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.
Twenty-four hours was a particularly long time to do nothing. Realistically, confined and not able to move, the most she sleep through was roughly half that time if she was dead tired. Chrys might have caught eight hours—nine max. That left her with two-thirds of a day bound to a bed.
On paper, that sounded like an enjoyable day, but no one was coming to prod at her or score her flesh or even drop hot wax on her. Whether Poseidon knew it or not, he had picked the one form of torture Chrys could not stand: isolation. She was not going to lose her mind; she got very good at conversing with herself when she was at the asylum. It was simply frustrating to be completely ignored and abandoned for the day.
She spent part of her day struggling against her bindings, not in an effort to escape, but instead to create friction against her skin. Bruises, abrasions and cuts were the goal. With no one else around, she was suffering from a distinct lack of sensation. Even her burn mark had stopped stinging, and was beginning a healing process that should cause it to fade over a week or two. With no one coming around, she had to find ways to entertain herself.
Someone eventually came into the room, but the visit was brief. There were two people: one who held her down and one who extracted her blood. It made sense; Poseidon was checking her blood for mutation-simulating drugs. She allowed her blood to be drawn without a fight because she knew it would benefit her case in the long run. She did try to strike up conversation with the visitors, but they treated her with silence and left once their task was over. Chrysanthemum pouted, sick of being ignored and wishing twenty-four hours would come to an end soon enough.
Eventually, the door swung open and Chrys prepared herself for more tests, only to find Poseidon in a sharp charcoal suit making his approach. Twenty-four hours were finally up. He had no reason to drop in otherwise.
Her captor took a seat next to her, asking about he was her doctor striking up conversation. She sighed, rolling her neck to loosen up the stiffness of her day. ”We are bored. Dreadfully bored. You couldn’t spare someone to rough me up? Even a little?” She forced a smile, because in truth, she was still annoyed at the callous way she had been treated, but making nice with Poseidon was more important than pouting. ”Pity.”
Chrysanthemum’s eyes drifted toward the door behind him. Would his security squad make a reappearance to take her away? It was still on the table, but if that was where things ended, what would be the point of keeping her trapped? She had to get to the point in the conversation where she knew for sure Poseidon believed her story. ”So did you find anything exciting in my blood? Or did you just take a vial to appreciate the lovely color?” It was one of the many aesthetical reasons Chrys enjoyed her playtime, after all.
Poseidon was a master of keeping his expression neutral, because when Chrys looked up from her groveling stance, it was impossible to get a read on him. He was either considering the validity of her admission or he was trying to decide the most satisfactory weapon to bludgeon her with. While she had suggestions for the latter, she hoped for the former.
After an ominously long wait, Poseidon got to his feet, but not like some mortal stepping out of the tub. The water lifted him to its surface, seemingly defying gravity. It was the kind of display that made someone appear as something greater than man. It was hard not to be impressed in the face of her impending potential death.
He approached and Chrys felt herself shrinking inward, pulling her leg closer to her body until he was kneeling in front of her. The pungent smell of his smoke followed him, filling the space around them. Her eyes were focused on him expectantly, waiting for his next move.
And then, without warning, she felt the searing sensation of a lit cigar pressed into her leg. It was important to understand this was not a particularly new sensation; as Chrys’s kinks went, burning was almost on the tame side. Adrenaline was pumping through her, making it easier to handle the pain, but she still let out a less-than-appropriate whimper. The actual shout came from the man behind her in his deep, distinct voice.
Poseidon was curious. It was a start. He was not convinced, because he was well-aware of the ways a human could parade as a mutant. He mentioned M, (main export of the defunct Order, production ceased, limited availability, unrealistic option,) as well as Ambrosia, (notable export of “The Syndicate” and the man threatening her life, continued production, great potential for filling consumer demand, promising from a business standpoint.) He intended to confine her to make sure her story and identity held water, (to excuse the pun,) and Chrys was not going to argue. Being away from her company for a day would be a problem, but the Board had dealt with her occasional unexpected absences before. Objections would make her appear more suspicious and difficult. She did not need to present herself as either of those traits.
She had his interest. He would not go through the effort of containing her if he planned on killing her either way. The gamemaster would take a step down and play his game, because the man was no mere game piece.
As the guards grabbed her (carefully) by the arms, Chrys could not keep herself from grinning. She was being granted her second wind. ”Will this be one of those dull ‘strap me to the bed’ things? Or can I count on a visit from the big man?” She rolled her neck to gesture at the man she was still connected to (for the moment.) ”Twenty-four hours is a long time; a girl can get bored all by her lonesome.” Yes, Chrys was feeling a return to form coming on.
