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 Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
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.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 27, 2024 14:48:25 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
Why didn’t she understand? Why was she insisting that he do anything besides the only thing that would ensure that this never happened again. Lee had all but confirmed that this wasn’t the first time that this had happened and Tarin just groaned and dropped his head onto his knees again.
“You know this isn’t the right thing to do Lee. You don’t owe me anything just because I’ve got this name and this god-forsaken power. I don’t deserve your help. This is my responsibility and I deserve everything that’s about to happen.”
The fact of the matter was that the longer they stayed here, the more chances were that someone else was going to stumble in. Lee had put that knife in her bag and that made her an accomplice. Maybe she didn’t owe him anything, but now he owed it to her to not drag her into his mess.
She was going to drag him? Could she do that? He looked at Christina again. Looked at what he’d done to commit it to memory so he wouldn’t lose his resolve. What did it matter if it was now or later?
“You shouldn’t have come here tonight Lee.” Tarin said as he pushed up from the ground, swaying slightly where he stood. His legs shook so hard he almost sat down again, but the muddy, blood-soaked ground kept him on his feet. Maybe he could still get her to leave.
“I’m definitely not the person you knew. You really should just hand that knife back over and walk away like you were never here.”
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 27, 2024 14:35:28 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
The knife was right there, almost in arm’s reach. It was so close to the body though, the body that he had carved up. The body that he had slept with when it had been alive and warm and laughing just a little while before. She’d been sweet, talented…young. He’d thought she was too young, but she’d know how old he was and it hadn’t been a problem…
Oh god…he was almost sick again. Tarin knew he needed to move, needed to grab that knife and ensure that nothing happened like this again, but he was shaking so hard he didn’t think that he could move. He just needed a few minutes to pull himself together. He was so tired.
Footsteps padded down the path and Tarin wondered what would happen if someone stumbled on him. It was obvious what had happened, he just put his forehead on his knees and waited. When they ran to call the cops, he’d take care of things. The last thing Tarin wanted to do was to traumatise the person who had stumbled on this disaster any more than they’d already been.
There may have been words said, but all Tarin could do was look at Christina’s bloody hand, the little charm bracelet she wore. He made himself look at everything else too. Her eyes were still open.
“Get up. We need to go. NOW.”
Those words broke through, and Tarin stared in horrified disbelief as someone bent down and picked up the knife. They also stuck it in the bag.
The person was familiar in a vague way. Tarin’s brain just wasn’t working though and the shivers were wracking him so hard that he just couldn’t figure out where to look of what to do.
Lee. Her name was Lee. She had been married to the Tarin who had lived here.
“What….” he said, “You can’t be here…” he said, words rasping out.
“I have to stop this. I don’t know how it happened…I don’t know what you think you can do, but you can’t handle this…I can’t handle this…” he was rambling, babbling, trying to get the words out that would make her understand.
Tarin held his hands out, hands that were almost dripping with the blood that essentially caked him everywhere else. Up he looked, helplessly, making desperate eye contact.
“I don’t think this is the first time. I need that knife…please…I have to stop this.”
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 27, 2024 14:28:12 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
It had been a weird few weeks and it had all started because he’d decided to step in and break up a fight (something that he never usually would have done) in a bar (a place he’d never usually be) and had taken a really well placed right hook to the sweet spot just below his jaw.
Much to Tarin’s chagrin and eternal mortification, he’d folded like a card table. Unconsciousness had been brief, but he must have hit his head again on the way down because recovery from the subsequent concussion had been brutal. The fuzzy head, the lingering exhaustion, and the mild confusion upon waking were nothing the medium hadn’t experienced before. This one had just lingered. Meeting a woman in a bar had been a bad idea in the first place. The woman had gone home with him that night though, and Tarin hadn’t really cared if it was pity until he’d woke up next morning alone. So much for a real connection.
Luck in the female department really hadn’t been bad lately and he’d had two other…successful? Encounters over the subsequent days/weeks but each time he’d woken up freezing cold and alone. Tarin hadn’t ever been one to sleep around, but none of these women were giving him a chance for a second date. Were all the women in New York ninjas? Was he that sound a sleeper? Was it a difference between the other side of the rift and here that you usually woke up with the person you fell asleep next to the night before?
