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.
> "Did you happen to see what their mutations were?"
Sonya shrugs. "One of them had some kind of plant-affinity, I think... he made a little rose seedling grow superfast, and when he got mad all the plants in the shop kinda freaked out. Guess that helps with the whole pot-growing thing. Piece of advice: don't mention force-growing plants, though... I think that's what they're doing, but mentioning it freaks them out. Not sure what the other one does. Or maybe they both have the same power... don't know how that works for mutant twins."
She thinks about it for a second and adds "Maybe you know, though -- how does that work with Amp and Vibe? I know they're twins; do they have the same power?"
She rolls her eyes at Syn's explanation of the meaningless package. "So, what, this whole thing was just to get me in here? Well, OK... you've got me -- or, I guess, us -- where you want me. Now what?"
It doesn't escape her notice that Syn hasn't answered her question about the Resistance's plans, or about what the Order, specifically, intends to accomplish. Neither does it surprise her much. "Incidentally, this might be a good time to let me know who my new teammates are... especially if any of them are in the camps. I know about Amp; anyone else I should keep an eye out for?"
> "So far that would seem to be the case. I'm pleased to see you were > able to get here. Do you have any new information?"
Sonya thinks about it, trying to remember if there's anything she hasn't already reported in.
"Hm. Told you about the situation with Rupert Kelly, and about Ian and Naveed. You already know about Shade. I infiltrated the Camps, you know about that, but not really getting anywhere there so far -- nobody trusts Doug yet. By the way, my cover is that Doug is being mindcontrolled into compliance, in case anybody asks... I really want to keep the number of people who know my real abilities to a minimum. Haven't gotten my hands on the inmate database yet, but me and Shade are working on it."
After a second's thought she adds "Oh... did I mention the flower-children? Two mutants, twins, really touchy. Tried to recruit them, but they weren't having any of it. They run a florist's shop near Central Park. Also dope dealers. Don't know if you have any use for that, but if you do... well, just don't mention me, is all. They didn't like me much."
Teresa smirks and adds "Yeah. Can't imagine why, you being such a paragon of virtue."
Sonya decides at that moment that Teresa, whatever her other virtues may be, is altogether too much of a wise-ass. "Takes one to know one," Teresa shoots back.
"You know something? This whole 'welcome to my nightmare' telepathic schtick gets real old, real fast. Moving on... so, what's going on with the Resistance? Kelly and Naveed and folks are getting pretty antsy out there, and the folks in the Camps are looking pretty bad. Are you going to do anything about it?"
(( OOC: The package is a complete McGuffin, make up whatever you like for it ))
When she entered the portal, Sonya had expected to step through into some other location, like the guys from Stargate... maybe a heavily shielded room, maybe some spot on the other side of the planet, who knows, really, but somewhere.
So when she finds herself adrift in a dark void, her first assumption is that something went horribly wrong. This assumption is confirmed when she looks around and realizes she is not (or at least, not quite) alone. Facing her, from some oddly unspecifiable distance away, is... well... herself.
Or, no, not quite that either. What's facing her is one of the bodies she's become used to seeing in the mirror, but it's not really her. It's Teresa.
"So what does that make me?" She hadn't intended to speak out loud, but she can tell -- she's not sure how -- that the thought had been broadcast. When she looks down at her own body, it's also familiar... the same body Sonya has worn for the last several years, though with all her recent shifting it gets harder and harder for her to think of it as hers.
"It makes you you, of course," replies Teresa. Not a very helpful response, but certainly accurate. And now that Sonya looks Teresa over more carefully, she realizes that her body isn't entirely 'there'... it's more like a ghost, or some kind of hologram. Like it's not a real mind. "Which it isn't, of course. It's just a copy," she thinks out loud.
Which leaves her wondering why the other people she's copied aren't also present... Doug and "Sonny" and the whole crowd. Maybe it has something to do with how much time she's spent in Teresa's body, compared to the rest of them? She isn't sure.
Throughout all of this, she's vaguely aware of Abyss' voice offering explanations, but she's not really paying that much attention. When yet another body appears in the Void -- apparently a real one -- her attention is focused.
"Hi, Syn. We keep meeting in the strangest places, don't we?"
Sonya startles as the void opens to her left, almost spilling her juice. "Wow... you're just full of surprises, aren't you?"
