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.
"In a nutshell? Yes,that's exactly what I did, save for one minor alteration. I beat you up to keep you from getting killed."
Getting her to her feet was simple; she didn't weigh all that much and once they were standing, the woman was quite capable of using that staff to support her if need be. Still, seeing as he'd caused most the damage, Kyle took it upon him to support most of her weight and was almost carrying her along. Either by good fortune or just that simple fact that she hurt too much to do anything about it, the woman didn't fight him at all, save for in words and half-hearted growls.
"Loyalty? I wouldn't call it that. Them or us? I wouldn't say that either. And I don't need you to tell me that there are different shades of mutant and human. No woman, I did this because I am loyal to those I care about. My friends. Family. A conflict born of hatred and anger serves neither side any good and has the chance of dragging those not involved into it over the simple fact that they are mutant or human. So loyalty, yes, but not in the context you're thinking.
The simple matter of it is this; this uneasy balance between mutant and human stands on the edge of a knife. Unbalance either side in even the slightest and the knife falls...and it takes very little to tip that knife. So, if by causing some minor harm now prevents anarchy from forming later...I will do it. So watch your step, because others might not be so nice."
Placing her down, Kyle eyed the minor clinic that stood before him. He knew the people there would help her, for they were real doctors; the patient was the patient, mutant or human. It was not their business to turn aside those in need...it was their business to help. "This is the place. The doctors here will tend to you and they will only ask questions regarding your injuries, not how you got them. Be decent and let them do their job. Other than that, I hope not to have this conversation again." With that, he turned, signalled inside from someone to come out and started heading back the way they came, his helmet snapping back into its original form and the arm blades returning to standby.
Kyle watched, calmly and without passion, as the woman glared at him from the ground. He could see the pain there, the injuries that plagued her mixing with her own helplessness at the current situation, how her eyes clouded slightly with tears that wanted to come but she stubbornly refused to let them. A woman who valued her pride, that's who he'd managed to haul down into the dirt beneath his boot. She was beaten, she knew it and yet her pride refused to let her end this thing without making some kind of show of defiance.
It was almost cute.
Watching her place the money on his boot, he almost felt sympathy for the woman. Then again, he'd given her a clean out before all this went down, not once but twice. With the heat coming down from the riot, even the tiniest action by a mutant could set off another attack on any one of them and the last thing Kyle wanted to see was another mutant put in the hospital over an insequential about of money. Hence, his slightly more then violent rebuttal.
Still watching her closely with his boot on her throat, Kyle leaned down and picked up the money, then placed it within his own pocket for the moment. Slowly, he withdrew his boot from her throat...and then knelt down next to her, examining her injuries. "Know that I harbour no ill will towards you...but what I did was nothing compared to what the humans would do to another of us if one of us was caught stealing. And if you think nothing would have happened, you'd be wrong. The humans are just waiting for an excuse now, those that are truly dangerous to us now. It doesn't matter if it was small or big...just that a mutant did it."
Then he did something even she would not have expected. He helped her to her feet and put her good arm around his shoulders to support her. "I'm taking you to a place where you'l get medical attention. Don't fight me. Your injuries aren't too serious now, but any further physical stress could make them so. So, for your own good, just keep on walking and keep your rebelious thoughts to yourself." With that, he'd start moving her towards the bus station, since the Sanctuary wasn't that far off.
Night had just lightly begun to fall over the city when Kyle's bike came coasting to a stop outside one of the cities many diners, its engine a dull noise against the backdrop of the city at large. New York at night wasn't much different than New York at day in many aspects...save for all the flashy neon signs, the trashy sort that came out at night and the monsters that stalked the shadows.
It had...was...a long day for Kyle. Between working to earn money to ensure he could afford to fuel his bike, pay his rent and numerous other expenses that he needed to attend to, and dealing with idiots on both sides of this riot madness that was sweeping the city, Kyle had barely had time to pause for a snack, let alone a meal. Having a mutant power that gave him ridiculous stamina was great but it didn't fuel the body without food to gave it that strength.
The diner he'd stopped at was a little hole in the wall diner, a place most people walked by daily without even giving it a second glance unless they were actively seeking a place for food. Kyle had visited it plenty of times before; the food was always good, the place had decent prices and since the riot started, was one of the places that still catered to both mutant and human alike. Frank didn't care who or what you were; so long as you played by his rules in the diner and paid for your meal. A saint among saints that man.