Maybe tonight would be the night. Things had gone well again, and in spite of a pounding headache Tarin was hosting company who didn’t seem to mind that he lived in the back of the shop. He was going to stay awake this time too, he’d really liked this woman, Christine, and if she was going to sneak out…he wanted…to…know…why…
Dammit…he’d fallen asleep again…and it was cold…and wet…
Tarin opened his eyes. He looked around. He closed his eyes again. He opened his eyes again.
Nothing changed. He was outside.
Tarin raised a hand to rub his eyes and nearly knocked himself out with the handle of the knife still clenched in his fist.
The knife…clenched…in his fist…
The…bloody knife. There was blood on his hand too, so much blood. Too much blood.
Tarins’s breath was coming in strangled gasps, his whole body shaking as he looked around. Looked down where he could feel something pressing against his inner legs. Mute horror nearly paralyzed the man as he forced his head down and forced his eyes open.
”Oh god….no…how….”
It was…had been…Christine.
Tarin’s fingers turned to ice and the knife dropped into the grass, there was blood absolutely everywhere. Christine’s blood…and so much more. What had he done? Why couldn’t he remember doing it? How did they get outside?
Suddenly Tarin was retching and he fell to the side, into more blood. The ground was slick with it. How was there so much blood?
Not even knowing where he was, Tarin backed as far away as he could, until his back came up against something solid, shaking and hardly able to breathe. He pulled his knees up and rested his forehead against them much like he had when he was a kid.
There was only one way this had happened, there was only one way to solve the problem. It had been drilled into his head his entire life. Never lose control. If you lose control, you take care of the problem yourself. Nobody else needs to clean up your mess. Tarin’s eyes shifted now, locking on the knife where it laid in the grass.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 23, 2024 9:27:10 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
Tarin
Yep. A complete waste of a perfectly good pretzel, Tarin thought as the thing hit him square in the face and flopped ineffectually to the ground.
The asshole had blocked his right too. That might have been even worse than the pretzel.
“Goodbye now..”
Tarin’s feet were moving away, somewhat of their own volition now and this time he just kind of let it happen. It wasn’t worth fighting the effects when he could just as easily send in spirits to do the work for him.
Someone shut that guy up. I guess don’t kill or maim him though. [/color] He sent down the bond as he shoved his hands in his pants pockets and walked out of the brawl. The Medium felt the moment he walked outside of the the other psychic’s range and stopped walking, turning to see how the spirits were doing.
Two of them were approaching the man and Tarin poured more energy into the bond. Maybe pretzel-man could boss humans around…but the dead only listened to Tarin. Fickle were the dead.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 20, 2024 17:26:30 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
Honey?
Tarin cringed for the pretzel guy.
“Who even says things like that?” he said.
All around him Tarin could see the spirits fighting with the people, the people fighting with the people, and the little snot with the card table swinging a morningstar at the jogger who’d just been trying ot keep a fight from breaking out.
Tethered to the spirits, Tarin could feel them taking punches. Not the punches themselves, just that punches were landing. Spirits were dead. They…they couldn’t feel anymore. At least not anything beyond the most base of emotions and the things they’d felt as they were dying. At the moment, Tarin really wished that more people who died blissfully of old age in bed with beautiful younger people chose to stay behind when their bodies wore out. It generally didn’t work that way though. They only stayed if they felt like they needed to stay or if they couldn’t find their way out.
They also didn’t like their link to the living world being threatened.
”You clearly think you’re doing something here…” he said, just angry enough to walk up and swing a hard right at the man’s nose. This was going to be a terrible waste of a good pretzel if the punch landed.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 19, 2024 11:05:25 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
What had started as a minor scuffle between two friends had developed into a knife fight that Tarin had brilliantly inserted himself into the middle of, and now it was growing into a full fledged riot fueled by a nasty little slip of a man and a nondescript dude with a pretzel. There were obvious downsides to mutations worn loud and proud.
