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.
Allison blinked at Cafas as he answered the last question. Really, there were so many responses she could make. Assuming bad things were involved when a woman went missing, reappeared pregnant and grinned about the father being dead really wouldn't mean constantly assuming bad things happened, and would have let her avoid actually talking about it. And she certainly had handled it, though she wondered if Cafas would be as (apparently) forgiving about getting Isabel's help as if she'd gotten help from Aura like he seemed to be assuming. Even though asking Aura probably would have been more logical, she didn't really want Aura to know and certainly didn't want Aura hurt by them if something had gone wrong again. She went with the least likely response to get her in trouble. "You know I know Aura? You're sounding more and more like a stalker, Cafas. Just how many laws do the X-men break in the name of upholding the laws?" ...Okay, maybe that would get her into a tiny bit of trouble. But less. "Also, Aura doesn't know they ever existed." Your assumptions are wrong. Only in one detail, but she wasn't going to clarify that part.
And they were done. That was a relief; Allison was getting close to the point where she would very much prefer to lock herself in her room and not speak to anyone for a few days. Well, or a room; locking herself in her room didn't really let her not speak to anyone anymore....
...Or, perhaps she could just take her frustration out on someone. Like Myra. The author was turning herself into such a lovely target now, and Cafas even wanted her to. So Allison smiled, stepped over, and let her hand land on Myra's and Cafas's, and slipped herself in between them. Which put her uncomfortably close to both of them, but she was perfectly capable of not showing that as she worked her fingers underneath Cafas's hand. "I'm not very fond of bars, actually, but maybe we could meet you somewhere else sometime later. In the meantime," Myra was being quite stubborn in clinging to Cafas, really, "we had plans."
Not that said imaginary plans seemed to be dissuading Myra any. So instead Allison turned around and kissed Cafas.
(Ew, really. But she was good at faking that. And the expressions she caused were definitely worth it.)
Okay, yeah, Allison did understand. Also, she was going to have to be a bit more careful who she hung out with. Living in Sanctuary was excusable; wandering around chatting with Isabel was a little less so. He hadn't said anything yet, though, nor had she been arrested or the magazines freaked out, so presumably that had gone unnoticed. Good.
And Allison found herself staring at Cafas again. "You... are really naive. What surgery requires cuts like that?" Pulling out all the hand's tendons, maybe? Or all the veins instead? Certainly nothing good that she could think of. "I disappeared because someone kidnapped me and sold me to the Russian mob. They wanted me to forge things for them."
"--question is for Allison. What do you plan to do next, once the movie comes out?"
Smile at the fans and at the camera, and don't nod because that's too obvious, but make sure your body smiles at then too. "I'm not entirely sure, yet; there's some suggestions of making sequels--" Ah, and there; something Allison said got cheers. "--but that depends on how well the movie does." And voice back down, lean back and look relaxed, like you're only chatting casually and not explaining nightmares with a smile. "I got cut because I'm more stubborn than they are patient, they couldn't risk killing me, and they figured out my hands are sensitive." The breath wasn't entirely necessary, at least in terms of volume of air, but it helped her head spin a little less. "Being... raped..." she still hated that word; it felt like electrocution, but starting from her tongue, but Cafas didn't seem to understand anything less, "was a bit later."
Smile for the cameras, everyone; they don't care what happened to you.
Allison... couldn't argue that. The Sanctuary was bad for some peoples' health. It was also very, very good for others' health; it just depended on how much attention you paid to who, and what you were willing to turn away from. Cafas... did not seem like the type to look away for his own good, or to understand why many of Sanctuary's members did what they did. So, yeah, it being bad for his health seemed reasonable. Though Allison did wonder just who exactly he'd offended; she might have to make a point of keeping them separate if it was anyone she knew....
It was fortunate that the next questions didn't take much attention. It gave Allison the opportunity to turn and blink at Cafas. "What time that I was missing? You know what time I was missing?" Hadn't he just said he avoided Sanctuary? And agreed that he hadn't seen her for months?
