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.
>>[/b] "Well aren't you just a naughty being. You still haven't answered my question."[/i]
“Naw, ah haven't.” Rhythm chuckled, pulling her face closer to Kitra's. “Mayhaps ah could show ya. Letcha make that decision yerself...”
'Abort!' screamed the logical part of her mind. 'Abort mission!! Systems critical!! Abort!! ABORT!!'
Though Rhy wasn't much for logic at the moment, not after so many drinks in such a short period of time. With no food. Or, like...anything. Bad decisions all around, really. But, if she really thought about it, Rhythm considered herself to be made for bad decisions, and the one(s) she was currently making paled in comparison to some she'd made in the past. Though, really, she just didn't want to end up waking up next to a beautiful women whose name she couldn't remember.
...wait, what? Why not?!
Okay, so maybe she did. Kinda. Deep down inside. But she held back, despite the fast coming drunken haze. The reason came back to the one thing that prevented Rhythm from doing a lot in life; guilt. It kept her fro moving on after being 'born' at the age of sixteen with no memory of who she was, even after everything in life had told her that yes, she could move on, but guilt kept her going for that revenge that may never come. Guilt kept her from going back to Agnes and simply apologizing, since everything that had happened was her own fault and Agnes was simply another person Rhythm had hurt. Guilt kept her from calling Drew and telling him she was alive, from calling Jorge and telling her surrogate father that she was okay.
Guilt kept her from moving this to a point of no return.
Which brought up the point of 'how far was too far'? Her lips, which were currently locked with Kitra's, didn't seem to be 'too far' for Rhythm, not in the least. A kiss was a kiss, and while it could convey a lot, when you were drunk...well, it conveyed passion of the most intimate sort. Certainly their dancing tongues conveyed it as such, and when Rhythm pulled back, she still couldn't restrain the absolute want that she knew filled her eyes. Her breathing came in soft pants, her eyes still stared straight into the redheads before she slipped from the bar stool and expertly tilted her head, her teeth brushing against an earlobe before her mind completely rebelled against her with a mental image of the one she really wanted.
“Ah...ah gotta go, Red.” Rhythm muttered mournfully, slipping back though a hand still held onto the other woman's. “Ah shouldn't be here...”
There were many that lost everything. There were many that lost much. A few, though, thrived in the aftermath of the end of the world. Those people were usually sociopaths who loved the destruction and freedom that came with no longer having to worry about silly little things like laws and rules. The social structure was just how they wanted it; the survival of the fittest. The strongest. The most powerful. Or, if not that, then the smartest, the ones who planned and thought ahead. The ones who organized and adapted quickly, restored order and brought chaos down to a minimum. In these days there was always chaos, but it differed from how it was back in 'The World' (as she came to call it), as the chaos now was more widespread. Panic, rumors, information wasn't garnered through things like 'the internet' anymore. Sure, there was bullshit back then too, but now, that information could be used as a weapon, a tool.
And those people fought. They warred and suffered the loss every day of their lives. For years the struggles came and went, but they always, always came back to remind you that in this day and age you were never, never more then a few steps away from your own demise. And if you forgot, life had a funny way of reminding you.
And yet, Ashley Aran, better known to everyone else as Rhythm, thrived on something else.
An unexpected source of comfort, something she cherished just as deeply as anything she'd ever known. But as soon as Rhythm found it she kept it guarded and produced from the back of her throat a fearsome growl that most learned to heed. Those that didn't found themselves on the receiving end of an impromptu Muay Thai lesson, where the number one rule was to stay the frak away from the person who has mastered Muay Thai. She didn't know about the rest of the world, but she knew that, toe-to-toe, there were few that could stand up to her CQC skills, especially when her music was flowing.
Thank god for solar chargers. Rhythm would have died without her iPod. Literally.