> " once we are finished chatting, you may step in > here and we will have full privacy. I will explain some > of the more delicate details to you once you are in, > if you like."
Sonya's initial response is confusion... step into where? All she sees is a paper-thin black circle floating in mid-air.
Don't be stupid... it's a portal, like in Stargate! We walk in, it takes us somewhere else. Not that Sonya has ever actually watched the show -- she was never much of a fan of science fiction or fantasy, which in retrospect is pretty ironic now that her life has suddenly turned into something out of a Sci-Fi Channel Original Presentation -- but she understands the basic idea: a wormhole through space and multiple dimensions, or something like that.
Which promply elicits a second response: caution. Or, less flatteringly, fear. After all, who knows where the portal might lead her? Right. It might take you to a secret facility run and operated by dangerous mutants who could kill you and hide your body without anyone being the wiser! No, wait, that's where you are now.
She chuckles at the thought. It's not quite as simple as that, but the underlying question is the same one she started the delivery with: does she trust this guy? And the answer hasn't changed: not really, but she's got to trust someone, and he's far from being the worst candidate... and no amount of pussyfooting around is going to change that. If this is some weird kind of trap, at least she'll know.
So she stands up, drains her juice, puts the glass down. "Why wait?" Before she can slow herself down by answering her own question, she steps into the portal with every appearance of confidence.
> "So drinks first and then talk, I know a place that is > quite a bit more discreet, you'd have to trust me though."
Sonya shrugs and follows. "Seems like everybody's gotta trust somebody, these days, and you're far from being the craziest guy I've met lately." And she has to admit, it would be nice to have a conversation with someone in her new place of employment where she didn't have to worry about being eavesdropped on.
She notices the way he keeps glancing down at little colored dots... some kind of coded messages? directional signals? She's not entirely sure, and adds it to her list of questions to ask in privacy.
> "You can get what ever you like here and its on the house as far as I know."
"Just some orange juice for now," she decides, making her way to the bar and placing an order accordingly. Abyss does not seem like someone she could effectively match in a drinking contest, given that he outmasses her by a factor of a zillion, so it's best not to start.
Sonya pulls her hand back abruptly when he flinches away from her and mumbles a vague apology, then laughs outright at his endearingly poetic discourse on stargazing and chestgazing.
He's a Seinfeld fan? I... wasn't expecting that. Which, she realizes, was entirely her own failing. She's getting more and more accustomed to meeting mutants, even those with obvious physical abnormalities like Abyss and Ian and Sara, but she clearly has a ways to go before eliminating her own prejudices... otherwise, she wouldn't be so surprised when he turned out to be just a regular guy, happy-tail and all. Well, best way to get over it is to just act like he's a regular guy, I guess.
Though admittedly, she can't quite conceal her fascination with his tail.
> “A drink it is, though this place is pretty crowded we might have to > search a bit for a place that suits your request. And private is quite > relative around here I have a feeling our gracious host doesn’t trust > what he doesn’t see."
"Yeah, I've sorta gotten that impression myself... though the truth is nobody seems to talk much about our 'host'. That's Hunter, right? Some kind of Polish-sounding last name, I don't remember it. Mostly he sounds like a good guy to avoid, y'know?" She indicates the cameras with a subtle glance, hoping Abyss will interpret that correctly as a request for somewhere free of surveillance where they can talk more freely.
> "We have met before, I guess I just don't have a memorable face. You are the healer?"
Sonya doesn't even blink at the flood of genetic information she gets from Abyss' hand... she's used to that by now, and there's nothing too surprising about it. Yes, he's a mutant... but she sorta knew that. She's a little startled by the gentleness of his grip, though, and even more so by his comment. They had met before, granted, but she'd been a steroid-pumped man at the time.
Had Abyss somehow met the real Teresa? Sonya doesn't think so, and she's beginning to rely on her sense of what Teresa knows and doesn't know. So perhaps this is his way of telling her she knew her real identity.
So the question is, did Syn tell him? Or did he find out on his own? If the former, that suggests Syn and Abyss work together reasonably closely, which is good to know. If the latter, that suggests more complicated things... although, why would he let her know he knew, if so? Maybe he doesn't know for sure, and is just trying to get me to confirm his guess? For the twelfth time since lunch (not that she's counting), Sonya asks herself why she's getting herself involved in this crazy mutant-liberation thing... she still has no idea what she's doing, and she seems to be digging herself in deeper and deeper.