Well, either way. It didn't change her answer. "...No. That was... slightly after I was missing. When I was missing was these." She flipped her hand over, under the table, so that the scars were visible. Small and neat, cutting across her palm and the inside of each joint, and still a bit red since they were constantly being stretched. "Well, and bruises, but those heal. ...And mutation, probably."
"I've never seen you around Sanctuary." Admittedly, it had been quite a while since she'd met Caleb, and the puppy could have just led her to the wrong place. But Lisa had known him (even in the form of a puppy), and it would be much more convenient if he just had his own room in Sanctuary. Closer to Allison, and therefore easier to get to... and if his Sanctuary room was only one of multiple, much better opportunities to sneak the sticks in there without getting caught. Of course, he'd probably just be able to catch her by smell... unless she drowned her scent out with something else. There were some pretty strong perfumes in the world.
Hm, so apparently they were renewing the relationship pretense. Allison smiled, and shook her head at the girl. It didn't seem to make any difference either way; she wasn't paying any attention to Allison.
...Woah. That was... fast. Well, that made sense; there weren't that many well known mutants, especially for teens to watch; it made sense that they'd latch onto any that did exist. Representation was always nice.
...Hm. Maybe Allison should talk about that. Once she got an opportunity, anyway; no need to drag the topic in when it would annoy people by cutting off what they wanted to talk about. She waited while Cafas dealt with the fangirl (aww, he was growing up into a real, genuine celebrity!) who departed at a much more normal speed than she'd arrived.
The smile Allison gave Cafas when he was able to answer her again was thoroughly pleased, and just that bit shadowed by a glare. "The father is dead." Who, exactly, he was she didn't know anyway, but she had made very sure of that.
Okay, so maybe that had come a bit out of nowhere from Cafas's perspective, but that was still an extreme reaction. Allison blinked at him right along with everyone else. And aw, that was a cute answer, though she didn't at all believe the attempt at being casual.
She blinked as Cafas hesitated, then started rambling at her, and had to raise her hand again to hide the giggles she couldn't quite suppress. "I know. I've met Caleb. He's an asshole, and I still need to fill his room with sticks." As soon as she found his room, anyway. The brat had been annoyingly evasive. Being able to not be human on a whim probably helped with that. "And I am pregnant. I assume that's a no, you don't want credit, then." She paused before continuing. "Which means half the magazines will freak out saying I was cheating, a quarter will blame you anyway, and a few might actually figure out that the actors were acting."
The fourth question had been for the director, but the fifth was for Cafas. A girl who looked about sixteen and far too star struck bounced up, hesitated, and blurted out, "Cafas, would you go on a date with me?"
Allison did her best to hide her giggles. And the pity.
Allison was smart. Whatever else she might be, and whatever else anyone might call her, she knew that. She was good at learning. She might not always obey what she learned, but she did learn. And right now she was obeying. Stephan even noticed; he patted her on the head before he stood up. Good girl.
Allison had never been called good girl before, that she remembered. Girl, certainly, and she'd been told she was good, but that particular combination of words had never been applied to her before, the way they were applied to pets and children too young to know to object. Even when she'd been a child, her parents had objected for her; they hadn't wanted her learning she was inferior to anyone, so she'd been a nice or smart or pretty young lady instead. Never good girl.
Allison didn't like being a good girl. But being a bad girl hurt too much.
Allison wasn't sure when she'd closed her eyes; she wasn't aware she had. They snapped open anyway at two loud bangs, and she gasped when one of the men--not Daniel, Robert she thought, the other one who'd held her down at first--fell on her. That knocked the wind out of her, and she had to gasp for a minute and wipe tears out of her eyes before she could see. She still didn't dare try to move away.
...That man looked... odd. And angry. Allison was vaguely aware that he could be mad for her instead of at her, but she still cringed away, as much as she could while pinned beneath a corpse and too scared to move. So it was really more of a sustained flinch.
Stephan was significantly more reactive. He, and the remaining three other men in the room, rounded on the Judge. "Who are you? What do you think you're doing?"
