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.
Michael looked at the badge the policeman held out and then took it from him. What was there to say? What was there really to do in response to what the man had said to him. That things weren’t his fault. He knew that they were, but maybe the person didn’t understand. The policeman said that his father was the one who was wrong, but Michael still caused all the arguments that happened. He was the whole reason they were there. If he hadn’t been born, the arguments wouldn’t have started at all.
“This…the badge of a policeman. The policemen sometimes are good, unless they’re using fake ones.”
He was referring to his animated shows of course. At times, the policemen represented everything that was bad about the show, but at other times the policemen were good. He believed that perhaps Jorge was a good policeman. Michael stared at the badge, still not looking directly at the policeman as his mumbling voice once again left his lips.
“I have to tell…now I have to tell the truth. We take turns, and th…then you tell the truth next.”
He was turning it into a game, into a pattern that had a routine. It made him relax quite a lot more to know that the pattern was in place. Michael looked at the badge and traced over it with a gloved finger, holding his teddy bear to him with his upper arm and elbow. It was easier to stay near the man when he had something comforting, after all, and with his mumbling it was better that he was closer to the person he was talking with. Chewing on his lip a little bit, Michael started to make the rules in his head. He was kind of making a truth or dare game, only it was just with truth.
“Wh…when I have the policemen badge you can ask me a question and I have to say the truth…because this means that you tell the truth. So…so you…you can have the policemen badge first.”
He mumbled this into the teddy bear slightly, so it may have been hard to hear, but he was generally enjoying this actual conversation. Or rather, he hoped it was a conversation. He could never truly been sure. His skinny hand reached out to place the badge in front of the man, and a handprint-shaped bruise covered his wrist.
Jorge was smarter than Michael, by far, when it came to planning out different social interactions that would take place. Whenever Jorge did something, it was probably planned for, or he was trying hard to make Michael feel comfortable. It was all the little boy could do to keep himself from just crawling under the bed and hiding in most things where he had to talk to people, but in this case it was a little better. This time he wanted to talk to someone, or maybe tell them about things.
It was weird though, his father had such a large amount of intimidation that Michael didn’t know what he should or shouldn’t say. Obviously, though, he hadn’t had a chance to see what would happen if he told another person. He’d just been trapped in his room for a long time, and hadn’t really seen any people who weren’t visible from his upstairs window. They never had company, so Michael never had the opportunity introduced to him. That was why he was silent for a moment after Jorge’s question. He moved his teddy bear closer to himself and nibbled just slightly on the tip of the bears ear.
It wasn’t that he was hungry or anything, he just wanted to nibble on the bear because it helped him think. He thought about his father, and how his father was angry at him for just existing. The little boy managed to speak after a long pause. “Things got bad...a-a lot.” This was mostly forced out, in between the small bites he gave to the well-loved bear’s ear.
The taste wasn’t very good, so he made a slightly wrinkled face and looked down at his waist where there was a slightly concealed fanny pack. It was given to him with a few snacks inside, and he also put in a few of his other most prized possessions that he’d gotten via the mansion. He looked at the pack, opening it to look inside. He realized that he didn’t have any more food in there and frowned. He would have to ask someone to fill it again...and that was not something that he wanted to do. So, he started to nibble the bear’s ear again.
He took a small glance at Jorge again, and it seemed that he’d stopped with the leggo enough to just be worrying about telling his story. Unfortunately, he didn’t know what he should tell. It was a whole new thing to him. “D...daddy and mommy started to fight sometimes about...about keeping me in my room. And daddy blamed...he blamed it on me because I’m not supposed to be born...and then he got real angry sometimes.” He bit down a bit more on the bear, it was clear he was getting nervous again now that he’d forgotten about the leggo, and Jorge seemed to be getting the hang of it. The little boy held his bear close to him and looked above the bear at this policeman for a second, and then he looked down again. “Things...things were always bad when he came upstairs. A-and...and I was never allowed to leave my room either. But..but daddy said it was my fault.”
He didn’t want to admit that he was wrong to this person, and he worked through his case about why he was right. Michael nodded affirmatively to himself when he came up with the proper reason. “Even...even the smaller patterns are present in the bigger ones. If there are really small patterns...then then they show too. You write all the numbers and the letters...and then all the patterns meet and they make bigger ones but..” He frowned...this wasn’t really coming out too well.
