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.
Lodstone ended the brawl, but the twins tried to slap at each other for another moment or two. Then, when it was clear that they couldn't get at each other any longer, they ceased struggling. "uh-huh." They droned, echoing each other damn near perfectly.
"We gonna go home now? I'm hungry." One said, patting her belly.
The other copied her twin, if a little bit more enthusiastically. "Me too! Me too!"
So far, Elke's plan was going just fine... Now, all she needed to do was keep her mouth in check. The clone already knew where to go, or rather, where "home" was. The native just needed to make an escape as soon as she had the chance.
Sticking her tongue out at the clone, to which the clone responded by copying her, she turned and held her hand out expectantly toward Lodstone. The other Elke stuffed her hands in her pockets, although she looked a little bitter for some reason, and kicked at a pebble on the ground.
“Of course! Any ruffian who comes up against Blackbird and his sidekick Red Finch would surely think twice about ever doing so again! Come on, brave warrior! Let us join your friend and enjoy the spoils of heroism!”
Wow!... he was just too cool! Posing next to him, while pretending that her cape was flapping in a glorious wind of justice behind her, blew her thirteen year old mind. "You betcha!" She quipped, and trotted along behind him.
Meanwhile... at said counter, where the clone was currently trying to decide which candy to eat and which candy to put in her vending machine slots (for customers, you know!), she noticed something on the counter a little ways away from her. Glancing left and right to see if it belong to anyone (and not seeing any apparent owner), the clone shuffled over to her, trailing candy wrappers behind her. She reached for what appeared to be an unattended comic, before realizing that her fingers were dotted with melted chocolate. A quick lick, slurp, and hand wiggle later, she picked up the booklet with only the soggiest, cleanest fingers, and flipped through it.
***
With the first issue of his comic in hand, Quinton had left his apartment in order to give it one last try. He was nervous, however... because in his rage against the people who had wronged him, he had made a terrible mistake. He'd used the first issue, the very book in his hands, to get rid of them. He knew he couldn't very well approach someone, looking to be published, and not have the very first comic in his storyline on hand! That meant he needed to be careful... he needed to keep an eye on which pages people saw, because he knew at any moment one of his captives could turn up randomly on a page.
His goal had led him to this comic shop, where people had packed themselves inside to browse, buy, and socialize. With his comic tucked safely away inside his coat, he'd joined the fray, keen eyes on the lookout for anyone he felt worthy of his work. Here, amongst the throng of fellow comic nerds, he made a second mistake... He let the excitement of the event overtake him.
After showing his pride and joy to a fellow enthusiast, the two of them got into a long winded debate. One was sure his comic was gold, while the other was sure he'd read a similar story elsewhere. Quinton set his booklet down while he argued his opinion, and had wandered a few steps away.
That's how a little girl dressed like a vending machine got her grubby paws on it. The clone flipped form page to page, not understanding most of the words, but fully captivated by the pictures. Elke saw her from the other side of the counter and her curiosity piqued. What was she doing with a book? Hadn't she made it explicitly clear that the clone was not supposed to touch anything?
"Wassat?" The Native inquired, trying to peek over her shoulder at the pages. "I dunno.. but it's got lots'a blood in it... and pretty drawin--"
"What are you doing with that!?" The alarmed voice belonged to Quinton, who had only just notice that some brat had his book. He attempted to snatch it from her, but she refused to let go. A tug-o-war sprang to life, with Elke jumping in to slap her hand down in the middle of the open pages, pinning the book to the counter.
“That wasn't such a good idea. What if he gets his friends?”
Elke dropped her grip on him, leaning over into her knees as she caught her breath, and grinned. "If he does, then we'll just have to take them all on. I've been in scraps before... ain't no thang."
Of course, in most of those scraps she had buddies with her.
... and usually the target didn't have friends.
" 'sides, i'm not the one who kicked him.. the clone did it. So we're off the hook." Speaking of clones.. if the backpack's owner did come'a looking, she could always pop out two more. Three against one wasn't all that scary, even if he was probably a lot older than her... and bigger than her... and angrier than her... Maybe she could even take him down, and gain some street cred with the high school kids? Yeah! that'd be super cool.
While she mind wandered away with daydreams of how popular she would be, toppling a giant like that, she busied herself with climbing into a low hanging branch of the nearest tree. Wiggling out onto the branch a ways until she was settled, she turned expectant eyes to Clyde and waved her hand at him. Clearly, she expected him to join her in on the branch.
