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.
Maybe he was shy, or maybe it was just a lack of respect, but the kid would not look at her! Charlotte hoped it was the former, but in this day and age you could never be sure with children. Besides, progress was being made. Now he was looking in her general direction, albeit focused on the space between them.
"I am glad. They were rude. It is normal in America? Splash woman and keep running?"
"Unfortunately, yes it is." she sighed, digging into her purse for her pack of cigarettes. Slipping one between her lips, she continued. "You'll learn soon enough, kiddo. Guys are as- jerks. They're all jerks." She probably shouldn't curse around children. Or smoke, for that matter. Quietly chastising herself, she dropped the cigarette back into her purse. Ha. What a good role model she was.
"These are not toys. They are working dogs. I am training them and they will be--"
Training..helicopter..dogs? Charlotte pinched herself, just to make sure she was awake. What on God's earth was this kid talking about? And why was he getting embarrassed over it?
"Well," she started, offering the kid a smile. "thank you, or whoever it was, that controls those things. It was a very nice thing to chase those people." She watched the helicopters spin in the sky, all operating one like unit as opposed to five separate entities. Even someone skilled wouldn't be able to get them to fly in sync like that. "I just wonder how you could train something that wasn't..living."
Let it be known that Charlotte Merle was not an outdoorsy girl. She didn't do hiking, or dirt, or anything that would ruin her appearance. And she definitely did not do bugs. Not little innocent ones, or ones that spun webs, and definitely not ones with wings. Flying bugs were the spawn of Satan.
So what series of events had led to the blonde trudging through the forest, a suit case and two small duffel bags in tow? Why, she was a good friend, of course. Betty, her hot mess of a neighbor/friend, broke up with her boyfriend for what seemed to be the hundredth time. And being the hot mess that she was, she read in some Cosmo magazine that "glamping" was the new thing, perfect for a last minute getaway. Well that seemed just perfect, but she couldn't do it alone. And that's where Charlotte came in. After hours of begging and pleading, and eventually a mild breakdown, the blonde agreed to accompany her friend into the woods.
"This is ridiculous." she mumbled to herself, eyes glued to her phone as she trampled over broken twigs and through low-hanging branches. Betty gave her very vague directions as to where their cabin was supposed to be. "Just past this sign, there's a road you take, and then you pull over at this rock formation and walk this far until you reach the cabin!" Easier said than done.
After what seemed like hours, a familiar smell filled her nostrils. Smoke? Smoke! Where there was smoke there was fire, and surely Betty knew how to start a fire. Quickening her pace to a jog, the blonde broke through some underbrush into a clearing. She saw the fire, and heard the sizzle of meat, and the babbling of a creek to the side. But there was no cabin, only a tent. And Charlotte's heart dropped.
"Betttttyyyyyyy! There is nothing glamorous about this!" she whined, dropping her bags at her feet. She took a few steps toward the figure relaxing on the blanket, but stopped short. That was not someone she knew. That was a man.
The boy spoke and Charlotte couldn't help but smile. Soft-spoken and foreign, she could already sense there was something different about him. Where he was from she wasn't sure, but she prided herself on knowing accents, so it was only a matter of time before it registered.
"What a gentleman." she responded, taking the empty seat next to him. She rested her purse between them, creating a barrier until he was more comfortable with her presence. At that point, her guardian helicopters took off, regrouped with their comrades, and twirled in the sky with delight.
She grabbed a napkin from her purse, and began vigorously scrubbing at the grime on her legs. She did not like dirt, not one bit at all. Once her legs were clean, well, as clean as a napkin could get them, she began patting at the stains on her shorts.
"Nah, they're alright. Nothing some detergent won't fix." She lifted her gaze to offer a smile, only to realize he was still focused on his phone. What was so special about that phone? She almost wanted to take it from his hands so he'd look at her.