But even that seemed so...so little compared to what she felt inside, every day, all day. Rhythm had opted on her own scouting mission, expanding the map of the now changed landscape of New York to the best of her ability. It was a thankless job, to be sure, and while she didn't have paper tigers to ride to make notes and observations about the wastelands outside of the bone fortress, Rhythm considered herself one of the fastest women in the Amazons thanks to the speed boost she got from her music. And it wasn't hard, not really, especially when it was simply sketching, notes, and more places to raid or look into should the time come. She was sure Queeny wouldn't mind, as Rhythm had spent days out on her mission to map as much as she could. Information was power, after all.
And it was on this last outing that she'd discovered a secluded building where the people inside were growing marijuana and, of all things, strawberries and apples (which seemed stranger to Rhythm than the marijuana). In the back of the building was a makeshift greenhouse, a feat if human engineering so improbable that Rhythm couldn't help but be impressed and wonder (slightly) if a mutant was involved in any way. She didn't ask questions, though, as these people were quick to defend their homes in any way possible. And while they fought tooth and nail, Rhythm did her best to simply incapacitate, glad that none of them had a projectile weapon of any sort, and when it became readily apparent that Rhythm wasn't there to kill them all, the onslaught of hilariously outmatched humans came to a stop.
From her attire they could tell she was an Amazon, though Rhy wasn't really surprised about this. The Amazons were well known everywhere in New York, as was their stance on 'never killing the grower', or 'not biting the hands that feed them'. The former con artist (because she'd never stop being a thief, considering how she and her sisters got most of their food) merely told them that no, none of them would die if they came up with an offering. In turn, she would make sure that their Queen would be notified of their location and protected should they be raided by anyone that wasn't them. Was it true? Rhythm didn't really know. All she did know was that these people agreed, and she was now walking through the fortress with a bag of apples, strawberries, and...ummm...'medicinal herbs' that could be used for medicinal uses. None of her fellow Amazons used drug for recreational purposes as far as she knew...though there was Allison...
Her stroll through the fortress was halted, however, by another being walking down the hallway. Rhythm knew she was coming, though, as she'd learned long ago that this person had a particular scent, even now. A tantalizing one to be sure, and even though these hard days didn't allow many people to take showers everyday (more of a burden for some then starving), Rhythm still insisted that the love of her life, her wife, still smelled the odd combination of chocolate and lemon drops.
The ambush was perfect, though, if she said so herself.
Perhaps the other woman was too busy recounting the 'shopping session' she and the rest of the Amazons had gone out on, but it was a simple matter of stepping out from a blind corner when she came close. A flurry of movement, a surprised yelp and a happy, content growl from Rhythm later the two were now in a most intimate embrace. Rhythm held the woman up against the wall, her victim's long, shapely legs wrapped around her waist. In her mouth Rhythm had a single strawberry, which she quickly shared as she gently kissed her soulmate until breath became a problem. She pulled back slightly, resting her forehead on the other woman's, slightly brushing their noses together affectionately.
“Syn, mah lovely...” Rhythm purred out. “Ah've got a hankerin' fer yer lovin' babe. Care ta sate that need?”
Rhythm watched the girl walk away and wondered, briefly, if Syn had given her an ass-complex. Certainly the redhead (Kitra, right?) had some junk in the trunk, but perhaps it was her drunken nature that was keeping her from properly showing it off. Or maybe Syn's own just out shined all others and made them seem dim by comparison. Whatever the reason, Rhythm now found herself more...attuned to her attraction to the backside of her females, and it was this that made her eyes sweep the room.
No sir, Rhy didn't consider herself to judge any book by any cover. She loved females in all shapes and sizes. But maybe now, after seeing the person that was consuming her thoughts and libido, she was fairly certain that she now had a 'type', where as just last week the thief could have just picked out the closest female that was attracted to her and have that be that. But now, Syn had effectively ruined her. Ruined her, and there was (sincerely) nothing the thief could do about it. Well, unless she was crazy enough to go pounding at The Sanctuary's golden doors and scream her name in an effort to gain her attention. Maybe hold up a boombox and play “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel. That was somewhere in the romantic range, right?
Drink three (or was it four?), down the hatch.