After a moment, though, she thought of something. Something that would throw a wrench in her gears and mess up all her fun. What if that big lunk-head went and tattled? She honestly didn't expect him too, because if he did he'd lose his man card forever... but... what if? Clyde's words came floating back to her, as well as her response to him. She couldn't let him know that getting ratted on and found my a teacher really did bother her... because then all of her proud words from before were worth zippity squat.
... but she also couldn't ignore the fact that she'd get carted off back to her social worker's office if the law got it's grubby hands on her. After a moment of quietly glaring at the leaves to her left, she turned her chin and focused on Clyde again.
"You should leave with me... Schools for chumps anyway, right?" Maybe he'd accept, and then she'd have someone to hang out with... without the threat of detection. "We could sneak into the movies... and get ice cream from this vendor in Centeral Park! he always gives me free stuff, but you have to be extra sappy about it. Lay on the drama all thick like, ya know."
The more she thought about it, the more she was sure he'd accept. Who'd want to sit around in a boring school anyway, when there's so much fun to be had?! In Elke's mind, it was already decided, even though she hadn't even heard his reply yet.
The clone sniffled, wiggling in her boxy costume, before she locked her eyes on the guy that had been labeled Blackbird. He was nice... and dressed like a super hero, so she automatically trusted him. Anyone could trust a super hero, right? Yes. Especially ones who offered you candy. With a little nod, the twin speared a glared at the guy's who had mercilessly made fun of her costume, stuck her tongue out, and then shuffled off behind the counter to get some candy.
Elke watched her go, filled to the brim with pride from the Hero's words, before she turned her attention back on her foes. Blackbird was right, of course... she couldn't waste her ammunition and energy on two saps like that, when there were bigger and badder enemies out there to fell. Instead, she propped her fists on her waist and glared at them with what she hoped was a look of stern... er... sternness.
The two men were honestly more frightened by the man and his sticks, than they were of a child with a sling shot, but either way they grumbled to themselves and shuffled out of the store with no further trouble. Elke waited until their cowardly behinds had vanished completely, before she forgot her character and howled in delight. "Woohoo! ohmygod that was SO COOL! YOU were SO COOL!" The native jumped around excitedly, before remembering that she was still in the presence of a super hero and tried to recover sloppily. With an awkward cough, she tucked her third grade weapon away and propped her hands back on her hips. "I mean... Good job, Blackbird, Sir! Those ruffians will think twice before picking on someone in the future!"
Man... why couldn't her voice sound more... heroic? Why'd it have to be all squeaky and junk?!
***
Quinton Bol was having a bad day. Actually, he was having a bad year. The fruit of his labor, the end result of blood, sweat, and tears, was being mocked and ridiculed by people audacious enough to see themselves as his peers. People he had once looked up to as great minds and artists had looked upon his life's work in disdain. They refused to publish it, citing that he needed more work in the story. It's just not original enough, Quinton, they'd say. The art is fantastic, but the story is nothing special. It needs more work.
The fools! They refused to take him on because they had already lined they greedy pockets with the money of his competition. People who called themselves artists even though they rolled out sappy, cliche stories with no viable talent. Unimaginative people who tossed out carbon copies of one comic after another, pandering to the narrow minded masses. They didn't know what real art was... oh, no no no. HE knew was real art was. HE knew better than anyone!
That was why he'd been forced to take drastic actions....for the betterment of all.
You see, Quinton wasn't any normal man. He was a closet mutant. His artistic talents had developed in his twenties when he'd thought up his very first story, and his mutation had manifested ten years later, when he'd started work on GUN LORD. He'd discovered that things like pencils and erasers had a tendency to vanish into the paper he was working on, and would pop up in random pictures... without him having drawn them there. He had the odd, and very much frightening, ability to enter his own art... to walk among his drawings seamlessly. Even to interact with them as if he was a character.
Five years after he started in earnest, his comic was finished. Twenty issues in all, each hand drawn and written out personally.... and they'd turned him down. His blood had boiled, his vision had gone red. He'd raged for days and nights, unable to think of anything but the harsh words those people has used to slander his most cherished work. And then... he thought of revenge. One by one, within the span of a month every single person who'd turned him down vanished, five in all. He'd visited each, and with help from his mutation, trapped then all in the world he had created.
Oh, they would see first hand just how much of a genius he was; or they would die.
