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.
Ok, so the other night I was thinking up plot ideas for Effigy. I knew that I wanted to bring back some NPCs from his history, and I knew that I wanted to set it in Australia. While pondering on possible plots, this came to mind. I'm not sure if it has been suggested before, but I figured it was worth mentioning to see what people think.
(For those not sure, the prelude to this plot idea is pretty much in my character's profile history. Brief summary: Trip was a homeless mutant who, upon realising that many of the homeless he met were mutant teens and runaways, started a mutant commune in an abandoned warehouse in Melbourne, Australia. The commune was self sufficient, run and maintained by the various powers that the mutants possessed, as well as whatever income could be brought in. However, anti-mutant sentiment led to the commune being burnt down, and many of it's inhabitants dying in the fire)
Genesis: After the burning of his beloved mutant commune, a mutant named Trip fled the city of Melbourne and began to travel Australia, moving from city to city. While wandering the country, Trip met with as many mutants as he was able, learning of all of their struggles and hardships. With the principles of the commune still at heart, now tempered with the consequences of not being prepared for the violence such a gathering can bring, Trip forumulated a plan to help his fellow mutants.
He, along with two of his companions (Pockets and Downpour), began recruiting all the homeless mutants he could to the cause, promising equality and salvation for mutantkind. As their numbers grew, Trip and his new found followers became a roaming band, travelling the country and raising awareness of the injustice mutants have to face. As they travelled the country and their numbers continued to grow, the wandering group began to drew attention from the media. This led to more mutants, those who kept their mutation secret, or felt they had no stake in mutant issues, flocking from all over Australia to join the wandering band. Trip soon became a figurehead for the group, seeing as he was the one that began it, but also due to his easy charisma and level head. The more fanatical of the group even began referring to Trip as a messiah for mutants, the one who would lead mutantkind to salvation. As the group became larger and larger, Trip turned his attention the nation's capital, Canberra, where he staged the 'Million Mutant March', in protest of the ill-treatment and bias mutants face. The government, refusing to negotiate with Trip, sent out the police to break up the march. With tensions growing, and hatred in both camps, Trip called off the march and set to work implementing the next phase of his plan.
Create a seperate, mutant-only state.
In the spirit of the commune, Trip led his followers to the Australian Outback and set to work doing what he had done with the commune. Using both the powers and the resources that his followers had brought to the group, Trip soon created his own 'Mutant Nation', a self sufficient community of mutants. His pacifistic ways having been disillusioned after the burning of his commune, Trip enforced a law that only mutants could enter his new nation. With the help of a trusted mutant he had found, who could sense an X-gene within a person, as well as what powers they possessed, this law is enforced above all others, and Trip decreed that any human found within his state's limits would be dealt with harshly.
With the 'mutant nation' solidified as a feasible thing, Trip soon implemented the final phase of his plan. An open invitation to the mutants of the world.
The Australian government, fearing a possible uprising, has decided that the nation needs to be disbanded. If negotiations cannot be met with the leader of the nation, Trip, then force may be necessary...
Civil war is brewing down under...
Possible Implications:
- Tensions between Trip's state and the Australian government have brought the country to a Cold War of sorts. If things aren't resolved, it is possible that Australia will break out into civil war.
- The Order and/or the Kabal may take an interest in the mutant nation, and look to either form an alliance, or look to take over.
- The X-Men may take an interest in playing the role of peace-keepers, working between Trip and the Australian government to try and find a peaceful resolution to the situation.
- Mutants within the various factions, as well as mutants in general, may be conflicted by what such a nation could mean for them. Either by enticing characters to join, or by making characters disagree with the extreme segregation.
Anyway, this idea is still very early in it's development, and probably couldn't happen for quite some time anyway, but I feel that it could be a fun, engaging and epic plot that pretty much everyone on the site could get involved with. Because I'm still fairly new, I'm not entirely sure how the big site-wide plots like Romania are worked, but I think it would be good for MRO to have another epic plot that everyone can jump on board with.
Feel free to make any suggestions, and let me know what you guys all think. Love it? Hate it? Indifferent?
The reaction he got to his golem wasn't the one he expected. Normally, Mat had no objections to gorgeous women throwing themselves at him. Who would? Except that this woman had decided to go for the throat. Before Mat had a chance to react, Lori's fingers had slipped their way around his neck, and he could feel a tingling, pinching sensation.
If she wanted to, she probably could have fried him to a crisp.
As is was, she saw his dancing golem, and must have realised that it wasn't a threat. Casually, she straightened her hands and slid an arm around his shoulder, as though she hadn't momentarily wigged out for a second.
>>> “You surprised me.”
And that was the end of it. She dusted her skirt off, and left her arm around his neck. Once Mat's racing heart had finally caught on to the realisation that he wasn't going to have electricity pumped into his spine, it began to calm and slow back to it's normal rate. Mat put his cheeky-bugger grin back on his face, to show that he wasn't concerned. That he hadn't honestly thought that this sexy woman was going to zap him brain-dead.
“Y'know, if you wanted to put your hands all over me that badly, all you had to do was ask.”
She offered to buy him a drink, and the incident was soon pushed to the back of Mat's mind. Accepting her offer, Mat began making his way over towards the bar.
>>> “Did I mention that I sell insurance?”