Michael took a small glance upwards at Celeste, and then quickly back down. Celeste couldn’t really translate her words into emotions that well for Michael at least, because he just couldn’t tell. The only emotions he knew were anger and sadness because they were so definite...but when someone was happy or annoyed it was kind of hard for him to deal with. He just didn’t really know how to react to those, let alone tell if they were just being sarcastic or not. Sarcasm being slightly foreign to him, after all.
Michael scratched his head a little bit, and he moved back to playing his tetris game. The little boy had a reliance on his game-player now. It was an important part of keeping himself sane, and it was also something that he could take with him and play anywhere. The little boy finished a level and wrote down the information, then paused it. He saved the game and then closed the player and put it in his little fanny pack, instead taking out a little mind-game puzzle.
He liked tetris a lot, but he was getting a bit frustrated with the mistakes he made in tetris as it got faster, and his reaction time wasn’t great in the first place so it was just making a whole array of unwanted emotions. MIchael’s eyes scanned the puzzle, and within a few moments he solved it and put it back together. Then he just fiddled with it a bit, wondering if there were any other ways to solve it. He knew that there probably weren’t, but these kinds of puzzles were okay to be slow on, which was a reason he was using it. At this point, Celeste saw fit to bring up Sam’s thoughts again.
“Sam’s normally right...but he hasn’t seen me in a while.” Michael also, at the mention of food, remembered that he was supposed to eat a snack right about now..but he didn’t want to, so he ignored that daily responsibility for now. Instead, he focused merely on responding to 3-line.
“You’re yellow.” He answered easily, not giving her much else in terms of a response for what that meant. “And...and the 3-line can stay for now.”
The boy wasn’t heavy, so it was rather easy to carry him to the destination that became the little boy’s sitting area. As the leech man started to leave, the little boy started to wake up. MIkey tried to sort out in his head what could have happened. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind. He didn’t really like that. The little boy managed to regain the movement in his arms and in his legs and he started to shift them. Reaching his hands down, he felt that there was some kind of pavement. Was he still on the road?
Right. Still on the road, that was something to go by. He had left the mansion...and then he was walking on the road. The buildings were all jumping out at him, he was pretty sure, and so he was trying to hide in their shadow. Then...something happened. There was...a blackness? No it was a hand. Why would he feel a hand before he passed out? Michael frowned to himself. He must have had too little food again.
The little boy looked around, his vision was pretty clear now. He looked over at the image around him...it was like the back of a warehouse. Had he really been able to wander this far before he passed out? That was weird. As the little boy started to crawl forward, he felt something pull him back. There was pressure around his underarms and his chest. He looked down to see a rather fancy looking halter. It was...it was like a leash.
Now THIS he most certainly didn’t have on before. The little boy took time trying to figure out how to get it out, but he couldn’t. It had a rather difficult thing to get off that held it on him. The end of the leash was tied behind him on some kind of curved pump attatched to the building. He stared at the knot. No...he really couldn’t do anything about that either.
The little bit pulled his knees up to his chest, looking around at him. There were noises around him that he didn’t understand. There were also things that he hadn’t seen before...like everything. It was all different to him. The little boy sniffled a little bit and a few tears fell from his face. he moved his feet in a little bit, scared. Had he really been stolen off the street like all those stories in the books. But...generally the people taken were girls.
Michael liked Jorge. He agreed that Leggo was calming, and didn’t say that the leggo was confusing or that the patterns were a bit too hard to follow. He didn’t call Michael weird for making up these patterns either. This was a good thing for him. Though the schedule of his normal day was tainted by the appearance of the male, he was adapting just a bit to having the police officer in his room. After all, the man was keeping to his schedule by playing with Michael, and he was staying on his side of the blanket. The most important thing was that he didn’t try to touch Michael. Touching was bad, because touching really hurt.
The little boy watched him put the blocks together on his, and the male seemed to be getting the picture, understanding the pattern, so Michael let him do that and he moved to his stashed backpack. He looked at the man, and then he allowed himself to pull out his little bear. It was a worn out bear, and it seemed like he’d had it for a while. This too was blood-stained...and almost a sickening sight to many. Just the image of the little boy almost glaring at his feet as he held it, however, would hopefully keep this policeman from asking about the bear specifically.