"Who cares who he is, he just killed Robert! Kill him!" someone added. Allison kept her eyes on Stephan and the Judge; they were the dangerous ones.
"That'd take way too long, I hope." Especially because Allison had never actually signed her own name with her mutation yet. For anything official, it could be questioned by the lack of dents in the paper from a pen tip; for anything unofficial... well hopefully they'd not think of that. Unless she pre-made a bunch of signatures and stored them in her skin to print on paper, that would take at least a few minutes per signature. Though, that might always just mean she'd finish when Cafas did instead of having to wait....
"Try sunglasses." Hiding uniquely mutant eyes out of shame of being a mutant Allison disapproved of; hiding uniquely mutant eyes to avoid stalking teenage fangirls (and boys. Allison kind of feared for the fanboys' lives, based on what she knew of Caleb) she could understand. "...Or wear your costume, so they'll think you're just pretending to be you."
It took a second for Allison to reply about relationships; Cafas's comments had set off far too many thoughts at once. I don't want to keep lying about Aura. She's a criminal, I can't ever tell the truth. I'll always have to pretend I'm single, or dating someone else. Cafas is easier to pretend with than someone who didn't want to pretend. Getting accused of seducing him into cheating on Caleb is the last thing I need now. Accusing Caleb of seducing him away from me is probably not good for their health, but they'll do it anyway. I can think of half a dozen ways to explain not seeing him for months, especially since I haven't been seen much.... Allison made absolutely sure her voice was too low for the microphones to pick up, and caught another piece of Myra's rambled certainty that she and Cafas were favored and blessed by God. She shoved it away. "I might be able to change their minds on that. Want to be a dad?" Granted, Cafas would certainly be accused of being the kid's father anyway, but whether he decided to go along with it or not would be... pretty important to clarify now, probably. Before Allison said anything either way, at least.
"Uh. Yeah.... That's complicated." Actually, it really wasn't, but 'complicated' sounded nicer than 'traumatizing.' And Allison was probably going to have to rescue Cafas from Myra later. That would be fun to pull of, she was sure.
Oh look, a distraction! Allison had no clue how much practice Cafas had with tact, but she'd divert the question anyway. She smiled and leaned toward the microphone again, apparently oblivious to the conversations she'd just been having. "Well, it's not a genra I normally look for, so I actually first read it because I noticed myself on the cover. It was definitely entertaining, though. I had fun reading it." That despairing sort of fun she had when ranting about incompetence and stupidity, but nonetheless, something that could be called fun.
And once that question was answered, a new one. "For Cafas and Allison again. You two have such a great relationship, were you friends before the movie?"
Hm. Evidently, Cafas-and-Allison were a unit now. Wasn't there some magazine that had tried to start calling them Calli? Allison wasn't sure where that had disappeared to, but she was glad it was gone. Being referred to as AlliSin was annoying enough.
"No, not yet. It doesn't change, though, I'm not sure I ever will." Which Allison was fine with, really; she honestly had no idea what she'd do if she could control how fast the ink was created. All she did now was periodically strip it out, and let it build up again. "I can change the color, though, but it's too slow to be much fun." Allison didn't have any interest in keeping the same tattoos for days, so the ink either remained unchanged, or changed to a dark mud color. Which was why she stripped it out as soon as it began to build up. Though, perhaps if she could speed it up enough... starting a party with no tattoos and having them fade in over the hours might be entertaining enough to be worth the preparation. She smirked equally at the idea and at Cafas's comment, and turned her head, raising a hand again to hide her mouth as she kept talking. "If a printing house ever tries to drown me, I'll let you know."
Allison winced again at the noise, but kept it internal as she followed Cafas's gaze to the director. Weird man; she still couldn't understand what he was doing directing this movie, he was constantly criticizing it and shaking his head at everything that happened. For money, then, probably. "It's fine." Better pay attention when it wasn't needed than miss when it was, always. They could probably be excused once of twice on the basis of 'aw, look how cute the couple is,' but even that would wear out pretty quickly.