It was comforting to know Poseidon found the humor in Chrysanthemum’s little outburst. It would have been more comforting if his chuckle did not have all the skin-crawling, ominous quality of a movie villain. She knew better than to joke her way out of her position, because a man like that would just as soon laugh while separating her head from her neck.
He expressed boredom toward her business motivations, making it sound like he could do without her. From her estimation, he could try to claw his way into her world and establish a foothold, but it would be a tedious process starting from scratch. Other businesses might be open to a partnership, but likely no one with the size and options she could provide.
On paper, logic should win out, but she made her error by breaking a trust she had yet to establish. Poseidon needed to be able to trust Chrys if he was going to work with her, and her first choice was to stalk him from the shadows. She should have known; in any good mob movie, even the most dangerous criminals had some sense of honor and respect. A man like Poseidon was supposed to be shown respect above all.
The water pressing against Chrysanthemum dissipated, but only to allow an imposing security guard to hoist her from the pool. Poseidon’s decision on how to handle the intruder was not conducive to Chrys’s continued existence, and as much as she sometimes wondered idly about the pain of death, she could not afford to satisfy that curiosity. She had to think quickly, and that almost always meant finding a way to take advantage of her mutation.
Poseidon made it clear he believed her to be a lowly human, and her words carried no wait until she could back them up. As she struggled in the guard’s uncompromising grip, she got close enough to the skin of his arm to try clamping down.
Her jaw felt the immediate pain of biting down on a hunk of metal. The guard was a mutant; she should have expected that. Fortunately, her tongue did flick across his skin, giving her all she needed to trigger her powers. The man behind her voiced a groan of discomfort, because he would suddenly be dealing with the same jaw pain she was dealing with. She hoped she did not loosen a tooth in the exchange, but if she did, it would be a small price to pay for her life.
Chrys managed to get her own arm close enough to her mouth and she did not hesitate. She bit down hard—hard enough to break her own skin and invoke a sharp spike of pain. The guard was not accustomed to feeling pain—particularly not the pain a frail, thirty-year-old woman’s body would feel. He was experience her arm and jaw pain, as well as the lingering ache in her chest and waist from the water prison. It was enough of a surprise for Chrys to wriggle away from the man’s custody. In doing so, she fell to the floor, hitting her knee hard on the ground—another pain the guard was not expecting.
The other men took a step forward, but Chrys held her hand out, panting. ”I wouldn’t! Anything you do to me, you do to your friend there!” There was blood dripping from her lip and down her chin. It was her own blood, pulled from the mark left on her forearm. She hoped she was providing enough evidence, because she was in too far to quit or run away.
Chrys turned back to Poseidon, her breath still ragged and her voice still horse. ”Not… human. My father was, but he was cruel and foolish, like all of them. I took the power from him. A human’s empire in the hands of his mutant daughter.” Her father was ruthless, so in his last moments, she was surprised to not find the pride in his eyes she so rightly deserved.
”It was my foolish choice to sneak, but I believed it had to be done. I needed to learn about you. To speak with you. You’re the type of man I would lend this power to, because I honestly believe you’ll take it and make something glorious with it.” She had her own private business empire, but if the whispers were to be believed, Poseidon’s goals were more ambitious. Who didn’t admire a man with ambition?
Did she find Poseidon risky? Considering the man was the leader of some kind of shady criminal organization, it would have been reckless to assume he was anything but risky until she better understood him. The predicament she found herself in was evidence that her concerns were well warranted.
Sadly, she came to that revelation at the wrong time.
Why was she in her position? She underestimated Poseidon. She underestimated Poseidon’s resources, knowledge, and pride. She overestimated her own caution. They were all valuable lessons she would have to take into consideration should she survive their encounter.
Her survival was less likely with each passing word the man spoke. Her fear that he was the one controlling the water around her proved to be valid when the massaging jets shifted, becoming a current that surrounded her waist, constricting and keeping her in place. It wrapped around the body parts she had foolishly submerged, including her chest. If the pressure persisted, she was going to struggle to breathe.
A weak moan did escape her throat. Under different circumstances, without the fear of Poseidon potentially killing her, she would have been enjoying the experience.
Stuck in place, searching her mind for a solution to her problems, Chrysanthemum carefully watched as Poseidon grabbed and lit a cigar. He was confirming her theory that he was a dangerous man, and questioning what kind of logic would bring her to meet him, knowing what she knew. He interrupted his own belittlement of her decision making to blow a dense cloud of smoke in her direction, leading her into a coughing fit. Once again, under different circumstances, she would consider paying the man for that kind of treatment.
