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.
The bouncer was a big guy with cornrolls and a sneer that looked like it belonged in the Salty Spatoon. Cassandra gave him a sneer right back. He stopped advancing. She spread her wings. They ripped through the torn flaps of her jacket and knocked beer bottles off the counter. Some people gasped. Most weren't surprised. They knew she was different. She didn't flaunt it. Not here. Not where the tab was always open and the bartender was generally tolerant of her broody shit-sour face most nights. Not only was Cassandra a regular but she threw business this way and that. She heard of odd jobs and heists around the city. Being a statue around New York had it's perks. Some folks should be careful where they talk. And the mobsters of New York, well, they tended to be loose lipped around statues for some reason? Who the fuck knew. Maybe what they thought of as carved marble reminded them of Italy. "Reggie, we're leaving." Cassandra said.
She felt the kiss shockwave through her. Felt it and dismissed it. It never registered. She knew there was more trouble and her adrenaline was baselining in her temples so hard she had a migraine. But when Reggie the bouncer stopped advancing she had a moment to process. He found me. She thought. The thought was so utterly terrifying that she blinked a few times. Staring down at the floor and seeming to see her hands for the very first time. Not only did he find me, he fucking looked for me. Cassandra wanted to be in straight up denial over that fact, but here he was. Someone had cared enough to find her. Someone who had seen her beneath the mask she wore for self protection. Someone who had dipped their finger into the untapped well of her swirling emoitons. Ugh. She realized her body was no longer stiff. Whatever it was that Eisenhower had done, and she still didn't fully understand what it was he did; was gone.
"You looked for me?" She wasn't entirely happy with how surprised and touched her voice sounded to her own ears. She wasn't used to being vulnerable with people. She wasn't used to feeling happiness, humility, flattery or fear. They took over. Marching through her brain like a marching band and confetti streamers all by shot out of her ass. She was smiling. Without even being aware that she was doing so she was smiling. She turned red. Cheeks blushing. The moment was somewhat ruined by Bill the man behind the counter. "Take your Demon shit somewhere else. This is a respectable joint. I don't care if you throw the boys some work. They can find work elsewhere, you aint welcome here no more. And no more using my rooftop. If i catch you snoozing up there again baby, i'll push your ass over the edge and watch you break into a million pieces." Cassandra turned an angry glare at Bill, but she had no leg to stand on. Her ear to the ground, pulse on the city bullshit was only worth so much. She was the guy you went too when you needed a big score and you needed to know what kind of criminal shit you could get into around the five burroughs. She used rooftops and alleyways to eavesdrop and blackmail. She was a blackmailer, a con artis, a pickpocket and a thief. She was a good person, a scared person, a desperate person and an ally.
Her attention turned to Eisenhower at least. She was finally able to force herself to his gaze. His cheek looked like that had stung a little. She brushed her fingers over the mark lightly. The soft touch and caress you'd expect from a lover. It was sympathetic and kind. Unlike the rest of her. "Come with me. Let's blow this place and go. I will tell you everything, and then you can decide if Im worth all this to you." Cassandra's wings fluttered lightly as if sitting stagnant was uncomfortable for them. She searched Eisenhower's eyes. What she was hoping to find was trust. He had no reason to trust her. Hell, she had just suckerpunched him in the jaw. "I like you. I like you enough not to be pissed you just got me band from the only bar in the five burroughs that will let me run a tab. Please Pause? I just need five minutes." Right then everything seemed to hing on his reply. Her bleak future, your ability to tolerate New York at all, her fragile ego, and your capcity for violence. It all teetered on a razor's edge. She was waiting to breath. Waiting for him to breathe hope into her surprisingly bleak mentality.
The whole week had been a blur. She had stopped at many bars, not just this one. She dusted the bar stools and sat down and it was home for the night. Whatever she made, she spent on amber colored amnesia. It wasn't that she wanted to forget him. She wanted to forget feelings, knowing that they were there was biting at her under her skin. Making her itch. It wasn't possible. Dude was gone, and it was probably for the best. She had a bad habit of ruining things. The blackwater bar was her home for the evening. It seemed everywhere she went someone had a problem with her. She didn't have a problem with anyone. She really just wanted to exist and be left alone. Come two or three o'clock she would stumble out. Fly haphazardly to the abandoned apartment building and crash on a dusty couch. Snore until the light crept into the windows and cemented her there until night.
It had been her ritual. And the douchey lead singer had only been the second fight she had this week. Not that it was much of a fight. Cassandra could handle herself. It wasn't self defense classes and it wasn't crav magaw. It was bitchiness and determination. She was ready for the first blow, a cheap shot from behind when she took a long sip of her drink. The blow didn't come. She turned on her stool expecting to get punched in the face. Maybe the asshole had just wanted to watch her surprise as she fell to the floor. But what she hadn't expected was Eisenhower. She froze there. Her cool, calm collected manner disappearing as if it were never there. For a moment, and a very brief moment at that; her eyes flashed purely black.
A blip of rage coursed through her at seeing him. But that was gone as quickly as it had came. For a brief second her first thought was; after all this time you find me?!? Dude just let me kill myself in peace. But that isn't what she really wanted. She didn't want to die one shot glass at a time. She wasn't sure she wanted to feel shit either. She had spent her entire life denying she had emotions, and then when they decided to force their way to the surface, she spent the last week pretending they didn't exist. All that came flooding back in a moment. She felt like she had in fact been punched. Right in the fucking stomach. Cassandra stood up from the bar.
