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.
“Most certainly. What I can do for you, since you are just starting out, is show you how to plant a bulb, and then how to care for your plants, as well.” Xavia straightened her form and moved to a box of unplanted bulbs, and then grabbed an ornate planter. She set those down on a nearby table before grabbing a half empty bag of soil, and finally, some river rocks. “When you go to plant in a pot like this, the first thing you want to look at is the size. For bulbs, even a single bulb, you want a larger pot like this to prevent root binding. The pot must have a hole or more in the bottom to allow for proper drainage.” Supple fingers gently grabbed for some of the river rocks, large enough to fit in the pot without falling through the hole in the center. “River rocks help with drainage also, perhaps one or two layers…” She arranged the rocks, and reached for the bag of soil. “Then you fill the pot with soil like so, but not all the way to the top.” She went on to demonstrate the rest of the process, digging a hole in the center of the pot and displacing some of the soil, putting the bulb into the hole root side down, filling in the hole with more soil and not packing it too much, then taking a watering can and watering the freshly planted bulb. Easy peasy. “You want to water your flowers once a day, I recommend doing it closer to evening when your plant is sprouted because it can help keep the leaves and blooms from scorching in the sun.”
She took a breath then, “What I can also do for you is give you a bulb free of charge that you can send to your mother. You pick out the daffodil you think she will like the most and I will get the bulb… And I will get you the flowers already in bloom and charge you only for the pot or vase. I wouldn’t do this for everyone because I wouldn’t be in business.” She had her motives of course, one of which was to try and get regular customers, another was to try and find someone who wanted to live in the apartment. Of course, she wasn’t going to outright say it, but that is what she wanted. And she wanted to do something special at random… For someone who wasn’t asking, for someone who didn’t recognize her as Layla. She wanted to be Xavia, damn it. Things in her singing career were wonderful, but she wasn’t doing it for fame. And maybe she wanted a friend… Not a man friend, she was beginning to feel wary of the opposite sex. After all, she’d just been put through the wringer yet again. What was it with old men who obsessed over her? The “doctor”, or Beledodia..? She was so sick of letting her guard down and finding herself trapped in a bad situation.
And just as she was about to speak again, the business phone rang. “Excuse me a moment…” She went to the counter where the cash register was and answered.
“I do have some of those, as well as tulips and a few other spring blooms. Come inside.” She smiled brightly and then headed toward the door again, the flowers shifted with her until she was far enough away that she had no affect on them. She went to the front corner where the majority of the blooms were all held. She knelt down and pulled some of the pots closer, bright yellow blossoms, white blossoms with fiery orange trumpets in the center, summer cheers that resembled yellow roses… A myriad of different blooms, really… If the woman followed, Xavia would gesture toward each type and name them off… “Some of these are traditional blooms, and then you have your non traditional, like the Summer Cheer…” She gestured toward that rose looking daffodil.
“And I offer hand made planters and vases, made by local artists.” The smell of spring was rampant within the structure, earth, moss, water, etc. Though it was obviously new, it looked as if she had been set up long enough to have gained customers if she had recommendations already. “I support the locals,” she went on to explain, “The only imports come from my father’s greenhouse in Michigan. The rest come from the greenhouse I fund in a local school, such as the tomatoes in the back… But anyway, I can offer these lovelies as they are and you can plant them, or I can cut and arrange a bouquet.”
“I am. And I am sorry as well. I heard you come up the drive, but I had my hands full. I am Xavia, and this is my little corner of the world.” She chuckled and glanced over to the other bike, “Lovely bike.” That was said genuinely, though she didn’t fancy it in the same manner she fancied her own. Personal preference of course. “How may I help you?”
There wasn’t much to be had yet, though there were some blooms that had been transferred from the base in Michigan. Those were all placed throughout the greenhouse, some could be seen through the glass. If the woman looked in, the ones closest to Xavia bent toward the glass like metal to a magnet. The grass at her feet seemed a brighter green, even while the remnants of winter kept the rest a dormant brown.
She didn’t pay attention, herself, as she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her glistening and flushed face. Her jeans were kind of muddy and damp at the knees, and a streak of dirt crossed the bridge of her nose.