That was an odd thing for her to mention. “Really? I sell sculptures, myself.” Mat pointed back to the now frozen statue of Trip, stuck in a disco pose, like John Travolta. People were crowding around it, curious as to what it was and whether it was going to move again. One woman bravely approached it and gave it a curious prod, before scurrying behind her boyfriend. Mat chuckled to himself. “Can't say I have much need for insurance, myself.” One of the perks of being a nomad who travelled light.
Reaching the bar, Mat turned to look Lori in the eye. “So, this M. You seem to know a fair bit about it. I'm guessing you sell more than insurance?” Mat glanced around the room and began to notice sights he hadn't caught before. A man snapping his fingers and having sparks fly from them. A woman who was in the middle of a sneezing fit, her hair changing colour with every sneeze. Another woman, phasing her hands through each other, and through other people. All of these people, with the same look of amusement and wonder.
Mat nodded towards some of these people. “The humans, do they know what they're getting into when they take the drug? I was under the impression that most people in this city didn't care for mutants.” Not just in this city, but in all cities. “I'd have thought they'd all be horrified at becoming like us?”
That brought a smile to Mat's own face. She was radiant when she smiled. And she was far too sweet to be sad. Soon, she was giggling and blushing brown, just like she had been not that long ago, when they were in the alley. She was also eating now, rather than fiddling with her food. And eating. And eating. Mat watched her, a bemused, slightly surprised grin tugging at his lips, as he watched her eat. She had offered to share her food with him, and as delicious as both dishes were, Mat was already feeling full. It didn't take a lot of food to satisfy him, probably a result of being limited the small amounts of food he could scrounge in his years on the street. But Andrea, she didn't look to be stopping any time soon. Mat wondered how she could fit so much food into such a thin frame.
She looked ready to eat the table, if need be.
When he sprung his question, he saw her smile falter, and his own expression mirrored hers. The last thing he wanted was to upset Andrea, but sometimes it helped to open up about things. Luckily for him, she began to open up rather than closing herself off further.
>>> "...It is personal, but I do not mind telling you....I do in some ways... It must seem silly though- most think it is...but... Rhodes is not like New York. People who were different were shunned by most in my community... I learned early on through my parents, that my.. mutation... would bring only negative attention. I do...resent.. what I am sometimes... I wish with all of my heart that I could simply shed my skin and just be me for once. But, I have always been this way. I was born with this shade of skin, with these eyes. I am only human, so I can control my feelings only as much as the girl who does not like having freckles, or the boy who wishes he had been born with e different color of hair. I cannot say I have had a terrible life, though... I was lucky to have parents who sheltered be from the world until I-...well, I guess in a way I also ran away..."
Mat made sure to listen carefully, giving Andrea his undivided attention. He suspected this wasn't information she threw around casually. This was her baring part of herself, to a stranger no less. She deserved to be listened to, without interruption, without comment. When Andrea had finished, Mat let her words settle, before giving her a warm smile. A thankful smile, thankful that she trusted him enough to share.
“It isn't silly at all, Andrea. I can't imagine what it must be like, to stick out as you do. I've met a lot of mutants in my time, some who you would never imagine to be, and others who left no doubt. I've seen mutants who wear their mutation proudly, and mutants who would trade anything to fit in. I'm lucky, in that I've had it easy in that regard, that I haven't had to face the prejudice, and blind stupidity of those who can't see past green skin, or grass for hair...” He had meant to say snakes for hair, but in that moment, Andrea reminded him an awful lot like Bloom. “I could sit here and tell you that you should be proud to be who you are, but that's not my place.” A sly grin crept up. “Though, if it's any consolation, you are a beautiful girl, green skin and snakes included.” Mat let his face grow serious again. “Thank you Andrea, for being honest with me. Wanting to be different than you are, to fit in, doesn't make you foolish. Like you said, it makes you human. I think more people need to realise that.”
>>> "...What about you? Did... your mutation have something to do with you running away?"
Mat gave a small, slightly sad smile. “It did. The town I grew up in, it's only a small country town, where everybody knows everybody. I was...” Mat debated whether to tell Andrea about his sister, and decided against it. He didn't want to make her sad again with his problems. “...going through a difficult time. So when my mutation kicked in, I freaked out and panicked. I thought...that it would be unfair to my parents, having a mutant for a son. Especially in a town like ours. And especially after...” Mat swallowed the words that were on the edge of his tongue, and pulled himself up. “Word spreads in towns like that, you know? People can't understand. Small town mentality, and all that. You know what I mean, don't you? Anyway...I figured that it would be best for everyone if I just disappeared. That way...” His parents wouldn't have to bear shame of losing both of their children. One to the grave, and one to the X-gene. “That way my parents could move on and live their lives.”
It all sounded very selfish, now that he was saying it out loud.
Mat looked down at his plate. Two sliced pieces of the duck were left. He looked over to Andrea's now empty plate and couldn't help but laugh. She had eaten the majority of the food. Not that he minded. Wearing his grin once more, Mat ate one of the morsels and pushed his plate across to Andrea so she could take the last piece. “I must say, that was an amazing meal. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“...out came the sunshine, and dried up all the rain. Sooo~~”
“Itsy bitsy spider, climbed up the spout again!”
Luckily for Mat, several people in this crowd were just as drunk and foolish as him. Probably as easily amused too, because several of them had taken up the song Mat was singing, joining in with the hand gestures and singing along. A cacophony of slurred warbling.