She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her blue leather jacket, and stood on wobbly legs. A lot was going on. Things had to be addressed. She looked from Eisenhower, to the fuckwads who had came at her. Cassandra's tail whipped around, almost playfully. She walked up to the men who were rooted to the floor. She walked up to them. It wasn't much of a confrontation. It was the blink of an eye. There was a pale skin colored blur of movement. Flash of vibrant blue. A tail wrapping around someone's neck and slamming their face into a jukebox. Screams and panic. And then it was over. It only took a few seconds. She moved quickly, decisively, but not with super human; or mutant speed. It was settled with finality. Cassandra stepped over the bozos that were writing on the floor. She walked up Eisenhower. She smiled at him. It filled her whole face with soft warmth. She licked her lips, as her tail swished back and forth happily behind her. She was a blue devil. All she was missing was the horns. The smile quickly disappeared and she threw a balled fist aimed directly at Eisenhower's nose.
- "You ever feel so cold.... so broken, beaten and alone? You ever feel the weight shift off your chest... The ground breaks beneath your feet and you fall to the unknown? You ever feel so cold? You challenge fate and break a bone? You ever feel so disconnected? Leave a message atthe tone...
You feel the pressure building You feel the world ignite fire You feel the my touch it's chilling You feel the kiss of my desire You feel the knuckles cracking You feel the night implode You feel the pressure stacking You feel the overdose....."
The grungy dude with the long hair settled the microphone back in it's stand. The silent cacophony of music was deep as the set finished. Three dozen drunks shouted their approval. It was Kurt Cobain meets the bravery in a shitty little rock band called Broken Harmonica. They weren't going anywhere. They were kitchy for the crowd, but it was all white noise static to Cassandra. She was on the rooftop. The sunlight lasted late into the day. It was already 8:27 and it still wasn't fully gone yet. Rays of light still touched the top of her stone. She was sitting flat on her ass. Her legs spread out in front of her in a V shape. There was a bottle of beer in her hand. She was half drunk when the change took over.
She spent the last 12 hours in a drunken stupor. That was the one thing she hated about this bar. On Friday nights they hired the local talent. Bands like this one and they were loud and choppy and they couldn't sing for shit. It's a hellava thing to be frozen in place while someone tries to make your ears bleed. As far as crappy bands went this one hadn't been half bad. Not that she had noticed. The dust started to shift on her stone prison. Gradually she was pushing bits of fallen rubble away and climbing up to her feet. Her back was stiff. What the hell was she thinking getting trapped sitting straight up against the side of a chimney? It had been a week since the party, and Cassandra had mostly moved on.
A ghost of a memory still lingered in her mind, but getting drunk was a one size fits all problem solvered. Alcohol didn't care what you were upset about. It was just always eager to help. Cassandra stood up and tossed the bottle over the roof ledge. It crashed in the alley sending a cat yowling away and bumping into a trashcan. Her eyes were hazy and blood shot. Her yawn and stretch exposed her fangs as she looked around at the dark sky. There were stars out tonight. She looked at them thoughtfully, before shrugging it off and jumping off the roof. She dropped in a hero pose on the trash dumpster beside the building. Short drop, but she didn't feel the need to stretch her wings. She didn't want to stretch anything. Everything hurt. She hopped off the dumpster and walked inside. The people here were not kind too her, but at least they accepted her as long as she paid the tab.
The truth was, she had been bombed almost all week. She wasn't loaded. She was a street rat drifter with no real roots anywhere. She stole sometimes. Lifted a wallet here, picked a pocket there, pawned things. She stole cars and sold them to suckers, she had a few bookies. She pretty much kept her finger in any dirty pie that would offer her quick and easy money. She was good at it. She was not a good person. She had never claimed to be. She wasn't the type of person who believed they deserved romance, or happiness, or anything like that. So that's why it hurt to find something that caught her off guard and then just fly away from it.
Cassandra took her usual spot at the end of the bar. It was the shadowy part of the bar where the overhead light was burnt out. It was dark and quiet and usually no one bothered her hear. Everyone seemed to crowd around the stage at the front of the bar, or around the tvs and the lively conversation. She wasn't here for lively conversation. She was here to forget things. "The hard stuff Lenny." Cassandra told the bartender. His name was Leonard. She knew damn well better to call him Lenny, but she was already in a mood. She was hungover and chasing the hair of the dog that bit her.... "Hey beautiful. You into bad boys?" The bartender put the drink down in front of her and eyed the situation carefully. "Pass." She not only didn't bother to answer him in a complete sentence, she didn't even turn to look at him. "I've been locked up before for breaking hearts. Im looking to become a repeat offender." Cassandra turned on her stool to look at him. She looked him dead in the face and reitterated. "Pass." "Baby don't be a bitc" That was as far as he got before his hand twisted to the side.
Cassandra had dug her claws into his wrist and twisted. She broke his wrist and kicked him in the chest. He was surprised that he stumbled as he sailed backwards. He fell into the bathroom door. He was howling in pain. Cassandra turned back to her drink as if the matter was finished. She had her back to the stage, not caring what happened to her, but not putting up with anyone's shit either. She heard the heavy footsteps coming. The rest of the band was coming to avenge their lead singer.
Cassandra wasn't sure what she expected. He might have come after her. He might not. She was confused, conflicted. She wanted to stay, but she also didn't want to spend the night with him. Have him wake to find her incased in stone. Maybe he would think it was his fault or something. It was simple. Explain it. But simple logic was never evident in times of need. She looked at the moon. How many nights had she spent looking at the moon waiting for her shackles to come back? Sometimes she felt like her whole life was on Pause. It was funny because before tonight she didn't think she had much of a life. She existed. She ate, she slept, she growled at the occasional stranger. She didn't love. She didn't feel. She didn't experience joy or sadness, or the touch of envy. Until now.
Hearing him behind her Cassandra kept her back to him. Not because she was mad at him, but because she didn't want him to see her vulnerable. The word itself tasted like poison on the tip of her tongue. Being weak in front of anyone was unthinkable, but in front of someone you actually gave a shit about? She could feel her stomach doing lazy cartwheels against her ribcage. Churning and slowly revolting. Usually her stomach was something she was very akin too. She still hadn't eaten at the party. She was so caught up in a whirlwind of chaos and unexpected revery that she let it slide. Now it was in knots, twisting against her iron will. There were cracks in the armor, but they did not show. She would not let them. She reached up and brushed a tear away. It had moved down her cheek and lightly stained her lips. Salty and exhilarating.
