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.
Katrina had barely even made it up the stairs when she heard the door scraping against its moorings to escape. That put an end to her flight up the stairs to find Sam or Shawn and gave her every reason to turn invisible and inaudible. It was maybe not the best defense ever, since it had failed her in the past, but it was almost instinctual for her to want to be as hidden as possible.
The broad shoulder against the door started Operation: Repel Intruder. This guy was not going to just invade her home like this without being invited in. He was like a burglar posing as window repairman, except with this guy she had no idea what he was after. She didn't think it was the family jewels.
If this guy was even a fraction as sinister and devious as he-with-the-green-eyes, Katrina had to protect the rest of the mansion children. The thought of facing a stranger alone scared her nearly senseless (she was already losing the feeling in her toes, or thought she was, but when she wiggled them they still responded albeit invisibly), but the thought that something like what had happened to her happening again to someone else was even worse. She couldn't let the younger students get hurt. Even the ones her age that so innocently believed that the world was a good place filled with good people could use protection.
She knew now that the world was filled with people who were both good and evil. Evil existed after all, and in quite large doses within some individuals. That illusion of hers that people were essentially good had been dashed against the rocks, broken into bits, and rolled around in the surf until the view was unrecognizably different from its idealistic starting point.
If this guy thought he could just break into her mansion and... and... do whatever he was planning, he had another thing coming. It was called an invisible wall. When he ran into it, it would feel very much like he'd run head on into a real wall, except he wouldn't see this one coming.
The angel fell, and he landed right on top of her. He was not made of feathers and sun beams sewn together with God's tears. He was made of very real flesh and bone, seemingly more bone than flesh because he had all sorts of sharp angles that jabbed into her when he landed on top of her. “Squished” seemed to be an appropriate word to describe how the little illusionist felt just then. That, and also “a little bit foolish”, because she had been the one to pull his arm after all.
The older boy was very quick to get off of her, immediately switching to a hands and knees position rather than a laying flat on top of her position. Katrina winced and rubbed one of her ribs.
>>>¨ Sorry it was not my intention ...¨
“I know, it was stupid of me,” she admitted. “You just looked so much like an angel, I thought you needed to come back down to Earth again. I didn't think it would be quite as painful as the landing was for the angel in that song of yours.”
He was blushing something fierce, as if he still thought squishing her was his fault, though he wasn't doing anything of the sort now, with his carefully placed panther paws and his reddened face hovering just above hers.
“Don't worry, I forgive you,” for looking like an angel and letting me squish myself. Katrina reached up and put her arms around Fausto's neck in a big hug. She had missed him, especially the playfulness that he always seemed to bring out in her. She couldn't, after all, have a pillow fight... nay, a pillow war... with just anybody.
MacKenzie, curious about this new game, dropped her pillow and wandered over to investigate. She sniffed the space between Katrina's tummy and Fausto's where she was angled upwards and he was straight across. The dog decided that the two must be playing a wrestling game, so after wedging her face in between them and causing Katrina to erupt in ticklish giggling, she grabbed a bit of Fausto's shirt in her teeth and started to pull. What a fun new game!
She poked the darkness with her voice and lo, the darkness poked back. Katrina had never been so freaked in her life, except for maybe her first night in the mansion when the place had been attacked by police officers looking for mutants to round up and stay in the camps. She hadn't screamed then, not even when she was hiding under the bed and and someone came into the room. Not even when they knelt down next to the bed. Not even when they had looked under the bed right at her and somehow hadn't seen her. She had prayed to be invisible, and invisible she had become.
That was then, and this was now. The darkness had poked her and she had screamed. The cop had never known she was there, but the darkness already knew exactly where she was and no amount of jumping up and pressing herself into the wall was going to make her disappear any more than she already had. The darkness only laughed at her, and to Katrina's ears the chuckle was more menacing than any super villain laughter she'd ever heard in the movies.
Then the darkness spoke. It spoke in a human's voice that was both familiar and annoying. The familiarity was because the voice belonged to the Coke pusher who was supposed to be bringing her to her cat and instead had brought her somewhere else. The annoyance came from the fact that she already thought the guy was a jerk, now he was a jerk who had heard her screaming for no reason. She clamped her mouth shut again somewhere between “God dammit” and “you fell down an open manhole”. At some point he had grabbed her arm, she twisted her shoulder away to make him let go.
There was a problem with his story. There hadn't been an open manhole and more than there had been a cat under that bush in the park. There still was no open manhole above her now, no comforting circle of light above her to illuminate the sewers or to show where she had fallen like Alice down a rabbit hole. And while there were plenty of creepy disembodied voices down here, none of them belonged to any cats. No, she wasn't going to follow this white rabbit any farther.