She was suppose to be good. The Cat's Paw, though rowdy and carefree themselves, held her to a higher standard, as they did with the rest of their con artists. Sure, it was true enough that Rhythm was both well trained in the art of thieving as well as being a con artist, but she was the latter before anything else in their eyes. In hers too, but Rhythm could only handle being lonely for so long. Sure, she was with people, but that was acting. She fulfilled these women's fantasies, made them feel wanted and cared for. And it was better for them because of the taboo of Rhythm being female. It made it more exciting, more of a thrill. And while her marks whistled and hummed the rest of the week thinking about how wonderful that day was, to Rhythm...it was Tuesday.
Another drink conquered, and Rhy shook her head as her vision swam for a moment. Just a moment, though. Nothing serious.
>>[/b] "Sorry needed to take a trip to the ladies room to freshen up."[/i]
Rhythm smiled at the woman who was there awhile back (how long had it been?) was now there again, as if by magic. The thief blinked rapidly before raising a hand and brushing a loose hair from the redhead's face and tucked it behind her ear. She retracted her hand a moment later, brushing knuckles in a soft cheek. Rhythm knew, somewhere inside her foggy brain, that her blood red eyes were betraying her every intention of not sleeping with anyone, and now her body was rebelling as well.
“Ah bet...” Rhy began, cupping the woman's chin in her hand gently, yet firmly. “Tha' if'n ya held eleven roses up ta a mirror, you'd be lookin' at twelve o' tha most beautiful tings in da world.”
A genuine smile appeared on Rhy's lips as she turned and rested her elbows on the bar. She took stock of the woman before her more closely. She was gorgeous at a glance, of course, someone that could make one do a double take when glancing at people in a crowd. Natural redhead, to be sure. Stunning green eyes, full lips and a cutest button nose. She was also drunk, and drunk white girls just happened to be Rhythm's favorite kind of girl. That didn't stop her mind from reminding her that getting laid was not what she'd come here for, and the form of stress relief she was after involved only drinking, fighting, and the thrill of escaping the cops. A throwback to her old days, yeah, but she needed to cut loose. Syn wouldn't leave her mind otherwise.
>>[/b]”Both to be honest. Men are idiots. Except bartenders, who bring awesome drinks.”[/i]
Rhythm nodded in an understanding fashion. She didn't have a lot of exposure to men in any romantic sense, but she imagined that heartbreak and hurt translated fairly well regardless of ones own sexual preference. It reminded her of another reason she was here, of Agnes and the thief's own guilt in that glorious mess, but she continued to listen to the redhead here, as her slurred voice was cutesy and fun to hear.
>>[/b]"I could asssk the same of yourself. To be dressed so nicely for a bar?"[/i]
“Well...” Rhy began, but stopped as the woman continued.
>>[/b]"You look like a man, but move like woman. Errr, sorry you could easily be a guy too. I dunno.”[/i]
The thief took in the blush and laughed wholeheartedly, no doubt making said blush darken and deepen. She really didn't know where to begin and instead kicked back her drink before knocking on the bar to signal for a refill. The warmth spreading over her body made her close her eye for a moment before Rhy opened them again, this time settling on the woman's neck, a rather inviting prospect. Another brief thought wondered how the woman tasted in varying conditions; dry and sweet now, salty and slightly bitter later when the lovemaking was reaching it's peak. Eyes flew open as a free hand found her newly made drink. She kicked that one back fast as well, breathing in deep to help keep the coughing at bay.
“Iz no worries, cher.” Rhythm nodded to the bartender, who shook his head at the rather impressive speed these two were slamming their drinks. “An' thank ya fer da compliment on mah clothes. Though I do always be dressin' as such, if ah'm bein' honest. Helps catch da eyes o' pretty lil redheads, savvy? An' mah reason...drinkin' ta numb. Tings ah got up here...” Rhythm tapped her temple. “Dese memories ya can't ferget but temporarily.”
Another drink gone, and Rhy now sat down, shoulder to shoulder with her new friend.
“Names Rhythm,” the thief extended a hand in greeting. “Dis angel got a name, no? Lay it on mah ears, bebe.”