At the edge of the roof was a crumpled pack of cigarettes. She looked down and saw some roof smokers error. He had neglected to take them with him. She picked up the pack and saw one twisted but still whole butt left. She put it between her trembling lips and reached into her jacket pocket. She emerged with a lighter. Cupping her hands against the wind she lit it up. Breathing fire like a dragon she let the posion fill her lungs. It burned. It ached. It was wonderful for the nerves. Still, she did not turn around. Instead she allowed him to continue his pleading conversation with her back. It was better than being some stupid girl with tear stained cheeks and a story to pity. "I.... I can't Eisenhower." She said dropping the butt and snuffing it out with the toe of her boot. As she twisted her foot she thought about how painful this was. And she couldn't fathom why it was painful. They barely knew each other.
He was the first person in her life who had seen her. Not the wings or the tail or the round curves that pulled them all together, but her. She felt that. She didn't know she ever needed such a thing until she had felt it. Now she rejected it. She wanted nothing to do with it, because it scared the living hell out of her. "Son of a fuck...." She sighed. She turned to him. Her face was wounded pride and bitter ego. But it was honest and naked. Her hair blew around her face, momentarily covering her eyes before the wind blew her locks in the other direction. They clung to her face as if they were trying to conceal what broke inside her. "You're better off with Malibu Barbie. At least she can't fucking drag you down. Goodbye." Before he could protest, before he could do anything really Cassandra jumped backwards. She jumped two feet off the rooftop and landed on the ledge with perfect balance. It was effortless. She looked at him a final moment. She didn't realize that a card for the Blackwater Bar in lower Manhatten had fallen out of her pocket as she reached for her zippo. It was a business card she had hastily stuffed into her pocket. She only kept it because it had the address on it. And it had a decent rooftop with a modest amount of privacy. She got "stoned" there from time to time. It had a great view of the water beyond the city and she would watch the sun come up and sleep in stone until nightfall. It was her usual haunt. A place she felt safe. She had memorized the address along time ago, but it was just one of those things that sit at the buttom of your purse forever; though in this case it was a jacket pocket.
"By the way this party fucking sucked." She smirked and gave him two middle fingers and one final bit of sass before her wings erupted in sudden brillance. They cast shadows over the night. They almost blocked out the moon. Her wingspan was truly impressive. She flapped her wings and jumped backwards in a suicide dive off the edge, only instead of falling to her death she flew backwards. Her wings caught on the wind and she twisted her body turning her tears away from the only face who had ever shown her kindness and shot off into the night. She was on her way to the Blackwater Bar. She needed to feel safe tonight. She needed to get away. She needed to find peace within the screaming doubt that kicked at the sides of her temples.
Turning towards the ladder she nodded. She moved over too it and stopped. She stood there, within the honesty of his humility and said nothing. She blinked a few times, staring into his eyes and wondering what was compelling him. He didn't really strike her as the wear your heart on your sleeve kind of guy. She wondered when the last time he had opened up and gave this kind of honesty. She didn't think it was an act. No one in her whole rotten life would have even bothered with the kindness of lying too her to make her feel better. No, this seemed like the genuine article. That only made her laugh harder. Cassandra leaned over the rail and grabbed her stomach, it hurt her guts the way she was laughing, crying. It bordered on hysterical for a moment or two. It truly was a close call.
"You really are a meat head." She laughed and grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him closer. In this impractical stairwell. Where shouts and echos bounced all around them. There was no privacy, there were no sweet moments of serenity and peace and finding out about yourself. They were not even alone. The voices on the other side of the door were quite frustrating, but screw them. They didn't matter. Not here in the peace of her mind when she had decided she didn't care anymore. Pulling him closer she allowed her lips to not crash into his, but simply to melt into them. Soft and honest. More honest than she herself had ever been with another person. It felt good. It felt good to allow the armor to fall from her shoulders and simply be vulnerable, exposed.
She didn't consider the fallout. She didn't think about the rejection or the weight of her choice in the aftermath of realization. Cassandra's tail moved up the length of his arm. Biting and slipping its way over the muscle. It wrapped around his forearm and tightened. Then let go as her embrace fell away. "I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing at me. I'm the stupid one here." She didn't explain further. Kindness was a new concept to her. She felt the warmth tingling her toes and the pit of her stomach. It was a feeling she decided she liked. Something she wanted to chase at the risk of feeling foolish. She had nothing to chase before. No goal at the end of the tunnel to see at the other side of it all. She took a step back. She felt shaky on her legs and her lips were crackling electricity. The tingle from his lips still fresh on her skin.
She began to climb. Pushing open a hatch it did in fact lead back to another part of the roof. It was windy and cool out on the roof now. The moonlight stifled behind a few darkening clouds. Everyone else was still back at the door to the stairs, they hadn't realized that the two they were chasing were back on the other side of the roof. They had their privacy for now. She turned to see if Eisenhower had followed her up the ladder. She glanced at her watch and frowned. They had wasted hours here at the party. The night would come to an end soon and then what....? She would be imprisoned and he wouldn't wait for a statue.
That thought sat in her stomach like a boulder. She bit her lip. Chewed on it really. It was something she had always done when she was deep in thought. She looked to the horizon. Still questioning weather just flying away into the night was her best course of action. She didn't want too. She didn't want to feel. Feeling was confusing. It was much easier to hate, and assume everyone was an asshole. Untrustworthy until proven innocent. It made things, complicated. In a way that she wasn't sure she co-signed on, but it had already happened. It was surprising even to her just how little humanity it took to open her up. It was something she had craved without realizing for quite some time.