"Not... actually one, maybe, but he's mad at me." Also, Allison wasn't entirely sure Shade could teleport. And was pretty sure he wasn't someone to introduce to an X-man. He was (presumably) still mad at her, though, so that was a convenient excuse. "It's not that hard for me, actually. They don't follow me as much. Change tattoos, put on a hat, that's normally enough. Mutation change helped with that too." Or, walk cheerfully into a legendarily dangerous part of town. That habit wasn't well known yet (and would be easily explainable once it was, since Allison did live there after all), though she was sure it would be eventually. But even for those who did know where she tended to walk and didn't know where she lived, it wasn't an issue; the cheerfully oblivious persona that had been constructed around Allison would see no problem wandering anywhere. And Allison didn't; that that happened to be because she was a distinctly lethal fighter rather than because she was oblivious to danger, or simply used to it, didn't ever need to be known. "Though, they'll probably get better at recognizing me again after this."
"Of course I did, you haven't seen me for months." And Allison only got into the magazines when they were able to speculate on her relationship with Cafas, or found ways to pick at her. She just didn't go out in public that much, especially recently. Having quit college was the most recent (major) thing they'd seized on to criticize; Allison almost hoped they'd bring it up so she could explain exactly why she had. And, of course, since she hadn't been seen with Cafas any time recently, there'd been endless speculation that they'd broken up. Allison was amazed they hadn't run out already, though with all the whispering they were doing now, that conversation would get another boost from this appearance, even if no one dared ask if they were dating.
...No, Allison didn't have that much faith in humanity. Of course someone would ask.
And the author had taken over from the director. Interrupted, going by the director's expression. She was rambling about how she'd just known Allison and Cafas were perfect for the roles when she first saw them, and the picture was so perfect she was sure that God had even given her the book to write based on them. Allison firmly tuned the comments out there, checked her smile, and widened it a bit when she noticed it had begin to fade. A distraction was definitely needed; she pulled her attention back to Cafas. "So, anything interesting happen in your daily routine?" Which was a dangerous question, really, considering the many meanings of interesting, but at least it wasn't God basing sappy cliche romances on Allison. Any god that did that deserved a good beating, in Allison's opinion.
Allison was getting a bit sick of smiling. Sure, it wasn't painful yet, but it was still a bit annoying to have to smile, and smile, and smile, even though she didn't feel at all like smiling. And felt a bit like glaring when it got to be time for the panel, and Cafas was very distinctly missing. She still had to smile and wave when she caught sight of him, though.
Okay, maybe she could forgive that. Between her tattoos and just not being the goal character anyway, Allison had managed to slip through the crowds without too much bother. Though Cafas had better remember that detail for the next one. She blinked at his question, and had to reach up to check that she actually wasn't wearing glasses. She hadn't worn glasses for years, since they didn't really do any good, but sunglasses were becoming a nice addition more and more often. His next question clarified what was going on for her, though, and she dropped her hand. "Oh." She'd forgotten about that, actually; it hadn't been a dramatic enough change to do more than cause a few startled examinations in a mirror, and while she was pretty sure that the week of being kidnapped had triggered it, it hadn't been an immediate enough change for the connection to be very strong. "Yeah, mutation." Her answer was low, but not a whisper; whispers were too inclined to carry. "I create ink now. Really, really slowly. Costumers are going to have a fit, I'm sure."
Allison wasn't sure why no one else did, but she saw no reason not to casually place her hands over her ears halfway through Cafas's introduction. Her head hurt enough already; she had no desire to add to it with the teenage screeching. The pasted smile was still in place when she dropped her hands again and leaned toward the microphone. "And I'm Allison Sinnocent," the pause there for giggles actually had been trained into her long before movies were ever mentioned, but was still convenient, "and I play Rashell."
The introduction moved on to the author--not necessarily a bad person, in Allison's mind, but a bit... annoyingly naive--and Allison leaned back toward Cafas. "So, how have you managed to avoid them? Any idea how you'll get out of here?" Allison might be annoyed on the way out, but probably would be allowed to leave; Cafas... might have a bit more difficulty with that.
