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.
"Sorry, I did not mean to trouble you by asking a question on a painful topic," Mariusz said quickly, following after Tses and giving a slight flap of his wings to clear the gap in the roofs as he followed the blonde. Of course, if she was no longer seeing Ty then it would make the next direction he wanted to take the line of discussion in much easier to broach. No one wanted to have to deal with the potential for jealous boyfriends.
"Actually, I am glad I ran into you today. I am having a bit of a crisis, of a personal nature, and I think you might be able to help me solve it," he said, still following after the blonde. If he could secure her for his date for the party then all his problems would be solved.
"Yes, I imagine you can handle yourself," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I have been up to basically the same things as last time. In a month I have my citizenship exam and then, after that, I will announce my candidacy for Mayor of New York," he continued. "The riots have convinced me that now, more than ever, there needs to be a voice for mutants in the city. Who knows, if all the mutants vote maybe I will even be able to win."
"Today I have just been out looking over the damage and watching the clean-up. Nothing too exciting really," he said, trying to figure out a way to build over to the topic he wanted to discuss. "So," he asked finally, "how is Ty?"
"Breakfast," Mariusz said, suddenly remembering. He let go of the woman's hand and returned to the stove top. "Sausage, pancakes, and a kind of pan-fried casserole. Are you hungry," he asked, picking the spatula and checking on the sausages and casserole.
"There is fresh orange juice on the island and Irish Breakfast Tea in the coffee pot. The good stuff, loose leaf," he continued, speaking slightly over his shoulder as he poured some pancake batter into the buttered skillet and began to make the first of the pancakes after dropping a handful of chocolate chips into the poured batter.
Mariusz blinked at the pillow in a disgusted way. Why would he want a pillow when he already had a much better pillow? A much prettier pillow? That didn't make any sense at all. Come to think of it, he should probably explain that to Evelyn.
"Why would I want a pillow when I have you," he asked, then he headbutted the pillow. "I am happy right where I am at," he continued in a sulky sounding voice. Why was this such an issue? He was a hero. Heroes got the girl. He dimly remembered having already explained this once, but maybe it needed explaining again.
"See, I am a hero because I saved you from that fearsome... uh... beast. Therefore I get the girl. You know, sort of like to the victor go the spoils. I also got a big owchie saving you," he said, making a pouty face and giving Evelyn the biggest saddest eyes possible, tilting his head ever so slightly to one side, like a puppy.
"And then I made you dinner too," he continued, punctuating the remark with his stomach rumbling. "Besides all that my feathers are lovely and soft and warm... just like you, my pillow. See?" He flopped over on his back, gently grabbed one of her hands and, still lounging in her lap, pressed it to his chest.
"See? Lovely and soft, just like a kitten. Only better because I do not shed fur everywhere and claw up the furniture."
Mariusz whirled around at the noise, spatula in hand, though he was mindful not to fan his wings since that would have made a colossal mess of breakfast. As he did so the book flew across the room and thumped against his chest before falling to the ground. "Oh my," he said, quickly tossing the spatula down on the counter top and crossed to the woman, offering her a hand to help her to her feet if she wanted it.
"I did not startle you did I," he asked, momentarily forgetting that he was still in the process of making breakfast. "I have that affect on people sometimes, though I assure you it is unintentional. I imagine you can empathize," he continued, making a reference to the woman's own physical mutations.
"You do not need a bodyguard, you have me," Mariusz said cheerily, flopping onto his stomach and wrapping both his arms around Evelyn's waist. "There, no you cannot escape," he said, grabbing each of his wrists to strengthen his grip. "So, there is no need to worry about wandering off and getting into trouble now!"
He turned his attention back to the screen and watched Morimoto do something with squid. He'd never remember what it was though, he was too doped up. "Now, we can watch Iron Chef together..." he continued, trailing off and yawning loudly. "Getting sleepy... you are a good pillow, good thing I rescued you. Because I am a hero. And they get the girl." He yawned again and snuggled against the blonde woman.
Mariusz moved around the kitchen, now that the riots were over life was returning back to normal. Well, normal for most people but he had one big stressor in his life still. He had received a message from his father that morning that he would soon, in the next three weeks, be throwing the major Embassy event for the summer... a party at the Waldorf Astoria that would require the use of the Grand Ballroom and the other major event space at the top of the hotel. Not a big deal except that he had been told in no uncertain terms that he was to bring a date to the event and that would turn out to be a tall order, no doubt, in the wake of the recent riots.