Honestly, Rhythm didn't really have one. Well, one. She had several. Several important reasons that escaped her at the moment but she was for damn sure that one of those reasons (the main one, in fact) had to do with the female version of blue balls she had going on. What would you even call that? Ever since the Situation-With-Panties-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named (or whatever) and eying the woman who had grabbed her heart in a manner befitting of a torture device, Rhythm had found herself in a state of perpetual arousal that had refused to go away no matter how hard she worked at it.
And work at it she did.
Now exhausted and quite lonely (despite just coming from yet another mission from The Cat's Paw) and getting to spend a rather eventful (and romantic) day with a particularly beautiful specimen, Rhythm wanted nothing more then to just collapse and go to bed. But no. No, she was still burning up on the inside and nothing the thief did could sate that hunger. And even though her line of work probably should have prepared her for this kind of eventuality, Rhythm decided that enough was enough. It was time to take matters into her own hands. She didn't want to sleep with anyone, no, but she could do the next best thing; flirt and start a bar fight. Always good with stress relief right there.
Dressed in what someone would probably consider her Sunday best(she guessed, as she normally wore this type of clothing), Rhythm was off to a bar called 'The Cat's Pajamas', which would have tickled her more if she had bothered to check the name. Instead, she merely sauntered into the place and scoped out the scene. It was a tad busy, the music was pretty mellow and the women were...well, okay. In reality they were all gorgeous. Pre-Syn, Rhythm would have taken her time to admire them, but now she wanted to forget. Just for the moment, anyways, and get some relief. It wasn't everyday you met someone who occupied your mind in such a manner, and the thief had a feeling that Syn was camped out in her memories to stay.
“What'll it be?” the bartender asked, twitching his nose at Rhy's pretty-boy look. “Something soft to start ya off with, maybe?”
“Naw,” Rhythm waved off, her New Orleans accent catching the bartender off guard. “Dontcha be givin' meh any a dat weak drink, hear meh? Ehhh...” she looked over to where a particularly banging redhead was and nodded. “Gimmie whateva she's downin' like a champ. An' get her one too, hear?”
“Sure thing...”
Her order was up in no time and Rhy took that opportunity to slide up next to the redhead, elbows leaned back on the bar counter. She honestly wasn't going for a piece of tail and the woman stank of straight girl, but it was always fun to flirt with them. Besides, with her new look she was always mistaken for a boy anyways, so it rarely mattered.
“Hey dere sugha.” Rhythm winked, tilting her head in the other woman's direction. “Ya drinkin' ta numb 'er ferget?”
Rhythm felt better after she left the presence of the two goddesses in the lobby. The secretary (named Lisa) was a professional little thing, dressed as most secretaries were (in movies) and still managed to have hips worth killing for. Not that Rhythm mentioned this, as the thief was still blinking her eyes rapidly and shaking her head as if doing so would make the blush go away and make the slight dizziness go away.
“They do that, you know.” came a rather bored, cut and dry voice. “Those two. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
Though there was something to be ashamed of. Rhythm's thoughts strayed towards her time in New Orleans and her training for such scenarios. Well, not this specifically, but the training in seducing and charming and avoidance when coming across someone who was just as good as yourself in those fields as well. Which was hard, really, because during her time with The Cat's Paw, Rhythm hadn't been laid once, not even during her cons. Sure, touching, feeling...that was all good. But what marked her as a true 'natural' was the ability to con some lonely trophy wife out hundreds of thousands of dollars without sex. So, needless to say, her libido was...well, a bit wanting. But being able to control that wanting was a pride of hers. To have it shattered so easily was kind of a blow to her pride.
“Easy fer you ta say, darlin'.” Rhythm muttered, rubbing a hand to the back of her neck and looking away from her hard stare, red eyes looking around their current location. “Yer around it all de time, am ah right? Folk like meh dun get ta see such unearthly beauty ev'ry day. Ah'd almost say yer lucky, but ta look 'n not touch? Must be torture.”
“Yes. Torture.” Lisa rolled her eyes, stopping and sweeping her arms. “The bathroom. I have you all signed up, but please come back to the lobby when you're done to fill out the rest of tour paperwork.”
“Dere be more?” Rhythm sagged a bit, which made a half smile appear on Lisa's face. “Aight...ah'll be quick.”