Then Jorge’s next question came about. Michael...was a bit scared about the answer. He knew that he needed to share it though, because he had been playing for a long time, but he wasn’t really sure about the amount that he wanted to say. For a long moment, Michael stopped playing leggo and just looked down at his bear. He lifted its arms slightly and made the bear hug him around the middle. It was an anime referenced bear, but it was hard to tell now because of it’s seeming abuse over the years he’d had it...since he was six at least.
Michael swallowed and looked back at his leggo, making the bear pick up some pieces. He liked Jorge...and that was why he’d explain the Leggo usage. No one else but chase would really get a response such as the one he was going to share. “My...my leggo. I got it when...when my dad and mom decided that I should stay in my room. And...and things like my Leggo I played played with. Sometimes when things were bad I’d get more leggo, or I’d play with it under my bed sometimes. It was easy to hide under...and...and I played leggo for a long time...and found out the rules.”
It took a lot of time for him to get through that statement, and he continued making the soft fabric of the bear conform around the leggo blocks. He dropped them sometimes, but then was able to pick them back up. He did make the bear put them on now though. It was another bit of comfort. The feel of the bear’s fur was not new to him, and so he was able to keep himself settled. Well...he couldn’t really feel it too well through his gloves, but he knew what the feeling was at least. He looked at one of his gloved hands, and he itched the material slightly. It wasn’t that soft on the inside, like his older gloves had been, but he hadn’t necessarily been given much time to pack.
Michael noticed that Jorge’s pattern was a bit messed up again, so he moved slightly closer to the male, like a cautious little kitten, attempting to get used to its surroundings as it moved. He needed a little bit of time to get used to each distance he had from Jorge. Michael took a small glance at his face and then looked quickly back down at the structure. “It’s messed up again...the blue goes after this one...”
Michael was actually kind of accepting the male a little bit already. He sat down, and he did try and follow the pattern. Michael didn’t generally like to have things just “tried” or “attempted” when it came to puzzles or different patters, so he moved slightly to sit nearer to the male, his stick thin arms and legs nearly tangling as he crawled a bit closer. As the man moved to grab a piece for the structure he was creating, Michael would carefully remove the last piece he’d put on his, and put the right one on.
This continued as long as he wanted to build. It was a bit fun, working with someone else. Of course, he policeman wasn’t really getting much of a chance to build his own structure. Michael really wouldn’t allow that. It was his leggo, after all, and this man was only playing with him. If it was his game, the older man would have to agree with the rules of the game. Michael added each one in succession in fact with a sort of air of importance.
It was really good for him to feel important and necessary. Most of the time, he felt in the way, or as though he was merely taking up space that could be used for another kid. The reasons for this probably stemmed from the innate need to be in small spaces, and the need to stay away from any other kind of established service of sorts that wasn’t of his own doing. It would be okay once he got used to people, but for now his classes weren’t really being even attempted.
He took up a window block and stared at the structure that this man was building. Soon, he’d decided that it needed a window. Michael carefully fit the window exactly where it would need to go, and he then continued the pattern starting from the color of the window, which was red. Or rather, he let Jorge attempt to continue the pattern, but changed every block every time that he didn’t like it.
Michael warmed to Jorge and he spoke aloud, though slightly cautiously about his experiences with leggo. As he put down a slightly red-stained green piece, Michael began his normally one sided conversation. “The...the leggo helps calm people down because patterns and numbers and colors are always good for calming things down. It’s easy to be good with Leggo.”
He hadn’t of course mentioned anything about why he was being “Good” with the leggo when he played with it, but this time he was a bit more open. Jorge was doing a few key things that allowed the opening of this conversation. The first correct thing was that he sat with Michael and did the puzzles with him. The second was the fact that he was sitting. The state of sitting meant that Jorge would be at around the same level as Michael. If he was really tall all the time, Michael would feel very intimidated. And the last thing was that Jorge wasn’t attempting to force Michael to look at him. By far that would be the worst thing to do. He couldn’t look people in the eyes without shrinking back in fear.
“Puzzles...puzzles and Leggo just take a long time to learn. It’s not easy to play leggo’s. There’s a lot of rules. Like...like that the color can’t go sideways more than once in the same row.” It didn’t make sense to many other people, but to a little boy who entertained himself alone in his room all the time, it was only natural he’d try and create entertainment for himself.