Turning off the bike, Kyle strode over to the diner, pulling his helmet off just before he opened the door and stepped inside, glancing around as he did. The place wasn't packed at this hour. An older couple in the corner. A pair of teen couples chatting over a meal. A group of workers talking over a meal and eying him as he stepped past their booth to settle at one of the empty tables. He gave Frank, who was working behind the diner a nod, which he got back, before putting his helmet down and leaning back to relax a bit.
The best fighters in the world were the best for several reasons. Perserverance, determination, experience, training...many things made a fighter strong or tough or fast. But the best fighters were the ones that had gone through a baptism by fire, through trial and error had found what worked, what didn't and how there was always someone better. And most importantly, how to think steps in advance rather then acting on the heat of the moment all the time. Exploiting a weakness, finding a flaw in someone's technique, even something as simple as knowing where your own openings lay so you could protect them.
All of which Kyle had been well versed in via the school of hard knocks known as life. The moment his fist had smashed into her blocking forearm, the wince telling him all he needed to know about how much that hurt her, he was reading for what was to come next. So when that staff came swinging around, his right arm rose up to meet it, metal meeting metal in a grinding of sparks. But he'd taken full advantage of that and blocked in a downward swing, skirting her weapon off his to deflect it down to the ground.
Leaving her weapon in a bad place to recover from. And his fist in the right place to strike.
She was quick though and he had to be sharp. Her staff wasn't the real attack; the sudden flash of energy inches from his face was however. His eyes narrowed for a brief moment and then, with a sudden motion that made even his head queasy, he snapped his head to the side of the blast, an action that made him have to shuffle a few steps to the side. He stepped aside...and drove his fist into her midsection while she was attempting the same.
No weapon saved her this time. His fist hit with the force of a sledgehammer into her solar plexus and Kyle all but heard the sudden gasping as the air was propelled from her lungs like Kenyan's on Power Thirst. His blow had winded her and for the next few moments, she would be gasping for air and trying to recover before he recovered from her blast.
He recovered faster. And he showed no mercy at all. His other arm came around and drove his fist into her kidneys, making her flinch awkwardly in pain. Then his elbow drove down hard to the hand that still clutched her staff, hitting the point between wrist and hand with a cracking sound that stole the life from her fingers, the staff clattering onto the ground at their feet. Finally, he drove his knee into her gut again and as she doubled over, he pushed her onto her back with his boot.
Kyle didn't even give her a chance to recover from that. His boot came down gently on her throat and he applied just a little pressure, enough to make it harder to recover air and hurt just a bit. Then he coldly looked down at her and with disinterest in his voice, he spoke. "This match is mine. No further harm will come to you if you put the money aside. But make no mistake; if you should try to blast me again, I will crush your windpipe before the thought even exits your mind. Do you understand me?"
There were many different outcomes that branched from the set of actions that led to the woman going sprawling towards the unyielding concrete below her. A power yet unseen might save her, she might get a foot under her and negate most of the damage or the fall altogether if she was quick enough or countless other reactions that differed only in the slightest. The woman, however, ended up getting one of the worse ones.
She landed hard.
Not as hard as Kyle had been aiming for, which would have stunned or otherwise incapacitated her. But the result was hardly against his favor. Using the staff she held, she managed to slow her falling momentum from crippling to painful, but functional, bracing her body for the fall by placing the staff upon the ground first. It rang out as metal met earth and then her body rushed down to join it. She barely made a sound, but her face twisted in pain as soft flesh met hard concrete, red splashes marking the areas where flesh was torn asunder.
In the end, she managed to roll out of the final part of the fall, preventing her from smashing and bouncing off the ground, which could have whiplashed her head into the earth as well. She sat there, panting, one hand on the ground and another gripping her staff in a white knuckled grip. Kyle stood motionless through all of this, knowing all too well what a wounded foe might attempt. He would attack would it was in his best and capable interest to do so.
That might have been what saved him the worst of what to come. He stood there, arms held loosely at his sides, as he studied the woman struggling on the ground. Kyle saw when her body language changed, saw the angry tension that suddenly overtook her muscles. His own body tensed in preparation, but even he couldn't have predicted what came next. Her arms suddenly hissed and glowed his green, which flowed up her arms like a child eager to go out and play. And then she let the child out.