The silly things people will join in on...
With his newfound small, but committed audience, Mat decided to take this show on tour. By tour, he meant the small proximity around where he was currently dancing around. Several tables were filled with various patrons, all staring at his antics with a mixed assortment of annoyance and amusement. Joy was filling Mat's chest, the happiness that comes with cheering people up by making a fool of oneself. Tonight wasn't about being serious. Tonight was about fun.
“And again! Incy wincy spider...~~”
>>> “Mat..?”
He barely heard the voice over his own racket and the general noise of patrons hooting and hollering at whatever was drawing their attention. A sporting event, Mat guessed. The voice caught his attention and Mat turned to see who it was emanating from.
“Whoa!” A girl was standing close. Closer than Mat was anticipating, startling him and causing to stagger back a step or two. Gathering himself, he grinned and stepped forward once more. “Sorry love, you caught me off guard there.” She had referred to Mat by name, but now that he was looking at her, he couldn't recall ever meeting her. She was very easy on the eyes, though, in her silky red dress and thick white scarf. Especially with those gorgeous blue peepers of hers. And yet, there was something familiar about her. He racked his grog-addled memory, and found he still wasn't able to place her.
Only one way to find out.
“Er...have we met? Mat realised how rude that may have sounded, the alcohol making him a touch more blunt than intended, and gave a confident grin to cover his mistake. “Because I'm sure I'd remember a face as beautiful as yours.”
Before he knew what was happening, or could protest in anyway, the girl had grabbed him by the hand and was dragging him over towards his sculpture. Apparently, they were tag-teaming now. As he was tugged along by one hand, he struggled to slip his coat back on the other arm. The girl had denied his offer. Her problem, then.
As they approached, Mat's grin grew wider with each step. She still didn't know that he was the one in control of the sculpture. That meant he could keep milking this whole thing for a little longer. With the girl leading the way in front, Mat willed his face into a mask of feigned annoyance and frustration, before she saw his smirk. He didn't want to give himself away too early. “I don't get why I'm suddenly involved in this? You're the one who wants to catch this guy moving. I was having enough fun watching you make a fool of yourself.”
They stopped in front the golem, and Mat gave a slightly exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, isn't this a little juvenile? Trying to make a street performer stuff up?” He turned to the sculpture, eyeing it like this entire situation was a waste of his time. Then he gave another deep sigh. “Fine. Hey mate,” he directed to the lifeless hunk of shaped rock in front of him, “High five.”
He held up his palm, and commanded the golem to slap it's own hand into his. After the action was complete, the golem returned to the position it was in, and Mat turned to face the girl, his expression deadpan bored. Like nothing had happened.
Mat couldn't help but be both a little puzzled and a little disappointed in that. How could a drug only be fun for a human? Did that mean that it didn't work on mutants.? As if reading his mind, Lori spoke once more.
>>> “Does me no good.”
She licked a finger and rubbed it against another, a small arc of blue electricity jumping from one to the other. Mat watched, amazed. So Lori was a mutant. Explained why she was so casual mentioning the girl with the bubbles. And despite the small demonstration, Mat was impressed. Did she create electricity? Manipulate it? Discovering another mutant's power was always a fascinating and exciting process. Though, it still didn't explain what Lori meant by M only being fun if you were...
Mat glanced over to the bubble girl once more. She was giggling uncontrollably, pointing her bubbles out to her surrounding friends while they all watched on in amazement. “Wait... Are you saying that M can give humans...powers?” Mat stood, jaw wide as the realisation of Lori's words hit him.
As the whole severity and consequence of what such a drug could do hit him...
Could it really be true? Had someone found a way to synthesise the mutant gene? Mat knew nothing about science and biology and chemistry, nor did he know anything about mutant genetics. But the idea of a superpower in a pill seemed like something out of a comic book, rather than a real, viable thing.
Still, people who could create electricity, and golems, and bubbles all seemed like fantasy as well...
It all made sense now, the direction their conversation was taking. She was fishing to find out whether Mat was a human or a mutant. Which, logically, meant that she was fishing to see if Mat was interested in trying M. Which meant that she was probably on the business end of the drug. His lips curled into a smile, as it all dawned on him.
So. To tell, or not?
When in Rome...
“Well then, I guess it won't do me any good either.” And Mat stomped his foot onto the polished stone floor, willing a sculpture of Trip to life. Tall, lanky, and polished black. The Trip golem gave a lazy salute to Lori and started dancing. Mat could only give Lori a foolish a grin.
Andrea's smile vanished as Mat explained his phobia, and he couldn't help but be touched. It was such a strange affliction to his mind that he assumed most wouldn't be able to understand. Insomnia was one thing, almost everybody had had some stage in their lives where sleep evaded them, and could empathise. But to actively avoid sleep, that was something that most people would call foolish or strange. And while it was a disappointing thing to see Andrea's smile vanish, he was moved by her concern. Before they could discuss it any further, however, Cricket returned with a chirp and their food. Andrea was given some lasagne-looking dish, while Mat was given some kind of bird resting on a bed of vegetables and sauce. He thanked Cricket, and when he and Andrea were left alone once more, prodded at his food with a fork, curious as to what it was. His experience with poultry was limited to chicken, and this, he knew, was not chicken. Duck, perhaps? Or quail. A thought came to mind, that maybe the dish could have been pigeon. They were in New York after all, and there was no shortage of the creatures.