>> ”…what the actual f**k is wrong with you?”
Chrys could hear the footfalls of security entering the room, clearly under Poseidon’s command, but her focus remained on the man. Security would not save her; he had to, which meant it was time to show all her cards.
Unfortunately, with water tightening its grip of her body and her mind frazzled by her total failure and defeat, Old Chrys poked her head out briefly. ”Many things, clearly.” She groaned through the strain of her labored breathing.
Chrysanthemum could feel the looming eyes of security ready to take care of her, however they would choose to handle that command. She refocused her mind, prioritizing her own safety, which meant appealing to Poseidon. ”Okay, it was a… debatably bad decision to come to you in this way, but I needed to know you wouldn’t turn me away. I have resources. I have money. I needed contacts who could get things done in the new world.” From a business standpoint, all those things were true.
She was speaking a lot against the pressure keeping her lungs from refilling effectively, but she pressed on. ”There are other “organizations” like yours, perhaps, but none that stand for what you do. Mutants adore you. They’re adoring a Mob Boss because he puts their needs first. That matters.” Chrysanthemum may not have advertised her mutation, knowing it would put her in a precarious PR situation and ruin her playtime, but there was no love lost between her and humanity. She was not a loyalist to the mutant cause, but she did trust her own kind more than the humans who tried to control and manipulate them. ”I want to offer my business to someone like me.”
If she had to talk much more, she was going to end up passing out. If that happened, she was not looking forward to finding out where she awoke—assuming she would at all.
It was hard to remember moments earlier when Poseidon was ambivalent toward his tubmate, because he was suddenly a looming presence. She liked attention and she liked control, but Chrysanthemum could not help but feel control was something she lacked. He did not shy away from her touch, but he did not melt in its presence either. He was still confident, together, and his smile unnerved her. He was not weak; more than anything, she felt the presence of his strength as he met her eyes.
He finally spoke, and Chrysanthemum’s eyes betrayed her as they widened in surprise. She had gotten so good at being careful! Chrys had so many rules to keep herself unnoticed when she tailed her prey. She was never supposed to end up in a position where she was called out so clearly and confidently. He was not taking a guess, either; he said three weeks. That was too specific and accurate to be a guess. Chrysanthemum was busted, and suddenly, she understood the feeling in her gut.
She was the prey now. Cornered, exposed prey.
Chrys’s hand pulled away instinctively from Poseidon’s knee. She was on the defensive, so she reclined in her seat, shying away into her corner of the small pool. ”I wouldn’t call it stalking, necessarily,” she admitted, now clearly more on edge as she sought to explain herself. ”I’d prefer to think of it as… preliminary business risk-assessment?” Well, that was a large collection of syllables for such a bull**** excuse.
As Chrys shifted in her seat, she noticed the jets of water were still working out the knots and kinks in her back and the tension from her feet. This was notable because both those things had moved. It was now like the water was following them, meaning the water around her was being controlled by more than just the tub’s jets. Suddenly, she realized how unexpectedly shortsighted her plan to corner a man called f***ing Poseidon in a pool of water was. ”I… heard about you. A lot about you and I was intrigued. I wanted to understand the kind of man you were.” She bit her lip, hoping she had not found herself in too deep. ”T-that’s understandable, I hope?”
Chrysanthemum’s father was a terrible person. It took a long time and plenty of therapy for her to reach that breakthrough. She was terrible in her own right, but it did not excuse the monster that man was to his child. Even still, not everything he left to his daughter was terrible. On top of some lessons in business and covering her tracks, he gave her a last name that mattered.
It was always a game changer to introduce herself as Chrysanthemum Van Hart. The Van Hart name was tied to a successful business empire with money, reach, and resources. She had seen men ignore her bedroom eyes, her lithe frame, and her (admittedly modest) cleavage on display, only to start salivating at the knowledge of her wealth. Poseidon was far from drooling, but it was clear her name earned her more attention as his words sweetened.
Things seemed to be going in the right direction when the man’s phone went off again. He certainly was busy, even at such a late point in the evening. It was the cost of being too important to disappear from a company. It was commendable. Chrysanthemum made an effort to let her company run independently when it could because she needed the occasional time to herself. Picking up phones during play time was always a mood killer.
Eventually, he was able to set work aside again, and Chrysanthemum noticed a change in the way he was looking at her. No longer was she someone to be ignored.