That... was not a much more encouraging expression, outside of context. Within context, it could be either; Isabel might be mad at the humans, or at Allison for waiting this long to deal with them, or at something that kept her from killing them... or, in theory, she could disapprove of Allison needing help, but Allison was pretty sure that that wasn't it. Fortunately Isabel's answer clarified that, so Allison didn't have to waste time being persuasive. "I can show you where. How about now?" It was getting late; there weren't many people out to recognize them, and the gang would be gathering in their bar. Besides, it wasn't that far, and most of the walk was in Sanctuary territory; Allison doubted anyone inclined to report Isabel--or anyone with her--would be in Sanctuary territory to start with, but even if they were, it was unlikely they'd dare.
Allison did notice Aiden's run away, and took a second to blink at the snow that was quickly forming a puddle on the floor. Well that explained why he wasn't bothered by cold, anyway. "Heal or something" indeed. Oh well; it didn't really mean anything for her, and probably wouldn't mean anything for anyone until he got over being ashamed of it. And it was just as well that he'd left, anyway; he certainly wouldn't help in executing the gang, and Allison doubted he'd do very well if he got in the way. Shame he was scared, but oh well; he'd get over it eventually. In the meantime, Allison had a gang to deal with, and Isabel to help.
Isabel looked... skeptical. That was odd; Allison had always gotten the impression that what Isabel liked and disliked was pretty simple. Admittedly, her experience was a few years into a now-averted future, so it was possible that Isabel's tastes had gotten simpler by then. Most peoples' had by then, really. Especially concerning food. Killing humans was a bit on the other end of the scale, though, and something that Isabel was already well known for.
Well, better just to ask. Allison kept the innocent look, except for the smile. That was still a mouth that turned up and showed teeth, but it wasn't really a smile any longer. "There's this gang of rapists and murderers that I encountered a bit ago. They're human and think it's a great sport to stalk, capture and torture mutants. There are more than I can deal with on my own," especially when her mutation decided to fail her at the worst moments, "but I thought you might be able to help."
The violence was almost a relief; at least it was familiar. Allison knew how that worked; she refused, and she was hit. She refused, she was hit, she refused, she was hit, and it repeated until they lost patience, she was hit a lot, and they left. And then she waited until it started again. So she wasn't any more upset as the scene repeated itself; Rick held her up by one arm, Allison refused to speak or support herself, and John alternated asking if she'd forge things with hitting her when she didn't agree. The hits got harder over the minutes, but not more than they had ended up on other days; they still couldn't risk killing her, or hurting her enough for a hospital to be needed, so Allison wasn't worried. Hurt, but not worried; they couldn't do any more than they'd already done, and she'd already survived.
John ran out of patience, finally, and the actual beating began; her face and shoulders were already bruised, so it wouldn't make any difference. Allison couldn't help flinching and crying at the hits, but still didn't try to get away or stop him until Rick threw her onto the floor. Normally that meant they were done, so she waited a few seconds before starting to roll over and push herself up.
John kicked her in the stomach; Allison would have thrown up if she'd had anything in her stomach, and curled around it if the kick hadn't rolled her onto her back. Rick's shoe shoved her head sideways, and pressed it against the carpet; not too hard, since they certainly couldn't risk giving her brain damage, but still rough enough to hurt. It muffled Rick's voice. "Don't think we can't make you hurt worse than we have. You're running out of time to cooperate, girl." John's foot landed in her side, and Allison gasped at the pain. When the next kick hit her hand and the scabs burst open, she screamed.
Allison did not like being ignored. An exhale rumbled; something that, with more volume and form, might have been a growl, and she tried again to twist up and kick one of the men holding her, but they hadn’t fallen into her reach, and her adrenaline was draining away and limiting her, and this time neither of them even bothered to brush her away. And she was only angry because she didn’t like being ignored and talked about, or insulted, and her attempts to twist her arms away even though she knew they would fail were only because she was angry. They did fail, predictably; the guy standing on her arm put more weight on it; Allison held back as much of the whimper as she could and stayed still. That meant she had nothing to do but listen, and stare up at (apparently) Daniel, and hope he got around to looking at her. And she only looked scared to manipulate him, not because she actually was at all. And she only felt sick because her muscles were tense because she was angry and fighting and she was not scared because there was nothing to be scared of because nothing would happen.