Michael was a bit confused at her question. To him, this was completely illogical. Most games with something as complex as this had a random generator. If the generator was easy to predict, and complete in any sense of the word, people all over the world who were merely slightly competent at doing this would get the answer almost instantly as to how these things worked. She was wrong about her theory. The smaller patterns all had to count...and if he recorded all of the data, if there were really small patterns he would find them.
Michael paused the game and then fidgeted slightly. “That’s wrong. If there weren’t big patterns from the little numbers than anyone could finish the game easy. Th...there’s probably a random generator...but...but I want to figure out what it’s more...it’s more likely to do.” Michael pulled at his hair, and he tried to curl his legs up a little bit, just shifting in an uncomfortable way.
Michael was smart but not with words. He wasn’t sure what was more accepted to say, or what was more socially accurate with how he acted. He spoke once again. “Puzzles are what I do. They’re my puzzles. The puzzles aren’t that wierd because the game isn’t that weird. It’s a weird suggestion...doesn’t work.” To him, that was not really an insult or any kind of bad thing. It was simply a comment on the idea that she posed.
Michael blinked, and realized something. He was talking to her. Sam said not to talk to her...why did Sam say not to talk to her? Sam was right a lot of the time, and he’d made Michael feel better when he had an accident because of a rather frightening incident. Michael closed his eyes tightly for a second and tried to think. That’s right, that’s why he’d said that. “Sam said you’re bad...he said not to talk to you. Bad. Sam’s right all the time. Sam knows what to do a lot too.”
Michael seemed to be able to place his trust in Sam for this time, and it seemed that Sam’s word truly made him feel more at ease with his own beliefs. Of course Michael didn’t like to talk to people with any normal conversation, and he especially didn’t want to talk to people who were bad. There was a need to talk to her, though, because she seemed to have very poor and misguided opinion about games that they might have that simple pattern. But was wasn’t simple. The patterns for games weren’t ever even supposed to be simple.
His game was still paused, which did show that Michael still hadn’t given up on a conversation with Celeste. She was okay looking after all. “You’re a weird 3-line. 3-lines are always weird...but they’re easy to put into the lines and make them disappear because they make different shapes and sometimes different colors.Three-lines are sometimes okay if I need them.”
This police officer, to Michael, was so far not a bad person. He was more inclined to not like older, larger men just because of what happened whenever his father generally came into the room. So, Michael was a bit more jittery than he usually would, and it took him a few tries to get the leggo where he wanted it to go. The boy chose each color in succession, going throughout the line with occasional glances at the man’s feet.
There were little mannerisms about him that did really show what he truly felt, though he did look relaxed. For instance, he kept glancing just slightly at the man, and when his feet moved just that much closer to the little corner he’d made for himself, he nearly flinched, though it was more like he positioned himself a bit differently where he was. This wasn’t on schedule after all, and the man was supposed to come, but normally at this time he was spending time with his leggo by himself.
He knew that most likely he’d have to make an adjustment to this, but the fact that the man was coming in made him a little bit scared at what might come about. He realized that his fear was starting to get the best of him and looked down quickly at one of the gloves on his two hands. He took a few deep breaths. He didn’t really want that to come out...because he didn’t want his mutation to be shown or used in any way.
Michael managed to get himself calmed down again, though he put one of the gloved hands in his lap. The stick thin little boy tried to cover it, though he wasn’t sure exactly how to. He awkwardly moved this hand behind himself, and then back in his lap, where it seemed he wanted to keep it for now. Michael took another few deep breaths and then started in on his leggo again.
As soon as he did that, he started to calm down a little bit, which made things a bit better when Jorge spoke to him. Michael moved a few of his piles so that the man could sit down. However, he didn’t want to have his pattern interrupted by the man’s playing with him, so as the man got settled with where he wanted to go, Michael explained the rules in the mumbling tone he often used. “Th..there’s a pattern. You’ve got to go in the order that I go in. It’s white...then green, and then blue and other things like that. It’s all in order anyways.” He didn’t make direct eye contact with the man, but he gave a quick glance at least towards the males face. He was just checking to see that there was no evil look or anything.
The boy was of course told that someone was coming, but the deadline wasn’t exactly real to him. When he focused in on numbers, the other numbers seemed less important. So, the number that said what time he was coming, and perhaps the date as well had been lost to his head. When the knock came on the door, howerver, it was a rude awakening that perhaps he’d have to break his schedule.