On the other hand, it's not like she can back out now, so she decides to run with it. Reaching up to pat Abyss' face, she grins. "Nah, it's a very distinctive face, it's just so high up I never notice it! At least without getting a serious crick in my neck. And I can't go around staring at everyone's chest, people will talk." She's not sure if he'll get the reference to Sonny's fascination with Syn's body or not, but it's the first thing that occurs to her. Even if he doesn't, she figures it might throw him off-balance, which isn't a bad thing under the circumstances. She gives him a quick wink before adding "And, yes, I'm the healer. Or at least a healer. Please don't make me demonstrate it... the laundry bills add up, you know?"
> “Come on in let me show you around. So are the streets still looking as bad as they were? Or worse? You hungry, thirsty, tired, anything you need?"
The question seems utterly sincere, which surprises Sonya all over again. She'd pretty much accepted that, appearances notwithstanding, Abyss was not about to rampage his way through New York yelling "Hulk Smash!" over and over, but she's slowly concluding that he's actually a genuinely nice guy.
"I'm off the streets, actually." OK, so he doesn't know everything... "Apartment-sitting for one of your local kids and his pet tiger... and picking up some spare cash running errands for the boss." She's not entirely sure if she should admit to working for Syn in public, but it's not like she's keeping it a secret. "I have an easier time moving around out there than, well, some folks." She looks pointedly at Abyss' tail as she mentions it. "You know?"
"Still, I wouldn't turn down a drink, if you're offering. Especially if there's somewhere private to drink it..." She wonders whether Abyss will take this as a come-on or as a request for somewhere to talk free of surveillance... and the truth is, both thoughts are a little frightening.
The nice thing about Abyss is that he's impossible not to notice, even from a distance. Sonya spots him entering the lobby and waves, moving towards him quickly.
"Hey... nice setup you got here. I guess, after what went down at Sanctuary, the Resistance decided to go for more pumped up security?" Catching up to the red giant, she extends a hand in greeting and does her best to seem nonchalant about his appearance.
"You would be Abyss, I'm assuming. I'm Teresa... new recruit, first time inside. I've got a package I'm supposed to deliver to you?" She holds out the package in her free hand.
(( OOC: This thread is planned with Abyss, but open to Syn, Vibe, and anyone else who knows "Teresa's" real deal. Abyss, this is the thread I PMed you about.))
As she passes the fifth security checkpoint in a row, it occurs to Sonya that it's a good thing she's not trying to sneak into the Labs under false pretenses. Even as it is, with her arrival planned for by Syn and entirely official, she's been subjected to more scans, tests, challenges and evaluations than a prison guard... and, given her recent infiltration of the Camps, she ought to know. The security guards glare at her like they can see right through "Teresa's" body and into her bared soul, and she does her best to simultaneously seem harmless and purposeful.
All of which leads her to this final checkpoint, and an astonishingly competant-looking receptionist. "What can I do for you?"
"Oh... um, I'm here to make a delivery," she replies out of habit. "I'm Teresa, I have an appointment with, um, Abyss?" It still feels strange to use made-up names like that to refer to people, but nobody seems to bat an eye at it.
"OK, ma'am... right through those doors and wait, please." Sonya nods at the receptionist and follows instructions, finding herself in a well-appointed conference room. She cheers silently at the coffee-maker sitting on the back counter and pours herself a cup, careful to keep her eye on the package she's delivering.
(( OOC OK, I deleted the post. Not sure how to delete the thread, but feel free to do so.
I posted it in the Labs because that's where it ended, and the point of the post was to introduce Sonya to the Labs so she can meet up with Syn and the rest of the resistance.
But I also got your note about how Sonya won't get into the Labs unless Hunter or his men see her use her power... which I'll have to think about, since I'm not sure I want Sonya's power "outed" to Hunter just yet.
So for now Sonya'll stay on the outside, and I'll work on some other way for her to get in touch with Syn... so I won't repost it under Sanctuary. ))
Her first quarry is a vole foolish enough to bolt in fear at her transition. That one, she takes quickly, kills with a paw on its neck, and consumes with dispatch… filling, but not satisfying.
The second is a squirrel she takes more time with, chasing for a mile or so before it dies of exhaustion. Disappointing. That one she doesn’t even bother to eat.
The third, though… the third has potential.