Her smile widened another two inches, and she nodded enthusiastically. Practically skipping over to where she'd designated the starting line, she set about stretching (like she'd seen professionals do it on the tv, because she was so totally professional and stuff), and readied herself.
"Okay... ready?" Glancing over at him, she waited for an answer, before setting her mind to the task at hand. It would probably be a cinch beating him, but it sure never hurt to be prepared.
"Alright... One!.... Two!..."
Behind her a girlish cry came out of nowhere, and she distinctly heard someone shout something about "catching her".
"...@#$%!"
Abandoning the race, the native clambered behind the first available cover and waved hurriedly for Chase to follow her. She knew the owner of that squeal, and had a hunch as to what had caused it. Peeking tentatively out from her cover, Elke's fears were confirmed.
"Crap... Socialworkers." From what she could see, they'd finally spotted her.... or the clone in this case, and were in the process of trying to figure out if it was the real deal. It was only a matter of time before they spotted her then, and she was carted off again. Turning her eyes back to Chase, she sighed, and chewed on a fingernail angrily.
"So much for the race... I gotta scram before they catch me."
The clone froze, staring down the large boy heading it's way. Elke didn't know how exactly this was going to go down, but she knew that bigger people had a tenancy to like lording their advantage around over the heads of smaller folk.
...That's exactly why she had a few plan's in place for just such an occasion.
See, Elke wasn't a stranger to getting into trouble. She got into trouble a lot, and it often involved people larger than herself. Badger, one of the kids who lived in her community, was just such an example. The move she was about to execute had worked on him once, and only once, but had probably saved her life. (or so she liked to believe)
"Execute plan D!"
Her shout caused both the backpack's owner to look her way, and the clones. Instantaneously, her twin knew what to do. Rearing a leg back, she planted it swiftly between the guy's legs. He attention shifted back too slowly, and the poor boy dropped to a knee from the pain.
"Now RUN!"
The clone took off in one direction, fleeing as fast as her twiggy legs would take her from the scene of the crime, while Elke reached out to grab for Clyde's wrist. She needed to run as well, and couldn't very well leave her new buddy standing around in the war path of a meat head with injured pride. "Come with me!"
The destination set in her mind was outside of the school itself, though still on school grounds. She knew there were a few trees out there, and tree's were great for hiding places.
This was probably the scariest thing that had ever happened in the clones 24 hour lifespan. She turned to peek over her shoulder as her boss ran on, caught sight of the an icy hand flying her way, and promptly freaked the heck out. Before so much as a squeal of terror could escape her, she was caught in the things cold grip.
.... Great, now she felt scared AND sick!
"BOSS! WAIT! Don't leave me here!" She couldn't see the other anymore, but heard the sound of steps flying down the hallway slow for a moment, before "Take one for the team, Soldier!" was shouted back.
Swallowing her fear as best she could, the clone attempted to pull a brave face as an ill feeling washed through her small body. "Aw man... I ain't feeling so...good.." The clone wiggled, whined, and promptly started to melt all over the icy hand holding her.
Meanwhile, Elke had shimmied open a window down the hall, and was in the process of trying to lower herself out. Mid transit, though, she slipped... and an errant nail caught the back of her overalls. The child's daring escape from the law turned into a sudden, and very embarrassing, flail of limbs as she hung from her pants just outside the window frame.
"@#$%!.... It figures... it really does." A look of pure discontent washed over her face as she struggled and spouted cuss words vile enough to wither the shrubbery situated within hearing distance.
Taking a step back to evaluate her work, Elke attempted to wipe off the spray paint on the leg of her jeans. "Hm... I think it's great... what do you think?"
The twin standing beside her looked up from the colorful gaming magazine she was reading. "...I.. uh... I don't got the message, Boss. Wassit mean?"
With a huff, the Native crossed her arms before her and pinned a rueful glare on the clone. "It means, dummy, that I ain't got a single @$#% left to give for what anybody thinks 'bout me." The child drew herself up proudly, ignoring the fact that her cap kept tipping forward to obstruct her vision every five seconds. The poorly scrawled words on the wall in front of her were bold, and in all caps (her attempt at true Graffiti style), and in her mind the message was clear.
I ROTE ON THIS WALL TAKE THAT SOSIATEE!!
The clone blinked, looking from Elke to the wall, then back again. "Gosh, boss... you're like... the smartest person I know!"