In the time it took to blink, a green orb appeared within the empty palm of her left hand and flung it at him, as if she were pitching a baseball. Narrowing his eyes, Kyle felt his own energy flowing up into his hands, preparing to send his bat against her baseball in an attempt to knock it aside. And then the green orb exploded with the force of a gun just short of him, forcing him to instead brace his feet and shield himself with his arms. The force still knocked him back a couple of steps and when the burst of energy faded, Kyle looked through his arms at the woman and lowered them slowly.
Beneath his mask, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before fading back into obscurity. "Impressive." That was all he said before he suddenly shot in towards the woman, dashing hard and then suddenly pivoting sharply on the heel of one foot to come at the woman's unarmed side, his left fist coming in fast and hard. He'd test out this woman's powers a bit more first...before he revealed his own nasty little trick.
Either by luck or his own speed, Kyle found the steely shaft of her weapon resting cooly against his gloved hand instead of empty air when he reached for it. The second he had felt his grip settle, his muscles had flexed and tightened, trapping that slender weapon firmly within his grasp. And it was no light hearted grip that would be broken easily either; Kyle may not have weighed much himself, but all his weight came mostly from hard-earned muscle. When his hand gripped down, it gripped with an steel vice that would have made a normal person cringe had that grip been inflicted on their flesh.
Instead, it made sure that no light attempt to tug the staff free would release it from his grip. Whether his opponent knew that or not mattered little, because her response was one that could have been determined with or without that knowledge. Not a moment after he'd grabbed her weapon was the woman moving, using the staff almost as a springboard to launch herself spinning into the air, her elbow coming back viciously with the weight of her whole body behind it.
The move made Kyle realize two things. One; she'd managed to avoid his incoming kick, prompting him to slam his leg down to asset his full balance again quicky. It sent a shockwave up his leg from the force of the impact, but that was easily ignored in lue of the other thing. The woman had left the ground. She was airbourne. And any fighter knows that once you got airbourne, you've committed to a strike. A strike that could pay off if timed right...or result in a painful return. Her strike was timed...wrong.
Kyle was reacting even before his mind had processed how to handle this situation. Experience, that's what was assisting him now. It was because of his experience that he was able to notice that, while she'd come driving for him hard with that elbow, that her other hand still held onto her staff firmly. She was trying to knock him off balance, to try and regain her staff effectively from his grasp. She was determined, he'd give her that. But that determination would backfire on her in this instance.
Kyle's blocking arm came up just in time, his open palm catching her elbow and preventing it from making a nicely colored bruise on his chest. That is where his counterattack came from. Moving an opponent on the ground is hard, for a number of reasons. Moving them while they have no solid base to stand on, however? That wasn't hard at all; gravity did most the work for you. You just had to shift them a little and gravity would help do the rest. Focusing, Kyle tightened his body, his stance locking and the muscles in his arms tensing for what they were about to do.
He pushed. Not forward, away from him. But sideways. The arm holding the staff pulled diagonally towards the ground while the hand that was now on her arm, shoved hard against her. Seeing as she was in the air, he was trying to force her to come at the ground at a bad angle, where her feet wouldn't be able to stop her from the fall. Or, at the very least, making landing more painful then it needed to be. He also released the staff when he had finished his sudden pull, using the backward motion to give a little more extra power into the move.
Landing a short step away from her, just outside the swinging range of that staff, Kyle waited to see if the woman would save herself the worst pain by taking a little...or suffering a nasty spill. And he wasn't even breathing hard yet.
Kyle ducked a counter attack neatly, shifting his upper body back so that the edge of her staff missed it by a few inches before shifting his weight forward again to send a punch back her way. A punch which she countered by putting the staff in the way.
The little lady was capable, no doubt about that. She'd managed to evade several strikes that, were she a lesser opponent, would have crippled her ability to fight or put her down hard. True, she was avoiding most of them by the skin of her teeth, but how much you evaded an attack mattered only by a slight. Yes, it would have been more impressive if she had been already long gone before the blow or manuevered it into a powerful counter-attack...but in the fight to stay alive, impressive was a crock. She dodged the blow; that was all that mattered.