Without another word, she made herself as invisible as she could, erasing all traces of herself from vision and hearing. Her footsteps became more silent than a cat's and her camouflage more perfect than a chameleon's. She took about ten steps away from him using the wall as a guide, then stopped to listen to what he would do.
Katrina stared up at his hand, offered to her upside down from his position on the bed to her position on the floor. All around him flew white feathers like a scene from an overly dramatic romance scene in an anime show. In this setting he looked more like an angel than a demon, like he had looked earlier under the bright lights of the stage breathing fire and wearing a cape. In all likelihood he was actually something in between, like all people. A fallen angel perhaps? That would mean that he'd have to fall first.
Katrina grinned mischievously and grabbed his hand as he leaned down from his angelic perch on her bed. Then, she pulled, hoping that he would tumble down to land right next to her and not considering the fact that her position compared to his made it more likely that he might land on her.
The giant had his priorities mixed up, in Katrina's opinion. It was better to survive than to die in one blaze of glorious “freedom”. For a tiger, that might mean just living out its quiet life in a cage rather than spending his last moments being hunted through a steel and concrete jungle. For a human or mutant it might mean following the rules of society to avoid getting ostracized, outcast, or even locked up for not conforming to rules. Rules were kind of like a cage, too. If you could live happily within it, you would be fine. If you tried to escape, you would meet the consequences. Socially, this guy in front of them fit into society (and his clothing for that matter) even less well than that tiger he'd “freed” fit into his enclosure.
As the giant grew larger, his shirt stretched and strained and began to develop rips where it could no longer accommodate the large man wearing it. The guy was bigger than Abyss now, and part of Katrina thought that maybe she should probably be starting to feel nervous now, but in reality she only felt bad for both the man and the tiger.
The tiger, which had been content to sit in its illusion cage only he could see suddenly stood, and roared its discomfort. The roar ended in a cough and a gurgle and the striped beast lay down again, quite suddenly. The illusionist that had made his imaginary cage gasped, eyes wide at what happened. The tiger's paws spasmed as if its insides were revolting against it. The giant knelt beside it, and even from across the space that separated them, Katrina could see the red liquid leaking out from the tigers mouth and the pitiful blank expression of pain on its face.
“What ever you did to him, put him right again! You hurt him, can't you see? Change him back and put him back in his cage. He never asked for you to come along and do this to him.” There was an edge of panic in her voice. She was struggling to stay calm, but the tiger was sick maybe even dying and there wasn't anything she could do about it. She had very little experience dealing with death, even of animals, and she was afraid of what was going to happen.
A flurry of fluff from Fausto followed the ferocious foray on the part of the fourteen-year-old illusionist. Pillows were everywhere all at the same time, so she could not even keep track of her own. Kenzie barked once, encouraging them on. The mattress shifted back and forth under their shifting weight, but no one fell off... yet.
MacKenzie showed her true colors by grabbing Fausto's pillow right out of his hand. This game was fun, and she wanted to play too. She shook her pillow and wagged her tail to taunt the boy she'd stolen it from, then she leaped off the bed and dashed to the opposite side of the room. Katrina sensed her opportunity at the distraction and gave her pillow a mighty swing.
It was perhaps too mighty of a swing. She swung the pillow so hard that it nearly flew out of her grip, and when she slipped on one of her own blankets, lost her balance, and tumbled right off the bed onto a soft and squishy pile of laundry.
“Oops,” she laughed at herself. She wasn't hurt at all, just a bit dizzy from her unexpected somersault.
It was dark under the bed, which made it very difficult to see anything. Pillow number two had to be down here somewhere, she knew it. Katrina crawled under to extend her reach to every corner. She would find that pillow to make this an even fight. There was a sleeping bag. That was a blanket she only used when it was really cold out. Oh, there was her geography book; she should really get that back to the library before the next group of students would be needing it in the fall.
As she reached for another object in the dark to examine it and see if it was the missing pillow, she heard running steps heading for the bed. Uh oh. The bedsprings above her creaked in complaint at the suddenness of Fausto's weight being deposited atop the bed. They bulged downward just slightly, but there was still plenty of room underneath for the thin blonde. A moment later, there was another creak. Kenzie had joined ranks with the enemy! Was an ambush awaiting her when she came out from under the bed? She was trapped!
“I have a hostage,” came the soldierly voice of Fausto from above, along with a laugh to show that the dog was not really in any danger. Oh no! Not Kenzie!