Fine dining wasn't Mat's forte.
>>> "...It must be awful, to fear sleep.... I know what not sleeping feels like, but I have never not wanted to...How do you deal with such a burden?"
Andrea's demeanour was still sombre as the discussion continued. She picked and prodded at her food with her fork, not actually eating. Mat gave her a reassuring grin, hoping she didn't think he was going to keel over at any second. After all, he wanted to see that gorgeous smile once more.
“I'm used to it,” he answered with a shrug. “It started a few years ago, so I've had some time to adjust. When it first began I used to go for long walks around my town. Then when I ran away from home I found things that helped me stay awake. Coffee, caffeine pills, No-Doze, things like that.” He neglected to mention the other substances that used to help. He doubted that Andrea would appreciate that little fact. Belatedly, Mat realised that he had told her about his running away from home. He hadn't mentioned that before. Not that it really mattered. “I had a friend who used to help me with my phobia. Trip. He never slept because of his own mutation, and could manipulate pleasure centres in the brain. So he used to sit up with me and help ease me into sleep.” Again, Mat decided not to mention that Trip was essentially a living drug with his mutation. “Other than that, I usually try and wait until I'm tired enough to just fall asleep straight away, before the fear can kick in.” Not the easiest method, but one of the few he had left.
>>> "...We..... are most likely very different people. So.. I cannot in all honesty say that I understand what you are going though, or even where you have come from."
Again, Mat gave her a smile. “That's what makes it interesting though, isn't it? I mean, if we were the same, or if we had lived the same lives, then it'd be like talking to myself. And I'd much rather talk to you.” There was a trace of a wink in his voice.
I appreciate how...open you are."
The statement caught Mat by surprise. He honestly hadn't given the fact much thought. “I can't see any reason not to be. You ask me some questions, I give you an answer. I have no real need for secrecy.” Which wasn't entirely true. There were plenty of things that he would keep to himself. Still, for the most part he was an open book. One need simply ask the right questions. “Besides, who could say no to a sweet thing like you?” Any trace of the sadness that had crept up on Mat earlier was being stripped away as he talked with Andrea.
Mat speared a piece of sliced meat onto his fork, raised it to his face, sniffed at it, and popped it into his mouth. Flavour instantly burst form the small morsel, filling his mouth with such delight that Mat had to close his eyes and savour it. It had been a long time since he had eaten anything this fine. “You have to try this,” he said to Andrea, pushing his plate across the table. “How's yours?” She still hadn't touched her food, save for playing with it. Hopefully his gentle reminder would get her to eat something. He didn't want her going hungry because of him.
He watched the green gorgon, took in her features for what seemed like the millionth time since meeting her. He wanted to commit her to memory. She was so fascinating, so mesmerising, that to forget her face would be a crime against nature. Every part of him wanted to learn more about her, but she was so timid that he was afraid pushing her would cause her to close up even further.
He decided, against his better nature, to push a little further anyway.
“Can I ask a personal question,” he began in a gentle tone of voice. “Do you resent your mutation? If that's too personal, you don't have to answer.”
When prying into intimate details of a stranger's life, it pays to be polite about it.
“You make me feel like daaaaaancing! I wanna dance the night away~~!”
Mat had no idea why that particular song was in his head. He wasn't even all that sure how the song actually went. But he knew the chorus, and that was enough.
“You make me feeeeeeeeeeeel like daaaaaancing! I wanna da--”
“SHUT THE HELL UP!” came the reply from the bloke sitting a few stools away. Judging by the angry look on his face, he clearly was no music aficionado. Mat turned to face him, a devil may care grin on his face.
“Whassamatter, sweet pea? You don't like my singing?” The sarcasm may have been uncalled for, but really, Mat couldn't have cared less.
“You can either shut up, or I'll shut you up. How's that?”
Mat bared his teeth, making his grin just that bit more menacing. “You can try mate, but no guarantees there.”
The bartender, who had been watching Mat's impromptu performance with a simple shaking of his head, decided that now was the time to step in. “You,” he said to the man, “keep your threats to yourself. And you,” he said to Mat, grabbing the empty glass on the bar and refilling it, “I'll give you this drink for free if you sit somewhere else.” Mat eyed the drink, made a show of weighing up his options, and took the peace offering.
“Sure, mate,” he said to the bartender, who only gave a weary nod, like he'd had to deal with this sort of thing before. Probably had. Mat took a deep sip of his beer, then raised the glass to the man who was still fuming. “Cheers, d**khead!” he toasted, in his most chipper voice. With that, he turned and pushed through the crowds, spilling beer over himself and others in the process.
What had started off as a few quiet drinks in a small little corner pub had soon turned into a few more quiet drinks when Mat realised that he had nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. He still hadn't been back to the mansion since the incident with Kealey and Agnes. Had no desire to go back to all that preaching. And his night at the secret rave he had stumbled across several nights ago had rekindled a hedonistic and rebellious streak in Mat that had been semi-dormant since Melbourne. Cash was somewhat of an issue. He had managed to sell a few sculptures at ridiculously marked up prices, but the customers weren't biting quite as he hoped. Still, that didn't mean his sculptures hadn't helped him acquire some income. After all, they made great distractions for dragging shopkeepers away from their cash registers. Mat had to admit to himself, it wasn't often that he resorted to outright robbery, but that voice that occasionally warned him off such actions had been silent.