The bike was cherry red, and barely dirty. Xavia loved the Harley beyond words, that much was clear. A loving hand kept the paint job gleaming, the chrome pristine, the leather polished. This bike looked almost mint condition. The only indication that it had been ridden at all would be the dirt caked into the tires and the few specks of road dust that dirtied the rims.
Xavia didn’t really pay much attention to whoever was outside, she had so much work to do. She turned the hose off and straightened her form. The hose dropped and she moved over to haul the pots of ferns strategically into the spaces surrounding each rose bush, sweat beginning to pour by that point.
Her cell rang, she finished placing the pot she had been holding, wiped her hands on her jeans and then grabbed for the phone. “Hello?” *pause* “No, I won’t be singing tonight. I need a break, okay?” The woman had an Eastern European accent, her voice was an alto and slightly raspy. The perfect tones for blues, jazz, and rock. “The club can do without me for a few days, alright? I haven’t had time to myself in weeks. I even gave you notice I was doing this today, so please respect that.” *pause* She rolled her eyes and moved toward the door, “Thank you, I will see you in a few days okay? Okay, bye.” She pressed the off button and shut the phone down, then dropped it into her pocket. “Ass,” she muttered and stalked outside.
It was then that she saw the other blonde admiring her bike, and she moved her way over and cleared her throat, “She is beautiful, isn’t she?” She moved to flank the side opposite of the woman and traced the gas tank with a long, tapered, and well manicured finger. She hardly looked like a biker. She looked more like a pampered, rich princess.
It came back to her: the nightmare of her sixteenth year. It was hard to discern whether she was dreaming or whether she was awake. No, she was awake. The old man was older, more haggard. She was still his obsession, still his experiment. He finally had her where he wanted her. A whimper of fear was swallowed before it could squeak out.
She jerked against her bonds, her head throbbing from the sedative they had pumped into her. The straps creaked with her movement, causing the old man to turn around with an empty syringe in hand. “You have grown into a beauty, you know?” He shuffled over to a stool and plopped his heavy frame down, wheeling himself next to her. He dropped the syringe onto her belly and grabbed for a tourniquet. “I have so much to learn about you now. I know you’re a rising star now, but that is of little interest to me. It was useful, but I want something else.” He wrapped the rubber around her arm as tight as he needed to, tying it with an audible snap. He continued with the one sided conversation as if she wanted to hear it.
Xavia could feel him grab the syringe, and she turned her head to the side opposite of the old man. Despite her façade, she could feel the moisture tracking from her eye and roll to the crook of her shoulder and neck, feeling defeated and tired. She barely felt the sting of the needle, or the pressure of it pulling vitae from her body. “You’re so docile now, dear. What is the matter? Too much sedative? Aww. You really should have thought of that before you made me mad. I am not a cruel man. Or am I? Whatever.” He pet her arm as he put a small piece of cotton and medical tape over the puncture wound. She heard the squeak of the stool as he rolled toward his microscope and test tubes.
It was quiet, blessedly so (save for his wheezing and nose whistling), for the span of ten minutes before he spoke again. She was almost asleep by the time she heard the intake of his breath, “Fascinating… The cell structure of your blood cells are unlike anything I have ever seen. Hoo-hoo-hoo. They have changed a great deal since you were a young girl. The red cells have the same shape as normal cells, yet there is a cell wall and other interesting parts of a plant cell. For instance, you have a high amount of chlorophyll. No wonder you have a fast photosynthesis when you are able to change yourself.”
Fascinating, she thought. Not really. Her head turned and she looked at him, her eyes narrowing. He continued to prattle on about plant cell structure, fingers twitching. Even the guard was looking bored as he stood nearby.
It was one of those days that Xavia wanted to stay in the greenhouse. She had finally gotten her very first building finished after what seemed like forever. The cozy little greenhouse was nestled up against a tiny, yellow house. She had made that into an office and converted the upstairs to an apartment and was planning on finding someone who would live there and take care of the plants in her absence.