"That's cuz i'm the only person you know, stupid. C'mon... let's beat it before the fuzz catches us. We're hardened criminals now, you know... Could do hard time for this."
Adjusting her yellow cap, too make sure it was juuust the right backwards angle, Elke started past her clone and down the hallway. She was sure that when morning came the school would be buzzing with how much of a rebel she was. ... And it didn't occurred to her, as she walked away, that she'd completely forgotten to sign her name.
Turning the corner at the end of the hall, she started toward the bedrooms- where she'd found a room to hunker down with on her visits. She hardly noticed the figure knocking on the door of said room until it was too late to avoid detection. The moment her attention was captured, however, she stopped. Her twin halted as well, its full attention captured by the pictures in the pretty magazine.
Without a second's pause, she tossed the incriminating can of yellow paint at the clone, uttered a single four-letter word, and about-faced. The unlucky clone fumbled to catch the surprise gift, blinked at the empty space where Elke had just been, then blinked at the man down the hall from her. "Huh? Wha-?"
"Run you idiot, it's an adult!" Elke shouted after her, as she zipped as fast as she could around the very same corner she'd come from. The clone gave the man a startled moron-in-headlights look, before tossing the magazine and spray can in the air, and bolting after Elke.
The duplicate whined from her spot on the floor, rubbing at giant sore spot that was her throat. She may have answered him, maybe, if it hadn't hurt enough already just to whine. After hearing what the boy had to say, Elke deflated her rather pathetic attempt to look bigger, and answered for it.
"Don't worry about her, she ain't even real." The twelve year old crossed the hallway, leaving the clone and backpack behind, and shoved a hand out in the kid's direction. "I'm Elke. You're a highschooler? You don't look like none of the other kids."
Down the hallway a ways, a rather tall, broad shouldered seventeen year old was marching along, grumbling under his breath about missing backpacks, while eyeballing all the dark corners he passed. Elke of course didn't notice him, and she'd pretty much already forgotten about the backpack seeing as her attention had been shifted to the kid who stood up to her. He was more entertaining than a bunch of books, anyway. Unfortunately, her duplicate had been left behind with incriminating evidence literally on the floor in front of her, as well as a few crumbs on her face. It didn't take the kid very long to spot his property, unzipped and open, with some of his stuff spread out on a table.
"My bag!"
Elke turned and glanced over her shoulder in time to see the seventeen year old's speedy approach, while her clone started to pick herself up off the ground. "...uh-oh."
"You're face is my problem, jerk!" She drew back on her juvenile weapon a little, adding even more tension to the band. She was fully prepared to let a marble loose at the guys, especially the one in the goofy costume, and didn't really care how much damage she might inflict in doing so. The guys deserved it, for dressing like goons.
“Red Finch! What seems to be the trouble?”
She did pause when another stepped up, however, and turned her eyes away from her target. Who was it that had stepped in to the situation, even though she clearly had everything handled? The Blackbird himself! An odd sense of hero worship washed over her, if only because it had taken her ages to painstakingly compile all of the necessary items required for her to look the part of sidekick. She lowered her weapon, a tad bit reluctantly, but kept her marble readily nestled in the slingshots worn leather pocket.
“You dare?!”
"He dared! He dared!" her clone chimed in, throwing her cardboard clad arms in the air. The man decked out in purple lifted his hands in surrender and glanced at his buddy. "Look, man, all I did wath make fun of her cothtume a little... C'mon, even you have to admit that it'th pretty bad!" His pal nodded, and pointed a finger at Elke. "This genius is the one who you should be pointing your little stick at!"
Elke narrowed her eyes behind her mask, and re-armed her weapon. "How dare you speak to the Blackbird like that! It's not a little stick it's a mighty instrument of JUSTICE!"
Her clone reacted in an entirely different manner... First, by looking down at her costume curiously. Second, by peeling off a strip of duct tape that had come loose, which caused one of her side panels to fall off. She stared at it for a moment, before her face screwed up and she burst into tears. The wail that followed gained the attention of a few curious onlookers, and when the duplicate lifted a hand and pointed at the men, all of the eyes combined landed on them.
The mansion, a school for mutants (or so it seemed) and home to the X's, was HUGE. Like... really, really big. Really.
It was also packed full of mutants, which made her able to tolerate being inside in the first place. It helped a little that a new friend had brought her along, too. Or, well, it had helped while that friend had still been around. Considering the fact that the boy had run off and Elke was now alone in the mansion, she couldn't exactly say he was all that helpful anymore.