Before she knew it her Cinderella story was over. Here comes the wicked step sister. One with a lot of work done apparently. Demon had never played with barbies as a kid, but she knew what plastic looked like. She was shoved rudely out of the way and suddenly this bimbo was all over Pause, like he belonged to her. It was a desperate woman trying to cover him in her scent. Demon had a keen sense of smell. Sometimes she hunted by scent alone. It was, she thought, one of her finer qualities. This woman smelled like an open bar dipped in cheap perfume. Something that had a fancy lable and cost a lot of money, but was really just poorly crafted with a terrible scent signature. It stung her nostrils. Demon even bared her teeth a little at the mixture of smells alone.
Then something unexpected happened. There was a shove and barbie was on her ass. A small chuckle escaped her lips. And while she wasn't exactly the most polite person you would ever meet, she raised her hand to her mouth to cover the laugh. The last thing she wanted to do was deepen this woman's public embarrassment. She didn't seem like the type of woman to handle that kind of thing very well. The first thing Demon noticed was that she couldn't move her arms. It felt as if her leather jacket was weighing her down. She couldn't raise her hand to her mouth. Then she realized her feet were rotted to the floor as well. What the absolute fu...... Then she remembered his name Pause. Was he..... Different? Like her? Maybe not like her, but certainly different.
Her eyes moved to his. She scanned his face and only saw apology there. He asked her not to hurt the woman to hurt him instead. She honestly rolled her eyes. "You're a meathead you know that?" She felt the grip release on her clothes. Her limbs, whatever was holding her back was no longer exerting force on her. She felt free to move. The first thing she did was move towards him and throw her arm around his neck. Before he could protest she planted a deep, thankful kiss on his lips. Shooting a pittying look to the blonde Cassandra shook her head and pushed her way through the crowd. This party stopped being fun almost exactly five minutes ago.
She pushed her way towards the door and disappeared in the crowd. She could have flown away. Left in a way where he couldn't have followed. But was that what she wanted? She wasn't sure. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be alone or if she wanted to be followed. Did she want to be angry or upset, or happy? A war of emotions whirlwinded through her mind. She was confused and she found herself laughing in the stairwell. Leaning over the railing because she was laughing so hard. Why was she laughing? She had no idea, but suddenly it struck her very funny that someone could be jealous of her.
Demon was honestly touched. He honestly seemed to be making a genuine effort to make her feel comfortable. No one had ever done that for her. Not even her worthless parents who decided high society rich snobs wouldn't agree with a devil baby. She would have been an embarrassment at their fancy cocktail parties. Cassandra was dumped at a church on the doorsteps in the rain, in a baby carriage. That old cliche. Sometimes cliches were cliches for a reason. Now she was here, obviously making people uncomfortable. That was nothing new honestly. And usually she had thicker skin than that. One random asshole in her face making her feel less then was no problem. When it was a crowd of people juding her and looking down on her, well usually she would have flown the hell out of there by now. Pause was the only thing that gave her pause. She didn't want to leave him behind.
Nevermind the whole Cinderella aspect of this. She could only have the night with him. In the morning he would forget about her, move on with his life. Hard to have a life with someone who turned to stone when the sun came up. Demon didn't do relationships. She had watched the crowd thin out, then people join back because of Pause's antics. She was appreciative he was here. A mutant with a temper and sharp claws around judgey people wasn't really the best combination. When the next song came on and slowed down the tempo Demon pulled him close. She rested her head on his shoulder. Her arms finding their way around him and holding him. It felt nice. She had a few casual flings with a few guys two drunk to notice the tail, or the wings. They must've been really drunk. But she hadn't met anyone in her life who just accepted her.
For once the hard edge bitchiness fell away. She was a dough eyed blue bombshell with honesty and hopefulness on her face. She looked up at him. Blinking a few times she said "Thank you. My real name is Cassandra by the way. Cassandra Kruger." She wanted him to know that. If the clock struck midnight and she turned back into a pumpkin at least he would have known her name. It was her opinion that his asshole act was all for show. She knew a little something about being an asshole to keep people at arm's length. She didn't know what he had to be ashamed about, but it couldn't be worse then the skeletons in her closet.
Demon may not have been a very violent person by choice, but she had violence within her. Tight, blinding violence that could spiral out of her core and out of control. The thing about Demon was, she had a switch. If you tripped it, she wasn't able to control the rage that piled into her ribcage. She would become a tornado of teeth and claws. Porcelain chaos clad in a leather jacket. She considered herself pretty talented at keeping the switch from being triggered by every asshole who gave her static. This was New York after all for crying out loud. Having a short fuse with people that pissed you off in the city that never sleeps? Well, it wasn't exactly the best combination. Nothing pissed her off more than feeling singled out. When the drunkard dickhead called her a mutie, as if she were beneath him; she bared her fangs. She was curling her fists so tightly into her palms that pinpricks of blood ran down her fingers. Staining the moonlight shade of her skin, a crimson regret.
She remembered why she didn't party. She remembered why opening up sucked. Because the second you did you were also singled out. Pointed at, laughed at. It hurt. Despite her tough exterior, and her hard outter shell. It freaking hurt. She spent all of her time alone so she didn't have to be the but of the joke. She sometimes wished she was normal. To not have wings and a tail and the cursed existence thing. She thought about it sometimes when she was concrete cocooned. She would have been a news anchor. Someone respectable. Someone who reported on the news. Not someone who was a part of the news. "Tonight at 11 a crazed woman destroyed half of downtown Manhattan...." Some shit like that.