“Let go!” Delusion had limits, and by the time Allison heard someone ordering others to strip her, any consideration of whether she was scared or not was drowned completely out by trying to get away. That just got her kicked in the side by not-Daniel, and pulled to her feet while she gasped at that.
The two tried taking advantage of that to switch Allison to just one’s hold, but her mind wasn’t quite as out of it as her body was; she did manage to twist her right arm free and go for the knife she had left. It was on her left, though, and her pants weren’t particularly loose; it would have taken many times the seconds she had to actually get it out, and instead she ended up with both her arms twisted up behind her, legs kicked out from under her so she was kneeling, knees pulsing from hitting the floor and leaning forward, trying to make the twisting and pulling in her shoulders less. It didn’t work.
Allison wasn’t facing the right way to see what was happening to Megan; even if she had been, all she could really see was her own hair. The two with her could, though, and paid attention; Allison had a second to get her breath back and the spots out of her eyes, then tried to twist her arms out of the man’s grip again. She got them to move, but then he grunted and they were twisted farther, and another kick hit her. It must have been from an awkward angle, it wasn’t as painful as the last.
Attention was back on her, though, and as soon as her arms were pinned again the one holding her suggested finding out what she’d been reaching for. Allison was focused on the way her shoulders were screaming at her, and didn’t pay enough attention to the order until she noticed hands on her; in her pockets, technically, but she knew there was nothing in them after they’d gotten the knife out, and her pants fit well enough that that should have been blatantly obvious. She tried to sit up, or get away; she wasn’t sure if her attempt was even noticed, but she couldn’t move. “Stop it!”
Stephan’s attention was back on them. “Why is it still here? I said storage.”
The hands finally left as one of the men held the knife up. “She had this in her pocket.”
“Really.” Stephan walked over as the door closed behind James. He accepted the knife, examined it, and flipped it open. “Hmph. Beasts can’t even pick a decent knife. It’ll still cut, though.” The knife snapped closed. “We’ll deal with that soon. Get it to storage.”
Allison cried when the pain in her shoulders abruptly increased; she’d struggled to her feet and was stumbling forwards before she realized that meant she was cooperating, or anything other than less pain. She hesitated, was kicked, and learned that whoever was holding her was perfectly capable of pushing her whether she walked or not.
The door from the room led to a small hallway with three doors; the first hung open, into an office. Storage was the next door, a smallish room with walls lined with shelves half covered in boxes. There were hands on her again, but not for as long; Allison noticed her pants were missing when she fell and her legs and palms scraped on cement. It took another moment to realize her hands were loose again.
She pushed herself up, and as soon as she reached her hands and knees a kick hit her side and knocked her back over. She might have screamed, but her ears were ringing too much to tell. Why they’d bothered to knock her over she wasn’t sure; they just pulled her back up to her knees, and then backwards, so she was too busy struggling with her balance and the flexibility she did not have to stop them from pulling her jacket and shirt off, and tossing both to the side of the room.
By the time Stephan arrived, they’d finished stripping her, and pinned her on the ground again, one holding each arm. Not-Daniel was standing on her wrist again; Daniel had started to use his hands to hold her, then followed not-Daniel’s lead and stood. Allison was glad for that; she couldn’t stop herself from shaking anymore, and not-Daniel had been taunting her enough for crying.
Stephan paused in the doorway, surveying the room and smirking before continuing in, followed by two other men. He was toying with Allison’s knife and Megan’s taser, shifting both back and forth between his hands. He stood back, continuing to smirk and toy with the weapons as one of the other men walked over and shoved Allison’s side with his toe. “Maybe we should’ve kept the other instead. This one’s tiny.”