She was tempted to pop out a duplicate just to keep herself amused, but... other ideas came to mind before she had the chance. The school was amazing blah blah blah, but it also reminded her of why she hated schools, and a lot of adoptive homes, too. It had stuff. It had money. She wasn't very fond of people with money and stuff, because they tended to think themselves above the rest. Jerks.
Maybe that was why she was currently in the kitchen, emptying various canistered to steal the contents help within... while filling every salt shaker she could find with sugar, and vice versa. With her backpack loaded, she scurried back out of the kitchen, snatching a few apples from a bowl on the counter on her way out.
Next, she found herself squatting at the end of a hallway, putting the finishing touches on her masterpiece. It had only taken her three hours, too!
Sitting back on her heels, the twelve year old wiped sweat from her brow, smearing the red paint slathered across the upper half of her face in the process. Setting up elaborate pranks while in a heavy, hot headdress, a long sleeved t-shirt, patched overalls, and mismatched sneakers was more work than she'd first thought. Still, it had been totally worth it. The fruits of her labor were well hidden; Toothpaste squeezed under light switches and door knobs, tacks hidden point up all along the carpet, soap squeezed evenly over all of the tile floors she's come across, and a few buckets of water hidden above a door or two, scattered here and there, and dental floss strung from one door to another, like a trip-wire, ankle high off the floor just in front of the slippery tile area.
Now... all she needed was a goon to wander across her trap.
"Boss... what're we doin' here again?" The duplicate to her left questioned grumpily, knowing full well that she was missing one of her favorite TV shows right now.
Elke glanced over at the girl, resisting the urge to sigh at being reminded of what the clone has wanted to dress up as. "Because, dummy, I want to get a few more comics... and that one guy is supposed to be here. You know, the one Shameless was talking about?"
The twin blinked at her, popping open a snack-sized bag of chips. That one guy?... Hmm.. she faintly recalled that, but attempting to dig up the memory became too hard, too fast, so she switched to stuffing her face instead. Elke rolled her eyes and ignored the duplicate as she attempted to inhale the chips- bag and all. It didn't matter if the clone was on board with the plan; Elke had everything covered already. Tugging at the straps of her backpack at the thought, which was packed full of various other books and magazines she's found laying around the house, the Native grinned to herself. If the day went smoothly she'd be returning home with a ton of new comics to stare at, and would have gotten to meet a cool celebrity type guy on top of it.
"Ohmaigawd! Boss! It's Peek-a-shoe!"
"Pikachu..."
"Pee-at-chu?"
Groaning, Elke slapped a palm to her forehead in frustration. "PEE-KAH-CHU." The clone blinked at her, brushing stray chip crumbs from her face. "Ain't that what I said the first time?"
'ARGH!" Throwing her hands up in defeat, the native stomped past her bewildered twin in order to push her way through the crowds. Dressed in a borrowed costume with a mask sitting nestled on top of her head, she felt like she blended into the crowd seamly. Her twin, however... did not.
"Ha! What are you thuppothed to be, huh? A robot?"
Pausing, Elke turned to see that her twin had been distracted by a man in a colorful costume, and his friend. A feeling of dread washed over her. Would she be able to make if back in time to stop her from embaressing h--
"Imma Vending machine!" The duplicate shouted., loudly, and then struck the most ridiculous pose Elke had ever seen. "I save poor high school students and college kids from starving to death between classes~!"
The guys blinked, taking in the beaten up cardboard boy with doodled on pictures of buttons and edibles, and then started sputtering with snort-y laughter. Elke, being the original and therefore responsible for the clone, briefly considered slipping her mask on before anyone realized she was with the 'vending machine' and ditching her where she stood. Unfortunately, there was certain attitude that came along with dressing up like a hero, even fake ones, that prevented her from doing such a thing.
...so, what would any reasonable, level headed hero-in-training do?
"Vile fiend!Cease your laughter or behold my wrath!" From within a flimsy plastic utility belt, she withdrew a marble, and her slingshot. Hopping into place beside her twin with her weapon drawn and loaded and her mask in place, she waited for the man to respond.
"Does any one want a half melted candy bar? Only four dollars! Four do--Oof!" An elbow to the gut shut the clone up quickly, before she could fully ruin all of Elke's hard work.