Here she was, standing in front of a crowd with dwindling patience and a drunk guy screaming in her face. Calling her baby. It could have been worse. She could have ate him. Demon reached up and grabbed him by the throat. Her tail shot forward. It pierced through his stomach and came out his back. A shower of gore covered several people behind him. The tail went through him, and wrapped him up, pulling him closer the way an anaconda puts the squeeze on it's meal. As he spun like a top his body went limp. Each spiral, each rotation he lazily flopped a little closer until he was cheek to cheek with Demon. She was smiling at him. Her big blue eyes were alive with hunger and madness slow dancing in them. She stared at him the way a lover might stare at a particularly amazing partner. Then she sunk her teeth into the side of his face. It was warm and acrid and sticky and hot. It stained her lips, and she felt her shirt get wet from the spray. As she did this she flapped her wings and soared into the air. Taking the dead groom with her severl dozen feet before dropping him on the roof. If he wasn't dead before the broken neck didn't help his cause. Demon wiped the blood from her face and took one last look at her new friend, the one she had arrived with. "I'm sorry." She said. And flew away.
Then a voice filled her ears. It was dismissive and cold. She blinked a few times. She was still standing on the rooft. The drunk groom was still talking. He was calling dibs. Demon had been in the middle of a very vivid imagining. She smiled easily, thinking back at how his blood felt on her chin. She could settle for imagination. This was the happiest day of his life right? Too bad he didn't also know it was the luckiest too. She had not killed him. She had not sunk her teeth into his eye scocket and she had not dropped him on his thick skull. She did not do these things because, well.... She didn't think that Pause would approve and for some reason she found herself caring what he thought just a little bit. It was like when you really wanted to make a good first impression with someone you ordinarily didn't give a shit about. Something like that, but also more than that. She liked this shirt. She didn't want to get blood on it.
Demon threw back her beer instead and chugged it. Gulp after gulp after gulp until it was gone. She set the beer down on a nearby table. "Okay, you say this is a party. That means dancing. Come show a lady a good time." She winked at him. Part of her wanted to blend in. The other part wanted to disappear. A surprising part of her still wanted to have a good time. She wasn't going to let some obnoxious drunk ruin her evening. She was thicker skinned than they. Demon put her empty bottle down and pulled Pause out onto the dance floor. The song was vibrant and full of energy. This wasn't no slow dancing diddy. It was something you could hop around and grove too.
Demon had done this before. There were a few occasionns when she had flown other people around. Tight spots when it was necessary. She didn't make it a habit. She didn't exactly have many friends. None to be more exact. She didn't have bedside manner herself. She wasn't gentle. She was hard edged and abrasive most of the time. She hadn't really spent a lot of time aroudn people. She found odd places to sleep. Abandoned subway stations, and sewers and quiet rooftops mostly. Anywhere where the population density was at an all time low. That was her sweet spot. Socializing? Actually going to a party? Well, this was a new one even for her.
Wrapping her arms around him she couldn't help but notice the firm muscle beneath her fingertips. Her lip was throbbing from where she had bit it before. Biting it again now sent a jolt of pain that made her wince. She licked at the corner of her mouth and tasted the sweet, coppery taste of blood. But it was gone now. Swabbed away by her darting tongue. She gave no warning. No, smart ass quips about putting on his seatbelt. She flapped her wings and took off. It might have been shocking how fast they launched. Moving up five stories in the span of a few seconds. The wind ripped at her hair. Sending her messy ponytail into disarray. More strands of blue shrouded her face. Her skin was as polished bone and under the gleeming moonlight she almost seemed to shine. She was in her element now. She twisted her body sending the duo into a corkscrew spiral as they ascended.
Flapping her wings to gain altitude. Her tail had moved down and wrapped tightly around his ankle. In case he slipped he had a safety net. With a name like Demon you could just tell, she was all about safety and teamwork. She didn't try to speak. The wind was loud in their ears. Pressure pushed against them as wind ripped and roared past them. It was like being in a tunnle with a wind storm. She loved it. It was like a private 'turn your brain off' button. She couldn't even hear her own thoughts at this speed. Just the rush of wind. They reached the top rather quickly. She could see the poolside, rooftop party. Strobe lights and music. It was like a rave. Her leather jacket shifted on her shoulders as her powerful wings flapped harder and in quicker succession. She was hovering now. The two of them just a dark silohuette against the full moon backdrop behind them.
Flapping her wings more rhythmically they lowered to the rooftop. People were staring. The music had pretty much stopped. Well, if they wanted to make a flashy entrance it had been accomplished. When her boots touched the ground she let go of him. Her tail silthered away from his ankle and her wings naturally receeded back inside her jacket. She looked normal aside from the swishing tail, that never seemed to sit still. It moved back and forth like a cat surveying it's surroundings. It was Demon that broke the silence. "What? I'm his Uber driver.... Um... Flyer." She smiled an honestly dazzling smile. Pearly white teeth with two pointy fangs at the corners. It was the kind of smile you'd see on a vampire in a colgate commerical probably. "And my shift is over. I need a beer. This is a party right?!?" Her question was answered by a drunken salute from some random party goer guy. "Fucking right it's a party!" He raised his beer in toast and Demon grabbed a beer from a passing by waiter and raised it, toasting him right back. Okay, maybe tonight could be fun.
Demon had to admit, his charm was certainly his own. It was his own brand of brutishness that she usually didn't jive with. Usually assholes picked up broken teeth with broken fingers, but this one.... Well, let's just say she had found him amusing so far. Demon, despite her name wasn't an inherently violent person. Sure she liked the occasional mauling, but only when they actually deserved it. She had taken to flying out of the city and into the rural areas for hunts. Deer, elk, stuff like that. Taking down an elk was kind of exhilarating. Taking down a man who was running his mouth was sometimes more fun. She was a scrappy little scraper and she didn't let her feminine traits hold her back. She was the type of girl who liked to get her hands dirty and plenty of blood beneath her fingernails. She had claws and she scratched.
"Did anyone ever tell you, you are quite the gentleman?" She asked reproachfully. She tried to see if her comment had any effect, but gave up when a scream caught her ear. She turned her head towards the party and sighed. It was a scream of excitment. Idiot people living their idiot lives. She never screamed in excitement. Rage and frustation sure, but never because she was having a good time. She couldn't honestly remember the last time she let herself have a good time. She only had the nights to play with. She supposed it was no different then most people working third shift in some screwed up, overtime mandated hellhole. Sleep during the day, party at night. But Demon never even had the option for party in the daylight. She honestly wished she knew what sunlight felt on her skin. She sometimes imagined it to be warm and soothing, like pushing against a hard body when your shaky breath was all you could comprehend in your stupor. When was the last time that had happened? A flutter of well forgotten memories hit her.