“I refuse to bow to the demands of terrorists!” Katrina tried to sound as tough and noble as she could. Almost before she had even finished speaking, she rolled out from under the bed, the ultimate weapon held tight to her chest. Without pause, she leaped to her feet and let out a war cry, swinging pillow number two wildly toward Fausto. “I'll save you Kenzie!”
Poor DocProf. He'd been having a fairly good day, very uneventful which was quite relaxing for the day. He had already scrubbed the place from floor to ceiling and was finishing by sterilizing his tools a second time when the visitors arrived. First, Katrina, whom he had a certain fondness for, but whom was currently exaggerating a story to make it almost sound as if he had poisoned her instead of healing her from the poison. The newcomer wasn't the only one to nearly choke with surprise at her words.
“Now, Katrina, you can't just tell that out of context. You'll have to give him the whole story now you know, or he'll start thinking I can't properly care for my patients.”
The young girl looked down at her feet, “Yes, sir. I'll tell it properly.”
Then the new comer the young girl brought with him asked for bandages without even allowing him to do his usual check to see what he'd injured and how he'd done it. Certainly, he'd provided a verbal explanation, but how was he to know that the patient hadn't any injuries of which he was unaware. It went against his personal code to let patients leave without insuring that they were healthy himself.
The doctor handed over the requested bandages with a small frown of concern, “Here you go young man. If your ankle gives you any trouble remember 'RICE': rest, ice, compression, elevation. If it still is bothering you, make sure to come back here.”
Those two thing he could have taken, but then the third member of the group appeared; a man he saw too much of. It wasn't that the ice manipulator was unpleasant company, but that the boy took such poor care of his body, allowing the students and other x-men to batter and bruise him nearly constantly. He also brought with him his dog, who had obviously just been outside. Dogs were not sanitary creatures, and did not belong in a clinic. He respectfully patted the creature's head, for he liked dogs well enough provided they stayed outside of his little office.
“Sam what did I tell you about bringing this big lovable oaf in here? And on another note your tailbone bruised again? It wasn’t another one of those god awful Danger Room sessions was it?” Some of his irritation made itself clear in those statements.
Sam made the usual excuses, and DocProf used his ability to set him right again like the king's men could never do. And there was a cat in here, twining around the little blonde girl's legs. The doctor, despite his current feelings towards having animals in his nice clean infirmary, still had a soft spot for this particular cat. The first time she had been here she had nearly been frozen to death and he and Ghost had helped her get back on her feet. --
It looked to Katrina like they had pretty much finished their business in the infirmary. Martin had his papers he was supposed to fill out, but he needed a place to sit and do it. The perfect place for that would be either the library, which was nice and quiet considering there were no classes in session right now, or the kitchen where they could all have a snack while they waited. Her tummy voted for the kitchen.
“Well, that's the infirmary. If you'll follow me I'll show you the kitchen and I'll tell you the story about the poisoning on the way,” she glanced back at the Doc and gave him a wink that was not nearly as incognito as winks are usually supposed to be.
“So, there was this new girl that Calley found. Or rather, he crashed his car into hers by accident. There was a cat in the road, you see. Anyway, he brought the girl, called Dryad, here so she could get healed. I went to go see Calley in the infirmary to make sure he was alright as soon as I heard, and this new girl started freaking out and turned into a belladonna (not to be confused with a prima donna, of course)! And then she tried to run past me, but she was leaking poisonous juice all over the place and some of it got in my mouth. The room started spinning all over the place, and I got super thirsty, but Slate wouldn't let me swallow any of the water he gave me. Then, the next thing I knew it was the next morning and I was recovering on one of the infirmary beds.”
Katrina nodded with finality. That was how the story went. They were also at the kitchen now, in case they hadn't noticed.
“This is the kitchen, where my mom is the awesomest chef ever” with maybe an exception for Hans, who had been her butler-chef-friend growing up. “If you're ever hungry, this is the place to come. Want a snack?”
>>>"You sound a bit younger than my son but am I correct in assuming you enjoy it here at the mansion? I guess you must otherwise you wouldn't still be around."
The man on the other side of the door tittered at his own comment. Katrina thought it had sounded rhetorical, so she wasn't sure if she was supposed to respond. Then the guy started in talking about Raina's birthday party.
This was getting suspiciouser and suspiciouser. If this guy was supposed to be bringing a new student to the mansion, then why on Earth was he hanging out all the way back in November? And what was he doing here on such a momentous occasion as an attack on the mansion? Katrina hadn't seen him at the party right before the whole thing had broken out into a battle, but he could have arrived later with the attackers, she supposed. Though, that didn't necessarily make him a bad person either, since she had personally known and been friends with some of the attackers, too. Everyone else practically hissed when they mentioned the you-know-which group, but Katrina had a hard time coming to hate the crew she had lived, trained, and survived with during the Registration period.