And silence, as we know, can be interpreted as acquiescence.
Since he had arrived, the place had gathered quite a crowd. Quite a rowdy crowd, in fact. Very vocal, and very excitable. They were gathering for something, but Mat couldn't be bothered trying to find out what. All he knew is that a loose crowd meant an excuse to get loose himself. Not that he needed the encouragement of others to indulge himself tonight. He bumped into a passing girl, and turned to apologise, but she had already moved on. Mat could swear he had seen a glimpse of blue scaling on her arms...
Now in the midst of the crowd, away from the bar and the killjoy sitting there, Mat figured he might find a more receptive audience amongst the rowdier patrons. So sculling his drink, Mat let out a belch and took a deep breath. Time to cast the line and see who bites. With the most absurd song he could think of. Not to mention the hand motions that went with it.
She noticed his roaming eye, and smiled in return. That was good. A lot better than a drink to the face. Or a slap to the face. Anything to the face, really. His eyes flicked down to those monster heels once more. Yeah....they could do some damage. She asked him what he had been doing that he couldn't see. Mat grinned and gestured to the room around him.
“What d'ya reckon?” He shuffled to the side, gliding across the floor, and threw a few kicks in for good measure. “It's a party right? Gotta dance.”
>>> "The place will still be standing, but the party's always moving on. Especially parties like this."
“A nomadic party, huh?” Mat gave a chuckle. He knew all about moving on. He did it for a living. “Sounds like my kind of thing.”
He wondered who organised this event, if it wasn't an in-house thing. Was this place even a real club? Or had it just been occupied for tonight? Not that it mattered. It would serve for the evening. The party, according to Lori, would pick up, and move on. Just like he would do tomorrow. Mat also wondered what she had meant exactly by 'parties like this'. Though, judging by the merchandise Mat had been getting offered since arriving here, he had a decent enough idea.
Lori leaned closer to Mat, and he felt a tingle run down his spine due to proximity. That stupid, giddy excitement that any man feels when close enough to a gorgeous girl. Men, really, didn't evolve much past teenage-hood.
>>> “Did you see that girl by the speakers? She's spewing bubbles...”
Mat glanced over to where Lori had indicated. Sure enough, there was a dark haired girl, shimmering bubbles pouring from her head and into the air. Like one of those bubble blowers he used to play with when he was a kid, only without the stick and solution. It was quite a sight, really. The lights of the club caught the floating bubbles and turned a nice rainbow sheen, turning vibrant colours and distorting the light. This girl would prove to be quite popular at a party like this.
“Yeah so? She's probably just a mutant,” he replied, matter-of-factly. Mat wondered if Lori was one of those anti-mutant types. She didn't seem afraid, or disgusted, or hateful when pointing the girl out, so he didn't think she was. Still, one could never know.
>>> “I heard she took M.”
Mat's brow furrowed in puzzlement. M? He had known many drugs with single letters and syllables for names, but M was not an illicit member of the alphabet he was familiar with. “M? Never heard of it...” He gave a sly grin towards Lori.
>>> ”You might not want anything…from either of us, or from here…But…what you want and what you need are two very different things…Knowing that is the difference between the kind of person who fixes the mistakes they make…and someone who runs away and lets someone else clean up for them…I can’t do anything to make you stay…but even if you don’t, we’re not going anywhere.”
Damn it.
Damn it!
She was right.
Again...
The truth of it all was staring him in the face, confronting him with every word that left the blonde one's mouth. Every time things got hard, he ran. When his sister died, he ran from sleep. When he discovered that he was a mutant, he ran from his family. When the commune burned down, he ran from the country. And now, he about to run from what, deep down, he knew he wanted. People like him, who could understand and relate to him, and vice versa. Friends. Family.
A home.
It was a hard thing to hear, and an even harder thing to try and accept. Running was all he knew, was a tried and true method for dealing with his problems. Pick up, move on. No fuss, no muss. But where had running gotten him? He was alone, in a strange city, in a strange country, with not a single friend to his name. No one he could confide in, no one he could trust. No one he could love. Running was all he had. His freedom was all he had.
He had come to the mansion unintentionally, and convinced himself that nothing good could come from it. That it would all end the same way the commune had. With naught but pain. A convenient place to shelter for the winter, until the weather got warm enough for him to take to the streets again. He had convinced himself that he was here under sufferance, that he was only using these people for the practical things he needed. Food and shelter. But now that the self-deluding veil of independence and rebellious freedom was being peeled back, Mat, for all his self-denial, realised that he wanted what he had in the commune. And he hadn't even tried to make an effort to find it here. He had shut himself away, hiding behind a mask of aloofness and stubborn defiance. Andrew and Gemma. Those two had been kind to him, offered him a place to live. And he had tried to throw that back in their faces. Since then he barely spoken to anyone. A brief conversation with a bird lady. The odd chat with some of the students. That was about it. Now, he was pushing away the help that Kealey was offering. Worse, he was slapping away the helping hand of one of the only people he knew here. Agnes, the girl who reminded him. Mat took a breath and felt his indignant frustration seep away.
Maybe, just maybe, if he stopped running for once, he would find whatever it was he was looking for.