“Do that.”
Lisa gave a nod and sauntered off, Rhythm taking only a quick moment to admire the hourglass figure before popping into the bathroom. The crackling in her ear grew more pronounced before a clear voice cut through it, though it went to jumbled garbage a moment later. Rhythm smiled; despite Echo denying that he wasn't the one that sent him in this mission, she was damn sure he had some part in it.
'God damn it Snow, answer meh!!'
“Ah'm here, ya louse.” Rhythm grumbled, opening all the stalls in the bathroom to make sure she was alone, which she was. “Sorreh babe, had ta...take a moment fer mahself. Ya underastand, yeah?” Visions of Sin's perfect ass swam in her head, and Rhythm shook her head as if to physically shake them out.
'The frak ever, just get back on business. Oh, one more thing...' Rhythm head the deep intake of breath and felt a sense of dread, a iron weight fall into the pit of her stomach. 'Yeah, the panties? They...uhhh...gotta be used. Worn. So, that means ya don't gotta go to her room, right? Just head on to where the laundry room is!!'
Rhythm sighed heavily, hands going to support herself on one of the elaborate sinks. It only really just hit her that the bathroom she was in probably cost more then most of the neighborhoods Rhythm had been in while in New Orleans, but she quickly brushed that line of thinking aside. She really held no loyalty to the state, only her guild, and now that loyalty was being stretched because of the idiot on the other end of her comm.
“Echo...da ya know how many women are in dis buildin'?” Rhythm said slowly, enunciated each word to convey just how displeased she was at the moment. “Ta find a single pair o' panties among all dem...dat shit's not possible. Not in da least. Ah hafta go to her room an' find o' pair. Dere be no otha option.”
'Well lookit you, all noble and wanting to accomplish your goal honestly.' Echo chuckled. 'Didn't you say he could steal any girl's panties and use those? Why not do that?'
“Principle.” Rhythm grumbles, slamming a fist on the bathroom counter. “Just...just gimmie a momen', kay? Ah...ah need ta get my thoughts all straight.”
'Forward. Gay girls don't say straigh-'
“Shut the frak up, Echo.” Rhythm pursed her lips, her fingers inches from shutting off the comm again but deciding against it. “One minute. Den ah be headin' out and possibly endin' mah own life fer a pair o' panties. Hope yer happy, dipshit.”
The silence on the other end of the line was indication that she could at least mute the comm before the thief turned her back on the mirrors that showed the slightly desperate look on her face. She didn't want to see that, not after her confidence had been built up to what it was now. Rhythm was all brand new everything, from look to personality. But Isabel...well, no matter what she still considered the bonemancer a friend despite the other woman's feelings. Stealing her panties seemed wrong, and while Rhythm usually didn't care about 'wrong' anymore, she still didn't want to slight her friends, even those that wanted to kill her.
>>[/b]"Sorry. I missed that. What time was that, again?"[/i]
Sex was talking to her, and for one scary moment Rhythm felt like she did a year ago, with her brain screaming words but some...thing was blocking anything from coming out coherently. It was hard, after all, when the walking personification of Sex itself was talking to you, after all, and it was only then that Rhythm actually realized that Sex had heard her say 'Panty Time'. Her cheeks darkened, unusually bothered by this but was saved from actually saying anything when another woman joined the three (including the secretary) present in the lobby.
>>[/b]"Hello ladies."[/i]
This woman...well, if Sex was barley keeping her from drooling, the manifestation of all that was sinful made her momentarily gape. It was only by sheer, herculean effort that Rhythm actually managed to snap her jaw shut and take a nonchalant pose. Still, she averted her eyes because at this point her nose was about three seconds away from bursting with an anime style nosebleed. The newest addition to the gathering party in the lobby was well toned, not at all hidden with an ass that looked like it would make chiseled marble weep. While Rhythm felt the training she'd put herself through in the past, as well as her recent training in New Orleans made her feel slightly boyish with her amount of muscle, Sin here still had that hard body that Rhythm wouldn't have any problem worshiping without losing any of the femininity she apparently had in spades. From the sexy, come hither forest green eyes to the perfectly handled dyed hair, Rhythm was using every ounce of will not to just fangirl out and start humping legs.
