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.
"Do come over here and keep an old woman company, will you?" The lady said quite pleasantly. Since he wasn't expecting anyone and didn't have anywhere to be he probably would have said yes but the choice was taken right out of his hands. With no warning he suddenly found that his stool, his lower body, and even his drink were all enveloped in a gently pulsing green glow. For a brief moment Paul was simply surprised to find himself being moved in this way but the look of the emerald light triggered memories from long ago. Back before the name Paul McCoy had even entered his mind, even before he had usurped the identity of one Jack Covington.
As his stool settled down beside the older woman, Paul focused on her with amazement and perhaps just a touch of shock. It had been so many years... was it even possible this could be the same woman? The woman he had come to known so well while working with her in France? The memories were flowing from their storage place deep in his mind and a younger version of the face in front of him seemed to flash to the forefront and overlay it in his vision. "Emilie?" Paul McCoy, no, Andre Blaise asked softly, the touches of a French accent returning to his speech, "Bon Dieu, pourrait-il être?"***. For a moment he lost himself in the memories before forcing himself back to English, the language spoken in America. "Em? Is that you?"
For the moment his drink was forgotten where it sat in its glass. Instead he found himself focusing on the woman in front of him. Due to his mutation the years had been far kinder to him than they had been to her but when she looked at him he could still see the sparkle that had been so familiar to him sometime long before. She had been one of the first to learn his secret after he realized she had a secret of her own. Paris... the city where anything seemed possible. What a place.
Paul sat silently as Noel gave her answers to his questions. As she did he continued to make an assessment of her. The ability to taste lies was an interesting one as was the power to erase memories. Skills with weapons could possibly be an asset depending on what Lori might want her to do but that was up to her, not Paul. Over all the young woman appeared to be physically fit with confidence to spare and that would go a long way.
"We don't often use the terms 'genetic defect' or the slang term 'muties'." Paul observed casually, "In fact some of the residents can be down right touchy about that sort of language."
If anything that was the under statement of the year but she would probably realize that some time down the road. Something still was touching a nerve as being off about this young woman. Even with her confidence and her listed skills there almost seemed to be an innocence about her but how was that even possible? Was it even possible for someone skilled with weapons to retain their innocence?
"Weapons is a pretty general term. What types do you specifically mean? I know older weapons like the Smith & Wesson Model 10 revolver and the M1 Garand." He was looking for more details about what her proficiencies might be while trying to decide what should be done next. Should he ask Lisa to call Lori? Or should he ask if there was an open office somewhere? Should he schedule an appointment for Noel to come back at a later time? At least asking a few more questions bought him a little more time to decide.
The young woman was confident though something about her clothes was a touch off. Not being particularly fashion minded Paul couldn't quite put his finger on it but something just didn't seem quite right. It was almost like someone had taken the clothes off of one doll and put them on a different doll. They fit but yet didn't quite work for some unknown reason.
"Eager." Was the first thought that jumped into his mind as the young woman extended her hand and shook his with a rather firm grip. Her smile was pleasant and, "Clueless." was the second thought that came into his head. Somehow she didn't realize that the terms she had used while speaking with Lisa were offensive. It was as though she was one of those babes in toy land or something.
"Well Miss Gage, I suppose that depends on what sort of work you might be looking for and exactly what qualifications might be." Paul responded cautiously. As far as he knew he didn't have the authority for any sort of hiring but something about her was piquing his curiosity. "And what made you come here looking for work?"
Waving her back toward the couch, Paul seated himself comfortably on the opposite end of the furniture with one leg of his gray slacks crossed over the other. He didn't have an office of his own, at least not that he knew about, and for now it was probably better to carry on the conversation in front of Lisa. That way she could report back to Lori and see herself that Paul wasn't trying to take any authority or power away from the boss. As if he could even if he wanted to.