She bit her lip, a little too hard drawing blood at the corner of her mouth as she considered him. In the span of a few moments his enuendo had compromised her tough outward shell and left her guessing. Why was he getting under her skin she couldn't even begin to guess. Looking around on the ground she scanned the grass. She had a leather jacket yesterday. It wasn't on her slender shoulders so it had to be.... There. She saw it halfway under some bushes. Her tail moved slyly over to it and hooked it. She raised it above her head and raised her arms. Her tail lowered it until her arms were sliding into the sleeves in a fluid practiced motion. Look ma! I'm a big girl and get dressed all by myself. She felt more settled with her blue leather jacket. It was the same color as her hair. Metal studs decorated one collar's lepel, cheetah print adorned the other. Slash marks cut arcoss the back were covered in silver duct tape in an X pattern. It scramed punk rock. It screamed leave me the hell alone. And that's how she usually liked it.
For once though, she found herself not terribly hating the company. "You said it was a party, not a wedding." The irritation was back. Climbing its way onto her face and making her dimples at the corners of her mouth tighten. Her lips drew together in a tight thin line of sour amusement. "Okay princess Jasmine. I'll take you for a ride on my flying carpet, but if you start singing it's a whole new world; I'm dropping you. You won't get refunded for your ticket comprende?" Despite her bitter words she was still smiling, a little. She stretched out her wings. They slide through two verticle slits in her jacket between her shoulder blades. In between them was the duct taped X. "Grab hold of me, and don't get fresh!" She warned. She'd hate to see her new friend as street pizza flattened on the city below the clouds, but her stomach was growling now. She was about to get hangry.
Demon's eyebrow was apparently going to be permanently raised with this guy. She had to make a conscious effort to lower it. Most people avoided her. He was flirting with her. Sort of. It wasn't very flattering. Then again, She didn't take well to flattery in the first place. She was more of a loner, and apparently he didn't have any smokes either. That was a bummer. "Sweets? You're a real charmer. Do they call you Pause to remind you not to put your foot in your mouth before you speak? They should call you STOP. As in stop while you're ahead." Whatever his deal was he didn't seem the least bit threatened by her. She hadn't even begun to threaten him, but even though he basically called her a working girl she had a playful smile dancing on her lips. It was a little refreshing to talk to someone snarky like her. Looking around she did hear sounds. There was a party going on nearby. And so close to the park.
Reaching back she pulled a hair tie off of her wrist and threw her hair into a ponytail. It was hastily done, and a few strands fell down and dangled in front of one bright blue eye. Her eyes narrowed at him a moment and she shrugged. What the hell? Why not? Where was she even going? She had no plans. Tonight was an open slate. She couldn't remember the last time she had actually enjoyed someone's company. He thought her tail was kinky. It had honestly, been the thing that brought the smile to her face. Flattery might sit better with her than she thought. "Fuck it. Why not? If you bore me I could always eat you." She joked. She was sort of joking. Red meat was her favorite. Though, she perfered it with a little more fat on it. For now she stuck with her assumed name. Cassandra was a little too cozy for stranger in the park after sunset.
"Lead the way, wait, there's food at this party right? Kind of starving actually..."
The last of the fading light disappeared from the stone. As the light crept away, the stone started to soften, weaken. Tiny pebbles of sediment crumbled down at the joints. The bends of the knees, elbows and around the neck. Cassandra could not see inside her stone incasement, but she could hear muffled somethings from the outside. It sounded as if someone were talking to her. Cracks raced down the sides as she shifted, pushed. It gave way. The first stone to break was around her knee. Her jeans were ripped at the knees, and pale skin exposed first. Then faded denim. Then her whole leg. Cassandra kicked through the rest of the rubble until all of the stone on the right side fell away. Her arm emerged and she tore frantically at the bits holding her midsection in place. Still her face was stone. Hidden away behind a statuesque mask of sadness. She had been frowning when she got imprisoned. The frown had shown up on the statue's face. It seemed as if the statue was coming alive and slowly dissolving at the same time. The claws on her right hand dug into the stone covering her face. It tore like paper and she clawed away what remained.
She never had trouble breathing when she was trapped. Her body just seemed to go into a low power mode requiring much less oxygen. It was kind of like hibernation every night. She cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders. She could feel rubble falling down the back of her shirt, into her shoes. She didn't care it was good to be out. She stepped down from the inch high platform that was her concrete shoes. She hadn't bothered to look around. She almost stepped right into a person. Oh yeah, that's right. Someone had been talking. Cassandra stumbled back a few steps. Stepping in what remained of the stone and smashing it beneath her combat boots. She crouched and took a defensive stance. Her wings reflexively stretched out to their full wingspan. She flapped them a few times as her tail whipped excitedly around behind her. She raised an eyebrow. Long, blue locks fell into her face. Her hair was scattered and wild as were her eyes. She licked her lips as she looked at the man. Not necessarily because he was good looking but because she was hungry. Though, she had deicded a while back it wasn't such a good deal to be a cannible. People tended to frown on that sort of thing.
She looked him overe. He looked like he got dressed in the dark, in a hurry. A smirk spread across her pale face. Standing up she decided she didn't really fear him. If anything, he should fear her. Cassandra looked around and didn't see much of anyone else around for the moment. It was just the two of them here for now. In this awkward meet cute. She rubbed her neck. It was stiff. "Damn, that's one hell of a crick in my neck!" She said more to herself than to him. Then she looked back at him. "Buddy, you got a cigarette? You wouldn't believe the morning I had." It was a joke of course. She had spent her entire morning in that very spot. Stupid really. She had come to the park last night, lost track of time and got caught in the sunlight. The moment dawn's light hit her skin she froze there. Where any drunk whino could have stumbled into her looking for a park bench to sleep it off. It only took one topple to make all the cards come crashing down. Game over. If she shattered she wouldn't wake up so daisy fresh. She'd be a million little Cassandra pieces in the grass, simple as that.