He’s half a mile away when she hears his footsteps, running, crashing through underbrush. He’s a few blocks away when she smells his gun, recently fired, still reeking of powder. By the time she picks up his breathing and heartbeat, she’s practically on top of him, and he’s stopped running, apparently confident he’s escaped his pursuers.
She approaches stealthily to a tree-trunk a mere ten feet away and observes her prey carefully. Young, athletic; his breathing is already returning to normal, his heartbeat staying within a healthy range. Good. Nervous, alert, gun at the ready. Even better. This promises to be sport.
She could take him in an instant, of course: snap his neck as easily as she runs her claws across his chest to mark him. But that would end the hunt too soon. Her intent is merely to hurt him, give him a taste of fear and pain, engage his attention. She is gone again before he can even fire, behind a trunk and up a tree.
He runs, foolishly. Even more foolish, he looks over his shoulder for pursuit. She flanks him, cuts him off, trips him… he manages to keep his weapon, but she pins his wrist to the ground before he can bring it to bear. She lets him reach into his boot with his free hand, lets him bring out the knife as he looms over her, lets him slice her with it… then enjoys the look on his face when she heals the wound.
A single, precise clawswipe leaves him bleeding freely in the same place he attempted to wound her, and then she’s gone again. She’d meant to give him some time before resuming the chase, but instinct sends her after him the moment he runs. His breathing is ragged, now, and the trail of blood he’s leaving behind is impossible to miss. It’s almost over.
The end is disappointing. He doesn’t even fire off a shot before she crushes his wrist, and his last breath is a whimpering attempt at a plea for mercy. Pathetic. She rises, ready to seek new prey, when her body is taken away from her.
It has been quite some time since he last wore his own form, white and hairless and neuter, but he does not notice it. He has a task to perform.
He is not whole, yet… this, he knows. Further repair is necessary. The primary will remain in charge, and will remain ignorant of him. This is decided. But she is inadequate, both in body and mind. She invites threats she lacks the power to withstand. She seeks friendship. It weakens her. It puts the mission at risk. This is unacceptable.
He does not know what the mission is. He has not known in some time. This is troublesome, but right now it is irrelevant. There is always a mission; to complete it, he must be whole. To finish repair, he must survive. To survive, he must not allow the primary to remain weak.
This new template is interesting. He had deleted its intelligent aspects, allowing it to emerge purely as atavism, to evaluate its capabilities without interruption. It is powerful. It is purposeful. But it is not suitable. It can survive in the current environment, but it can not thrive. It cannot infiltrate.
However, it has capabilities of use. He can perceive them now, their biological roots spread out before him – the strength and speed and senses and, above all, the clarity of purpose of a hunter. The willingness to kill, the refusal to surrender, the drive to primacy. He can use these things.
It takes time for him to extract those essences, still more time to splice them into the templates of Sonya and Teresa. When he is done, he takes the form of the dead man at his feet, strips his body, dons his clothes. The front of the man’s shirt is bloodstained and shredded; it will draw more attention than a bare chest. He discards it.
Sonya returns to consciousness – or, more accurately, Sonya’s consciousness returns to her – in a stranger’s clothes, in front of the trunk where she’d stashed her gear before starting this experiment. That startles her.
Nobody has touched it since then. She knows, because she can’t smell the traces of anyone else’s presence. That startles her too… not that nobody has, but that she can tell the difference.
There’s blood under her fingernails. It isn’t hers. Here, both the fact of it and that she can tell are startling.
She throws the man’s clothes away without further thought, and resumes her old garb.
Tomorrow, when she wakes up, she will be aware of her enhanced strength, speed, and senses, and of the other oddities of this moment. But, somehow, none of these peculiar facts will retain much of a grip on her attention… as if she already understands them, and the reasons for them, and has decided it’s nothing for her to worry about.
Which she does, and has, though she is not yet allowing herself to remember it.
(( OOC: This is the night after Sonya/Doug imprinted on Sara in Rural Improvements. I intend this as a power-development solo thread, but if you feel like joining it drop me a PM and we’ll chat. ))
It feels odd, wearing her own body again. She hasn’t done that since… well, she’s not entirely sure when the last time was. That conversation in the Void hadn’t been quite the same thing… that was more like not wearing a body at all. (And while she’s not stupid enough to fail to realize that this body is no more the real Sonya than it is the real Teresa or the real Doug, that remains something she refuses to think about too carefully… she has to be somebody, after all, and “Sonya” is the best available candidate.)