How the frak did that secretary just look bored[/i]?!
“Time, sorreh...” Rhythm cleared her throat, her whiskey-on-the-rocks voice a tad deeper from her inner struggle in the presence of such beautiful women. “One fifty two, cher bebe.”
And even if Sex was talking to her, Rhythm couldn't keep her gaze from Sin. At the end of the day the thief wouldn't mind having both for dinner and desert, but something told her that such a scenario would probably be left to the porno studio in her mind. She wanted to say something, anything that would catch this woman's attention, but the slight buzzing in her ear told her that Echo had managed to override Rhythm's mute on it and was mere seconds away from screaming in her ear about her current panty stealing mission.
“'Scuse meh, gal lovelies.” Rhythm spoke, her tone now stronger then she would have imagined it being while being around such mind numbing beauty. “Rhythm here's gotta use da lil' girl's room. Bein' new an' all, ah dun suppose one of ya'll can't be pointin' meh in da right direction?”
(Note: All threads are in the order started. Also, threads marked with an asterisks [*] are completed threads.)
Age of Sebastian Site Plot
Hitting the Town – Even when the world ends and life as we know it could never be the same again, sometimes, all you really do need is love. Odd, huh? (Many, many people)
2012 Reboot
Momma Said There'd Be Days Like This... – A job stealing panties. You'd think that Rhythm would be above such things. After all, she was above petty theft even when she was a street rat...most of the time. Now, as a respected member of New Orleans biggest thieves guild, The Cat's Paw, you'd think she'd be handed more respectable jobs. Too bad she's...uniquely qualified for this one. (Lenna Kadick, Syn, Rhythm)
Hello Alcohol and Trouble* – Sometimes, one just needs to hit that bottle and see where the night takes you. Back home with a beautiful woman? Fine. Jail? Wonderful. Two beautiful women? Fantastic. But when you decide to cut loose when you should probably be watching how you're perceived by the people around you, maybe drinking isn't the best idea in the world. (Kitra Maverick, Rhythm)
Come To My Room – Blood loss and cute chicks. Sometimes you thank your lucky stars that something happened to you that was completely horrible if only cause it got you that much closer to the person you've idolized since the day you met her. Yeah, it's one of those times. (Syn, Rhythm)
Need a Dinner Partner? – The mistakes one makes usually comes with regrets and a reminder that hindsight is 20/20. Rhythm learned a long time ago to let go of those notions and know that a failed mission isn't always her fault, and sometimes can lead to more...interesting prospects. (Rebecca Grey, Rhythm)
One year. One year gone from this place and already the madness was starting. She'd been trained, taken in by one of the largest guilds in New Orleans and taught in a fashion usually reserved for the movies. In her mind it was almost like a montage, the time she spent with The Cat's Paw Thieves Guild coming in going in chunks. The time spent on her was enormous, a proverbial army of people to make her who she was now. Years of training condensed down to a merely one, her (new found) art not perfected by a long shot but, as her trainers said, the potential was there. She was a new person, not the dingy little street rat with no connections like she was before. Now, she was somebody, somebody who had the power to actually change things, someone who could make the person that stole her past pay. And what was the first thing she was hired to do when she got back to New York?
'I want you to steal Isabel Duskmoor's panties.'
“Ya say tha' like it be somethin' so simple ta do,” Rhythm slammed a palm into the steering wheel of her car, a slight pout on her lips as her normally pale face went slightly pink in the cheeks. “Me an Izzy ain't exactly on speakin' terms, savvy? In fact, ah got it on good authority tha' tha next time she lays eyes on meh, she gonna gut meh frem da groin up!!”
'Well it's a good thing you look different form the last time she saw you, isn't it?' A beat. 'You're getting paid good money for this, Snow Black. Isn't this what you do? The Cat's Paw told me you'd do it, after all, since you're in the area.'