Charlotte took this moment to glance down at the taped box, but could still only see part of what she thought was a controller. They looked awfully similar to the ones that came with the toy 'copters, but they couldn't be commanding the ones in the sky if they were just sitting in a box.. right?
"I used to have toys like those, when I was little.. well, they were my brother's, and they were painted like army choppers, but it was fun to watch him fly them!" the blonde remarked, nodding her head in the direction of the helicopters. She kept her eyes on the boy's face, hoping to get some sort of eye contact.
"Sacre bleu.." the blonde mumbled as she glanced down at her stained clothes. It was a good thing today was laundry day, and it never hurt to shower twice.
A chorus of screams broke through the air, and Charlotte looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of three helicopters dive-bombing the runners that splashed her, sending them straight into the trees. A smile tugged at her lips, and she did all she could to stifle the laugh building in her throat. Whatever, or whoever, was controlling the helicopters seemed to be looking out for her.
The humming noise had returned, albeit much louder this time around. It filled her ears and made her grimace; a buzz at that frequency got annoying after awhile. She saw two objects out of the corner of her eyes, and looked up to see two of the helicopters circling around her. Instinctively she raised an arm to swat at them, but caught herself. She didn't want to be the next one terrorized. And it almost seemed like they were protecting her, hovering above her shoulders like guardian angels.. or something.
Returning her attention to the boy and the box, Charlotte made her way to the bench, this time checking both ways before crossing a puddle, and stopped a few feet shy of the bench.
The commotion hadn't affected the boy in the slightest. What was so interesting on his phone? A quick glance revealed.. his camera? Maybe he was filming the incident to show his friends? No, it wasn't pointed in the right direction. What was this kid's deal?
Clearing her throat, the blonde rose her hand in a half wave. "Mind if I sit here?" she queried, motioning to the spot next to him. "I need to get some of this dirt off."
There was nothing quite like a thunderstorm to subdue the heat that had taken hold of the city. Dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a sleeveless purple hoodie, armed with a cup of coffee and a cigarette, Charlotte sidestepped the puddles that littered Central Park. Something about rain and it's aftermath made her feel safe. Maybe it was the vast amount of water around her, or how everything seemed to spring to life after a storm, covered in a thin layer of water droplets and freshness. Or perhaps it was the smell that lingered in the air. It all made her think of home, and her grandparent's home in France..
Bzzzzzz.
A noise filled the air, slowly drawing Charlotte back to reality and to a halt. It sounded like the hum of bees, all scurrying to pollinate last minute before the heat wave returned. But there was something..off about it. "Better hurry, little guys. It's supposed be in the low 100s soon." the blonde thought to herself, pushing the undulating noise aside as she resumed her stride.
She wanted to finish her walk before the park flooded with tourists, all yacking to each other about the amazing breakfast they ate and what museum they had to go see. All while wearing bulky fanny-packs no less, filled to the brim with cameras and brochures and maps of the city. Ugh.
"Amazon drone shipping test. It's gotta be."
A crowd gathered by an open field, all looking up with a mixture of excitement and confusion. Taking a drag from her cigarette, Charlotte lifted her eyes to the sky just in time to see several.. things pass over the crowd, eliciting a murmur from the onlookers. The hum was more prominent now, and she could see why. They looked like helicopters almost.. no, she was positive that's what they were. Her brother had ones similar when they were kids, although his were much smaller, and they were completely off-limits to her. She knew they were operated from a small controller or wireless remote. But who was controlling them?
A quick survey of the people in the vicinity offered no help. She saw no remotes, no computers, nothing that could potentially be commanding the fleet in the sky. A blonde boy was seated off to the side, perhaps he was the owner of the toys? No, his face was buried in his phone. In fact, it almost seemed like he couldn't be bothered to look at them. A small box was nestled underneath the bench, wrapped in what seemed to be an obscene amount of tape. What looked to be an antenna or remote jutted out from the box.