She wasn't always lucky though, to Forte's advantage. One of his blades gave her a small nick, nothing serious or fatal. But a slight difference, a little farther into the strike and it could have been. And that mattered.
The hit seemed to drive that point home into the little lady, who suddenly switched her offensive for better. A strong, open swing suddenly became a missile from below, striking up towards his head with violent intentions. If Kyle did nothing, , the blow would likely catch his chin. Being a fighter, he knew what would happen then; if he wasn't flat on his back, he'd be stunned for a moment and that would be unacceptable. But because he was a fighter, he was already aware of this and already moving.
Stepping into the strike and shifting his body slightly, he took the blow on his shoulder instead of his chin. Pain, brief yet loud, shrugged from the area of impact, but Kyle fought it down with the experience of long years of practice. His move had also served another purpose; she'd have to pull the staff back in order to make another move, trapped as it was from going up by his shoulder. He made two quick moves in that moment; one hand reached up to snag her staff before she could move. The other stayed ready for a counter attack.
And his leg snapped out at hers, aiming to buckle her at the knee before snapping up with his own knee to catch her on the down low. She could counter it, if she was good enough, in which case he'd have to act quick to avoid damage himself. But, some small part of him gathered that the surprise and advantage would win him this exchange.
Say what you want about the big Apple, it had one factor about it that no amount of money or power could change. The rain. No man or woman could command the force that was Mother Nature(okay, a few mutants could but that's besides the point), tell her when to unleash her tears upon the city or when to shine the light of the sun. That was also the one thing you could count on in New York too; Mother Nature made sure the Big Apple was well watered.
It made riding a motorcycle that much more dangerous, but having spent more then enough time traveling on his own and within the city during downpours already, Kyle was accustomed to moving about the city streets without becoming part of a major accident. He never took turns too sharply when the ground was slick, kept his eyes peeled for those who lacked the brain power to pay attention to the fact that they were driving easily four tons of killing steel and knew when to pull off the road to wait for a truly horrid storm to pass over.
Then again, New York traffic did have a habit of making moving about town easily enough; it was always backed up in one place or the other. Traffic that doesn't move isn't much of a threat and doesn't require any daredevil moves to avoid. Especially in the rain.
Still, this downpour was thick, enough so that most cars were only blurs of light around him. So Kyle made the tactical decision to pull over into the overhang cast by a nearby alley and to wait out the worst of it. His outfit, while not entirely rain-proof on the outside, was on the layer of rubbery fabric he wore on the inside, which also kept him insulated and warm. Humidity's a bitch, although Kyle tried not to let it irk him too much.
One of the first things Kyle had done upon coming to the city was to get a radio scanner. Back when he'd been intending to help people in need(which he still did but only when occasion called for it), he'd grabbed the device from a local store in order to monitor police waves. Now it served both its original purpose and another; letting him keep track of police activity related to his kind. Or himself. Whichever came up.
So when a cop started calling for backup, reporting that a mutant was going berserk and laying into innocents, Kyle listened just a bit more intently. Details from the cop barking into his radio were sparse and barely informative; all Kyle managed to get was that the offender was a woman and was smacking around a bunch of men as if they were ants. Kyle pondered that for a moment, listening to see if any white flashes or names were mentioned. When none were, the cop blaring about how he didn't recognize the perp, Kyle relaxed slightly. It wasn't her. But then, that didn't make it any better.
The cop had already reported his position and called for backup. With the rain and traffic, those reinforcements would likely be delayed. Big cop cars don't get through New York traffic that easily. Easier then most, but still not that greatly. Kyle' bike, on the other hand, could. He had time; time to get there, assess the situation and with any luck, pull a mutant's arse out of the fire before she got nabbed by the cops.
Or she nabbed the cops. Neither of those endings was heart-warming.
Revving his bike, Kyle spun out into traffic, driving down the middle of the street or on the sidewalk if needed. Heavy rains like this kept foot traffic low too and anyone on them got out the way quickly enough when he came zooming down them. The place of the attack wasn't far, thank whatever higher power you pray too, so it wasn't long before Kyle was in sight of the situation.
And it was a situation. A hairy one, at that.