The feathered mutant stood at the oven in nothing more than a pair of red basketball shorts. On the stovetop in front of him were three skillets, one filled with diced potato, onion, and green pepper. One in which two fat homemade sausages were frying up, and another in which he had just melted some butter in preparation for making pancakes with chocolate chips in them.
Mariusz winged over the city, his gaze directed on the buildings, streets, parks, and people down below as they worked on cleaning up the messes that had been caused by all the recent rioting. On the one hand it was nice to see people, more or less, getting along again. On the other it was somewhat disappointing that the riots had happened in the first place. As he winged over the city, devoid of his bow for the first time in days, he pondered over his own personal predicament.
That morning he had received a message from his father that there would, within two weeks time his father would be hosting the major event of the Summer at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel here in New York. A party that would be attended by all the movers and shakers in the political scene on this side of the Atlantic. Apparently there was even a rumor floating around that the President of the United States would be in attendance. Apparently they were going to be renting both the Grand Ballroom and the Starlight Room to be able to accommodate everyone.
This was one of those events that Mariusz would be expected to attend as well. Not that this was altogether out of the ordinary since he routinely attended the major events that his father hosted. The problem, this time, was that his father had told him to bring a date. Preferably an American date. No doubt his goal was to show that his family was adjusting to life in America, understandable of course. The problem was that Mariusz wasn't currently seeing anyone and, after his debacle with the vicodin with Evelyn he wasn't entirely sure his prospects of finding a date were all that good.
As he was pondering this he looked down at all the rooftops below as he floated overhead, doing a double take when he spotted a familiar blonde woman. Last he knew she had a boyfriend, still she was generally a good sport so he imagined she would be willing to go with him, even if only as friends. Of course, he knew he'd probably have to take her shopping to find something suitable, but that would be no problem.
Tucking his wings Mariusz dove before fanning his wings at the last moment and landing on the rooftop near the blonde woman in a whoosh. "It has been awhile since I ran into you, Tses," he said, rising to his feet. "I am glad to see you made it through all the riots alright, I was worried but did not know how to find you to bring you to a safe place to ride it out."
"Me date that uncultured, uncouth, and unintelligent flea bitten fuzz bucket," Mariusz called down from his safe perch high in the sky, "I hardly think so. Though if she took a real bath just once, instead of a bath by tongue, I might consider it just so she could get a good lesson on etiquette and culture."
"Even then... not if I were the last man on Earth and she were the last woman and we had to date purely for the continued existence of the species," the Czech man continued, his feathers all puffing out at the thought of such things with the feral and rabid cat thing.
"But yes, in answer to your question dear boy, we have met. Last time she was adventuring and attacking innocent people when I put an arrow in her knee... and another in her chest. I am still curious, though, to see if she would survive one in the head," he said thoughtfully.
Mariusz made a snort of derision and the remark about someone named Jensen. He'd just fought a cat woman thing to protect the blonde. Ok, so the fight had been a little while back. Still, that made him the hero and the hero got the girl. Pop culture was very clear about this. Similar thoughts continued zooming around his head as his thinking circled back around to where it had been moments before.
"I am not scared of this Jensen of whom you speak," he said, waggling a finger at Evelyn from his position using her lap as his pillow. "I just protected you from the horrible cat... woman... thing gone wrong. She was like a trained ape. But without the training!" He looked up at her with a cross-eyed gaze for a moment before his eyes returned to normal focus and he continued. "What was I saying?... Right, I saved you. That makes me a hero and the hero gets the girl. I propose dinner on Friday... and something on Broadway... or maybe a museum... or the Statue of Liberty, I want to see that... maybe Ellis Island?"
"Surely this Jensen is not a boyfriend, you have never dated anyone. Therefore his feelings on the matter are inconsequential and... oh look! Iron Chef!" Mariusz was distracted from his rambling monologue as he focused on the show and watched the chairman character reveal squid as the secret ingredient.
"Squid is tasty," he said, turning his attention back to Evelyn and forgetting, for the time being, the debate on a date. "Even better, once you rip out the guts you can turn them into very amusing hand puppets!" He held up a hand and mimed moving it in a puppet-like manner.
"No can do," the feathered man said in a sing song tone when Evelyn asked him to sit up. "World too tilty," he continued. He couldn't understand why she was complaining about being a pillow. He thought she made a perfectly acceptable pillow. He suited action to thought by kicking his feet up onto the couch too and reclining even more.