Agnes approached him, and he took another deep breath. Admitting you were wrong wasn't an easy thing, even for someone who prided themselves on their lack of pride. He took a breath, and prepared to apologise for his behaviour, for his actions. She stopped, and her gaze bore straight through him. She spoke, and her voice was a bare whisper.
>>> “You saved my life, Mat. You saved my life back in that alley in who knows how many different ways. And today…I took part in saving yours. So you know what? We’re even. And we’re done.”
And with that, Agnes turned heel and started walking away.
“...” Mat stood in stunned silence, unable to move, unable to speak. A cold, leaden feeling filled his stomach and began to leak through the rest of his body. It felt like ice flowing through his veins, despite the rising heat in his face. A shocked numb.
He took several step after Agnes, then paused. Felt the heat in his face rise, then spread downwards, smothering the cold feeling in the pit of his gut. More than a heat. A fire. An inferno.
“'I need to be by myself...I need to be alone.' Isn't that what you said to me that night? Isn't that what you told me!?” he shouted to her retreating back. Mat took several more steps forward, these ones more purposeful. “Wasn't I the one who let you go with no objections, who never said a word to try and stop you? Didn't I respect you enough to make your own decisions?” Mat's voice was raising in pitch with every statement. “And you stand here and tell me that I'm the one that needs to stop running?” Mat's breath was growing heavier, more frantic.
“Keep walking you hypocrite! Keep walking and take your self righteousness with you!” These last two statements were uttered with as much venom as Mat could muster.
Mat's whole body was trembling. His fingernails bit into the flesh of his palms as he clenched his fists together as hard as possible. He turned to the blonde, biting his bottom lip so hard that he could taste blood. “Is this the kind of help this place offers? Is this the support you people give? 'Keep your mouth shut and your problems to yourself?' Is this what I need?” Mat stood rooted to his spot, unable to move. “I just called my parents for the first time in years, not even an hour ago. I called them and I told them that they would never see me again. I listened while my mother's heart broke. Then I went and lost control and nearly killed a bunch of children. I'd have thought that today, of all days, I would be a little entitled to feel like s***. That maybe, I could have some understanding, instead of being lectured.”
Mat hawked up a gob of phlegm from the back of his throat and spat it out onto the carpet. It landed with a soft splat. He had been ready to play it their way, to submit himself to their help. Kealey's words had just about convinced him to give this place a proper try. She had made such a pretty speech about help and trust and responsibility. Agnes had thrown all of that in his face, without even giving him a chance. Mat gave a grim snort. He was such an idiot.
This is what came from buying into their crap. For thinking that he could rely on others.
“Go to my room Kealey. Have a look at the bed that's still neatly made because I'm too afraid to fall asleep. The bed that I don't sleep in because, after all my years on the streets, it's more familiar to sleep on the floor instead, on the few occasions I can push through my fear.” She probably had no idea what he was talking about, not having been told about his somniphobia. “See the empty wardrobe, the bare walls, the empty desk. To you it may not seem much, but to me it feels like a prison. It feels like a coffin! Not all of us can adjust to this place just like that. I don't belong here. I belong on the streets. You don't have the slightest clue what I need.”
He stood, still trembling, still shaking, and glared at the blonde. Wondering if she had any idea how betrayed he felt right now. Then he turned and started walking off, the opposite direction to Agnes, tossing one last remark over his shoulder.
“Y'know what? I hope this place does burn to the ground.”
The woman had transferred general floor ick from her hand to his when she took it while he helped her to her feet. Probably spilled drinks, knowing the environment they were in. Mat wiped his hand on the back of his jeans and resolved to wash it later, not all that concerned in the scheme of things. After all, grime was second nature for the homeless. For now, he had company.
Company that was very easy on the eyes.
>>> “You saved me.”
“Actually, I knocked you over because I wasn't watching what I was doing,” he laughed. He glanced in the direction the man had stormed off. Had that guy been troubling this woman? If so, he was no longer a problem. “But hey, I do what I can, right?”
>>> “I'm Lori.”
“Mat,” he replied. She was a tiny thing, Mat realised now that she was on her feet. Even with the heels, she was inches shorter than him. Dressed as nicely as she was, it was clear that she was in a different league to Mat. Chances were she was one of New York's wealthy, independent young professional women, with the world bowing at her feet. Honestly, she looked like she could have been a model.
Had Mat been ashamed of his less-than-shabby appearance, he probably would have bidden the woman a good night, turned and left. She didn't seem the type that would bother with someone like him. Still, appearances could be deceptive. It was possible that she wasn't completely shallow and superficial, like so many of the beautiful and rich New Yorkers Mat had seen. That, and he honestly didn't care if she would look down on him. He wasn't ashamed of anything, especially not being homeless. Not tonight. So Mat smiled at Lori confidently, like he had a million dollars in his pocket.
“A nice little secret, this place. Glad I stumbled across it.” He chose his words carefully. Stumbled across. Not heard about. Not invited to. He wanted to make it clear that he didn't actually belong here. He was curious to see how she would react.
Mat was lost. The good kind of lost. Lost in the music. Lost in the dance. His eyes were clamped shut, and his body was now moving on instinct. He had forgotten how good it felt, to just let go and lose himself in the rhythm. Hands flailed and circled through the air as he shuffled, and kicked, and spun. It had been such a long time since he had last danced like this. His muscles were remembering their old tricks, their old moves. Settling into their forgotten grooves. Memories of Trip teaching him how to shuffle came to mind, and Mat felt his grin widen. He was in his own little world right now, and nothing was going to bring him out of it...