"She checked her watch. Grateful to see that it had gotten dark a little early tonight. "What's your name anyways handsome?" She said. She foled her wings back. They compiled and seemed to shrink in size until she was able to tuck them away into two little slits in the back of her shirt. That's where she kept them when she was around the normies. She didn't have to hide. She could handle herself if someone wanted to make a big deal about it, but why go through the bother? When you could just pretend to be somewhat normal. Her tail flicked again. There wasn't much in the way of hiding that though. She had tried. "I'm Demon." She said proudly. She didn't bother to give her human name. People never seemed to be interested in it anyways. She was had much more mystique with her given moniker.
Cassandra sat behind the sterring wheel. Her eyes were eyes blue orbs of mystery. Her lips gave away nothing, no painted red smile on pale skin hinted at her motives. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of bad ideas and worse impulses. Stealing a car was nothing to her. She stole cars all the time and left them at random places all over the city. It wasn't ideal, but flying around with the bright shining moon as a backdrop wasn't the most inconspicuous. A girl had to get around in stealth mode sometimes. Cassandra's eyes leveled on his. For a moment, and it was a very long moment indeed she thought about putting her foot to the floor; shifting the car into drive and seeing how tall of a speed bump this guy would make. That did bring a painted red smile to her lips finally. The thought passed though, when the car sputtered. What? No, no, no, no. She looked down to see a red blinking light turn solid. It was a gas light.
Who the hell doesn't gas up their car in New York? You're bound to be sitting in traffic at some point or another. Did he hope to make it to the gas station in rush hour traffic?!? Cassandra growled. She dug her fingernails into the steering wheel. Bubbling frustration came rushing to the suface of her skin. Causing her skin to hot and pink rosey spots to blossom on her cheeks. Her pale skin, could actually blush. Not something you would expect if you knew her at all. Cassandra was stuck here. She could already hear the sirens wailing. She went to get out of the car. It didn't open from the inside. The handle was busted. It was an old, ill taken care of piece of crap. She shouldered it once or twice, but retreated when the throb in her shoulder started to scream in protest.
She slumped in her see. Her head was swimming. Situation was bad, then worse. She watched the guy in the Armani suit emerge from the building. He turned his head in the direction of the sirens. He was still wearing sunglasses the prick. He raised a finger to his lips as if to say this can be our little secret. Cassandra had the feeling that she would be seeing him again, or his buddies. In the last two weeks she had, had 3 near death experiences, each one involving a guy in a suit just like that. It was like she was being hunted. The man in the suit took off down the street. Starting at a job and breaking out into an all out run. Funny, she was the one sitting in a 'stolen', and i use that word very loosely, car.... But he was the one running. Why?
Cassandra's head lulled back. It was getting heavy. The throbbing behind her temples was a constant baseline. She couldn't even see Zek anymore. He was a blurry outline as her vision doubled. She noticed too, that the sirens were muffled. They seemed to be under water or a thousand miles away. Oh great, I'm passing out. She thought. Maybe this guy can send me a post card from prison. The last thing she saw was the obnoxious shine of red and blue lights pulling at her peripheral vision. She tried to turn her head to look, but it was too much effort. She just sank into the head rest and closed her eyes. This night was only getting more annoying. Should have stayed on the rooftop. She thought and was taken by a veil of darkness that pulled her into the land of unconsciousness.
Cassandra pushed herself up to her hands and knees. Everything hurt. Her body was shaking. She could not tell if it was the fear or the pain that was driving it. She sat up. The streets were quiet. She could hear someone calling for 911 but she didn't register the voice at first. Then she realized no one was chasing her. The man in the suit, remained the man on the floor. She hoped it hurt. Pushing herself to her feet Cassandra stumbled. She crashed against the side of the building with her shoulder. It was supporting her weight, keeping her on her feet. She looked at Zek. Overdose? Is this guy cracked? "Really wish you hadn't done that. Me and police don't exactly see eye to eye." Cassandra dusted herself off.
Reaching into her jacket pocket with the one arm that wasn't throbbing she pulled out a cigarette. She placed it between her ruby lips. Her eyes cleared from black and the curious blue returned. She narrowed her gaze at Zek. The cigarette bounced on her lips as she spoke. "Look. I don't know you, not even sure if I trust you, but I need to get out of here. And I need help. You're coming with me. This mess is partially your fault anyways." Cassandra brought a flame to the tip of the cigarette and breathed in hot fire. The toxic smoke filled her lungs and her exhale was filled with relief and wonderful bliss. "I need to get out here, before that guy wakes up. Definitely before the cops show up. And you're going to help me. I can't fly, hell I can barely stand. Do you know some place we can lie low? Help me out and I'll call us even for the ice cream assault." A ghost of a smile kissed her lips. It was a hell of a thing to be smiling after the night she had, had. Not to mention the fact that she didn't want to be sitting in a jail cell on trumped up charges when the sun came out. If the light hit her skin she would turn to stone and she needed to be somewhere she absolutely felt safe.
County lock up wasn't that place. It wasn't even close to that place. "I'll buy you another ice cream." She said just to sweeten the deal. If he just decided to take off on her, Cassandra would be left trying to limp her way down the street. She wasn't outrunning Armani suit wearing psychos or the cops in her present condition. At least if this guy had an apartment she could crash in she would feel somewhat safe. She looked around looking for a set of wheels. She didn't think this guy had any. Limping across the street she whipped her tail at a car window. The glass shattered when the spike on the end of it pierced the glass. She opened the door and sat on a seat full of sprinkled glass. She grabbed the steering colum and ripped it off with a violent yank. God her arm was killing her. After only a few moments she had wired the car to start. Twisting a few wires together and leaving them dangling. She pulled herself into the car and reached across her body to pull the door closed. "Well? You coming or not? Only so many hours of night left friend." Though she asked him if he was coming, her tone subtly suggested that it wasn't a request. It was more like a demand.