"And you suppose I have," he asked in reference to Evelyn's protestations about not dating anyone. "Look at me, I have everything women want... money, honesty, honor, money, trustworthiness, loyalty, money, manners, cooking skills, and money," he continued, rambling off a list of traits and things he had, apparently not noticing that he listed one of them several times.
"I am just like Hugh Grant," he continued, peering up at Evelyn and squinting a bit. "Except, you know, with feathers. Oh, and wings. And talons." He held up a taloned hand and examined his razor sharp talons. "And I am Czech," he added belatedly. "And I. Am. Delightful. So, after all the riots die down want to go get dinner some time," he asked, completely oblivious to how uncomfortable he was making her.
Mariusz blew loudly on the tea and then sipped it. That was much better. He repeated the process over and over until the mug was empty. In an effort to keep drinking tea from the empty mug he leaned over more and more and more until he finally fell over on his side with his head coming to rest in Evelyn's lap. Almost lazily he wrapped both of his feathered arms around her waist while also holding the empty mug so she could see into it.
"Empty," he said in a sigh, shaking the mug a little to show what it was that he meant. "All gone, empty, an abyss... like so many other things," he continued, his mood turning somber and depressive as he snuggled his head into Evelyn's lap, releasing his grip with one arm just long enough to drop the mug to the floor before latching on to his baby sitter again. Little did she know how loopy vicodin made him, of course before taking the pills he had known perfectly well what was going to happen. Had he been sober he might have felt somewhat guilty. But, then again, he had saved her. That made him something of a hero.
THE HERO ALWAYS GETS THE GIRL! his drug addled mind screamed at him.
He supposed this qualified as 'getting the girl'. Besides, popular cinema made it quite clear that this was how things worked. Of course, cinema indicated things were supposed to go a good deal farther but Mariusz had no strong desire to do much more than what he was currently doing. After all, other such things were for married people.
Hmm... married people, he thought to himself, that idea had merit.
"Will you marry me," he blurted out, not making any effort to release his hold on Evelyn.
There was a slight thump as the helicopter touched down. As the engines that powered the massive rotors on the Chinook helicopter wound down and fell silent Vidar stood and, without a word, crossed the cargo area and passed the file back to Dombrowski. "Is my presence required for the briefing this evening," he asked as he gathered his duffel bags and slung the rifle over his shoulder once more.
"No, I think you probably know better what it is that you need to be prepped for the mission than I do. If there's anything you need let me know and I'll be sure you get it," Dombrowski replied, truthfully he wasn't sure how well all the men under his command would respond to knowing they would be working with a mutant. The less chance they had to think about it and complain about it, and possibly pick fights with the Norwegian, the better off things would be. He didn't particularly like leaving them in the dark about working with the winged mutant, but in the grand scheme of things it wasn't a major thing for them to need to know right at the moment in the Lieutenant's estimation.
"I assume you'll have a billet with the Norwegians here," Dombrowski asked.
"I require detonators for C-4 and a half-dozen M67 grenades. The day of the mission I will require adequate radio equipment and the flight conditions over the target site," Vidar said, again getting directly to the point as he described what it was he wanted with a minimal amount of actual speaking.
"And yes, I will stay with the Norwegian contingent here," he continued, walking down the ramp of the helicopter as it lowered and turning to head in the direction where his countrymen would be located, while he was usually at Bagram the base at Jalalabad was not completely foreign to him. Within an hour he had received a temporary billet among the Norwegians and had settled into it for the duration, opening the file of information from his own superior and beginning to review it once again.
=========
The morning of the mission dawned cold and dark, though given that it was 0400 the darkness was hardly a great surprise in the grand scheme of things. As he walked down the flight line in the direction of the Blackhawks that would be the team's primary mode of transportation he tugged on his uniform to adjust it to the way he wanted it to sit on his large and lean frame. His HK 417 hung by a strap with the weapon near his right hip while a satchel with his C-4 charges hung over his left with a pair of flight goggles rested on his forehead.
From a distance he was quickly able to spot the helicopter that Dombrowski was in and chose that one to enter. Ducking his head he boarded the helicopter through the side door and seated himself as close to the port side door of the helicopter as he could get. There was little doubt that he'd be the first one off at the end of the ride since he'd need to get a start in the direction of the site to begin recon and reporting. As he did so Dombrowski turned in his direction and nodded, most of the rest of the Rangers looked fairly non-committal, with the exception of one who looked displeased, about seeing the avian mutant board the helicopter. The Norwegian flag was prominently displayed on his uniform and he had little doubt that Dombrowski had included the 'foreign asset' in the briefing.