Curious, the blond flicked her cigarette to the side and began to make her way over to the boy, but was cutoff by a couple of joggers, all of whom ran through a nearby puddle. A wave of murky water splashed her, spotting her tanned legs and bottom of her shorts with grime.
"What the hell? Watch where you're going!" she shouted to them, offering up a vulgar hand gesture as they disappeared around the trees.
Did someone say flooding? Not sure how well Charlotte would deal with the anarchy and all that, but I'm sure she could be somewhat swayed with the equality and yada yada aspect.
Charlotte puffed on her cigarette, hiding the smirk she felt tugging at her lips. "That could be arranged." She mumbled, her eyes focused on the monster as he groped the ground, retrieving what looked to be his clothes. He may be blind, but she was almost certain he had other ways to watch her. All other senses are heightened when one stops working; she couldn't fathom how precise his senses were as an alien, let alone a blind one.
Apparently he was a mutant, which caught the blonde off-guard, as noted by her arched eyebrows. She had heard of physical mutations, but she had never seen one as... pronounced as Sylar's. What was equally surprising was his treatment of the clothes. Charlotte felt her heart sink as the tearing of fabric filled the air, the torn shirt hitting the ground with a wet plop. "What's the point of wearing clothes if you're just going to destroy them?" She asked, taking personal offense from such poor treatment of his attire.
"Fair enough." Slipping the pack back into her purse, the mutant took another drag from her cigarette as the humanoid shed all other clothes except for the pants. She watched, waiting for him to finish changing. A minute had passed, and she blinked. "Oh, right." Charlotte uttered, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "I can close my eyes." It probably wouldn't be the best idea to take her eyes off him; even a moment out of her sight could be fatal. But she hoped, deep down, that Sylar wouldn't attack her. Sighing, she let her eyes close. "You've got fifteen seconds." She warned, flicking the cigarette away from her.
As she waited, the blonde could feel her mutation kick in again, calling forth a small stream of water. It crawled through the air, just above the ground, and inched its way up the back of her leg. She couldn't let him know what she was doing, otherwise her plan would be ruined. When she was done, three small orbs had formed behind her, nestled at the small of her back, each no bigger than an orange.
"You think I'm uppity?" the mutant asked, tilting her head as she glanced up her nails, having noticed some chipped paint. "And I thought we were becoming friends."
Truth be told, she felt bad for having hit him with a rock. But how else was she supposed to find out what the shadow was? She would have apologized, but Sylar crawled out of the river ready to rip her head off. She couldn't back down now; she refused to appear weak. As long as she stayed close to the river and didn't over-exert herself, she could come out of this mostly unscathed.
"I've never met an alien before. That's what you are, right?" Charlotte queried, tentatively taking a few steps forward as her opponent shifted back, the water rippling beneath her. Maybe getting back to the bank wouldn't be as hard as she originally thought. "Don't worry about your stuff. I only borrow a guy's clothes if he spends the night." She giggled, running a hand through her hair as she moved toward land, her steps turning into a stride.
Stepping gently onto the bank, Charlotte couldn't help but roll her eyes. "It's not like I planned to be here when you came." Something else she hadn't planned was what to do when she reached the bank. Assuming Sylar wouldn't be dumb enough to attack her while she was this close to water, the blonde found and lit a cigarette, letting it dangle loosely between her lips as she shook the pack at the monster. "Want one?"
She would procrastinate until she figured out her next move.
The plan had worked. He was charging as Charlotte, and she was ready. She thrust her arms in front of her, palms open and facing Sylar, as two streams of water shot from behind her, one from each side. They came together in front of the blonde, forming one large stream, roughly 5 inches wide. She propelled it forward, aiming for Sylar's chest in hopes to knock him back.
What she had not accounted for, however, was the predator's tail whipping through the air. Her eyes widened as she felt the air forced from her lungs, followed by an explosion of pain in her sternum. Gasping for a breath, the mutant flailed her arms as the ground beneath her vanished. The blow had knocked her back off the ground and, unless she did something, she'd be going for a swim.