Three men lay bleeding in the rain, another was crumpled awkwardly against a nearby car. The car's door had pretty much been dented inward, which left the fate of the man laying there in one of few places. Kyle quickly took that in and then ignored it entirely for the moment. His attention fell on more immediate problems...like the half transformed beast that was laying into the rest of them. The cop's assessment had been right; they might as well have been ants in the wake of that creatures fury. Of course, just like ants, they were trying to fight back anyway, thinking numbers would effectively gain them the day. That or they were extremely stupid. His bet was on the latter.
Numbers would make no difference against this creature. It was still in the midst of finishing its transformation, but that made it only more terrifying to look upon. It was the better eight feet tall, so it easily stood over any of the men attacking her. One arm had morphed into a heavily muscled claw; lean, throbbing and it ended in what looked to be razor sharp claws. Hair was sprouting in spades from the head, covering most of his line of sight of her. He couldn't see her face from this angle but a brief motion gave him the impression that she had teeth to match those deadly claws. And she was fast; the men against her weren't even aware they were hit until a moment or two after she'd hit them.
If her transformation finished, Kyle had no doubt she'd be a combination of both beauty and terrible power. Part of Kyle was tempted to just leave the men to their fate, rather then try and fight that beast to bay. The other part, the less cynical, realized that there were innocent bystanders around though; children included. Human or not, children did not deserve to die because of a mutant's wrath. Even if the adults were. But how to get the beast's attention? It wasn't as if he had a bone. And, with a slight click of his mind he realized something...the cop had said it was female.
He had a good track record at pissing off woman. How would this be any different? Oh right...giant werewolf mutant. So slightly different.
Revving his bike, he scooted across the empty street and locked in on his target. A puddle that had overwhelmed one of the cities many sewer trains. At the last moment, he skidded the back tire through the puddle, sloshing a thick wave of dirty, slimy water at the werewolf, effectively giving it a stinky shower. He stopped for only a second to readjust and to stare at the beast through his visor, uttering a single word.
"Fetch." Then he gunned it off, speeding his bike for a place he could counter the creature better. One away from people. Only one place came to mind.
Kyle tracked the woman's progress with that unfaltering gaze of his, keeping her in his line of sight as he closed the distance between them. As anticipated, she evaded the bags by rolling out of their direct path, coming quickly to her feet and bringing the staff up in a cross-body block. It was that simple fact that prevented his blow from getting through, especially considering he had shifted the blade to compensate for her new position.
Steel rang upon steel as his blade smashed into her staff, the slight vibration that tingled up his arm muted easily enough by his guard and strong arms. The moment his weapon had made contact with the woman's, Kyle had retracted from her, adjusting his stance for the counterattack he knew would be coming. Luckily, they would have plenty of room now; what passerbys that hadn't been scared off initially had fled the moment the two metal weapons had made beautiful music. The music of battle.
The woman shifted her body, pivoting herself and the pole towards him, a play to push him away. Planting his feet solidly, Kyle met the staff with his arm, the sound of steel harmonizing with more steel echoing into the open arm again as he did so. Then the woman played for his legs with the other end of the staff, bringing it down to crash against his knee. A simple push forward and steadying of his stance put the steel boot that covered most of his lower legs into the warpath and steel rang again.
Kyle wasted as little time as possible before returning the favor. He sent blows striving for her face, her body, her shoulders...anyplace he could see an opening he could exploit. He switched from offense to defense as quickly as he needed to, beginning the long battle to see who was the quicker on the draw. But he didn't play fair at all; one of his more serious blows he sent for her face, only to suddenly redirect it at an angle towards her chest instead. If that one failed, a feint to her leg that would shift to her side. Then a blow for the chest that snapped up to her face suddenly instead. She'd have to be on her toes to see the motive's hidden behind the screen of blows.
A normal person might have used the garbage bag as a distraction, a way to charge forward while the other was focused on an incoming target to mount a surprise attack. Kyle, however, rarely did what most considered the logical course of action. He was playing a far more telling game. The bag served two purposes, though whether or it would serve only one or both remained to be seen. It would either get her to reveal her power or reveal about abilities that might lie aside from them. Both would give Kyle knowledge and possible insight into how to approach her physically and in a battle of mutants, the slightest advantage could mean the difference.