Smiths was a foundational element on the street where it resided. It had outlasted every business nearby whether they were some sort of retail or entertainment establishment. Those that knew of it or resided near it trusted it as something that wouldn't change. The prices were fair, the staff was courteous, and the alcohol was good quality. Sure, they had the typical beers on tap that any place would have but rarely did they get ordered. Smiths was known for the quality of its bottled beverages.
Paul had not been a big drinker since the late sixties and early seventies but on the rare occasion when he did want a stiff drink to relax, Smiths was his most likely choice. It had been there when he arrived in the sixties and when he returned to New York it was still there. It was a stable place that was a refuge he could retreat to. He didn't go often enough for the bartender to know him by name but his face was recognizable and the man behind the bar was experienced.
Walking through the front door, Paul made his way over to the bar with the casual stride of a man that felt at home. Giving the bartender a smile, Paul slid into a stool that happened to be only two seats away from an older woman that was sitting on a trunk instead of a stool. A part of him noticed that her seat was slightly odd, as was the distribution of patrons at the bar. Normally they would be scattered around the whole bar but today everyone was toward the other end apparently given the older lady a wide berth. "Good afternoon ma'am." Paul said pleasantly, nodding to the woman before turning back to the bartender who was setting a glass of scotch right in front of him. "Thanks."
Lifting the glass, Paul took a moment to simply enjoy the aromas that were coming from the glass. This was one of the other things that set Smiths apart from other establishments. Instead of only having brandy glasses for their drinks of that type, Smiths had actual Scotch Whiskey nosing glasses that funneled the aromatics to allow one to appreciate the subtle fragrances before the alcohol had even touched their lips. Lifting the glass to his lips, Paul finally took a small mouthful, allowing the scotch to dance over his taste buds and palate before swallowing. Sighing to himself Paul couldn't help but smile as he lowered the glass back down to the counter. THAT was the way to end a day.
"I need to practice more." Paul muttered somewhat regretfully as he missed yet another shot. Sure, he had sunk balls and even managed to put together a few shots that were pretty impressive looking but then he was missing what should have been some of the easy money makers. He was not up to his old standards but it still felt good to be doing something familiar from his old life.
"Paging all genetic defects." Lisa's voice suddenly rang out over the intercom, "There's a young woman in the lobby who would like to know if there are any muties here."
Raising an eyebrow, Paul paused and stared up at the speaker that had now fallen silent. Genetic defects? Muties? Did Lisa really get away with using those sorts of terms?
The silence that had been in the room slowly turned to whispering which grew into murmuring which was swiftly moving toward full blown angers as several of the more dangerous looking people stood up and began to move toward the door. If this were some sort of trap set by the police department then it was very possible that they were about to blow it and Paul couldn't let that happen. This was Lori's baby and he couldn't let it go down while she was apparently away.
"I'll handle this." Paul offered as he set his pool cue down on the table and then jogged for the door, "The rest of you don't need to dirty your hands with this sort of situation."
Everyone turned their attention to the gray haired man tat the didn't know very well. For a few moments they were silent as though trying to decide whether Paul could be trusted. Finally, a few nodded and turned back to head for their chairs while Paul moved out into the hallway and walked out toward the foyer. Maybe word of his meeting with Lori had spread through the building or maybe they just didn't want to bother with someone that used words like 'genetic defect' and 'mutie'. Whatever the reason, Paul had gotten his wish. It was now his to handle.
"Morning Lisa" Paul greeted as he walked out of the hall. It was clear who Lisa must have been talking about since there was only one young woman sitting there, unless of course the person that had used such provocative terms had decided to run before anyone came out. "Hello." He offered with a tight smile as he walked over toward the brown haired woman with the odd looking scar on the side of her mouth, "I'm Paul. Can I help you?"