Thoughts swum about in his head as he thought about the man that might be behind the door. He took a deep breath. This person was...was..a policeman detective. Right? Yes. He’d been told that a policeman detective was going to come to talk to him about his dad. But it was his leggo time, he didn’t want to interrupt his Leggo time. The little boy got up and looked around at his room. He had a few prized possessions in this room that were his, and his alone. .
Though he understood that the man was a police officer, he still didn’t want to have his favorite things on display. He carefully moved his backpack onto the bed and put in the precious game player he’d gotten from Koga. It was his, and no one else was allowed to have it. He also put in a small bear of his that he liked to sleep with at times, and it took away the hurt when he was at home. This was of course why it was a bit bloodstained and well worn.
He took a few deep breaths and then moved towards the door. He was about to get there when he realised that he didn’t really want a guest to see his pillow either. He made a break for the computer, which his pillow was next to, and tripped. He fell flat on his face of course, then had to quickly get up. He grabbed his pillow, and he put it over with the blanket he’d put on the floor.
The little boy looked towards the door. Okay, now his room was ready. He moved to the door, reaching up to slowly open it. He didn’t look up at the man for more than a few seconds. He wasn’t able to really look people in the eye for any length of time, and this man was no different. The room was almost as he’d left it, but it was quite obvious that he did not sleep on his bed, but over in his little corner. As soon as the door opened, the little boy looked down at his feet and mumbled. “I...I’m Michael.” He then moved to his Leggo and sat in front of them. It would be easier to talk there.
He didn’t talk to people he didn’t like, as a general rule, so hopefully this person was nice. He started to put on some more leggo, though he was still kind of nervous. The little boy’s body, covered in bruises and a few healing cuts, was quite obviously also dealing with a bit of malnutrition. Physically, there was enough evidence of starvation and abuse, but for courts nowadays, that may not completely hold up as an argument.
Michael was kind of able to be compared to a small rodent. He was comfortable in his surroundings, and knew where things were so long as he had them all in the right place. What was different from a rodent about him was that he didn’t want to explore new places that much, unless they might impact him in some way. So, he was content with sitting where he was, and not with moving over to where she was. Instead, it would be up to 3-line to really make the first move.
So, when 3-line started to approach Michael, the little boy was a bit unaware. In his environment, 3-line didn’t mean any threat just yet, but the closer she got, the more...tense he became. It was little things. For instance, Michael might have tightened his grip ever so slightly on his game player. It was just a bit nerve wracking for him. She was approaching, and he didn’t want to get up or do anything about it. So, little Mikey decided that he would not, and he allowed himself to get sucked into his game.
The pattern continued with the boy, almost a ritualistic procedure by now. He played until the lines disappeared, and then he quickly wrote down what he’d seen in the patterns formed. Michael was rather pleased with himself, in fact, at what was going on. The names and numbers corresponded perfectly, and he’d gotten high enough in levels that there wasn’t a need to add any other colors or shapes. He’d reached them all, but they were coming down at varying speeds.
Speed. He’d completely forgotten about speed! Michael started to go through the next level, and where it started he wrote the speed. This would be considered a medium speed. He knew that there wasn’t a high speed yet, as the game player actually notified him that the speed was considered medium. He focused completely on the blocks, turning them with all the right keys to get them to fit where he wanted. And this was what made him content.
It made him content because he was able to better work on his planning for things that were coming. Occaisionally he would make mistakes merely because his reaction time was rather bad. Gaming was helping with that, and slowly his motor skills were improving. He knew where they needed to go and how the pieces needed to move, but sometimes his hands wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to get them. The little boy stared at the screen, and as the pieces went down, there was a bit of a longer pause than a normal person would have.
It was part of a condition of his that had long since gone unnoticed. Generally, it was a hard thing to notice after all. Along with his unending concentration, he had poor motor skills and reaction time, as well as a hard time with being out of routine. When 3-line brought up how clever he was for arranging the code, Mikey looked towards her for a moment and then quickly back down. He mumbled a thank you. When she asked him a question though, it was as though the little boy couldn’t help himself.
“W..Well the pieces dissappearing are all part of the game, because if they didn’t dissapear than I couldn’t make more lines and more puzzles fit together. Th...the puzzles are going to fit together easier because of the the pattern. I bet theirs a way that the blocks come out that can be calculated.” He spoke more than he had to her...at all. It was something he was interested in, and he truly wanted to talk about it, because that was a thing that he knew about. That was something that could be there without question. “But it’s hard to find the pattern unless I make a pattern....but but I know that there is a pattern there and I have to find it.”