"Here's our 'Guardian Angel', Sergeant Vidar Anfinson from the Norwegian Army Special Forces," Dombrowski said, gesturing to Vidar as he settled himself into his seat. He passed a satchel with the requested grenades and detonators to Vidar as well as the radio and several sheets of paper that Vidar accepted with a nod of thanks, draping the grenades and detonators so that they rested next to the bag with the C-4 charges in it while checking to make sure both of the satchels were zippered shut.
[color=gold"Radio's preset,"[/color] Dombrowski said as Vidar slid the radio headset on. "Caps and grenades are there and the papers have the requested flight conditions information."
"Radio check, check, check," Vidar said in a low tone, holding onto the papers for the moment.
"I copy you," Dombrowski said, tapping Vidar on the shoulder then resuming his seat in the helicopter.
As the helicopter blades on the Blackhawk begun to spin up Vidar unclipped a flashlight from the front of his uniform and shined the red light down on the papers he'd been given by Dombrowski, beginning to study them in silence while some of the Rangers began to talk amongst themselves. The Norwegian liked to be prepared for anything that might happen and, besides that, he wasn't on this mission to make friends and had no desire to chat with anyone that was part of the team more than was necessary including the Lieutenant who seemed like a good enough guy, especially as Yanks went.
=========
"Five minutes to touchdown," the pilot said. At that remark Vidar folded up the papers with the flight conditions information on them and put them into one of the breast pockets on his uniform, velcroing the pocket shut. With the information secured he stood and pulled his goggles down over his steel grey eyes.
"Request permission to disembark and move to get on station," Vidar asked, standing in the door of the Blackhawk and turning to face Dombrowski.
"Permission granted, God speed," Dombrowski said, nodding his head.
With the permission granted Vidar crossed himself and then allowed himself to fall backwards out of the chopper while it was still airborne. He allowed himself to fall a hundred and fifty feet, watching the altimeter attached to his wrist as his fell before opening his wings gradually which produced the affect of a soaring dive. Fifteen minutes later he was orbiting the site at a height of three-quarters of a mile.
"Guardian Angel is on site. Nothing to report, low activity. Eight sentries, paired, at each of the four compass points," Vidar said, knowing that at the height he was at and the time of day it was, plus the fact that no one ever looked up for an attacker unless they heard them, that his chances of being spotted were extremely low.
"Roger that, do not engage. We should be in position in ten minutes," Dombrowski's voice said, coming back over the radio headset.
"I do not care," Mariusz said cheerily, still peering into his mug of tea as if it were some sort of magical scrying glass. Why was this liquid too hot to drink? That made no sense.
I never make drinks that are too hot to drink, making drinks to hot to drink defeats the purpose of making a hot drink to drink in the first place when I want to drink a hot drink! Mariusz thought to himself, scowling into the mug once more then taking another drink.
"Too hot!" he declared once more before looking around at Evelyn. "If you are here you must have mutant powers like me," he began, nodding sagely. "Do you have ice powers? Make my drink not too hot... but also not too cold. Cold Earl Grey tea is nasty." He held out the mug of tea to Evelyn with both hands, giving her a piercing look that clearly said he had every confidence in her ability to make the drink an acceptable temperature.
The sun was just rising in the early morning as Vidar walked up the ramp of the Chinook helicopter with a calm, measured, gait. In each of his hands he was carrying a tan duffel bag by the hand straps while his HK-417 hung from a strap over his right shoulder and he had an H&K USP Tactical .40 strapped to each thigh. In one bag he had the uniform and personal items he would need while he was in Jalalabad, in the other was the rest of the gear he would need, mostly spare magazines and clips along with some bricks of C-4. He knew he'd receive the radio equipment and detonators, along with some more gear, once he reached Jalalabad.
He nodded to one of the Americans near the rear of the chopper and settled himself into the rearmost starboard seat in the back of the helicopter, setting his bags down at his feet before unslinging his rifle and double checking it again to make sure the safety was on then placing it across his lap with the barrel pointed out the rear of the helicopter. He had chosen this seat because it was away from anyone else that might be using the early morning helicopter for a jaunt to Jalabad and because it allowed the Norwegian flag on his uniform shoulder to anyone else in the chopper if they looked. He had arrived precisely when and where he was supposed to be and he assumed that this trip via American cargo helicopter would be about like most of them were. They'd ignore the Norwegian mutant and the Norwegian mutant would ignore them neither party had to like the travel arrangements, they just had to get by with them.