The good thing was that now that people were calling for blood, most of the cell phones had been put away. That meant that fewer people were about to see what was going to happen. Tarin sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger in anticipation of the headache he would absolutely have later. He wanted to let the spirits rip the pretzel man, the guy with the knife, the little snot whipping things up, and maybe anyone else throwing a punch to shreds. He knew better though.
”Okay guys…” he said, addressing the small crowd of spirits that had been tailing him all day. ”Do the thing. No permanent damage or you’re out for good.”
As he said it, a man approached at a run, a wild looking haymaker taking shape as he got within arms reach. Close enough to see the entirely white eyes of the man who stood in front of him. Too late the man tried to stop and he found his fist slamming into something just as solid as a human body, but with no give. The specter grinned its rictus grin and advanced.
All around the crowd spirits materialized, only the one attached to the little creep staying invisible. Everywhere they appeared, the spirits either grappled or restrained the rioters. Pretzel-man was top on the list and Tarin approached him, trying to steel himself against further suggestion, firming up his connection to the spirits and using it to ground himself.
”It’s never a good idea to bat out of your league.” he said, getting closer to the man, several of the spirits solidifying behind him. Tarin knew he couldn’t keep up this level of control for long, but hopefully it would be long enough, ”I’m going to give you a single chance to shut this down, take it or I’m going to give these guys what they’ve wanted since the second you opened your mouth.”
They wanted bloodshed. They could absolutely have it.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 18, 2024 16:04:47 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
“Challenge accepted”
Seriously. Tarin just sighed. Some people didn’t learn until they had to learn the hard way.
Tarin was ready to fight though, he knew a thing or two about a thing or two and if the needed to get his hands dirty well then…
“Stop there!”
He was going to stop right there and not take another step forward.
Wait…what?
Tarin experimentally moved forward, he could do it, but it was like he was dragging a bus behind him to move in the direction of the man who had shouted. Huh. So this wasn’t a fair fight.
That was fine, Tarin decided, if powers were on the table and nobody on this side of the rift really cared if they were used.
Tarin let out a whistle, kind of like the whistle you’d let out if you were calling a beloved pet to your side for some snuggles. Instead, a dead guy appeared at his side. Eyes once again going solid white, Tarin said down the bond that he’d formed with the spirit and steadily fed energy into, Grab that guy and hold him down. Cover his mouth, but don’t hurt him…much
The spirit hesitated, What’s in it for me.
Tarin sighed, why did everyone have to be such a pain in the ass today?
45 minutes.
Done.
Off the spirit went to do its job, solid but somewhat fuzzy around the edges and just not right. The guy hadn’t told Tarin he couldn’t approach the other guy and the jogger, so Tarin turned right as the jogger took a knife to the gut.
”Holy shit man…who brings a knife to a fist fight?!”
Only, the crowd was getting angry that there was no blood on the knife…
The crowd…was angry…there was no blood. Suddenly the shop and the dead folks were looking a lot more attractive. Tarin’s eyes searched the crowd, locking on the little snot who was chanting right along with the rest of them. Hell, he’d probably started the chant.
A different whistle and another spirit was there. Stick to that one like glue. It’ll be worth your while. He said down the bond. The spirit knew Tarin was good to his word and took off, this time staying incorporeal and therefore invisible to everyone but the rarest sort of folks.
Still pouring energy into the bond with the fist sprit, Tarin whistled a final time. Get that knife, don’t do any permanent damage.
Three links wasn’t much at all. Tarin could do this all day, so there he stood, eyes white to the edges and crossed his arms…waiting for the show as the images of death for the three spirits flowed backwards into the bond.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 18, 2024 11:42:21 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
“Well now…that’s just mean.” Tarin said, pursing his lips as the smaller man showed impressive multitasking skills as he spilt bills, took more bets, and somehow managed to pocket a decent amount of money at the same time. More impressive was the fact that this guy had managed to get all of this set up in time to catch a random…
Tarin had to laugh, ”This wasn’t just a random fight…was it?” he said, shaking his head. ”I bet if there was a camera there’d be more to the story…but I also bet that if there was a camera, this fight would have never happened.”
This wasn’t exactly what Tarin had envisioned when he’d made his way into the park, but the commotion was making it easier to block out the spirits who had gathered around him.