The mansion was fine when he stayed in one place...but when he wandered, things became a bit too real for him to handle. Today was a day where Michael was rather forced to go outside, because someone locked the door of his room. It was in attempts to get him to go places, and not be able to return for at least an hour. He wore a name tag on his shirt, which showed his name, neatly printed, and the “return to” was also on there. It was only meant for the mansion, so it really only had a room number written neatly. So, it read. “Michael Risuque Falling. If found lost, please return to room 123.”
This was why he was really let outside to have free reign. However, not many people really knew just how good he was at wandering. Michael wandered far through the grounds of the mansion, and of course got hopelessly lost. He found many things that made him grimace. For instance, the open fields that people often played on made him try and run away. This earned him a faceplant in the ground, so he got up and walked away from it as quickly as he could with careful concentration on where his feet went.
His fanny pack strapped around his waist tightly contained everything the little boy would need. There was a snack in there, which was a thing in case the little boy got hungry. His nintendo DS was in there, and his games as well. THis took up the bulk of it, but the little boy also had bandages with him, for the occaisional hurts he got.
In making his way over to the gap he saw in a fence surrounding the border of the mansion, Michael had already used a few of his bandages. His coordination was absolutely horrid, after all. Fixing his gloves on his hand, the boy stared at the gap. It seemed to be...a little larger than Mikey-sized. He moved to the fence and tested it. Judging by the size and the bends, it seemed like other people could crawl through this as well.
He was curious...truth be told. He wanted to go and explore what could be beyond this fence. No...it wasn’t that. It was less curiosity, and more of a necessity to know. He had to know what was beyond the fence because it might affect him in some way. He leaned down and then moved to sit on his rear. He stared at the fence for a moment, and then he slowly started to lie down. After a little bit of wriggling before he was near the fence, the boy tentatively was able to make his way out through a series of awkward fish-like flopping beneath the fence. He had plenty of room...but the practical application of what he thought to be the easiest route turned out to be rather challenging.
Making it out of the fence, the young Mikey stared around at the wondrous sight near him. Or rather, the scary sight. Everything was big and looming. He moved to the side, actually pressing against a large building. It was his preference to be considered small and insignificant, because generally he was less targeted by people. However, on occasion, people would pick him out for what he truly was. A huge, major target.
t was all too easy to notice how weak his was, and the steps that he made were rather bumbling and clumsy. He looked afraid of practically everything, and if the brown-haired boy wasn’t nine years old, and perhaps even a few years younger, he may have already wet his pants at this level of exposure. He had a rather large case of agoraphobia at the moment, and so he stayed near this large, looming building.
That was when it seemed someone took an interest in him. Though this wasn’t a very busy part of town, truth-be-told, and no one was really around, the myriad noises from peoples houses were still very distracting and unfamiliar. He actually made a small, scared noise for a moment, and then things kind of changed for him. The person that took and interest in him was behind him...and Michael was only able to tell for a second or two as a hand reached out and pressed a horrible smelling cloth to his face. He breathed in with alarm, clearly not expecting the effect that happened in an instant, which was the boy’s vision becoming blurry, and then he was unconcious.
Michael’s room was like a man-cave, but with a more...kid touch. There wasn’t anything decorating it. No fancy curtains or hot wheel cars all over the place, he’d literally created a cave. It was in the corner of the room, away from the door a bit, and it was because the room was too big for him to handle. The salary of both of his parents wasn’t necessarily enough to warrant a huge house, with a dorm-room sized bedroom. He had a small bedroom, with things everywhere, but he had a niche. This was what Michael had created himself. It was a cozy area, and he’d dragged the blanket off of his bed to wrap around himself when he went to bed.
During the day time, he spent a good ten minutes flattening the blanket again on the floor. That blanket was his designated play space. He’d carefully lay out every toy that he liked, and he’d begun to develop a bit of a habitual routine. It was a nice thing, to have a routine, because he knew what to expect, and he knew what was coming. Mixing around the leggo’s, he started to put some things together. It was mid-morning. Michael had already set his routine into motion, and Leggo was the first thing on the agenda.