"You sonofa.." Charlotte thought to herself, followed by several expletives that would cause her mother to have a heart attack should she have heard. She had to work quickly. The water was freezing, and the shock alone from such a drastic temperature change could kill her. Flexing her hands, the blonde turned all of the focus to the water below her, mainly the surface where her shadow covered as she fell.
Hitting the surface, a small sigh of relief escaped her mouth as the water jiggled beneath her, almost as if she had landed on a water bed. The surface was holding her up, and she gave herself a mental pat on the back as she scrambled to her feet. She knew it wasn't without a price. A dull ache had started at the base of the back of her neck- the beginning of backlash from her mutation. She couldn't do this for long, not if she wanted to keep fighting. Not to mention the hit from Sylar's, which caused the large bruise Charlotte could feel forming. Even subtle movements of her waist and arms sent a lightning bolt of pain across her chest.
"You better hope I don't find it, whatever it is you're looking for." she teased, though she hadn't the slightest idea as to what this 'something' was. Whatever it was, the blonde hoped he found it soon and left.
Judging from the thud she heard as she rolled, Charlotte was sure the whip had made contact with his face. As she surveyed the crouched form on the ground, it took all her strength to keep herself from squealing with glee. "I can hit you harder if you'd like." she cooed as she bat her eyelashes, thought she knew it probably went unseen in the darkness. She allowed herself a simple smile, but it quickly transformed into a frown as Sylar spoke.
He knew she was afraid. It was probably in the blonde's best interest to run: she wasn't as well equipped as the alien. Yes, there was an entire river behind her, but she'd have to use her mutation sparingly or else run the risk of tiring herself out too quickly.
The mutant's eyes were fixed on the blade swaying in the air. She knew that if she got too close or was a second too slow, that blade would be gutting her like a fish. "I don't like being threatened, that's why." She needed to scare him away, or at least hit him a few more times. But he was just out of her reach, and she had to lure him in.
Hearing the word 'human', Charlotte stifled a snort and bent over, retrieving another small rock from the ground. If he thought she was a human, he was in for a big surprise. Her fingers curled around the rock as she cocked her head. "What's making you stay?" she pondered as she tossed the stone towards Sylar, sending it in a high arc. Whether or not it hit him, she didn't care. She just needed him closer to the river.
In the animal world, there are countless examples of tactical deception used to protect oneself. For example, there are certain species of butterflies with patterns similar to the poisonous Monarch butterfly. Some animals use bright colors and patterns to ward off a predator, while others, such as the possum, feign death.
As much as Charlotte wished, she was not born with any of these tactics. Sure, she could play dead, but by the looks of Sylar, he would eat her all the same.
"Well maybe you should find a home that's less...wet." she spat, taking a few steps back as the monster moved forward. Her blue eyes surveyed her surroundings. She knew there was a bench and a few trees behind her, but none of that offered much in the way of protection. Her best bet was the river.
There was silence, broken only by the pounding of Charlotte's heart, which filled her ears almost to the point of being uncomfortable. She saw Sylar lurch forward, and suddenly she was moving. Before she had time to think, her legs were carrying her forward as her arm shot out, sending the whip whistling through the air. She aimed for his face, finding it to be one of the few unprotected areas on his body. If it did make contact, the monster would be surprised by how 'hard' the water was; the hit would be equivalent to getting hit with a piece of wood.
There was almost no distance between them when the blonde dove to the left, bringing her knees up to her chest as she hit the ground, rolling forward through the snow until she was back on her feet. Turning quickly, Charlotte took a few steps back, the river now behind her.
She stood, her breathing heavy, as she waited for her opponent.
Charlotte felt the life drain from her face as the shadow shifted and started approaching the bank. She took a few steps back as claws broke the surface, followed by a body that was half man, half...thing emerged from the water. Her eyes saw the messy red mop and the young face beneath it, but her gaze quickly shifted to the claws and then the tail with the deadly blade.