The fight was still going on…kind of…and the Medium looked up again as the first man to have been hit let out a wheezing yell as the jogger put the other man in a choke-hold. The little guy called out as the jogger’s grip slackened a bit. Simply because the other man had said stop?
Not being one to draw unnecessary attention to himself, Tarin usually would have continued to watch the fight unfold and fade quietly into the background. That stupid little adage reared its head again though and Tarin found himself sighing as he shrugged out of his coat and dropped it on the gambling table. ”Watch this…” he said, letting his eyes cloud over white just enough to be really creepy, ”And if you disappear with it, I absolutely have ways of finding you. Even if you think I can’t.”
So. Into the frey went Tarin Brooks, placing himself between the shouting man, the jogger, and the one who was previously being choked but seemed to be regaining his composure.
”I think that’s enough…” he said, hands held up in a defensive position.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Apr 17, 2024 20:30:42 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
The commotion turned out to be a garden variety commotion. Tarin was honestly a bit relieved to find something as simple as two men throwing punches. The things his overactive imagination had cooked up in the short walk from the path to the green space has ranged from this exact scenario to something barely short of a nuclear bomb.
The problem with walking up on a commotion was that one had to decide whether or not they were going to intervene in the situation and if they chose to do so what they were going to do. Plenty of people had their phones out, plenty of them were recording the fight as it occurred. Tarin rolled his eyes, faith in humanity dwindling just a little bit further than it had already dwindled. It looked like someone else had already decided to step in and handle the fight though. For now, Tarin simply stood and listened. Something was up, the guy who’d been hit was insisting he was fine, and the other guy was ramping up more and more every second.
The entire situation definitely wasn’t helped by the little snot collecting money and odds on the fight. Besides, it was obvious who was going to win now that the random but highly capable jogger had stepped in. New York really was a melting pot.
”You don’t really think this is a good idea, right?” Tarin said, approaching the younger man. As he neared, Tarin put his hands in the pockets of his black overcoat. The collar was already popped, and he hoped he looked at least a little bit intimidating. ”There’s plenty I could say about the way I’m sure you’re not going to pay out on all those bets…but regardless things are about to get way more interesting and you’re giving terrible odds.”
It was spring in the way that it could only be spring in New York City, and that meant it was basically winter. The streets were still perpetually damp with whatever moisture the lingering snow and ice could provide mixed with the runoff from things that had been buried under the snow and were just starting to thaw.
Assuming a new life, starting that life over, and adjusting to a world where he didn’t have to constantly hide had been all consuming. The him that had existed on this side of the rift had been pretty well known and to top things off had been married with a kid. Straightening that whole mess out had been a hell of a trip. Train had felt bad for the woman, Lee, and her son, but he hadn’t forced the other Tarin through the rift. They were still in the city, adjusting and living life in a similar way.
Good for them.
Old habits die hard though, and while Tarin didn’t feel the need to run out to an island of the dead, he’d spent the last few years simply existing in the city. He didn’t have friends and it had seemed weird to seek out any of Tarin’s family on this side of the rift. They were grieving a loss and there was nothing to do to help. In fact, his very existence in this world would probably feel like a slap in the face to them. So. Train Brooks had taken up residence in the shop that Lee had graciously let him assume, along with the modest funds that refugees had been allotted based on records they could produce from their previous lives. Despite the fact that he’d been living as a hermit on Hart Island during all of that, Tarin once again thanked himself for keeping good track of his finances…meager as they were.
The shop was essentially self-sufficient at this point, word of mouth and the openness of this world had allowed Tarin to set up a clientele that ranged from regulars who came to see loved ones they wanted to help ‘cross over’ (Whatever that meant), to people hoping to simply hear what they wanted to hear. The Medium’s shop didn’t discriminate and catered to all…for a price. Days had stretched into weeks, which had stretched into months and years. Life had settled into a comfortable monotony
Unfortunately, monotony was monotonous. The lack of meaningful contact with people was driving Tarin to spend more time talking to spirits and as long as he’d had his powers that had never led to anything good. Some of the spirits had been incredible people when they’d been alive, but the spark of life had left them at their death and they were static. They never changed. It wasn’t good for a man to mire down like that. It did things, opened channels that needed to stay closed.