In this case, the frontal bag attack gave him a good, solid look at how quick on her feet this woman seemed to be. Quick...and flexible. One instant, she had been standing her ground. The next, her feet were flying through the air as she backlipped, from dead standing no less, and landed a few steps away from where the bag hit the ground with a sloppy splash. The wind was in his favor, for the moment, but that didn't mean he couldn't smell the day old refuse that leaked from the torn bag. A smell that made the woman take a few more steps back.
When she looked back at him, her body language was obviously expecting that follow up. Instead, all she would see is him, standing there, arms folded across his chest, his head tilted slightly to the side. Observing her. Waiting to see what play she would choose to make next.
She did not disappoint. In one deft motion, the woman produced a small metal rod from beneath her pant leg, a small metal rod that became a staff in an instant. "A bo staff? Interesting choice of weapons." he mused to himself. She swung it around a few times, an obvious show to prove that she knew quite possibly how to use the thing in a dangerous manner, then dared him with her eyes to make a move. Inwardly, he smirked at this show of defiance. Outwardly, his mask remained unchanged.
Slowly, carefully, he pulled down the zipper of his jacket and removed the article of clothing, revealing the outfit he wore beneath. Most people would scoff at it, something Kyle was all too aware of. He just didn't care what they thought. Tossing the jacket lightly to the side, landing on his bike with practiced ease, Kyle rolled his shoulders...and then flexed his arms. With a small clang, the steel blades that were attached to his arm guards snapped into view, glinting in the reflected light from around them.
His eyes remained perfectly calm, his stance neutral. Until he moved. Then he was a blur; not super speed or anything of those sorts. But speed garned from years of training and fighting and experience. And now, instead of a charge full of cocky arrogance, there was now a silent whisper of cool understanding...and purpose. Kyle knew he had speed and he knew how to use it. In a flash of motion, two more bags were sailing through the air, both level with her eyes. They would fill her entire field of vision...and force her to block or dodge.
And when she did either, Kyle would be waiting, his arm held back slightly for a punch that would aim for her eyes. Yet, he was also being careful; the other arm was ready to block any incoming counter and if her dodge should take her into the way of the arm blade, then he knew how to twist and turn to make sure it didn't cause any damage. Any serious damage, anyway.
There was nothing that Kyle didn't see. His eyes had been watching her closely, looking for the first possible sign of trouble to appear, whether it be the activation of a possible power or the intent to move. Belatedly, there was the chance that her powers would involve something he couldn't see coming, such as a mental attack or the moving of an element around him. It mattered not; he had laid down the challenge, in a matter of speaking, and now was the time for things to get direct.
His eyes caught that flash of green between her fingers, his eyes narrowing slightly under his helmet at the sight. So...her attack would likely come from her hands or at the very least, require her to move her hands in a way that would signal an incoming attack. That made things simpler, in some aspects. Kyle would not let his guard down over that fact though. He'd come far too close to trouble by mistaking his foes for being weaker then him before. Not this time.
When she made no immediate move, however, Kyle's eyebrow did a trademark lift of confusion. Ah, but of course. She was waiting for him to make the first move, to reveal something about himself before she exposed whatever trick made her fingers tingle green. Clever little duckling. Well, two could play that game, if need be. Slowly and calmly, Kyle lifted one of his hands up towards his helmet and grasped the base of it...only to push a small button built into the right cheek. There was a little click, the hissing of something moving...and then the helmet changed.
Morphed would be more specific. The helmet, custom made for this very purpose, started shifting. Parts moved into different locations, locking into place with a simple click. People on the street, the few that were there, were finally managing to notice something was about to go down and were very slowly moving out of harm's way. That was good; Kyle didn't have time to worry about them if it came down to trouble. With a final click, his helmet locked into place and his eyes,cold and passionateness, stared down at the woman in front of him.
"I'll meet your quip with my own; what makes you think you can beat me?"
His arm flexed ever so slightly, the muscles in his body eager to be put to use again after being restrained for so long. Still, eager or not, making a bad move would be in his worse interest, so he started simple. There was a garbage bag sitting at the entrance to the nearby alley, well within reach. So, with one simple motion, he grabbed the bag and flung it towards the woman, obscuring his sight of her just slightly...and then he crouched his legs slightly. To watch. To learn. And then to act.