Anyway, back to the problem at hand. The strange blonde man obviously wanted to come in and Katrina really didn't want him to come in. At least, she didn't want to while she was alone and unprotected on the inside. She remembered her mothers' words, which had been echoed a number of times recently by both her matriarch and others, that she should take self defense lessons with Sam. She was finally starting to consider it. If she had the confidence that she could take this person down if he tried anything, maybe she'd feel more comfortable letting him in to sit at some office while he waited for one of the greeters to meet with him. As it was now, they were at an impasse. In the end it was the gravelly voiced man outside that came up with the solution to both their problems:
>>>"I dont suppose Sam or Shawn are around? Raina said if I couldn't reach her that they;d be more then able to assist me?"
Aha! Now that she could work with.
“Hang on just a second, I'll see if I can find them.” Katrina gave the unbolted lock one last longing look before scampering off to see if any of the official greeters were available to help the poor suspicious man out on the doorstep.
At first her pillow missile did not do what she expected it to do. Like she had planned it sailed through the air in an arch that could probably be described by a long and difficult math problem, but it didn't quite effect Fausto the way she had expected. He stared at it a moment with a bewildered expression on his face like he couldn't believe that the white fluffy thing on the ground had just hit him. Then, then, then after a brief never ending moment, he smiled the way Katrina had wanted him to. He laughed a completely lighthearted and childlike laugh as if he hadn't a care in the world other than that pillow.
Kenzie was quicker than the young boy. It had been thrown, therefore, it was time for playing “Fetch”. Somehow she sensed that Fausto wouldn't be throwing it again for her to chase, so she shook it to taunt him. It was hers now, silly human, and this time she wouldn't let it disappear from between her clenched teeth.
Katrina laughed at his plight, as she watched the pair crash around the room in a pillow-battle-dance. She was unprepared for when Fausto won the contest with the canine and sent the pillow flying back at her. She probably should have seen that one coming. She did see it coming, but only when a large white shape was obscuring her vision of the entire room as it flew toward her face.
Oh. So that's how it was going to be.
Katrina launched the pillow back, then quickly dove behind the bed for cover. There was more ammunition under there, including a second pillow that had migrated off the bed at some point and taken refuge for the season in the dark recesses below. Somewhere... he hand groped for the fabric, grasped a corner, and pulled out... She quickly shoved it back under the bed. That was better left in the dark places when a boy was in her room. As for that pillow, it had to be under there somewhere!
It became a sing song chant in Katrina's head as they made their way into the house and turned down the hallway toward the infirmiry. Things were getting friendly and comfortable between Sam and Martin as they joked back and forth. Either that, or a rivalry had started right under her nose. Katrina was not an expert at males. Sometimes when it looked like they liked each other they didn't, and when it looked like they hated each other they were best friends. Their version of an apology could be a punch to the jaw, a grunt could have any of a dozen different meanings depending on the context, and a head nod meant hello. At least, she thought that was how it went. She could be getting it terribly wrong.
Martin was admiring the walls, and Katrina almost felt like she should have a long list of historical facts about the mansion to read from. These panels once slid back to reveal secret compartments used for the underground railway... Or something like that. She didn't actually know much about the school's history other than it was legendary for sustaining massive amounts of damage every couple of seasons. Talk around the school was that they were long overdue for someone's power to malfunction and blow up the west wing or something.
“Do your tours usually start at the infirmary?”
Katrina shook her head in answer to his question. “Actually, no. I usually start with the kitchen.” Why? Because that's where the snacks were. Growing mutants were always hungry, especially ones that had been out on the streets, or had run away from home. Not to mention Katrina was a growing mutant, too.
“Most of the stuff in the mansion you won't need. The really important stuff to know how to find are the kitchen, the bathrooms, and the infirmary, in case of emergencies.” All kinds of emergencies. “I supposed that the infirmary is a good place to start today since we have need of it, sort of.”
Katrina poked her head in through the open doorway to spot DocProf cleaning some tools over by the sink.
“Hi Doc!” she greeted him cheerfully. To Martin she added, “the first time I came here I got poisoned.” After she arrived, mind you. She had been in perfect health before she had walked through the door. This fact was also shared with a cheery voice.
The tall blonde man on the other side of the door claimed to know Raina. That was really weird, considering she had just been talking with Raina not ten minutes ago. Unfortunately, Raina was now unavailable. As soon as their scheduled time together had reached an end, the red haired counselor had said something about going back to bed and had left the office going the opposite way Katrina had when they had parted ways.