Paul had been careful not to come to the Sanctuary for several weeks after his meeting with a police detective that asked to many questions. But even after that time and his very few visit before that, Lisa had still recognized him the moment he came through the front door. "Maybe its a mutation having to do with memory or something like that." Paul mused as he headed down from the Foyer, simply exploring the facility that he was only just beginning to think of as a second home, "Maybe she never forgets a face or anything she reads. Hyper learning maybe?" It was an interesting possibility and one he had never heard mentioned by anyone else. From what little scuttle but he had gathered, it seemed that her ability, if she even had one, was a complete mystery but her loyalty was beyond question.
Randomly choosing a door he had never gone through before, Paul found himself in what had to be the Rec room. Couches, chairs, TV, pool tables, and all manner of entertainment were spread through the room. There were couple of individuals over watching the boob tube and a few more scattered around reading and doing other things but what interested Paul the most was the pool tables. He had once been very proficient at the game but after coming to America he had distanced himself from the old skill set while inventing his new personas. Maybe it was time to see about picking up some of the old skills.
While rolling of the sleeves of his long sleeve blue dress shirt, Paul walked over to the cues and chose one of the sticks that seemed to best fit his grip. Then after racking up, Paul positioned himself at the end of the table with the familiar feeling of the cue in his hands. "Break." He murmured to himself before launching the cue ball into the other balls and sending them ricocheting around the table. Yeah... he still remembered some of his skill.
The young man was quick to step up in defense of his mother or perhaps she was just his guardian. She did look a bit young to have a child this old but stranger things had happened. The fact that the young man had spoken was far more interesting, particularly since Paul could detect the slightest hint of what he was sure must be a french accent. A young man who spoke one of the most beautiful romance languages? That was something quite interesting.
***"Vous avez bien raison, tout peut arriver lors d'une exposition d'art. S'il vous plaît excusez-moi si j'ai offensé vous ou votre dame en aucune façon." Paul launched into the language effortlessly, expressing his agreement with the young man while also asking his pardon if he had somehow offended either of them.
"Maya Csendes. And this is my son, Jude." The young lady responded with the correct amount of decorum and while Paul still thought she looked a tad young to have a child Jude's age, he filed that away as information that wasn't really important. Whether she was the birth mother or simply a surrogate she was obviously taking care of the young man.
"It's a pleasure to meet both of you." Paul reverted back to English without the slightest trace of an accent coloring his voice. He was still fluent in French from his time on the other side of the pond but he had been in American more than long enough to lose the accent. "It's not often I meet anyone from my old home, and please don't concern yourself with willfulness on my account. It is a trait that the French are known for and respect."
Turning his gaze back toward the particular artwork that they were standing in front of, Paul once again admired the use of color as well as texture. It also impressed him how an artist could build layers with paint to give it actual physical texture. "So what brings you two to the exhibit? Are you great art lovers or perhaps you are here because of the controversial artist?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------- OOC: ******You are right, anything can happen at an exhibition of art. Please excuse me if I have offended you or your lady in any way.
Apparently Lucas had seen the distress signal because he was now coming closer with a large bottle held in one hand and a ready smile on his face. His approach was as smooth as silk as he took Gretchen's hand and made a comment about Paul's hogging her attention. For a moment Paul feared that both he and Lucas would be trapped by this black widow but then the other man's brilliance shown through. He extended a bottle for Gretchen to take without releasing the hand he had captured.
"Bless you!" Paul's mind screamed in triumph as he watched the woman make a split second decision and release his hand in order to reach for the bottle. "Yes!" And just like that, Paul was free.
But now it was time to focus on the much more pressing information that Lucas had provided. 'The Blond', presumably Lori was back behind Lucas in the direction of the drink table but apparently mixed in with the dancers. It wasn't an exact location but it was definitely good enough for Paul to start moving in that direction.
“I am sure he will do fine, once I broke him in a bit. Unless you want him back...”
Gretchen's haunting Alto broke through his thoughts and Paul turned to once again face the veiled woman. Want him back? Had she really gotten the impression that... ah, h***. Who cared? Suddenly Gretchen was moving off through the crowd with Lucas in tow in the same direction that Paul wanted to go. He could see above the crowd a mass of feathers that had to be the parties leading buffoon but somewhere in that mass there was someone else far more worth while.