So yeah. That’s why Tarin had been walking the streets on a less than picture perfect day, admiring the sights, sounds, and smells of New York City. It highlighted the other downside of spending so much time with the spirits though. The more attention they got, the more they wanted. The spirits thrived on the sips of life energy they were able to take from Tarin or that he gave them when a more corporeal form was warranted. They always wanted more, silly little junkies. A small crowd that nobody else could see gathered around him as he walked, sending bits and pieces of their horrifying deaths, almost like it was a contest. Yeah. Train needed to get out. The problem was figuring out where to get out and who to get out with.
Dating apps were out. This world was safer than his last, but something about declaring to the single population of New York City (And whoever else had their hands in the app data) that he was a mutant was more than Tarin could handle. Simply meeting friends was easier said than done too because who on earth wanted to hang out with a 39 year old with no other friends who literally lived in his place of business?
Aimless meandering had led Tarin to Central Park, unsurprising since it was within a block of the shop, there were always people in Central Park, right? People who didn’t mind mind strange men dressed in dark clothing coming up to them with little preamble and trying to make friends…ugh, why was this so hard?
As Tarin walked he noticed a commotion in one of the green areas ahead. It went against every instinct that Tarin possessed to think about walking in that direction and the spirits around him were encouraging him to walk the other way. That was the thing that decided it. Train headed towards the commotion. What was the old adage? If you do what you’ve always done…you’ll get what you’ve always got.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Jul 25, 2018 14:44:06 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
Was he doing alright?
It was a bigger question than New!Rupert knew. On one hand, Rupert was gone. It seemed as though Tarin would never have to worry about the guy showing up at his place with that gun and the ammunition that went with it.
Then again. Rupert was gone. Tarin couldn't count on him to show up at his place with that gun and the ammunition that went with it.
It seemed as though the cold cases...joke(?)...hadn't gone over very well and the medium held his hands out in front of him in a gesture of his obvious innocence.
"Anyone who knew the guy would tell you the exact same thing." It was true, and in no way a betrayal of whatever semblance of friendship he'd had with the other Rupert. Everything about the guy had ended up being shady. "I'll bet you dollars to donuts that not a single one of those things has a visible serial number."
There was also the more obvious fact, Tarin mused as his crystal ball hit the floor and shattered. He turned his head and scowled at the spirit standing there. "There's absolutely no reason to get destructive. I'm not the one who shot you." The spirit had the decency to look mildly abashed and bent, trying to gather the shards of glass. All he accomplished was stirring them up and making them tinkle menacingly. The presence of the guns explained the uptick in spiritual activity quite neatly.
"Besides. If you brought the guns here to be exorcised, you have to at least have some sort of idea what I can do. The cops don't like me, and I don't particularly like them. We keep our mutual distance."
That said, Tarin nodded to the box. "I'll take care of it. You're welcome to stick around if you'd like. I was telling the truth about the booze, but I've got bottled water in the mini fridge."
As he moved to get himself a bottle Tarin ignored the glass shards that had started to float in the air. To anyone but Tarin they'd seem to be doing it of their own accord, but the spirit had simply managed to scoop some of them up and was offering them to Tarin as if they meant something. A thought occurred to the medium and he groaned slightly.
"Other Rupert was Godfather to my kid." he called out. "Did you want a water or not?"
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Jul 19, 2018 6:00:54 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
The Rift. All of this nonsense had to do with that damn, creepy rift. There were also doppelgangers involved...those weird other dimensional versions of people in the real world. Apparently Lee’s boyfriend had run afoul of his other-world version and drama had ensued.
To be completely honest, Tarin didn’t give a shit about the details. It didn’t matter what or how the what had happened. Someone from the other side had threatened Lee’s...boyfriend and they had thought that there was enough danger to plan for the worst.
Lee had performed admirably, whatever ire she had towards his noseness had been contained in the interest of cluing him in for their son. Tarin didn’t know why he had thought anything else would happen. He wouldn’t dig for more.
”I’ve heard whispers from the spirits. Customs isn’t as good at keeping them on their own side as they are normal folks. An overabundance of caution is probably warranted.”
What else was there to say?