The thing is, this is also the first time she’s set out to deliberately take on a form that might be ridiculously dangerous, so she’d figured it was best to keep things simple. At least, as simple as this crazy mutation of mine gets.
Granted, she doesn’t know for sure it’s dangerous. All she really knows is that ever since she and Sara touched hands, Sara’s template has been struggling to manifest itself, which she’s never experienced before. Even with Slate, which had been an unusual experience in itself, it had been more a matter of his template being active in her mind. With Sara, it’s… different. The template isn’t talking to her, it’s not trying to manipulate her… it just wants to exist. But if it’s this strong in my body, what is it going to be like in hers?
I will subdue it, she thinks, with a confidence born of an emotionless, analytical frame of mind that feels both remarkably familiar and completely alien. It has virtues of use to me.
Which is true, but… odd.
But the truth is, she knows perfectly well she’s already decided to try on Sara’s template before it fades, which is why she’s come out here into the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, wearing her own body and a suit of perfectly ordinary clothing she won’t miss if it gets lost somehow. She’s going to do it, she’s just dithering.
So… OK, then. Let’s do this thing.
After all the hesitation, the transition is absurdly easy… more a matter of getting out of its way than of willing it to happen. She is aware of her limbs stretching, her clothes tightening and tearing, her bones twisting into inhuman shapes, her skin breaking out in fur. At the same time she is aware of the world changing: smells and sounds becoming sharper, the darkness around her becoming merely dimly lit.
She is least aware of her own awareness changing, of course. As she becomes more focused and purposeful, she also comes to consider that normal; as she becomes more centered in the Now and less concerned with the past, she becomes less able… or at least, less inclined… to compare her past and current selves.
Within a matter of moments, Sonya is gone beyond recognition.
Once the conversation is over, she hangs up and goes back to thinking about next steps. She’s almost reached Tony’s apartment, so all she needs to do now is…
…
The thought falls screaming into a cold pit in her gut as she realizes her previous plan is no longer going to work. She’d intended to keep Tony and his family under sedation for a few hours, then arrange things so nobody particularly noticed the gap, but now that Oliver thinks Tony is a traitor, it’s not going to be that easy… they’ll follow up on him, ask him to account for his movements, and it won’t take long for them to figure out what really happened.
So what? They’ll know there’s a mutant shape-shifter on the loose. Not the end of the world. Except she’d just finished having this conversation with Abyss and Syn… she didn’t want that information going public. It wouldn’t take long for clever folks to start setting up defenses against her.
So, what can you do about it? She hasn’t even thought through an answer fully when her body forcibly shifts back to Tony. "No! You promised you wouldn’t hurt them! Dammit, I cooperated with you, you can’t…"
She’s so shocked by hearing Tony’s voice coming out of her mouth without her intention that she doesn’t even notice that she’s slamming the brakes on, her leg moving of its own volition, until her car skids to a halt and the car behind her squeals in protest, stopping just an inch short of a collision.
This… is unacceptable. It’s one thing when her body and mind act on their own to answer questions or block attackers or whatever, but she can’t allow her templates to try and take over… she’d go mad. Fuck unacceptable, that’s my family we’re talking about! Except… no. It isn’t. Her family is safe and sound in the Bronx. This is Tony’s family she’s talking about.
So? What gives you the right to kill them, just to keep your secret? And there it is, finally – the thing she hadn’t been letting herself think about. She’d let Stanley live under the same circumstances, hadn’t she? Uncertainty weakens her resolve, and she can feel herself losing control of her own body, and her panic grows, and…
…stops.
They impede the mission. They must be eliminated. The thought comes out of nowhere, bringing with it a clarity of purpose that under other circumstances would terrify Sonya, but that at the moment she latches on to like a raft in a storm.
She doesn’t exactly remember the next ten minutes or so… not in detail, anyway. It’s more like a dream. She makes it the rest of the way to Tony’s apartment, locks the door behind her, finds Tony’s digital camera and sets it up where his wife is visible.
"My name is Anthony Faraguzzi, and I’m a traitor to my species." Her impersonation is flawless, her acting perfect, and she hardly feels in control of the process at all. Please… stop this! I’m begging you! I won’t tell anyone! Just.. .please, don’t… The pleading trails off, and Sonya doesn’t respond to it, just listens to herself performing for the camera.