Which made it very strange that this guy supposedly had an appointment. Either Raina was not very good at keeping a schedule for her appointments, or this guy was lying through his teeth. She was inclined to believe the person she thought was a fairly responsible adult hadn't just mislaid her appointment book. Therefore, this guy must letting falsehoods spew forth from his oral cavity in order to gain admittance where he didn't belong.
Now she really wished that deadbolt was turned.
The lies continued. He had a son who would be starting here soon, named “Calean” which sounded exactly the same as Calley with an “n” tacked onto the end. That was suspicious too, as were the constant uh sounds inserted into his sentences. He knew a lot about the people at the mansion for someone whose son was only a potential student. Still, it was no proof that he was lying.
The time that he had spent our the stoop stretched to an awkwardly uncomfortable amount of time for a girl who was used to being polite at all times. Inside herself a conflict stirred. She was polite to strangers, it was part of her nature, and yet recently it had turned around to bite her when a stranger had been less than polite back in s thoroughly scarring way. After a brief pause, the young girl spoke, hoping to stall for more time. With any luck, someone would come down the stairs and she wouldn't have to deal with this on her own.
“Raina is still in bed. I'm afraid she is unavailable right now,” she called through the wood panels to the scary stranger on the other side.
The deadbolt taunted her. It would be so easy to turn it and just run away, but so very very rude.
Katrina shifted her weight forward and backward in her immobile sandals, effectively rocking back and forth in her impatience as the obnoxious Coca Cola representative labouriously dusted off the sleeves of his loud crimson raiments. She held her breath and counted to ten rather than make a sarcastic comment about snails or some other notoriously slow creature. Every second they wasted made the chance of actually finding her 'cat' slimmer and slimmer and it was already a pretty narrow margin of probability as it was. If he thought her face was turning red, it was either because he was imagining things or because the brief lack of oxygen flushed her cheeks slightly. She wasn't losing her temper with the carnelian clad oaf, not at all.
And what was this nonsense about not running off ahead of him? He was walking so slow! Veritably the calendar pages would have progressed to nearly the month of all winter holidays both secular and non by the time they even got halfway there if he walked any slower. Moss might even start growing on their backs like that of the dilatory sloth if she didn't help speed things along.
The energetic teen walked quickly ahead of the nettlesome salesman. As requested, she did not get so far ahead that she wandered out of his sight, but she did try to encourage him to pick up his pace. He had nice long legs, stork-like even; he should use their full potential. She swore he could have moonwalked backwards faster than he went down the path. Slow of mind, slow of foot.
They reached an area fraught with flowering vegetation and it took more time for her to check under bushes now that they were more dense. The man, too, seemed to be intent on looking around. His head swung back and forth as he either admired the view or searched for a glimpse of familiar looking fur.
Katrina had almost passed the fountain when she looked back to see the vexatious villain crouching and gesturing in her direction. Hurried over, hope and thankfulness written clearly on her young visage. She crouched over to peer under the bush. Was he certain this was the right spot? She felt a hand on her shoulder and started to turn, but pain erupted at the back of her skull and her vision faded to blackness.
**
The blackness pounded through her skull, and slowly the fledgling illusionist regained some sense of consciousness. It felt like swimming in a thick black soup. The waves lapped and splashed around her. She couldn't see, but she could feel, especially that pounding in the back of her head. She was rocked back and forth in the black tide, swaying like someone was cradling her in the upside down darkness. The hair that had fallen to cover her face swished back and forth softly.
Someone's shoulder pressed uncomfortably into her stomach as they carried her, though the disoriented girl couldn't quite puzzle out why he was walking on the ceiling. Before she had quite figured it out how that worked, she was deposited roughly on the hard ceiling and the world turned upside down so it was again the ground that she sat on.
She gasped very softly, as the world as it was became more clear to her. The small sound echoed back upon itself seemingly ten times louder than the initial sound had been. The blackness of the ocean around her did not diminish, but the thickness of it did as her brain righted itself. The waters became thinner and thinner until it was a mere haze clouding her mind. Curiously, the sound of running water did not quiet itself. The last thing she remembered, she had been looking for Calley, then there had been pain, and now she was in a very dark place. The floor was hard, and the wall against which she leaned was a rough brick texture. She was on a narrow walkway of some sort, with a wall on one side and a drop of unknown height on the other.
There was someone else here, too.
“Who is there,” she whispered to the darkness, afraid that it might actually answer. “Where am I?”