The greenhouse structure itself wasn’t huge, though it was on a fifty acre plot, she planned on starting a vineyard off to one end, and an apple orchard off to another. Not right away of course… The building was made of plate glass and roughly fifty yards long by twenty yards wide, and one and a half stories tall.
She was currently on her knees next to one of the empty plant boxes, singing to herself as she arranged rose bushes lovingly into her family blend of dirt. The bushes were just singular branches at the moment, bereft of both blossoms and leaves. The Hungarian was clad in second hand jeans and a stained up designer shirt that had definitely seen better days… Her freshly bleached locks were swept up into a messy bun, curling riotously as she had not bothered with the flat iron. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead: she had been planting bulbs and bushes for the better part of eight hours because she didn’t have any employees in this particular establishment as of yet.
The tune on her lips was directed at the rose bushes, but the ferns that were in the terracotta pots nearby seemed to lean toward her as if she was the sun itself. She rocked back on her heels, grabbing for the water hose so she could water the plants she had just transferred, turning the little knob on the spray head and talking as she did that, “There you are, lovelies. This should help you to grow beautiful soon.”
Anyone who was going to come into the place would be able to notice that the door was left slightly ajar, and there was a Harley parked near said portal, indicating her presence. Her voice, although quiet, would carry through the structure enough that one could almost make out her strange conversation. To the outside world it may seem like she was mad, speaking to her self.
I have been sick for awhile (again), but have made the efforts to try and keep up when I can. However, I shall be moving (again), this time into my own place, plus work has me damn near in a coma I am so tired. But I shall be back soon, am getting interwebs hooked up as soon as I can do so.
“Hey A**Hole.” She decided it was time to speak up, she was behind him at this point. It sounded cool because of her accent, even. Whether he turned around or not, she moved between him and the lioness, having spent the last several minutes to form decent sized thorns at the ends of her fingers, she grabbed for his wrist to cause him to drop his gun. If she succeeded, the thorns would dig into his flesh and blood would dribble out.
Her face was a mask of fury as she glared at him. “How about YOU run?”
“No matter, little flower. We’re almost home. You will have your own lovely little room all to yourself and treated like a princess.” He snorted and then stuck the needle into her arm, thumbing the plunger down slowly. She could feel the contents sting against her veins and she let her head fall back.
Her last words before she fell unconscious were, “You won’t win; you never do.” She hardly felt the slap across her face.
When she next awoke, it was to an old and vaguely familiar scene, the blaring overhead light assaulting her eyes. She could feel the Velcro restraints around her wrists and ankles, no use trying to struggle against them. She turned her head to and fro, seeing the gleaming steel everywhere of the room, and standing with his back to the door was a guard with a tranquilizer gun who was ready to shoot any given moment should she get out of control. Xavia blinked a few times and looked down to see iv tubes and monitors and all kinds of goodies hooked up to her. The old man was stooped over a clipboard, kind of giggling. “This is better than I thought.”
“None of your business, dude.” She spat back at him with anger. At the same time, though, she was kind of angry toward being used. Damn it, all that effort for some affection and she got denied. It really sucked being the backstabber. Nola tugged at her arm, trying to extract herself from the mutant’s grip. “Let go of me, putz.” She wasn’t afraid of the blade, her heart was already sore.
In the Limo, Xavia stirred some more and tried to roll over. She then tried to use mutation as a means of getting out of the situation, but at the first inkling, a needle was flashed. “Oh no you don’t… Try it and you’ll be sent back to lala land, kiddo. All I want is you to sit up and listen to me.”
“Mmmf!” She could feel the cold steel against her skin, poised in case she decided to try anything stupid.
“I haven’t seen you in more than a decade. Come now, let me look at you…” gnarled fingers roughly grabbed for her chin and he forced her to lift her gaze. “You’re more ethereal than ever, flower… But you’re still a b***h.”
She glared.
“What I don’t understand is how you never knew you were special. I saw you when you were little, how the flowers bloomed brighter and seemed to sigh in your presence. You were special… But you were a spoiled and rotten brat who didn’t deserve your gift.” He shoved her face away, but not before jerking the gag from her mouth so she could talk back to him.