All she needed to do was.. was take one step. One step, and everything would end.
"...What are you doing?"
The voice from behind startled her, and with a flinch, the twenty six year old half turned to see who it belonged to. A small girl, no older than 11 at most, stood as her only witness.
"Don't try to stop me! Just... just... go away." Turning back to her task, the blond focused once again on her task. She swallowed, not managing to get anything past the lump in her throat, and clenched her hands.
"Why?" The girl was suddenly beside her on the ledge, dark eyes calm and calculating. Watching. It made her feel like she was under a microscope.
"Look, kid.. you really shouldn't be here. This is kinda private, you know?" This wasn't how it was supposed to play out. She was supposed to be alone, nothing but the wind whispering to her as she contemplated the last moments of her life. Not being questioned to death on the lip of oblivion by some tween.
The girl dragged her eyes away, lowering them to the constant stream of traffic below. "I bet it will hurt a lot." She commented absently, tucking her hands into the pockets of her overalls. Then, those dark eyes were pinned on her again. She tried not to squirm. "Are you sure you want to know what it feels like?"
She bit back a bitter laugh, struggling with the uneasy feeling growing within her breast. "What would it matter? I'd be a splat. Splat's don't feel much, as far as I know." She watched people walking slowly by down below, squinted at what she thought was a dog, and frowned. "Besides... this is how it's gotta be. There isn't any other choice for me..."
If she took a step back... She'd be a coward. A weak, pathetic example of humanity.
She wasn't. She would never let herself become that. She... she just... She just wanted someone to hear her. She wanted someone to see how far she'd been driven, how desperate she was. Maybe, just maybe, then she'd be able to scrounge together some resemblance of a life. A true life... Not being someone else's personal slave.
If she took a step forward, though....
"...Someone will catch me..." She muttered; the same soft mantra she'd been repeating since she'd first set foot on the roof. There were enough heroes in New York to have noticed her by now. Her cry for help; her plea for attention... Someone had to have noticed, right? If she closed her eyes and simply let herself fall, someone would swoop in and snag her. Everyone would see how much pain she was in, and she'd finally be free. People would understand.
"Who's gonna catch you? I'm pretty sure you'd hit the sidewalk going like, 90. Maybe you'd even break through, and just keep going." The girl snickered, which earned her a glare.
"Do you always poke fun at desperate people like this?" She demanded, and would have crossed her arms if she hadn't been clinging desperately to the safety rail. The girl, a smirk set on her lips, shrugged casually.
"Most people don't usually try to off themselves in spots I frequent."
With a roll of her eyes, the twenty six year old attempted to ignore her unwanted visitor, and turned her attention back to the empty air before her. She needed to be calm... collected. Absolutely sure, that this was what she wanted to do. Any second thoughts after the plunge would no doubt be horrifying and she--
"Wooowee! Pretty high, ain't it? Wanna see something cool?"
Her attention as once again captured by the girl, but before she even had a chance to groan and beg her to leave, she spotted a shape tumbling over the railing beside her. Horrified, she couldn't watch as the girl fell. Her eyes squeezed shut and she turned her head, clenching the rail with renewed vigor. Moments passed, and she wasn't sure what she was expecting. A few terrified screams and shouts echoed up from below, as well as the sound of screeching tires... but nothing else.
"Ouch!... that hurt like a $#%@^#%$&..... Kinda looks like one'a those ink blot tests from here, don'it?"
She flinched again, eyes popping open to see that the girl was still very much alive and still standing beside her. In fact, she was leaning casually against the railing, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Casting a wary, uneasy glance down, she saw the mess. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she turned her eyes away again.
"Guess no one was around to catch her, yeah?"
"You... How...?" The girl snorted, straightening up from her slouch. "Ain't no heroes here, lady. You gotta Save yourself."
Bewildered, the blonde watched the girl turn and saunter away, whistling a little tune to herself. What on earth had just happened...?
"W-wait!" The girl paused, glanced over her shoulder, and waited. "...Who are you...?"
The she grinned. "Moose. See ya around, Lady."
Then she was gone. The tune she'd been whistling drifted in her ears for a moment or two, before it too vanished. "... No heroes here...?" After a moment of quiet contemplation, the twenty six year old wiggled her way back onto the other side of the safety rail, sat on the concrete roof, and quietly waited for the authorities to arrive.
Maybe, just maybe, that kid was right. She was just going to have to save herself.