Cursing under his breath at the realization, Paul began to push his way through the crowd, ignoring the shouts of surprise and anger that were suddenly appearing in his wake. Moving in a course parallel to Lucas and the deadly raven but a few feet to the side, Paul's eyes scanned the crowd trying to catch a glimpse of his quarry. The feather's were easy to see but since Lori was not the only blond she was a little harder to locate. After a few brief seconds of scanning faces Paul's eyes locked on the one person he could actually recognize.
"Lori!" Paul shoved past one final group of people arriving next to the blond and her black haired counter part. "It's time to move. This party is about to get a whole lot more crazy. Someone's here to take out either you or bird brain so how about we get a little distance between the two of you!"
It was abrupt and to the point but Paul didn't have the time for pleasantries. At most he was perhaps five or ten seconds ahead of Gretchen but he didn't want to glance over his shoulder to see just how close or perhaps far off his estimate might be. "Could we hurry a little bit?" His current plan was to shadow Lori out to make sure she got to safety but since he really didn't know her all that well, there was no telling what she would do. Really the only plan he could make was to stick close to her and help in whatever manner he could.
(OOC: Ok, I don't want this thread to just die right at the beginning so I'm gonna go ahead and post to keep things moving. Those that were invited are free to jump in at any time they wish.)
IC:
Paul was simply enjoying the works of art before him when he felt a a gentle touch on his elbow. Turning he found himself looking in honey colored eyes that seemed to look anxiously out at him from a delicately boned face. Her skin was pale and her hair was white seemingly styled in the pixie cut that had become so popular over the past several years.
"I'm sorry, did you say that some of the works of art here are actualy... o-on fire?"
Her voice seemed to have a touch of anxiety to it but even as she looked to him for a response she seemed to be keeping a close eye on a short but dapper looking gentleman that was standing right next to her. And if Paul's eyes did not deceive him the gentleman was actually a young boy not yet in his teens.
"They are not actually flaming, my lady." Paul replied with with his most gracious smile, adopting an old world mode of speech that fit perfectly with the antiquated but dashing looking clothing that the young man was wearing, "The artist has some works in this collection that have vivid reds and oranges in them that mimic the look of fire, but fear not, no danger shall come to you or your young charge."
Perhaps it was a bit over done but anyone watching his expression could see that though he was attempting to keep the mood light and fun he was in no way teasing the pair. In fact he rather admired the young woman for bringing her son, or perhaps younger brother, out to see the art. Most children were never given a chance to appreciate the culture that the world had to offer. Broadening the horizons for a young man was a worthy goal, a worthy goal indeed.
"I'm Paul McCoy." He offered with a smile and a slight dip of his head. While not a full fledged bow of any type it did provide the hint of one that flowed perfectly with his speech, "Might I have the pleasure of knowing with whom I'm speaking?"
***
A decent sized crowd was beginning to gather around one of the strangest and perhaps most profound pieces in the exhibit. "It's a wonderful demonstration humanities scrounging and grasping nature. Trying to dress up and look like something special but yet never able to leave their base and carnal nature behind." One woman commented as she hung on the arm of a well dressed man, "Don't you think John?"
The man in question was looking over the piece with a critical eye and occasionally jotting down things in a little black notebook he kept either in his left hand or carefully stowed in the breast pocket of his jacket. "A real surprise this piece. The description said that it was a human figure made of newsprint but this is even more profound. We are but mere cockroaches in the world, scurrying from one shadow to another while trying to find a means of survival. Magnificent."