“She’ll grow. It’s too late for the other, anyway.” Stephan sounded amused, if anything; he was smiling down at Allison the way she’d smile at little kids, but without any affection. “Now….” He trailed off, stepped into the room, and closed the door before continuing. “The others will join us soon. In the meantime….” He trailed off again, took a step over, and kicked Allison’s legs. She gasped and tried to pull them away. “You. You killed my men. Mutts,” the taser pressed into her side and she screamed, “don’t get to do that. Do you understand?”
Allison tried to gasp for breath, and ended up sobbing. Another kick landed on her before she managed to answer. “Yes!”
The taser dug into her skin again; a slightly different point, she thought, but it didn’t make any difference for the pain. “Mutts don’t get to disobey. Do you understand?”
The answer didn’t come any faster this time, and she was kicked twice before she managed to respond. Her throat hurt. “Yes.”
“Mutts should be grateful and enthusiastic to get proper training.”
“Yes.”
The taser pressed into her throat this time. That did make a difference in the pain. “Mutts should be grateful and enthusiastic to get proper training.”
It hurt to answer, and it hurt more to answer the way he wanted. It hurt even more not to. “Yes!”
A spot of pressure, fire, and speech; Allison started answering before she sorted out what the orders were.
“Mutts should respect their superiors.”
“Yes!”
“Mutts should be grateful that anyone is willing to take them in.”
“Yes!”
“Mutts should please their masters.”
“Yes!”
It took a minute for Allison to realize that the taser and the orders had stopped. She was still sobbing, and her mind felt like it was drowning; she couldn’t seem to hear or see properly, or think. She was pretty willing to go along with not hearing or seeing, actually; she only opened her eyes and fought her way back to something like full awareness when she felt a hand on her stomach, pressing into some of the burns.
It was Stephan, predictably, smiling down at them; he caught Allison’s eyes and smiled wider. “I think… you’ll take a lot of work to be worth anything. But I think I know how you can please us in the meantime.” He glanced around, then stood up, still smiling at her. “Daniel. You can go first.”
Daniel’s boot pressed harder on Allison’s arm for a second as he jumped. “I--uh--”
Stephan’s smile moved to Daniel, but it didn’t change at all. “You can go first.” His eyes flicked down to where Daniel was standing, then to Allison. “Don’t move.”
Daniel hesitated a moment longer before stepping off of Allison’s arm. Both of them obeyed Stephan. Daniel didn’t seem to mind very much. Allison didn’t stop crying.
Allison... was not going to be telling Isabel why the kid was wearing sunglasses. She wasn't sure if Isabel actually cared about mutant pride or not, but considering how much she disliked humans, trying to be like humans in any way was probably not a good trait to have around her. Instead, Allison grinned. "I think he can see fine. Better than me anyway, he seems to be used to it."
She... probably could not get away with cuddling Isabel right now. It was tempting to try anyway, but she wanted Isabel's help, and there weren't any stupid gutterminded boys to taunt, so she refrained. Instead she kept grinning, rocked back on her heels, and just to amuse herself, clasped her hands behind her back with the most cliche innocent little girl expression she could manage. "So, there's something I thought you might like to help me with."
Really. This kid just couldn't be happy, could he? Most people would be amused at the idea of her attempting to die her eyes with ink; it was a phenomenally stupid thing to do. At least they'd laugh at the silly girl's vanity. But this kid? No, nit the slightest hint of amusement; instead he started cringing like he'd done something wrong.
...A mutation that made the mutant incapable of happiness would suck. Allison really hoped no such thing existed. Of course the genetic component of depression could technically be called that, but even that was a risk, not a guarantee, and depression itself could be managed. Actual, complete inability to ever be happy.... She couldn't even comprehend that.
Well, at least he was speaking this time. "I'll show you." The walk wasn't far; only three corners to the entrance, from which the doors were perfectly visible. It was, however, going to be sidetracked; Allison had been keeping an eye out for Isabel for a while, and that now was conveniently distinctive. "Lady Isabel!"