There was a slight huff from Kyle at the woman's words; from her perspective, it might not have been much more than a shrug of his shoulders. In truth, it was the whisper of a laugh, barely managing to escape his tightly controlled emotions. The woman put on a tough face, an extremely tough face. It would not be the first time Kyle had encountered such a woman, especially in this town. Weakness attracted trouble and by showing as little of it as possible, you reduced the chance of becoming a victim.
That aside, Kyle's studying of the woman intensified. The woman was putting up a solid front and from the way she casually blew his words aside proved one of two things; she was a master at bluffing or she had cause to be confident. A weapon perhaps, hidden away out of sight. His eyes narrowed slightly in his helmet as his mind considered another option; he was dealing with a mutant. Which just made his opinion of the woman lower if that was the truth.
Again, that aside, Kyle started mentally preparing himself for trouble. He'd come across enough women in this city with powerful secrets to know not to take any of them lightly. But there was something about the way she stood, the way one shoulder was slightly higher then the other. An injury perhaps? Something to take note of.
Casually, he folded his arms across his chest, regarding the woman patiently as he waited to see if she acted. "Oh, is that so? I'm merely trying to end this without violence, though I will not hesitate to use it if cause arises. I'm also stating things as fact; you will return that money to that man, one way or another. Last chance. Return the money to the man peacefully. But try something funny...I wouldn't mind teaching a lesson today."
Eleven men. Eleven men lay dead or dying on the street, their blood a black stain in the darkness of night on the equally dark pavement. Despite the chaos of the situation around him, Rigs took a moment to let that sink in. The men laying there in the dirt, either long gone from this world or suffering the endless agony of possibly mortal wounds were his men. He'd been put in charge of them, taken them on this mission under orders. They all knew that when they signed onto this gig that death as a final outcome was a possibility. It came with the territory and they had long grown accustomed to heading out with Lady Death whispering over their shoulders, waiting.
That didn't make it hurt any less. To see these men, those who had been entrusted to him, dying all around him because these mutants didn't know how to simply accept fate...it hurt badly. They had been his responsibility and now almost half of them were done. A part of Rigs had been sorry that he'd had to do this thing to the mutants...but he wouldn't shed a bloody tear over what the "Payload" was about to do to them.
His single remaining man returned to him, taking a position behind Rig's vehicle as they both turned to watch their trump card go to work. The lizard guy was streaking their way but Rigs put a grin on his face and threw a flashbang over the car they were hiding behind. He managed to say one simple thing before the grenade went off and it was backed by a terrible grin. "Better check on your women, bastard."
The remaining men on the roof waited till the grenade went off before firing over the railing in front of the lizard, putting a screen of firepower between him and their commander. It wasn't fancy, but it would be enough to deter him long enough for the boss to get into a better location. And with any luck, the lizard man would focus instead on the beast of a man that one of the woman was now advancing on.
In regards to that, designation "Payload" watched the woman rushing him with an unfaltering stare. She'd made some kind of weapon out of thin air, out of a strange substance that he couldn't yet identify. Likely it had something to do with her power..it mattered not. His orders had been clear; if he had to come out of the truck, it was because things weren't going as planned and they needed him to change the flow. Which meant starting with the woman coming straight his way. He didn't move, watching her without flinching right up to the point where her weapon came down on his leg...and locked in place as it hit skin that refused to be harmed.
Then and only then did he move, his mouth forming a slight snarl before his over-muscled arm came swinging back. Hard. He caught the woman off guard, her mouth still open in surprise at her failed attack...and his backhand sent her straight into a nearby car, her body snapping forward upon impact with a painfully loud thump. She hadn't even hit the ground before his knee kicked out, catching her in the gut solidly and sending her into a roll away from him. Huffing, Payload turned his attention to the other two mutants...and after a slight buzzing in his ear, turned his eyes on the other woman. The one that had been shooting at him when he first appeared. Not that he'd really noticed those shots; they might as well have been mosquito bites.
His feet made little thuds on the concrete as he stomped his way towards her, his intention clear. The woman had been staring at her comrade and only when he was far too close did she react to his presence. Far too late, as his hand shot out and grabbed her around the throat, his massive digits easily closing around her throat. And then he turned his attention back towards the final threat...squeezing the woman only enough to prevent proper air from getting in. And waited to see how bold the final member of them was.