After she wet her extremely dry mouth with her tongue, she gasped out in anger, “What do you want?”
“What I want is for acknowledgement, dear. I want some appreciation. I made you something better.”
“You made me better??” Xavia bristled. “You killed my friends. You kidnapped me from my family. You injected me with drugs and harassed me and made me forget who I was, and you made me better???”
“I gave you EVERYTHING! I made you bloom and gave you the key to unlock your gift.” He got up close and personal now. “If it weren’t for me, you would still be at home playing in your garden, the spoiled rich little brat that you were back then. You owe me.”
“You broke me and it took me years to fix myself, and I owe you?” She laughed incredulously.
The assistant whirled and looked at him, and then grimaced. “I don’t need to tell you sh**. You’re a tool.” Then she started to walk off. “Nola” was already in a bad mood. She had made a fool out of herself to please a man who dismissed her as soon as he had what he needed.
Meanwhile, the limo was already almost where they needed to be. Xavia stirred, her head fogged by the drugs that had been injected into her. The man who called himself her “father” was bent over her, caressing her face. She couldn’t speak, she was gagged.
“Yes, sweet rose, open your eyes and look at me. I’ve tried to get you back for years, and now I finally have you. You have been very naughty.” He grabbed her chin roughly and turned sour. “You won’t get away this time.” Then he shoved her face away from his hand and sat back.
Her head hurt so bad, but she did not cry. She tried instead to spit the gag from her mouth.
Xavia was not one to stray too far from her guard, but she needed some air and kind of slipped out of one of the venues she frequented. She wasn’t too worried, Shade liked to hide in the shadows, and he was bound to follow her anyway without being seen. Air was needed either way. She was still in costume, tonight’s ensemble being of a very slinky black number, hair piled up in such a way that it only enhanced her look. Aside from looking like a bombshell, she also looked tired. See, that is what happens when one is kidnapped all the time. This last time was different though, she’d been injected with a drug and then kidnapped. Her trust in humanity was wavering, seriously.
She heard the sound of shouting, then, and looked up to see a vaguely familiar feline being held up by a jerk. Part of her considered walking away and letting Sarah take care of herself, but she couldn’t do it. So instead, the plant mutant crept closer.
The unconscious singer was deposited into the back of the limo on a plush leather seat, then velvet cord was wrapped around her wrists in a manner that it would be too hard for her to get out of, and then her ankles were bound. The medical bag was plopped onto the floor after this was done, and the handsome one fished around in her pocket for the keys to the bike before retreating from the vehicle. He stood by the bike and kept a look out as the Limo pulled out of the lot.
Okay, so the sequence of events was strange indeed. First, how did anyone know to go to the back lot when there was a parking garage for patrons? Second, nobody really knew that roses were her favorite unless they knew her, so there was another clue. The answer came sauntering up to the man on the bike. Nola.
Nola wore a smirk on her face, and he looked at her boredly. “You know, it took you long enough to get the information I needed.”
Her smirk turned into a sour look and she huffed a little, “All that matters is she is where she needs to be, so pay up.”
“You’ll get paid. Not here. Go to the lab. I already gave you the directions on that card in your pocket.” With that, he revved the bike up and sped out of the lot.
She was getting the finishing touches done to her make up by her newly hired personal assistant/make up artist, whom she paid just as well as Shade. The young woman was new to the field, and Xavia saw a potential in her that most people did not. Indeed, she was admiring her make up in the mirror as she heard her security guard give her word that she was to be on in five. “Well, Nola, you did it again. I love this look.” It was better than anything she could achieve on her own, as she was no expert on cosmetics.
She emerged from the dressing room after instructing Nola to have a certain costume at the ready for her first intermission. On her way passed Shade, she looked at him with her usual smile while shaking her head, “I told you my name.” But that was all she said because the stage manager was bouncing around hyper like while breathlessly complimenting the new look. Her blond-in-a-box hair was swept up into riotous and obviously natural curls that cascaded from a rhinestone studded clip. False eyelashes were not needed for her, they framed her eyes with drama after a simple curl was applied. Her eyeliner was dark, but not overly applied, eye shadow in smoky tones, causing her eyes to look a little larger and a lot more sparkly. Her lipstick was blood red, and she needed no blush. Tonight she wore a black corset that was tastefully studded with the same rhinestones as the clip, red leggings, knee high boots of black. Her jewelry only consisted of a few bangles, a ribbon choker, and hoop earrings. It would be hard not to moon after her tonight, she was dressed like a star for sure.