There was a guttural growl rising in Cassandra's ribcage. She was becoming the Demon. Slowly the white of her eyes swirled with darkness. Black filling the eye until it was souless, and blank and as dead as shark's eyes. Blood trickled down the man's hand as he waved around. Her teeth were sunk deeply, stubbornly into his flesh and she would not let go. The man stumbled backwards. He drove her body into the wall. That caused her jaw to loosen. Blood stained the corners of her mouth, and just above her lips. Her nose was still bleeding, but with those black voids for eyes; she looked possessed. She was enraged.
For a moment her gaze turned upward. Sudden movement on the building rooftop across the street. A sniper? No. That guy! The growl deepened. Demon bent her knees and flexed her clawed fingers. She'd carve the meat from his bones. A straight kick to her chest sent her flying through the door. The door she was hesitant to open. Demon did not just open the door she broke through the wood, splintering it and sending chips of wood everywhere. It was like an explosion. Landing on her back Demon slid across dirty tiled floor. The man was walking back up the last of the steps and stepping inside. He had to be 7 foot tall. Bald and arrogant. He wore a neatly trimmed goatee and a rolex watch. Mr. Somebody Important. Mr. Beats on women. Mr. In for a rude awakening.
As Demon shook her head violently to get the daze to wear off she noticed he was once again holding his gun. Demon wrapped her tail around the banister of the stairs to her right and yanked herself to her feet. Her ribs were crying out in protest. Her heart was pumping acid into her lungs. Every breath hurt. She might have had a broken rib. He fired. Once, twice, four more times. Demon's wings came out and wrapped around her like a protective shield. The bullets went wild. The first couple anyways. The forceful wind of her flapping wings was enough to alter trajectory. Though when she wrapped herself the last two bullets pierced her wings. "Arghhhhhh!" She screamed. Her tail unraveled from the banister and Demon charged at a door to her left. Her shoulder lowered at the lock and her thick wings adding to the force. The lock folded like a lawn chair.
Demon went crashing into a small office. There were filing cabinets and papers scattered everywhere. She unfolded her wings and allowed them to spread. They took up the majority of the room. Expensive suit guy was in the doorway now. Staring at her. Demon jumped backwards and landed on the desk in a crouch. This could all be seen from exterior windows. She grabbed a folder off the desk that read "Confidential" And stuffed it into her jacket. This was an absent minded task. Instinctual. She had very good instincts. Every breath was an effort. Her shoulder's heaved with the strain of trying to stay in a fight she was outmatched in. "Why are you fighting little girl. Just lay down and die." He said coldly. "Who the hell are you?!?!?" His answer was 45. calibur. Demon could see his finger starting to curl around the trigger. I have to time this perfect. She thought. Whipping her tail stealthily behind her. She wrapped it around a filing cabinet drawer handle. She was about his height when standing on the freaking desk! As his smile spread across his face, she knew it was her moment. Yanking the drawer she launced it at his stupid bald head.
The drawer connected with a satisfying crunch. The impact broke his designer sunglasses and they fell in two pieces on the floor. He was a big guy, but he just took a rocket to the face filled with expense reports and redacted tragedy. He let out an "Umph" And then went down like the giant from Jack and the beanstalk. He wasn't moving, and Demon didn't wait to see if he'd stir. She flapped her aching wings and jumped backwards. The flapping wings propelled her backwards through the window. A shower of glass on the street followed by a thud. A white and blue, black rolling blur of anger and desperation spilled out into the street. It stood up and brushed itself off. Demon looked up at Zek. She wanted to throttle him, but she didn't know. "Don't lend a hand or anything clown shoes!" She shouted across the street. Demon dropped to one knee. Her ribs weren't doing so hot. She felt inside her jacket and realized she still had the folder. That was good. Maybe it had answers that made all this craziness worth it.
Demon's eyes slowly faded back to normal. The white's of her eyes were just the white's of her eyes again. Swimming in them was cool electric blue; almost the same color as her hair. She took one weak shuffling step. Then another, after regaining her standing position. Then another. Oh man if walking hurt she couldn't imagine trying to fly. Running was a flat out joke. She'd take two steps and collapse. Cassandra looked back up to Zek. There was something less than anger now. There was need in her eye, in her voice. "Please. You got to save me. You don't owe me shit. But you got to help me. You're like me aren't you?" Cassandra pleaded. She didn't know if she meant that he was a mutant or if she meant he was a loner like her. All she knew was her vision was blurring. The streetlights seemed to be happily cartwheeling around her. Daring her to blink, close your eyes for a second and watch the world slip out of your fingertips. They seemed to imply. Cassandra used the last of her strength to flap her wings. Hard. She got of the ground, wobbly and unbalanced. She flew into a street lamp and busted the plastic casing that kept the bulb safe. She hadn't meant to make the street darker. It wasn't a strategic move.
Cassandra flapped her wings a few more times until she was gaining altitude. She flew in the direction of Zek. She had just enough strength to make it to Zek's rooftop. She felt like a stone from the sky. Landing on her bad shoulder again. A puff of roof dirt puffed up beneath her crash landing. Spit connected her lip to the ground. It drooled out of her lower lip in thick strings. She was breathing heavy. Every breath sent more dust skittering away. "Please. Don't let me die like this...." She said as she started to black out. She didn't know if he had heard her or if he even cared. She only knew that when the gunshots started popping off the streets cleared pretty quickly. Zek was the only one who could do anything to help her. Cassand blacked out a few feet away from Zek. Who's name she still did not know.