In fact, the last thing the man seemed to want to do was ignore her, as he closed the distance between them. It was a sudden change, but not unheard of when working with a businessman who knew a good thing—or maybe two good things—when he saw them. ”I’m not complaining,” she answered coyly, before a new sensation made her inadvertently bite her lip.
The water was pulsing and massaging her feet, easing away a week of wear and tear from her office life. It was heavenly but… maybe too conveniently targeted? She looked at Poseidon, considering his moniker. From what she heard, Syndicate was a pro-mutant organization. It stood to reason the leader might be part of the same camp. Curious…
Knowing he might be a mutant gave her great potential leverage as one of his kind, but it also put more variables on the table. With the space between them diminishing, Chrys contemplated sneaking a taste. It seemed like a possibility with the flirtatious tones they were speaking in. She just had to find her moment.
She started small, resting a hand on Poseidon’s knee under the water. ”We were talking about opportunity and business. You said you were a man who acknowledged opportunity. Are you also a man of business, Mister…?” It would be helpful if Poseidon could finally admit who he was so she could move forward with her plan.
From a selfish perspective, Chrysanthemum would have loved to watch Poseidon fawn over her like so many men had done in the past. He was giving her more attention, but his responses were still measured. If she kept herself from feeling petty, Chrys knew it was a good sign that Poseidon was not some weak-willed man. She was not here to subjugate him or turn him into her plaything; she was here for business and she needed strong business partners.
His responses were measured, but Poseidon was undeniably curious about her. She was an attractive younger woman who made it a point to approach him and talk to him not just of carnal pleasures, but opportunities. Chrys was working hard to have appeal beyond her body, because she would not convince him to take her seriously if he only saw her as some vapid, sex-hungry admirer.
Poseidon acknowledged her desire for worthwhile pursuits, and suddenly there was a shift in the jets of the tub. Chrys was unsure if he hit some switch or if the change was just conveniently timed, but suddenly torrents of hot water were targeting all the spots in her back that carried tension. A small moan of pleasure escaped her lips before she caught herself. It was nothing sexual; the change just felt that good. Instead of shying away from whatever was happening, she sank further into the water, allowing her shoulders to drop under the surface to enjoy the treatment. ”I’m sorry. I don’t know how they designed this tub and what makes it do that, but I now want one in my apartment.” Maybe if they got to the nitty gritty of business dealings, she could negotiate for the name of the contractor who designed the Heavenly Tub of Infinite Relaxation.
Still, as her new friend said, time was valuable. ”Van Hart. Chrysanthemum Van Hart, CEO of Van Hart Enterprises, to be exact.” It was time to start showing some of her cards, and she wanted to lead strong with one of her Aces. ”And yourself, sir?” She asked as if she was unaware she was speaking to Jorge Cervantes, known in the darker circles of his universe as Poseidon.
Poseidon could choose to keep quiet regarding his prestige and success, but it was easy to recognize a businessman. They were always the ones who kept their phones closer at hand than a high school senior girl. He sent a quick message, but there was little in the way of excitement on his expression. Definitely a “business as usual” message. She could not blame him; Chrys was rarely enthused about the day-to-day aspects of her work.
When the phone was set aside, he offered her a little smirk. She was more appealing than work, which she could have told just about anyone. He was done ignoring her presence now, which she appreciated. Whether he knew it or not, she put a lot of time and effort into getting this close to him. Yes, she got so much joy and pleasure out of stalking him, it was more like play than work, but that did not change the time commitment. Her time was worth significantly more than most.
Chrys’s answer about the Rip was a world view; when big events happen, it was smart to watch everything that shifted and emerged to see what could be made of the new situation. Poseidon appreciated her answer, which was encouraging. He was a man who understood how to take advantage of opportunity, which could bode well for her intentions with him.
Poseidon’s own opinion of the Rip was more concise, but similar to her feelings on the matter. There was an ambiguity to the “opportunity” he spoke of, and whether he was talking about her or his business ventures, she felt a rush of anticipation in her body. After involuntarily biting her lip, she gathered a calculated reply. ”Agreed… I’m excited to invest in new opportunities. Take the good of this world and bring it over. There’s no more exciting business than the business on the other side of uncharted water.”
Chrysanthemum brushed brown hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. The ends of her hair were already beginning to cling together and plaster against her neck and shoulders, but her concern was keeping hair away from her eyes to allow her total eye contact. ”Though I’m not foolish. I’m very careful with where I invest my money… resources… even my free time… with so little of it, you just can't waste it on... unsatisfying endeavors, correct?” So maybe he was not the only one who could think of two possible goals at once.
