wife in a coma in the hospital, the children were taken by Child Protective Services and placed in foster care. Andrew never heard what happened to his parents after that, but he suspects they are dead. He kept in contact with his brother and sister, but eventually the siblings all stopped writing. Andrew has no idea if his siblings are still alive.
He was shuttled around in the system for a while before landing in the home of a kind British couple. Andrew put them through their paces, but they were infinitely patient with him, gradually earning his trust over the years. It was their love of Shakespeare that got Andrew interested in plays and the theatre, and when he discovered people made a living out of pretending to be other people, he was immediately hooked.
Andrew was a somewhat active child. He preferred to read and watch movies and plays, but he did enjoy riding horses with his family, and had a lot of fun at summer camp learning how to shoot a bow and arrow. He was intrigued by the duels in Shakespeare’s plays, and sought out learning how to fence as well, often fancying himself as a brave soul protecting the people who had been so kind to him. He earned a small knowledge of guns during hunting season, when his father would go out to shoot pheasant and deer, but overall he preferred archery and swords to rifles and pistols. Andrew also, as a child, caught reruns of a television show called Kung Fu, and was fascinated by the fighting. It wasn’t until he landed with his British foster (eventually adoptive) parents that he finally was able to start learning the martial art. It wasn’t the same as his beloved show, but it was certainly fun and helped keep the bullies off of him in school!
Despite being quite a loner (something his adopted parents) struggled to change, Andrew grew up into a kind man. He worked hard, double majoring in English and theatre in college, finding a passion not only for acting but for directing as well. After graduation, he went for his masters in classic English literature while beginning to act in local plays. By the age of 25, he had made a name for himself as a local stage actor, and an opportunity arose to join a theatre company in New York. He was active with the company for seven years, both as an actor and a director (and doing a few television appearances in the off-season). Though he dated often, he always balked at commitments, the old distrust rearing its head, and while he was well-liked, he still kept people at a distance.
Everything went wrong shortly before Andrew’s 32nd birthday – specifically on September 11, 2001. Both of Andrew’s parents were on Flight 175, and they called Andrew shortly before impact. Andrew, having been up late in rehearsal, slept through the phone message. He has never forgiven himself for this. Paralyzed by grief and horror, Andrew sank into an alcohol and rage-fueled depression, dropping out of the company and disappearing from public view for months. His friends from the company eventually banded together to haul him out of it, but it was a dark couple of years. When he decided to finally rejoin the world, he was unable to throw himself into acting and directing as much as he used to, and so he turned his sights to a career change – teaching. He didn’t want to go back to New Hampshire, nor did he want to remain in New York, so he took the first available job that he could find that wasn’t in either of those states: Professor of Film and Theatre Direction at the University of Pittsburgh.
Over the next eighteen years, Andrew slowly continued to climb out of the pit he had fallen into. It warmed his heart to see students learning, and over time a few students earned enough of his trust that he was able to share bits of his life with them, becoming as friendly as professor/student relations would allow. One day, one of his students came to him with a secret: she was a mutant. Andrew, as an outsider, had never found himself afraid of mutants, and so thanked her for trusting him with her secret. She asked him for help on what she should do, and he told her that she needed to find other mutants to help her, that he – as a human – could only understand the isolation but not the power. He was sorry he couldn’t do any more but he didn’t want to have a bad effect on what was clearly a frightening situation for her. He did ask her to show him what she could do, and both of them were stunned to realize that her abilities did not manifest around him at all…at least, not until she had put some distance between them. Initially, Andrew believes he is a mutant who simply nullifies powers. He has not yet learned about adapted humans.
This discovery of his abilities, however, brought with it some serious changes. Suddenly, the anti-mutant sentiments of some of his coworkers struck home in a far more personal way. Suddenly the hate crimes he saw against mutants became something he wanted to prevent, rather than avoid. Suddenly, the concept of people like himself, or the young woman who had revealed herself to him, too afraid to reveal themselves to the general public, became too pressing to ignore. Sad but determined, he began to seek out a way to help mutants, focusing of course on what he knew best – theatre and schooling.
Andrew is currently job hunting, trying to find a teaching position at a mutant school so he can help outsiders feel welcome.
Roleplay
What’s your OOC alias?: FandomDancer or Dancer
Where did you learn about this site?: Google search
Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: No
Sample RP:
Andrew’s heart grew heavy as he watched Violet walk slowly towards the door. The urge to reach out to her pressed on his chest and lips, combining with the confusion of the last few moments. Violet, a mutant, an intelligent and beautiful young woman come to him to ask for help, and he was forced to turn her away because he couldn’t relate? How many characters had he played or stories had he read with this very situation? How many times had there been an answer just beyond reach, in the wings, waiting to be called out with the right breath?
Ah, but reality is not a play, is it now?
It wasn’t. But reality sometimes could throw someone for a loop.
As Violet continued walking, her body began to glow. At first, he thought it was just a trick of the light, but as she continued towards the door the illumination increased rapidly. His eyes widened. “Miss Violet?”
She paused, looking back behind her, and only then did she seem to realize what was happening. “Wait…what the hell?”
Andrew began to move towards her quickly, wondering if he could shield her from the window leading to the hallway. But when the distance between them had closed once more, the glow suddenly faded from her body, winking out like a snuffed candle.
The two of them stared at each other.
“Professor,” she said softly, “are you a mutant too?"
Andrew’s head spun. His first immediate thought, of course, was no! No, it was impossible. Mutations manifested in one’s teenage years, or perhaps earlier. He was fifty, for goodness’ sake!
But suppose my mutation is so subtle, that I simply never noticed it all of these years?
“Not to my knowledge,” he replied, “but the ending of our little scene here appears to have an unexpected twist. You say you can manipulate light?”
“Basically, yeah.” She stepped back from him and the glow resumed. She stepped towards him, and the glow vanished once more. “But you stop me. Being around you stops me.”
“I assure you, this is not intentional!” Was his voice shaking? Yes, a little. “I have never had any experience with mutations in any way!”
She looked up at him, her eyes luminous and filled with an emotion he did not expect. Compassion. “Professor, I think you’re a mutant too. I think you stop powers from working. That might be why you never realized it until now.”
Andrew’s legs wobbled under him, and he sank slowly into one of the chairs, his hand white-knuckling the desk.