He felt his back hit something, heard a squawk, and sensed something thumping onto the floor.
That brought him back to reality.
Opening his eyes and turning to see what damage he had caused, Mat noticed a man and woman on the floor. The man was grumbling and swearing, and did not look happy at all. The woman...well, Mat's focus wasn't exactly on her well-being at the moment. He was too busy eyeing that wonderfully short dress.
Nice shoes, too.
The right thing to do was to check whether the pair had been hurt. “Hey mate, you right?”
There, that was the bloke attended to.
Mat knelt down and offered a hand to the woman. Blonde hair, and most importantly, blue eyes. Lovely, lovely blue eyes. “Are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't see you. Must have gotten a little carried away,” he shouted over the music, with a sheepish smile. She seemed a few years older than him, not that it mattered. Mute had been older too, as far as he had been able to tell.
It wasn't overly appropriate of him, he had to admit, fussing over this woman when she was with a guy. He may have been a friend, he may have been a boyfriend. Possibly, Mat was overstepping his boundary. Still, Mat wasn't in the mood for caring tonight, about anything. He was past caring about things. If this guy got jealous at his giving this woman attention, well then, that was his problem.
As it turned out, it wasn't a problem at all.
The man pushed his way to his feet, swore at the girl and stormed off. Not very gentlemanly behaviour at all. Mat gave a tisk. Still, that probably meant that he wasn't her boyfriend...
Mat turned back from watching the man huff and puff his way out of the club, and focused his attention back on the woman. The incredibly sexy, and now alone, woman.
“Isn't he a happy chappy...”
((OOC: I took a few liberties godmodding Lori onto the floor. Let me know if you want me to change anything.))
Agnes is a facinating character, who is excellently written. It's easy for a character with a past like Agnes' to be reduced to wallowing in self-pity, but Agnes written in a way that you can admire her strength and fierceness, as well as the softer side of the character. The writing consistantly stays true to the character, and I always enjoy seeing the two sides of her personality juxtaposed.
>>> ”You don’t have to leave. When I said before that you’re not the only one here with dangerous powers…I meant it. We’ve all got our dark side, and we’ve all had horrible things happen to us. It’s not possible to control those things sometimes Mat….what is possible…is to control your reactions, and how you take responsibility when things do happen. You can try to intimidate me all you want, but it won’t work…because I know how you really feel.”
>>> “What?! You expect me to feel sorry for you, Mat? Sorry that you have a tough life? Sorry that is too late for you? Get over yourself! Life IS hard and I guarantee you, anything that I’ve gone through is probably worse than any night terror you have EVER had! You saved my life once, and I repaid that by coming here and getting help. Now you owe me, since I saved yours. You let these people help you…or I’m going to be worse than any nightmare you’ve ever had!Now go!”
How (Not) to Make Friends (And Win Their Respect): by Mathew McGuire...
Chapter One...
The words coming from the blonde's mouth, Mat semi-paid attention to. He listened to them, acknowledged them, but ultimately didn't let himself subscribe to them on principle. He was still mad at her...only, without the mad. Mainly because she had called his bluff. Agnes, however, he did listen to. It was hard not to.
Each statement was shoved into him, literally.
Was he really that pathetic?
It's a certain kind of shock that hits you, when you realise that someone has no respect for you at all. That you're acting like a pathetic child. A self-deflating of the ego that leads to an empty sort of shamed melancholy. She was right of course. They both were. Much as he hated to admit it. Shit happens. If that's the worst thing that has happened to you today, you should consider yourself lucky, and all that... Still, wasn't he entitled to a little self-pity, just this once? Today of all days.
Apparently not.
Mat stood there, unsure of how to react. He sucked some air through his front teeth...
...And wandered back to the bench, sitting down without a word. The doctor, after a moments hesitation, joined him soon after. Mat gave him a nod, and the doctor went to work, running his glowing hands over Mat, searching for any sign of injury or trauma. The old man's hands ran lightly over Mat's arms, to Mat's shaking hands. He hovered over them for a moment, making sure there was no physical cause for the tremors. More than likely, they were shaking from embarrassment and shame. The old man gave Mat a reassuring smile, and Mat was suddenly reminded of his late grandfather. He could feel the comforting weight of his straight razor, tucked into his sock, pressing against his ankle.
Mat glanced up, saw the two woman standing there, crossed arms and hands of hips and every other indication that they were sick of his crap. His eyes quickly found the floor again. This was karma, he supposed, for interfering with Agnes' business in the first place. For butting in where he wasn't needed, or wanted. Still, at least he had been respectful of her right to make her own decisions, right, wrong or otherwise. He should have just let her be after they had taken out those thugs...
If he had been true to his old street instincts, he would have just left her to deal with the gang herself...
He had gotten soft since the commune...
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of such thoughts. He remembered the days when he was alone out there, before he had met Bloom, even. Before Trip and his Merry Mutants. Days of solitude, crippling loneliness. He hadn't thought about those times since...since those times. Mat closed his eyes, and tilted his head back so that it was resting against the wall.