Xavia confidently found the stage and grabbed for the microphone, and no sooner had she stepped onto the “X” on center stage, than the lights dimmed, the curtains opened, and the band started to play the song she wrote. When the curtain opened, the spotlight didn’t immediately turn on, she started singing, “How I missed it, a thing called fate, didn’t know that I’d be too late. Then I saw you standing there, looking my way without a care.” The music turned into a deep guitar riff, so different from what she did before that the fans were gasping and then cheering because it was good. The spotlight flared. “Oh-oh-oh-oh. I would have smiled, I would have waved, but then she came out and my heart caved. When she kissed you, I felt mad, you were the best I never had.”
The song lasted about five minutes and spoke of missing out on someone you really pined for, and never quite getting to know what it felt like to be with that one special person because they were oblivious to you. By the end it was too late because you finally let go and that other person realizes your existence. The crowd ate it up and gave her a standing ovation, it was a mostly younger crowd who appreciated her twist on older songs, but loved the new material much more apparently.
It wasn’t until she was halfway through her first set that she was aware of an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t psychic by any means, but sometimes people just know when something isn’t right. The singer tried to ignore her increasing paranoia because she had a show to put on. Unbeknownst to her, the man who had been after her for a long time was on the balcony. He was an older man, there were a few of those in the crowd too, but he wasn’t dressed in the same manner everyone else was. He wore a brown suit, immaculately groomed silver hair, and horn rimmed glasses. His moustache was obviously waxed and shaped to gently curl downward over thin lips, and yellowed teeth could be seen by those around him. Flanking him were two of his most trusted goons, both dressed in black suits with black ties, both wearing earpieces and sunglasses. She couldn’t really see him at the moment with the way the lights assaulted her vision.
The man never stood up from his seat as he watched his obsession sing. It took him a long time, but he was ready to snatch her up. She’d done so much to elude him, but he wouldn’t let it happen again. He was there to make sure his men had her. “See? She has grown into a beauty, my rose. I wanted to watch her grow up but she is so full of thorns that my men could not seem to keep a hold of her. My patience is thin, my boy,” he was obviously speaking to the one on the left, “If you don’t bring her to me tonight, I will personally see to it that you will never work in this town again.” Because he would slip a knife into that one’s chest, he thought to himself. It angered him that his men were so incompetent.
Xavia ended her set and shook of her unease, heading backstage toward her dressing room to change into her costume. Once she had the costume on, which was Grecian in style, her make up was touched up and her hair was let down, she opened the door and motioned for Shade to come in. If/when he came in, she turned to look at him with a frown. “Something isn’t right tonight. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like my nerves are getting the best of me. It’s probably nothing. Just… Please be on the look out for me, okay?” Whatever his response was, she had another set being signaled after a knock on the door, interrupting them. She sighed and looked to Shade, “I guess I should get back out there, eh?”
A few hours went by with nothing bad happening. She managed to get through whatever her trepidation was, singing mostly originals she had worked on long and hard over the last year, and the crowd was pleased. Then came time for everyone to shuffle out, and she stayed backstage. One of the men that had flanked the guy who called himself her “father,” had changed into something more like what the rest of the crowd sported… Jeans, a tight fitting t-shirt, etc. He was pretty good looking and not really someone she would have pegged for a hired thug. He approached her and started gushing false sentiments, fooling even her. “Your show was great, Layla. I thought it was pretty great.” He flashed a charming smile, chiseled features softening a little.
“Thank you, sir.” She replied.
“No, thank you! My name is Rick Reynolds, and I have been watching your shows for the last few months. I wanted to talk to you about possibly playing at my venue.” He offered her his hand casually, she shook it. No threat there.