”Thank you for that…” he said softly, ”Let me know what I can do to help...anything.”
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Jul 19, 2018 5:47:19 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
Whew.
There was a whole lot of information to process from that little turn of conversation.
Something was different. Rupert was different. Huh.
This Rupert knew Lee? His Lee? Lee from the other side of the rift?
Other Rupert was MIA?
That was a gun on his counter. And some bullets.
Tarin couldn’t help it...he started laughing. It was all just too much. In some random definition of the word, he and Rupert had been friends. It had been a weird friendship full of contention, bitterness, violence, and the occasional odd moment of camaraderie, but still…
The Rift...that goddamned rift. Tarin had avoided the place like a plague. One day there had been an odd feeling, like all the spirits that usually followed him around were pulled away by something more interested...but it had passed and Tarin hadn’t dwelled on the event. That whole...doppelganger thing was weird.
Realizing that he was laughing like a loon in front of what amounted to a practical stranger, Tarin took a second to pull himself together and focused on the box sitting on his counter. More guns?
”I hope you don’t think I’m touching any of that with a ten foot pole. Those need dropped off on the doorstep of the cold cases department in the dead of night...while wearing a ski mask so nobody knows you dropped them off.”
Moving closer to look at the gun on the counter, Tarin could make out is name on the gun itself and the case of ammunition next to it. More laughter, this time more of a chuckle and a bit sad.
Friends?
”Better friends than I thought if he had that.”
There were more questions to ask, and who knew if they’d get to them, but Tarin nodded towards the box.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Jul 17, 2018 9:32:18 GMT -6
Omega Mutant
1,282
4
Apr 28, 2024 18:31:21 GMT -6
The little bell over the door to the shop jingled its merry tune and Tarin cracked open an eye from behind the arm he'd slung over his face. Maybe it was time to replace the camp cot that had lived in the little sleeping nook of the shop since God knows when… Then again, maybe it was time to stop sleeping at the shop when he had a perfectly good apartment. Tarin shrugged and groaned at the ache in his shoulders. When had he gotten old?
Someone was at the counter and the Medium pushed himself into a seated position, wincing at the aches and pains that came along with the years of rough stuff he’d put his body through since moving to New York. Granted, the last several years had been rather quiet, and he’d finally learned to keep a low profile...but still.
Mr Brooks? Tarin’s nose wrinkled like he’d smelled something bad as he approached the curtain that separated the shop proper from the, “living quarters” in the back. Who the…
Oh.
Tarin almost pushed the curtain shut again and went back to sleep. Something seemed...off though. Detective Rupert Kelley was definitely standing at the counter of Tarin’s shop. There was a box on the counter, and he had to have been the one who had called out.
What was it? Something looked different about the man, but something definitely felt different too. The spirits in the shop had been their usual quiet din of constant voices, but they were louder...nor more now. Something weird.
”What do you want Rupert? I don’t have any scotch right now, I got an apartment when Lee brought Kevin back to New York and for some stupid reason I moved all the booze over there.”
The medium’s eyes travelled to the box, ”What’s in the box?” Always an ominous question. No less so now.
Posted by Tarin Brooks on Jun 7, 2018 20:10:09 GMT -6
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Lee pointed out that she was pretty sure she could make it to Tarin’s place from anywhere in the city and he tipped the neck of his beer toward her in a silent salute. Touche.
Maybe he was overreacting considering the fact that this was probably the longest conversation he and Lee’d had since the day he’d been served divorce papers. That phone call had been plenty long, plenty loud, and had ended rather abruptly when it came down to it.
THings were different now though, Lee had come back to New York, Kevin was there, and they were working on co-parenting the best way they knew how. It was common courtesy for him to make sure that Lee was okay. Whatever else had happened, Lee was the Mother of his son and that would always be important.
She was also doing her damndest to avoid giving him any details about the situation she was in.
Tarin took another drink. He was going to have to speed up his drinking, because this conversation was starting to go nowhere fast and the last time he’d checked it was still illegal to carry a beer down the street in New York.
”How many more details can I ask for before you get pissed and throw me out?” he said, lips drawing to a thin line. ”I just want to know what we’re potentially up against.”