The pieces were all the same that he’d come with, and still had their original stains on them as well. The pieces were small, but he’d played with them when he was hurt before. Michael had already been here at the Mansion for some time now, enough time to meet a person, and then configure his room, but he’d kept himself inside there for a while after that. Things outside of his room were scary. There were things that he didn;t understand, and that killed him a bit on the inside.
Michael put the yellow in the yellow pile, the blue in the blue pile, and the red in the red pile. So on and so forth this went until the piles were completely even. He didn’t have any leftover block colors, because he’d done this on the first day, and then threw the leftovers into the trash. As he got his green leggo board ready to build on, Michael chose a piece from each pile systematically. It wasn’t really a pattern unless someone was actually paying attention, because it would appear to be just a bunch of colors on a building.
Today, he was making a house. Houses meant special pieces, but he’d put special pieces in a different bucket. The house itself needed special pieces occasionally, but he looked at the piece and planned it out. All his special pieces were different colors anyways, so it didn’t disrupt his pattern.
Anyone who came into the room would most likely see an untouched section, and then a little piece with Michael touched, and a piece that seemed to be becoming part of his home. And then there was Michael. His body was covered with only a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, that was all he wanted to wear, and his arms, hands, legs...it was enough to show that he’d been through an ordeal. There were still lots of healing bruises, and lots of marks that looked almost like a clasped hand had formed around.
Unfortunately, the man in charge of making those horrible bruise marks was claiming that his son was taken away from him without just cause, and he was filing charges against the school that had taken them. Mikey was unaware of it...but his father was trying to get money for taking Michael back. He didn’t care about Michael at all, his father never had, but there was also something else. There was no way that the boy could go into court in his state. He peed at the site of someone in the hallway. So, teachers were going to have to come up with some means of proving there was a right need for Michael to leave.
His brown hair fell into his face, in desperate need of a haircut. He wouldn’t let other people but himself touch it...and the doctor had tried to but Michael nearly ran away from him too. He ran away from lots of things. The doctor...people who tried to make him eat a lot of meats and high protein meals. The only way he was getting his nutrients at the moment was by mixing them into a high protein shake. He’d gotten a bit of color back now, however, and he was a bit less defined in his shape.
Michael didn’t really want to keep this conversation with the person going. He didn’t like conversations because he never understood them. There were oftentimes wierd pauses or breaks, and he was forced to stop responding because it just got too odd to respond to. He also didn’t like some people, and those that he didn’t like didn’t even hear him say a single thing. He pulled a bit at his hair, his gloved hands seeming a bit odd. The boy turned his head completely away from her, his shoulders sagged in a bit. His eyes were narrowed when he turned back to his game. He’d still been playing it, and he didn’t intend to stop.
Though Michael was curious about what she said when she was asking about people who were pretty. Or rather, she was saying that she herself was a gorgeous babe or something, and that meant that she wasn’t bad. This was completely the opposite in his mind. If you were someone who considered yourself pretty enough to say it, most likely you were like one of the anime characters that he’d seen in bleach. There was a really pretty girl character, and he’d found her attractive, but then it turned out she was evil.
Anime was something that he could trust. It didn’t give him much in terms of social interaction with people, but it did give him a chance to look at someone’s face without feeling wierd and needing to look down. He couldn’t look long at anyone’s face, except for one or two people. And Michael didn’t know why, nor had people tried to figure this out. He looked back down at his game, thinking about his options. He didn’t really want to talk to her, but she had a really silky voice and it was interrupting his game skills. He was much more calm now that he was back into the game, but it seemed that Michael was basically ignoring Celeste.
He was a bit odd to watch, if Celeste happened to get a hankering for watching the little boy do his work. Everything was done in a pattern. If one had the eye for such things, they would see a specific way in which he used the buttons on the game player, and then they would see that he brought his hand to the paper he wrote on only after a familiar ding noise of completing a line. He wrote neatly, and skipped every line precisely. Everything had to be in it’s place.
Swimming. Such a thing was a terrifying thought. Sure, he’d grown up in Maine, he’d even been in the water once or twice, but that was always like...on accident. Both times he went in the water were in fact accidents. The first time, he’d moved a bit close to the water, and he was pushed in. Luckily, it was right up near shore, so he was fine. The second time, he just stepped in ankle deep and got his pants wet. Of course, both were before his father decided to confine the little boy to his room and create a hole for him to escape with. Needless to say, he hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of swimming.