"Hey mutie where you think you're goin'," one of the soldiers at the back of the chopper asked, speaking in an accent that Vidar would have identified as Southern Californian if he'd known anything about regional accents in America. As he spoke the man made his way over to where Vidar was seated, tapping a clipboard against his leg as he walked.
"Jalalabad," was the white feathered mutant's one word answer.
"Really, I didn't hear nothin' about takin' no mutie on our run today," the soldier continued, stopping in front of the Norwegian and looking down at him, a stark contrast to having to look up to the winged mutant which would have been the case if the large Norwegian was standing.
"Clipboard jockeys should consult their paperwork," Vidar replied, tapping the clipboard in the man's hand with one taloned finger. He'd heard, on a previous flight like this, some Americans talking about a sporting event and describing a "Clipboard Jesus". Vidar had no idea what that meant, but had known from their tone that it wasn't a term of endearment.
"And mutie's oughta know when to keep their mouths shut," the soldier said getting down in Vidar's face. In the blink of an eye Vidar's right hand shot out and grabbed the offending soldier who was lucky that the mutant had his talons sheathed. Vidar yanked the man down until they were almost nose to nose with one another.
"You don't hear, so maybe you don't read," the Norwegian said in a low and dangerous tone, pulling the clipboard from the soldier's hand while he remained seated. "I can help." Vidar held up the clipboard to one side of his face and read it out of his peripheral vision using his enhanced eyesight all while never breaking eye contact with the suddenly silent soldier.
"Here, halfway down the page. 'Anfinson, Sergeant Vidar' and the 'NOR' means 'Norway'." Vidar said tapping the name badge on his chest which said 'Anfinson' and the Norwegian flag at his shoulder. "Now leave me alone," he continued shoving the man backward roughly while hooking one of his feet behind the soldier's ankle. The overall effect was that the soldier tripped over Vidar as he was shoved backward and fell hard on his rump on the helicopter deck.
"Hey, do we have a problem here," a man's voice shouted. A second later the speaker was in the helicopter and Vidar could tell the man was a Second Lieutenant, an American officer.
"No problem, the Specialist was confused about some paperwork. I helped him fix it," Vidar replied, not turning his head to look at the Lieutenant since there was no need to do so.
"Good, let's keep it that way," the Lieutenant said, making his way to the seat in the cargo area that was directly across from Vidar's as the Specialist picked himself up off the ground and shot a dirty look in the direction of the Norwegian. The look said that things weren't over, but Vidar knew well enough that they were. Bagram and Jalalabad were both large bases and the odds of running across the man again on accident were slim and none.
"You handle yourself well," the Lieutenant said, settling his gear on the ground.
"Even better on mission," Vidar answered, having noticed the Ranger tab on the man's uniform and surmised that they'd be working together in the near future.
"I assume you're my 'Norwegian asset'," the Ranger asked. Vidar nodded, but didn't offer a hand. He'd noticed that some people seemed hesitant to want to shake his hand, almost as if they feared they could catch mutantism from him or something to that affect. "Landon Dombrowski, U.S. Army Rangers," the Lieutenant said, offering a hand to the Norwegian.
"Vidar Anfinson, Norwegian Special Forces," the white feathered mutant said, taking the offered hand and shaking it.
"My 'eye in the sky'," Dombrawski said and Vidar nodded. "Sorry about the Specialist, unfortunately you'll find that kind of treatment far too often as my country struggles with the mutant question. We're not all like that though."
"There is no question, I'm human just different," Vidar replied in a level tone. "Do you have any more information on the mission," he asked, swinging the topic of conversation around to business while neglecting to mention that what he'd received from his superior officer had been a bit sparse. Dombrowski nodded and passed a file of information over to Vidar as the chopper's ramp raised and the rotors began to spin up.
"Rest of the team's already in Jalalabad. They flew me back for the briefing. Mission brief will be this evening after chow at 2030. Take a look at that file now, if you want, but I need it back when we land," Dombrowski said as Vidar accepted the file from him and opened it to begin pawing through the information.
"Of course," Vidar said, already beginning to pour over the information. What he was most interested in were the projected flight conditions for the day of the raid. That was information he hadn't received, for some reason, but he was pleased to see that it was included in what Dombrowski had been given. As the helicopter lifted off Vidar began to poke through and memorize certain parts of the file he'd received while the heavy cargo helicopter ferried them to Jalalabad.