"What the hell is that.." she thought as she flexed a gloved hand, activating her mutation. A thin stream of water rose from the river's surface, slithered to the blonde and wound one end of itself around her right hand. A whip was a good defense, and it was better to be safe than sorry.
As Sylar spoke, the mutant felt herself shudder. She couldn't let him know that she was scared. He was a predator, and more often than not, a predator could smell fear. "You shouldn't be hiding in the water in the first place." she retorted, her voice shaking ever so slightly. Her grip on the whip tightened, and she took the last puff from her cigarette before flicking it away. "And there are more rocks where that came from." she added quickly.
Snow was nothing new for Charlotte. She had seen it every year of her life for as long as she could remember, yet it still intrigued her to watch the snowflakes descend in loose, lazy spirals until they stuck to whatever surface was closest. In this case, it was the bench she sat on that overlooked the river, which seemed to be the only thing not completely touched by the cold. Small ice chunks bobbed in the water, but the rest of the river remained unfrozen.
The blonde flipped listlessly through a Cosmo magazine, her other gloved hand digging into her jacket pocket for a cigarette. She exhaled, watching as the small cloud of smoke unfolded before her, mixing with the snowflakes until nothing lingered but the smell of the smoke itself. Not that it mattered: only one person had passed her since she sat down..however long ago that was.
As if on cue, a numbing tingle started in her foot and quickly spread up her leg, and would have probably spread further had she not stood up.The mutant slipped her magazine into her purse and zipped up her jacket two-thirds of the way, preparing to leave.
A movement in the water caught her attention, and Charlotte took a few steps toward the river. A black shadow moved into view, and the blonde cocked her head. It was too big to be a fish, and she was almost completely sure sharks didn't live in the river. She scanned the ground and found a rock roughly the size of her fist, grabbing it as she took another puff from her cigarette. A flick of her wrist sent the rock flying through the air and at the shadow, which it hit dead on.
She exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath.
It is a skill, to read a person and his or her body language. A highly coveted trait taught to members of law enforcement, they sit and stare at suspects, waiting for a facial tick or darting eyes to convey the truth. While she lacked the years of training, Charlotte prided herself on noticing subtle movements and twitches that others missed, even if some of them were fairly obvious.
But there was something different about this man: there were no ticks, twitches, or darting eyes. Not once had his eyes wandered- not to her chest, or the pen twirling in her fingers, nowhere. All he did was smile. A smile that infuriated the blonde, simply because it hinted at nothing.
The waitress shifted in her seat, her leg brushing against his again as he queried about more of their wines. "I haven't had a ménage a trois since Christmas." Charlotte muttered with half a smirk.
She had bought a bottle last year during the holidays to drown her sorrows; she still hadn't quite adjusted to being away from her family, and there was too much snow to travel. It wasn't the best bottle of wine she had tasted, but it did the job of getting her intoxicated.
"I think we have a few bottles in the back, if that's what you want?" the waitress asked, tilting her head slightly to the right as she noticed his face for the first time since she scooted into the booth. A square jaw, nice skin, and eyes that reminded her of her grandmother's fine china. Surprisingly, he was attractive. And when there was a handsome man, she had to make his acquaintance. It was her life motto.
Charlotte shot her date a raised eyebrow, shaking her head as a smile pulled at her lips. "And what other ways are you thinking of?" the blonde queried as she reached for the bill. Her face shifted down into a frown as Ty's hand dartedin front of hers, claiming the bill as his own.
The mutant mumbled a "Hmph" and sunk her fork into the chocolate cake on her plate. Why argue over a bill when there was cake to eat? And said cake, Charlotte had decided, was the epitome of perfection. There was no doubt that it was chocolate: each bite felt sweeter than the last, and it had to be shared if there was any way it would be finished.
"Do you want a bite?" she asked as she lifted her fork, and a small chunk of the cake, toward the redhead.