“Ah be positive ya can jes go out an' steal dem from a girl whose threat level be below red!!” Rhythm cried out, indignant, her face in full on tomato mode. “Dey just be panties, man!! Panties!!”
'To you, maybe. To me...' A breath, one that made Rhythm cringe it was so slow and...perverted. 'I'll go ahead and assume that this is a mission you're accepting. You're uniquely qualified, after all, having direct contact with Isabel and been inside Sanctuary. Waldo out.'
Rhythm wasn't one to argue with the customer, not usually. But really, she'd expected at least a couple of weeks of silence and slightly boredom before her reality kicked in. Time spent using her contacts and money to find an actual lead on her case. But no, barley a day after settling into New York's familiar setting was she being thrust back out into the madness. And while she was certainly concerned for her safety, Rhythm always picture her death being quick, painless. In her mind, the death that Isabel offered was anything but. Their last moments together were...well, awkward. After all, what do you say to the woman you came a breath away from marrying?
“Buncha sick perverts, tha lot a ya.” Rhythm grumbled, looking out into the New York night and sighing. She was glad to have her roof apartment back, happy to see how very little seems to have actually changed. Except the craziness, of course. “God damned panties...da hell...”
Now...
The one thing Rhythm remembered about Sanctuary was that it wasn't exactly a fortress if you were a mutant. They welcomed one and all of her kind with open arms, and she was no different. She wasn't exactly sure how they could tell who was human from mutant, but she didn't ask questions. In fact, the first part of her plan involve on blending in as well as possible before she went on to the second phase of Operation: Panty Thunder (so coined by the imbecile that wanted the damn things), in where she'd do her best to find Isabel's room again. The place did bring back some pleasant memories for her, as Isabel was actually quite cute and adorable when she wasn't being a murderous psycho bitch. Packed a hell of a punch too.
'Snow Black, you copy?'
“Ya, Echo, ah'm here.” Rhythm grumbled, rubbing the side of her face and touching the ear piece that was expertly hidden behind her earlobe. “Tell meh ya weren't tha douchebag tha' said ah could do dis job.”
'Nope, not me.' Echo replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. 'And relax. You're all good here. This is home now, dig? Easy like Sunday morning.'
“Easy fer YOU ta say,” Rhythm emphasized the word as strongly as she could without appearing to be talking to herself. “Ah be in da lobby, ya knucklehead. Off ta find a place where ah can slip outta sight and den do lookin' fer Izzy's room. If'n she be findin' me Echo, ah'm comin' back ta haunt ya bastards, ah frakin' promise ya.”
'No one's gonna find ya, Snow, swear to god.' Rhythm could almost see him holding a hand to his heart. It comforted her slightly, as Echo was an honest guy when it came to his comrades, but the comfort was brief as she reminded herself that she was waist deep in Isabel Territory and, like in The Crow, there ain't no comin' back form that. 'Now, focus on your task, just like we taught ya.
A deep breath later and refocused red eyes glowed slightly, determination and stubbornness making her clench her jaw. She could do this, she could. She'd done things that were ten times riskier, conned bigwigs that never saw her coming. Sure, it'd only been a few times but she garnered results, and a simple freakin' pair of panties wasn't going to be the end of her, no frakin' sir. The last thing she wanted was her tombstone to say 'Rhythm: Murdered Because of Panties' or some stupid shit like that. Surely her guild wouldn't do that...would they? She was about to voice her concerns to Echo, when sex walked into the room.
'Eh, Snow? You gurgled there for a sec. Ya okay? Your vitals...'
Okay, so maybe she wasn't sex. But she could have been, if she'd wanted to. Rhythm had seen pretty women in her life, but this one took the cake, the pie and the pudding too...then didn't offer to share as she ate the whole thing in front of you before finally offering you the crumbs, crumbs you gobbled up simply because you knew it was probably the closest you'd ever be to having her near you. From the sultry walk and to the sashaying of the hips, the woman owned the air around her and if she didn't she made that sumbitch pay rent.
'Snow!! Stay the course!! Snow, answer me ya bitch, Snow!! Snooooooow!!'