"I’ve been working for the mutants for a while. Today I sent them a copy of the top-secret Registered Mutants database. And I was found out. I… can’t explain why I did that, but I can’t live with being found out. And I guess there’s nothing more to say."
She retreats within her own mind as her body fires a single, perfectly aimed bullet into Elaine’s skull from across the room, retreats further when it fires another into her own gut. That hurts, and she falls to the ground, kicks the tripod, sends the camera falling to the ground, looking away from her, and her body heals as she kicks it again, breaking it.
She continues to cower in her own mind as she brings Tony’s body to the spot where shot herself… …as she wipes fingerprints off of her gun and places Tony’s hand around its trigger… …as she uses his hand to fire a bullet into his own gut… …as his eyes open suddenly, the pain overcoming his sedation… …as he drops to the ground, clutching his chest… …as she carefully checks the room for evidence of anything other than a murder-suicide, while police sirens approach… …as she carefully, stealthily lets herself out of the apartment.
She makes it all the way to the warehouse where she’s set up her receiver before she recovers from the shock. I just... I mean, I didn’t, but… I… Jesus, what have I become?
It’s a rhetorical question, but she answers it a moment later. I am Eight. The mission is almost complete. I remain incomplete. You will remain primary. She considers dispassionately for a moment, and concludes Knowledge of your status will put the mission at risk. You will not remember. You will not question.
There’s a moment of terror, and…
… she checks the server and cheers quietly when she notes the database download has completed successfully. All right! I did it! She can’t remember ever being quite this excited about anything, and no wonder! Sure, there had been some unplanned bobbles, but basically the whole thing had gone off like clockwork.
((OOC: Intended as a solo one-shot, introducing some of her power-development... but feel free to join her if you wanna. Timewise this is some time after the raid on Sanctuary. ))
He’s been asleep for what feels like a very long time, dreaming endless dreams of floating on a raft in still waters, with no mainland in sight. When he finally wakes up, he doesn’t recognize the room he’s in… a cheap hotel room, that much is obvious, but he has no recollection of where he is or how he got there.
Musta been some party.
The last thing he remembers clearly is being at the gym, shaking some little Hispanic girl’s hand. Then it gets hazy… vague dream-images of a golden door and an incredibly hot chick wearing practically nothing, nightmare images of a huge red-skinned monster and a woman with the face of a cat, nothing coherent.
His body feels strangely weak as he climbs out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom in the dark. Have I been sick? Maybe I –
He doesn’t quite scream when he flips the lightswitch on and looks in the bathroom mirror to see a face that isn’t his. But when he looks down at his body to realize it isn’t his, either – that he’s somehow stuck in a girl’s body – well, he screams then, for just a moment, before he disappears altogether.
Sonya wakes up with the echoes of her own scream bouncing off the tiles. It takes her a moment to realize she’s standing in the hotel’s bathroom, rather than asleep in its bed. Great, she thinks. Sleepwalking again. Just what I need.
The morning sun is already starting to shine through the curtains, so she decides she might as well start her day. A much-needed shower later, she puts her bodysuit back on and holsters her guns before getting dressed in street clothes.
She’s almost started taking the garment for granted, but it’s still creepy the way it clings to her skin. At first she’d thought it was just form-fitting elastic, but it isn’t, really… it doesn’t bind anywhere, it just alters itself to fit her body, no matter what body she’s wearing at the time. Convenient, but… creepy.
She hadn’t even given that feature much thought until after the raid on Sanctuary, when she’d discovered a pair of concealed holsters in the garment that she had never noticed before. Which seemed altogether too convenient, given that she’d just acquired two guns. One of these days I’ve got to find out where this thing came from. The thought slides into habitual oblivion almost as soon as she thinks it, altogether too closely attached to the question of where Sonya’s new body came from to be comfortably examined. She makes sure the suit isn’t visible through her clothes and leaves the room.
The maid in the hallway gives her a disapproving frown, and she remembers belatedly that she’d been in Teresa’s body when she’d come in last night. Oops. She blushes slightly when she realizes what the maid must think, then shakes her head and strides proudly down the hallway, nose in the air. What do I care what she thinks?
Breakfast isn’t much – cheap pastries and bad coffee and milk and cereal and bagels – but it’s included in the price of the room, and Sonya has learned to eat when she can. The money she stole from that cop was good for another couple of days, at most.