Chrysanthemum could not tell if Poseidon could tell she knew his identity. In his world, it was likely everyone who came through the doors of the Atlantis Club knew the man by name and by sight. Being a “ripper,” a term now commonly associated with those who crossed from one world to another, Chrys might have been granted more leeway for her potential ignorance.
He did not correct her or point out that the club belonged to him, which made her curious about his motivations. If he wanted to flaunt his power, it would only make sense to claim ownership of the place she clearly found impressive. He could have been taking an opportunity to embrace anonymity for the sake of normalcy, but she was hoping he was not a man who thrived on “normal.”
Then again, with the way he was disregarding Chrys, he might have made the choice to keep conversation to a minimum. She replied with, ”A shame, indeed. We never realized what we were missing.” Poseidon, rather than responding, returned to blatantly disregarding her.
Chrys was not a fan of being ignored. Her initial reactions were to either become overtly seductive in an effort to earn his focus or throw a fit and threaten to carve into his broad shoulders. Those were Old Chrysanthemum reactions. Old Chrys was not going to help her with the big-picture goals because Old Chrys never saw beyond instant gratification. She was better now. Mature.
So, Chrys pouted, but remained quiet. She had to be patient, so she chose to focus on the water pulsing against her skin. The heat was kept high, but her body was adjusting. The temperature was soothing, but Chrys was a fan of the initial moment of exposure. When her foot had broken the surface of the water, it was scalding to the touch. Sinking in allowed the burn to climb across her skin. It was like she was being scorched forever wicked action and thought. She did not believe in Hell, so it was the closest she would ever get to burning for her sins. She was a fan of the burn as much as she was a fan of her sins.
She opened her eyes to find Poseidon looking her over carefully. Very carefully. He was assessing her face so closely, she was worried he saw something behind it. Chrys was close to asking what he was so keen to inspect when he spoke first.
They were talking about the Rip. It was a good place to start, actually. She could work from there. ”Life is strange,” she replied with a Cheshire grin, shrugging her shoulders. ”At the end of the new day, it’s just a big change. That means new people, new places, new opportunities.” She paused after the last word, letting it hang for another few seconds. ”I’m just letting the Rip work for me.”
Chrys did not want to focus entirely on herself. They were having a conversation; she was not selling herself yet. There had to be a give and take; reciprocity. She should say enough about herself to gain his interest without saying so much she came across as self-absorbed. (That would have been another Old Chrys choice.) ”How about you? What are you making of all this?”
Chrys had long ago decided that people as dangerous as she was should not be allowed to be attractive. So many of her old behaviors were given a free pass because she could show some skin, pout her lips, or give someone bedroom eyes. They lived in a shallow society and most people were just inherently more willing to trust a beautiful woman. Still, it was not her place to propose changes to the social contract; she barely followed the norms of society anyway and she was not about to make her own life more difficult.
Poseidon eventually opened an eye to check on the intruder in the room. She earned a look with both eyes, which she was certain someone with plain features would not have warranted. From all reports, she doubted he was a man people approached privately, making her decision a bold gambit.
Fortune was on Chrys’s side and she was given permission to join him in the tub. His response was almost impartial. Poseidon was evidently not the man who would trip over himself to court her company. He was well aware of his status and importance; with those things came the confidence of knowing that he would rarely have to pursue anyone for anything. Amass enough power and people would always seek you out.
In two worlds filled to the rafters with weak men, it was occasionally refreshing to find exceptions to the rule.
Chrys lowered her body into the water, embracing the heat against her skin. She sank slowly, her thighs, hips, and waist all taking turns disappearing under the surface until she was a few inches shy of eye-level with the man across from her. The jets pulsed through the water, soothing away the tension from her body. All pragmatism aside, she was enjoying her frequent trips to the bathhouse. Ideally, her conversation with Poseidon would go well so she could continue the habit.
The owner of the club closed his eyes, but began a conversation with her all the same. It was a friendly enough question and one she could answer honestly. ”Very much so. We really don’t have an establishment quite like this on the other side,” she said, looking to mention quickly that she was from the other side of the rip. Withholding the information did little to help her, and she would have to confess to it eventually. No sense lying in rare moments where she could tell the truth without consequence. ”Whoever was responsible for the design has exquisite taste, don’t you think?”
Dollhouse- After recovering the apparently alive Tses from the morgue, Chrys tries to teach Tses the importance of letting go of control and letting someone be there.
Congrats on officially earning Cait! Becca certainly can't wait to meet her new redheaded friend!