“Well, my agent usually handles that, but I don’t mind if you tell me more about this venue.” She smiled, completely at ease.
“How about we take this to dinner? I’ll buy?” He dangled the carrot in front of her face, and she looked surprised. Not worried, but surprised.
“I would love to, but not tonight. How about I write my agent’s number down and he’ll set up an appointment and we can all discuss business?”
“I was hoping I could take you out as.. Well, let me be a little forward and say that you’re a very lovely woman, and I would love to get to know you after we talk about business. I mean, it would be at a really great place to eat and I promise I am not one of those weirdoes who usually tries to get in a woman’s pants. I just would love to treat you to a lovely dinner on a terrace somewhere uptown. What do you say?”
She blushed a little, smiling and ducking her head. “I would love to tell you yes for such an eloquent offer, Mr. Reynolds, but…”
“But you are seeing someone?” He acted accordingly, pretending to be disappointed. “Well, that’s okay and I respect that. He’s a lucky guy.”
“Yes. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for him.” She replied.
Changing tactics, he pressed on and gently touched her shoulder, “Well, would you at least let me escort you to my Limo and have my driver take you home? I am sure your boyfriend would appreciate you getting home safe, and why not do so in style?”
“Wow… You’re sweet,” and she was now completely off her guard with him. “I will think about it, but in the meantime, I need to get into my normal clothes. Oh, and…” She scribbled the name and number of her agent, gave it to him, and then let her smile be gentle and friendly, offering her hand to shake again. He took it and kissed it. Again, she blushed. He let her go then, and took his leave, retreating into the lobby to confer with his boss and whatnot.
Xavia walked to her dressing room, trying to stop blushing. She was greeted with a bouquet of two dozen roses on her vanity table. She blinked and then took the card that was nestled within, it was from Mr. Reynolds and read, “Dearest Layla, I knew it would be a long shot for you to accept my offer for a date with me, but these roses reminded me of you. Please accept this free gift of opera tickets, and consider borrowing my limo to go home tonight.” Wow, but he was a hard hitter. She shook her head and sniffed the flowers, and they responded with plantish glee of course. She stashed the card in her vanity and then put the vase on the fireplace mantle. Her assistant walked in and gasped, “Holy cow! Someone has an admirer!”
She ended up sending a note with Nola to her “admirer” to politely decline the limo ride, having rode her Harley in for work. And then she got ready for home, dressing into her leathers for the brisk ride. She knew that the guy she had just hired as her security wouldn’t be too far behind her as she headed out toward the back, so she strode confidently out. The lot was pretty much deserted by that point, except for the limo and her bike. She glanced over and shrugged while gripping the handle bars of the cherry Harley. The back window of the limo rolled down to reveal her would be suitor, and he turned on the charm again.
“Layla, I couldn’t leave without seeing you again. I hope you at least liked the flowers.” His tenor was gentle as he spoke with her.
“Yes, thank you… They are beautiful. Roses are my favorite/” Xavia smiled and swung her leg over so she could straddle the seat of the bike.
“Good, good. If I may, I have a confession.”
“Oh?” Her brow went up, she was grabbing for her helmet by this point.
“I am no bookie. I lied. I just wanted you to know that.”
“I see… So what are you then?”
“Just an admirer,” he took a breath, “Could I just get your autograph, Layla? It’d mean the world to me.”
“You know… You went through a lot of trouble just to talk to me tonight. And you did it without creeping me out… I don’t see why not.” Because they’re coming to get you, Barbara (Bonus points if you get the reference ).
“Great!” He seemed to fumble around for a moment and then got out of the limo, she didn’t notice the other two pairs of legs because they were kind of out of sight. He approached her, a pen and a promotional photo of her from her tour around the country in hand. He offered it to her once he was close enough, and she took it. He was close enough that he could lean in and smell her nape discreetly even though he didn’t make a secret. “Such a lovely perfume you’re wearing. Just like a real rose.”