A light tap to the device silenced the screaming of Echo in her ear. Rhythm's training only saved her from drooling outright, but a mental slap made her avert her eyes before the woman caught her staring. Momentarily she forgot her mission but, stupid as it was, she knew she had a job to do. And if there ever was a question on how The Order ever got people to even walk into Sanctuary, the answer was as clear as a summer blue sky now.
“Jesus Christ on a pogo stick...” Rhythm breathed, coughing once to clear her throat. “Aight...panty time...”
It's been weeks since her break up with Agnes, and the hurt wasn't gone. She thought it would be. It was like this when she trained and hurt her fist or knees. The pain would throb, but it would eventually fade into memory. For some reason, this pain persisted, and Ashley hated it. She didn't like feeling weak in this way. Pain was something she could shrug off easily in fights, why not now? How could one person make her feel so damn weak and vulnerable? Ashley gritted her teeth tightly as she walked down the sidewalk before letting up the tension and sighing.
She'd taking to wearing looser clothing now, though she didn't know why...easier, more comfortable she guessed. Low, hip hugging jeans adorned her lower half and a simple sports bra and black wife beater her top. Her fiery halo of hair was pulled up in a ponytail, it's color brighter because she had taken a shower that morning and it was actually dry by nightfall, something it rarely did without the aid of a hairdryer.
Her guitar case hung off her back as she walked towards The Closet, her favorite haunt for playing music. Already, a block away from the place, people began to greet her, though some gave her thoughtful and sometimes fearful looks. She didn't know why and, quite frankly, didn't care. After trying everything to dull the pain in her chest, Ashley figured that maybe playing music was probably her best bet in distracting herself, and with a childish huff, picked up her case and headed to The Closet without giving herself a chance to change her mind.
If that made any sense.
Sisko greeted her at the door as soon as he saw her, glaring at several customers who dared tried to bother him while he greeted the redheaded musician and escorted her to the back room. This normally didn't happen, and Ashley blinked. She usually just went up and sang, but she was here on a day she didn't normally come, so that may have accounted for it. Still, when Sisko shut the door and stalked up to her, she drew back at the look on his face.
“What are you doing here?!” he hissed angrily. “Your face is all over the news and net and you think you can just waltz in here and think no one will notice? What's the matter with you girlie, you got rocks in yer brain?!”
Ashley's blank look and rapid blinking was all the answer he needed.
“Aw shit...you don't know, huh?” Sisko sighed, taking a step back and crossing his arms. “It's a wonder you haven't been caught. Weeks after whatever you did pissed the cops off...you'd think they'd be out in droves searching for ya.”
More blinking.
“Look here girl.” Sisko sighed and sat down in a chair, exhaling a long breath. “You and some other chicky-poo busted up a precinct and a museum. Any of this ringin' a bell?”
Her expression, like many before it, told Sisko all he needed to know.
“Coming back to you, then? Yeah. You didn't think you could just walk away from that, did you?” He shook his head. “You're on the Most Wanted list, girly. Along with a lot of other bad people, you're in the Top Five. Capital letters. And they're gonna find you, one way or another. They always do. So come on...get outta here. I love ya girly, but I can't have the police, ATF and who knows how many other people bustin' up the place to get ya. And...hey, whatcha doing girly?”
Ashley turned towards Sisko and gave him a bright smile...one of the first she'd given in weeks.
“To play.”
She came back out into The Closet, jumping up on stage and unpacking her guitar as much applause greeted her. She noticed many more cameras and cell phones out this night, and she now knew why. Evidence, maybe? Capture her last performance before she had to leave and figure out how to get back on the good side of the law? At the moment, she didn't care. The pain that had been plaguing her was ebbing away, replaced by something...more. She was one of the most wanted people on the city, and now she was playing her guitar out on the open, and at any moment she could get caught and live out the rest of her days rotting in jail.
Maybe this was freedom, freedom like she had it before she got caught up with Isabel, Bentley...Agnes, or any of the dozen of different women she'd taken to bed after Agnes ripped her heart of her chest, Indiana Jones style. Whatever.
She sat down, and after quick sound check, put all those emotions into her guitar.