Kealey and Agnes. These two made a convincing argument, he had to give them that. His guilt, his sadness...who did they help? Not the dead, that was for damn sure. Not those screaming, burning kids. Not those screaming, broken anti-mutant association members they had tracked down and taken care of. Mat gave a small huff of a laugh, a single exhale of grim amusement. No. He carried all that for himself. Selfish. He had somehow managed to convince himself that playing the martyr, that carrying his baggage as best as he could, was honouring the dead. Mat's expression hardened.
What a load of crap. The dead were dead. What honouring did they need?
These two girls...they may have just delivered him from his own foolish sentimentality.
Still...
“It's really a wonderful place, this mansion. A fantastic idea. All these mutant kids running around, free to be themselves, in a place where they can be with others just like them. How horrible it would be, to see this place burn to the ground. All those little mutant kiddies, screaming as they burned to death, choking on the smoke, trapped...”
He spoke calmly, finished with all the melodrama. This wasn't for pity, self or by proxy. This was an explanation and clarification of facts. Simple as that.
“I mean, imagine. Your friends, those who you consider your family, all screaming for your help. And all you can do is watch the place burn, helpless...”
Now he did meet the glares of the girls, a weary look in his eyes. He was sick of fighting. All he wanted was to be left the hell alone.
“Could you imagine, how uncomfortable, how awkward it must feel to live in a place like that again, expecting the same thing to happen, again? No matter how illogical and irrational you know it to be?”
He closed his eyes, and rested his head against the wall once more.
“You think I want you to feel sorry for me? You think I don't know that everyone has their own tragic baggage?” Mat snorted, and rose to his feet, muttering a 'thank you' to the doctor. He made his way over to the hole in the wall, ran his hand over the surface next to it. It felt like stone of some sort. He gave it a few slaps, and willed the matter to life. Emotions suppressed for now, it was a cinch to duplicate the wall material, stretching it out to cover the gaping maw. Not a perfect finish, but it would suffice. He wasn't in the mood for detail.
“I don't want anything. From either of you.”
If he was going to cop flak for the way he dealt with things, for the way he felt and acted, then he was better off on his own
As soon as the noise, and the lights, and the smoke assaulted his senses, Mat couldn't help but grin to himself. It seemed eavesdropping and following that crowd from the street had paid off. They had boasted the whole way, saying how awesome, how much fun this was going to be. Mat, having no other pressing engagements, decided to investigate for himself. So he trailed the group down several alleys and into some run down looking, nondescript building. A lone man had been standing outside by the door, built like an ox. He had given Mat a look over, before letting him pass, a stern nod being the entirety of the conversation.
And so, Mat found himself in the middle of the wildest rave he had seen in some time.
The venue was nothing special, a bar in the far corner, a small stage on the opposite side of the room and nothing but dance floor in between. Lining the walls were various booths and couches. Several hallways seemed to lead off, out into other more private rooms away from the noise. On the stage, DJ was standing at his decks, headphones covering one ear while he twisted dials and pushed sliders, music pounding and pumping through giant speakers. Beams of coloured light emanated from various corners of the ceiling, spearing through the smoke that was billowing from some mysterious location. Still...
The place was an oasis in Mat's growingly hectic life.
The past few nights Mat had found himself falling back into old habits. After the incident with the rogue golem, and all the hubbub that had followed Mat couldn't take being at the Mansion any longer. If he had spent another minute there he would have clawed his own skin off, he was itching to get away so much. So he took to the streets once more, crashing in an old haunt. His finances had been much healthier since living at the Mansion, so squatting for a few nights was more comfortable than usual. It was his vacation, away from the constrains of 'civilisation'.
Within minutes of being here, various people had sidled up to Mat, offering him an assortment of party enhancers. Seemed this place played loose with the rules and the law, then. That made Mat happy. Restrictions were what he was avoiding. If he had wanted rules, and laws, and creeds, he would have stayed at the mansion. He'd go back there eventually, of course, once he felt he could stomach it there. Could handle the disapproving glances, the preachy nagging, and the endless, endless scrutiny. Until then, however, Mat was going to relieve himself of all the growing stress that had been plaguing him since leaving the streets.
This place, it made Mat happy. Very, very happy.
It had been a long time since Mat had been to a rave. Back in the commune, when things were simpler, he had been to plenty. Himself, Trip, Downpour, and Pockets. The old gang. No cares, no concerns outside of running wild and having fun. Silly, reckless, unadulterated fun. The happiest moments of his life. The crew may not have been with him at this very moment, and he missed them like hell, but tonight was not a night for sadness or regret. Tonight, he'd hold them in his heart and cherish the good times.
Dressed in ragged, loose jeans and a grimy moss green hoody, hair all dishevelled, Mat garnered some disapproving glares from some of the more stylish patrons. Not that he cared. He had been let inside, after all. And he wasn't here to impress. He ran a foot along the floor, testing the sole of his worn down shoes. Nice and slippery. Perfect. So making his way to the dance floor, blood pumping through his veins, a stupid euphoric smile plastered on his face, Mat pulled his hood up over his head and closed his eyes. Let himself get in synch with the music, feeling every kick, every beat, every note...
Tonight, he was going to bring the Melbourne scene to New York. Tonight, he was going to show the Yanks how the Aussies did it, in honour of his crew. He could picture the faces of his friends, all smiling, shouting encouragement, shuffling and dancing alongside him. They may have been separated by thousands of miles of ocean, but they were never apart from him. He always held his friends close.