She went to hand him the photo, and he reached as if to touch the small of her back. She did not notice the needle he slipped from his sleeve just before he would reach his destination. There was a sudden jab through her shirt and into her flesh, and she stiffened. She felt a chilled sensation for a moment and her brain suddenly grew foggy. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I’ve got you now, easy does it.”
Her lashes fluttered some and her eyebrows puckered as she tried to focus on the fake admirer. Before she could even see that he had a needle, it was already out of sight. The singer toppled to the side some, and he easily pulled her off the motorcycle. Her helmet careened and hit the ground loudly. “Hey now, you okay?” he asked her, his voice muffled by the fog in her brain.
“What did you do?” she asked with a slurring voice. Then she went limp in his arms.
He knew she was out cold, and to continue with his show for those who might be lingering around, he acted accordingly. “Oh my god, she just passed out! Something is terribly wrong!” He lay her on the ground and pretended to check her pulse. The old man hurried out of the limo, eyes gleaming with the glee of his plan working. “Is she okay?!”
“I don’t know, Dr. Smith, did you bring your medical bag? Quick, she must have just been exhausted.”
The old man grabbed his props from under the seat and fumbled for smelling salts. He set the bag next to her as he was kneeling, then waved the smelling salts under her nose. She woke up as the acrid smell reached her nose, but she was too drugged to do much more than moan and try to open her eyes. She managed to do so, and looked at the old man’s face. Confusion set in, and then genuine fear as his eyes came into focus for just a second.
“You… No…” she breathed, and tried to lift her hand to punch at his face, but she couldn’t. “Help…” she tried to say as loudly as she could, but the word was lost on her breath. She could feel herself slipping again as the drug ran through her veins.
Thinking nobody else was around, not aware that her body guard could blend into the shadows, the old man let his guard down. “Bravo, son. Oscar worthy performance!”
“Aw, boss, women are easy. Ya just tell ‘em how they wanna hear it.” The fake admirer laughed and grabbed for her arm pits so he could sit her up. “She is sharp, though, I have to give her that.”
“She is. She’s not like she was when she was a child… That is for certain.” The old fart kind of laughed in a wheezy kind of way and grabbed the medical bag, tucking it under her arm. “Make sure nobody sees you dispose of the needle.”
“I’m on it, boss. Let me get this broad into the limo for ya. I’ll take her bike and dump it in the Hudson. Shame though, it’s a beaut.”
“You’re encouragable.”
“But you got what you wanted, right?” The handsome one laughed and flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It didn’t take much effort, she was pretty light, being petite and all.
“Thanks to you. Be careful now, who knows what will happen with that drug in her system?” And then he walked toward the limo with a spring in his step.
Moonbeams filtered in through the bay windows, dust particles twinkling as they floated in the silvery light. She was content against the love of her life, just curled up there, fingers gently caressing skin she had forgotten the feel of. A whisper of a smile touched her lips as she rested her head against his chest.
She listened to the sound of his breathing, felt it wafting into her hair. The petite one rolled over to face him, and she craned her head back and looked at his face. Seeing that he was awake, she reached up to touch his face and whispered, “I am sorry for being so insecure…” Her arm curled around him, well, as much as it could, and she sighed softly. “It was just a shock to see you again after so long, and… I should have trusted you. Every time I needed you, you somehow found a way to be there… I mean… Before things happened.”
Xavia pulled away after a minute and left the warmth of the bed, pulling a silk robe around herself and cinching it, she padded downstairs and was gone for a few minutes before returning with a box. She then lit a candle so he could see what was inside, and returned to his side. When she slid in next to him again, she handed the box over to him. It was not wrapped, though it was held closed with satin ribbon of black. When he would open the box, there would be another inside, smaller, also with black ribbon. There were a total of four inside the original, and the last one was velvet and a little bit bigger than a ring box. Inside that box were two keys, one that looked to be a house key, and the other was a smaller key that looked to be a skeleton key.
“You have the key to my house now…” she said after he discovered the keys inside. If he asked her what the other was, she replied with, “That is the key to my heart.” If not, she wouldn’t say anything. No matter his reaction, she would snuggle against him again and whisper in his ear, “There will be no more running, Jupiter. I want to be with you and only you…”
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