The building was like most of the other rather non-descript high rises that existed in the middle of down town Manhattan. A marvel of steel and glass it towered 43 stories with a roof top garden area that was occasionally used for parties. The top floor was occupied by Wilhelm Gallery a high end but not widely advertised art dealer. Though their name was not that well known among the masses, art collectors knew the name as a company that somehow was able to get rare painting that no one else could get. There trade craft was held in the utmost secrecy but most people really didn't care. What mattered was that the Wilhelm Gallery could get results.
For the evening's event the Wilhelm Gallery had rented the roof top garden as well as opened up the doors of their own gallery. Approximately ten less rare, less valuable works were being displayed in the garden where the cheese and wine tasting was taking place. In the main gallery the works created by the controversial artist Jesús Herrera were on display. Here the security was more obvious with at least one uniformed employee next to each set of 3 or 4 paintings. There were two uniformed police officers at the lobby elevator doing security sweeps while two more were stationed at the upstairs elevator and at the emergency exit. Plain-clothed police officers mingled with the crowd doing their best to blend in, some with more success than others.
In a back room, two trained security staff kept an eye on everything on their monitors. Along with the security cameras each painting was hooked to a pressure switch that would set of alarms if the painting were lifted or even nudged a little to hard. It was a very competent security set up and to the untrained eye it would seem that there was no chance of theft but as both thief and security professional would tell you, there is always a chance.
***
Paul was dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo with well polished black shoes. He didn't bother to carry much but what he did have was important. He had some cash and his ID in his right pants pocket with some more cash stowed away in his left pocket along with a pack of spearmint gum. A lock pick kit made of industrial strength plastics instead of the standard metal was tucked away inside his jacket along with a small lighter, a pack of cigarettes, and a pair of black surgical gloves. Carefully folded in the rectangular shape of a wallet and stowed in his rear pocket was a 33 gallon trash bag. Anything else he might need he planned to find or appropriate at the party but he didn't expect anything else. His plans were laid and after enjoying the party for a time the fireworks would begin.
The line from the lobby elevator extended approximately fifteen to twenty feet but it was moving along very smoothly. The men that did each security sweep were obviously professionals and though they did their job quickly they were also very thorough. After placing metal valuables in a tray they had each person stand with arms spread while they swept a baton around them to see if there were any other metal items that could be dangerous. Once security was verified the person was waved on to collect their valuables and board the elevator for the top floor.
"I know... nasty habit. I'm trying to quit." Paul offered with a casual smile as he pulled the lighter out of his pocket and slipped the watch off his wrist, depositing both in the tray. Moments later, after being cleared, Paul continued on his way to the party. The typical elevator music played as Paul rode skyward with six other people in the elevator car. Finally the door opened and he stepped into the gallery.
"Game time... let's have some fun." He thought to himself as he slowly made his way around clusters of people chatting with each other to view the first set of paintings. "Very nice. I particularly like his use of purple hues to add depth of color to his work." Paul commented to whoever might be standing nearby, "I am looking forward to seeing some of his flaming works though."
Awesome, 3 cops. Should make it interesting. I'll hold this open for one... maybe even two more that aren't on the police force and then we'll get started. Can't wait to see how this goes! :-D
The detective fell silent when Paul tossed his wallet on the table, apparently trying to gather his thoughts as he gathered up the evidence photos and tucked them back in his file. Yes, the smirk had been well and truly taken off his face and Paul felt quite proud about that. Once again it was being proven just why so many crimes went unsolved. Lack of evidence bound the hands of justice tightly while the criminals scamped on about their merry way.
"DMV, always manage to catch you when you look most awkward." The man finally spoke, chuckling and acting as though everything was going his way. Really? Why couldn't he just accept defeat gracefully and make a speedy retreat. Why try to drag this out as though he had won?
"I think it's because they always take the picture at 1 or 2 instead of 3." Paul commented dryly as he retrieved his wallet and tucked it back in his pocket.
"... You know, we all gotta take care of ourselves or we'll find ourselves cremated before we want to." The detective was finally saying goodbye as he rose back to his feet but one line stuck out in that statement. Obviously this man had no idea about Paul's mutation but it still struck him as funny. If only he knew how much truth was in that statement.