The advantage of wearing something that concealed the entirely of your facial expressions was that no one could see your reaction. As long as one kept their body language as neutral as well, a person with a concealed face could be as unmovable as a statue. That cool, cold state was often more unnerving to most then anger or wanton glee. It also spoke volumes towards just how much the being utilizing it didn't care...about anything.
It was a new kind of approach for Kyle, but he'd settled into it with the ease of a master. It likely had something to do with the bottoming out of his mental state, which slowly rose back up to create this new Kyle. Building from scratch was easier then trying to mold a defective model into the better shape, after all. Nevertheless, his new outlook on life and his approach to it had changed drastically...and it was interesting in its own right to see how it now affected the odd experience on top of the casual.
For once, everything was clear to Kyle. And it made it a heck of a lot easier to handle things then before.
In response to the woman who had just outright dodged his words by feigning innocence, Kyle's answer was simple. It was silence. Complete and utter silence, his body unmoving and still as death. Behind his helmet, his eyes watched the woman with a general lack of interest, yet studying her body intently, watching for a motion of any kind that would signal her discomfort reaching a fever pitch. He didn't have to wait long, her body tensing as he mouth went to move again. It was then that his voice came again, muffled by the helmet, but no less dark or flat.
"You know exactly what money I speak of, young lady. And while petty crime is something I could easily have ignored, your terrible choice of victim I could not. Save yourself and me the trouble and hand it over. Now."
There was a certain kind of authority behind that voice now; one that said he wasn't messing around and that if needed, he could back up his words with just the proper amount of action. And it would be action that she would not like at all.
The roar of a motorcycle engine was just one of many sounds among the many that filled the air on this overcast New York Day. But to Kyle, it was a sound he'd not heard for so long, it might have been the only sound in the world.
Only days ago, Kyle had been the prisoner of a secret government unit, kept in stasis while scientists examined him. He could barely remember how they'd managed to take him by surprise, his memory of that time hazed by drugs and a prolonged time in sleep. The unit, under the command of someone they referred to only as "The General", were tasked with finding a way to harvest a mutant's power, to combine them in a subject to create the perfect mutant. The perfect weapon to wage war against the mutants they so hated. And Kyle, among a few others, had been one of their most promising subjects, for they held a powerful mutation that could hold the key to unlocking the secret.
Thankfully, due to the timely intervention of Aurion, Allison and Aura, Kyle had been spared that fate. With their help, Kyle had managed to break free of the stasis that held him and, after getting his bearing, assisted in destroying the facility that had been holding them. The General had escaped, for now, but at least his experiments were at an end. For now. But Kyle had no doubt he would return sooner or later and when he did, Kyle would be waiting.
For now, however, it was back to life as usual. Or at least partially. Kyle's time in stasis had changed him. Before, his mind and body had craved battle, his personality one born of eagerness to prove himself and a lust for combat that few could match. Some might have called it borderline insanity; others would have referred to him as simply giddy. But that part of him had died during his time in the tank. No, not quite died. But fused with the part of him that rationally handled matters, along with his emotional and caring side. What had left that tank had been a new man, in certain aspects. Now Kyle was, well, not cold, but his expression was often locked into one of serious thought, his actions defined no longer by chaos but control. It was like being born anew. And this Kyle knew exactly what he wanted.
But he was thinking too much, especially while driving a bike through the crowded streets of New York. Bringing his mind back to the present, Kyle's eyes lifted just in time to spy something that caused him to pull over to watch. A woman, blond in the color of her hair and rugged in her clothing, approaching a side street vendor, one of the many that managed to appear on the streets of this city. Folding his arms across his chest, Kyle watched with a slight disgust as the woman reached into the vendor's display and come out a moment later with something in her hand; somethings that were colored and shaped like money.
Beneath his visor, his eyes were cold and calculating. Even before the woman had moved past the vendor, Kyle had driven ahead of her, moving his bike into a spot on the side of the road. Paying the toll with a quick flick of his wrist, Kyle waited until the woman was passing him before stepping in front of her, his face still hidden beneath his dark helmet and his arms held loosely at his sides, his dark jacket and pants hiding the outfit beneath.
"It's not polite to steal, ma'am. Especially from someone who probably needs that money for a reason greater than yours. Hand it over."