Then, he was posed with a counter-option. Instead of going out swimming with Hokee and with Chase, Michael would have to go to a class at the mansion, because chase and hokee wouldn’t be there to tell him when the teacher was coming to his room, so he could properly lock the door. Michael chose swimming, and knew that it might not be so bad. Hokee was taking him. Mikey liked Hokee, and Chase was really good too. So he got a pair of makeshift swim trunks on, and a plain white t-shirt. Well, the swim trunks weren’t exactly meant for swimming. He was wearing a pair of shorts, and made sure they would stay on by tying a rope around them. Yes. It wouldn’t be good if his swimming outfit came off.
Hokee wasn’t allowed to drive a car, since he had to go to the hospital when his car did something bad, so they were going to bike. Mikey thought this was obviously a joke. Why would he get on a bike, and try to use the peddles to make it go forward. Everything about how that worked did not make sense. He was essentially making himself open to everything that might...look at him. Michael didn’t like being looked at.
As he carefully went through his fanny pack, Michael made sure he had everything he needed. A pencil, paper, his game-player, band-aids, and disinfectant. Right. Hokee was bringing towels, probably, and that would be good. Michael was really really skinny, so he probably was going to freeze to death in a matter of time unless the pool was really really warm. He thought once again about the arrangement he made with Hokee, while he went through his things, and looked up at the little vynal roof that covered this contraption.
Generally it would be a bit small for a fully grown nine year old, but Mikey was used to...no. He loved small spaces. This was all made perfect for him. Unknown to him, the cushiony feeling inside was due to a few extra blankets and warm things, just because the person who’d lent them the item for Michael’s usage, knew that he might be cold on the way back. Michael played with the zipper a bit when he heard Hokee’s call out to the both of them, and he poked his head out after a moment of sorting out which zippers belonged to which thing.
“Th...the thing is attatched.”
His way, kind of, that he would convey the fact that he was feeling comfortable enough to go. No way he was sitting on the handlebars.
Michael was a bit surprised that she heard him, but then again, he hadn’t been very secretive. He turned his game over a bit, blowing some of the dust off. This of course was just an idle fancy of his, he liked to keep dust off his game, since Koga told him about the dust that might cause the games to stop working for a bit. Therefore, he needed to keep it clean. Michael looked at the game, and not at the girl approaching him. 3-line wasn’t really a bother of his anyways. He didn’t dislike her at all, but she wasn’t as interesting as his game.
The pings continued a bit after she decided to call him a monkey boy, and he gave her a quick look. Now he remembered where 3-line was from. She was at that party that had him go with the...the drinks and the other people who smelled like flowers and really bad perfume things. He moved the game player a bit to make room for his small notebook, scribbling down the combinations that he’d gotten from the current pieces that fell.
Michael scribbled them down with a lot of precision. He knew that he couldn’t mess up because the work was very important. He’d use the word documents on the computer later to scribble down information. He spoke to 3-line only after a very, very long pause. “Sam said I’m not supposed to talk to you.” This two was also spoken in his mumbling voice. He hadn’t laughed or smiled once, even when she’d assumed he was laughing, his voice was just insincere. It was trully difficult for him to sit down in his place, and really analyze emotions when he was in the middle of playing a game.
He touched the paper once again, but his hair started to get in his way again. Blowing at it, he tried to get the hair from his face, not realizing that his game was still playing. A piece landed wrong and he heard a noise. He looked down at the piece, upset at himself. He focused in on the pieces, moving them and arranging them to attempt to fix his issue. He did and then relaxed for a moment before he wrote down all the number patterns quickly, sorting through it. So far, a pattern hadn’t come up...but he knew it would soon. He hadn’t played enough of them yet, apparently. Most likely there was a random generator, but even that had to have some kind of loop. Everything did.
Michael wasn’t expecting anything from 3-line. She’d probably leave at some point, and let Michael be alone once again. He preferred being alone-in fact, her presence was kind of scaring him. The little boys eyes closed for the moment and his gloved hands closed around the game player. It was starting again. Those nerves that he had when people were around him. He stammered out some words towards the girl, probably more harsh than he really intended them to be. “G..go away. You don’t even know me.” He was just a bit scared now, and his words were coming out with what he was thinking...in an exaggerated manner of course.