"Very true." Paul replied with a soft laugh, "Very true. Have a nice day yourself Detective. Hopefully the next time we see each other it will be in a recreational setting instead of during the course of an investigation."
And with that the meeting was over but even as the detective walked away and Paul looked back at his paper he had the nagging feeling that the other man had left a little to happy. Instead of acting as though he had lost a battle he walked away like he was the winner. Had Paul missed something? Had there been another fight going on beneath the main battle? It was a thought that would nag at the back of his mind for some hours until finally he could dismiss it. He had handled the meeting well... very well.
"Huh, well... maybe I'm wasting my time then. I really am sorry." The detective said, the smirk wiped off of his face at Paul's comment. Mentally he was breathing a sigh of relief as he simply smiled at man, quite pleased that he had escaped unscathed. But then, the detective stopped while making yet another comment and looking in that file of his. That damn file that seemed to keep coming up with things to try and ruin Paul's day. What did they have now? A security camera that had caught a glimpse of him or something? He didn't remember seeing any in that part of town but that didn't mean that some worried land lord hadn't installed some for added protection.
"I really think you should look at this before I go."
Glancing down at the paper, Paul saw something he never would have expected in a million years. It was quite obviously a photo of evidence that had been gathered at the crime scene. A photo of a partially burned drivers license. The picture, stats, and much of the name were burned away but what was evident was more than enough to point fingers in Paul's direction. "When did they start making those things so tough?" Paul wondered to himself as he mind suddenly went into a whirlwind, "They've always been completely consumed by the fire before. What happened this time? What changed?" Unfortunately for Paul he had already been dead when Lori fished through his and the other corpses' pockets. The fact that his wallet had not been returned to his pocket in the normal way had meant that part of the license survived. Very abnormal.
It looked like Detective Cervantes had the evidence that clinched it and linked Paul to the crime. If he had been anyone else, he would have broken in a cold sweat. He would have started stammering, or asking for a lawyer, or trying to bluster his way past the evidence. Fortunately, Paul was not any other person. Paul was a man that had experienced the loss of credit cards, id's, keys, and other things on a semi-regular basis. It was one of the reasons he didn't own his own vehicle and why he kept the keys to his apartment in realtor's box with a six digit combination lock hanging on his door as well as a key left with the owner's of the bakery. In his pockets were only the bare necessities because he never knew when he might die and lose everything. And because it seemed to happen every few years, Paul was also used to going in the very next day to get a new ID and order up new credit cards.
Reaching in his back pocket, Paul retrieved his wallet and tossed it onto the table, letting it fall open to reveal his rather horrible looking driver's license. There was no smile but just a grim stare that would almost fit more with a mugshot than a driver's license.
"I believe I already mentioned that I jog in the area so the fact I was seen in the general vicinity of that warehouse doesn't mean a whole lot." Paul replied quietly. This man was beginning to annoy him and it was very possible that he would be a thorn in Paul's side if he decided to push the investigation. Paul wasn't sure exactly how DMV records were kept and he didn't know if they'd actually have record of the last time he came in to get a replacement license but if they did then a little research by this detective would bring him right back for another meeting. How in the world would Paul explain having to go get a replacement license the day after the murders?
"And I'm afraid I don't have anything else to tell you so I guess you'll be happy to go on your way. I hope you find the killer that did this but it wasn't me." OK, so maybe he had killed one of the men pictured but it had been in the middle of a fight and he sure couldn't remember which one. Besides, the rest of them had all succumbed to Lori. She was the real murderer though the way she ran that part of the city, it was highly doubtful anyone would even mention seeing her.
"Now... can I get you that bear claw or do you have some other questions?" Paul asked, his lips curling ever so slightly into a smirk of his own. Since he had wiped the smirk off the other man it only seemed fair that he wear one for the moment. Smirking could be very satisfying.
