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.
Well, she was mad and shocked. Not a huge surprise. He watched her eyes flash past him and then glare in his direction. Garrett just shook his head and laughed. "You think I'm keeping you here? Sure, I could reach out and grab you, lock you down and kiss you until this block went dark, but I'm not that guy, Effie." There were so many reasons not to come back to New York. Camps, meta bots, human haters, crooked ass government agents and cops. Garrett finished his drink and fingered at his fries. "Hey Shanda, let me settle up." He slid a card in her direction across the bar. Costa Rica had been beautiful and peaceful, but make no mistake. Garrett had gone there because it was cheap and it was a no extradition country. If anyone knew his body count, he surely did.
Maybe it was too low. But he had definitely never killed a mutant. Not that he could remember. He had shot Syn but only because it was fun and why not? He had done meditation, yoga, massage, just about every kind of extracurricular he could to avoid the thing that was always staring him in the face. He had learned that his problems and the people that bothered him were only reflections of parts of himself that he didn't want to face. So, like it or not, he had to come back and set things straight. Not right, but straight.
He wrote the tip amount on the check and winked at Shanda and stood up from the bar. "You can hate me all you want. Think you're the first or the last? I'm not going to try to keep you penned in. I mean you no harm, sister. I'll go outside where everyone can see us and you have room to run, call a cab or even sic one of those oppressor bots on me. It's all good. If you want some closure, come outside and get it. I'm best as an ally." He really was. Garrett could be the best right had man you ever had. It sure beat the hell out of having him as an adversary. He blew her a little kiss and walked out of the bar, waiting on the sidewalk for her eventual appearance.
And no, he didn't give her a chance to reply. What a dick!
There was no doubt about it. The mention of his name brought a simple glance. Garrett could try to hide that this meeting was going to happen. He could have paid his check and simply walked out. It had been years since they inadvertently killed hundreds of people. Had it been Isabel or Aura, they might have had a laugh about it. Well, Aura. Isabel wasn't much for humor. Her humor gland calcified..The thought brought a grin to his face and the confidence to match. Garrett turned his face and then his body in his seat, his Newcastle raised as a greeting to her.
"That look on your face. I'd take a picture but you know I'm not like that." He took a drink of liquid courage and continued. The look on her face reflected the feeling he had felt when she walked by him. A finely mutated nervous system generally doesn't let the little things slip. "I'd give you a hug, but well.." He shrugged and continued to grin. "I understand that you may have some weird feelings, but it doesn't have to be weird."
Life is long and some things disappear behind the curtain of memory. Other things play peek a boo out of that same curtain, when you thought they would never return. The instant perk up boost that someone like Svetlana put in the air, like an incense sparking the nose, wasn't something you just forgot about. A lot like killing hundreds of people by touching the back of her neck. His head naturally turned. She looked as good as ever. Age had made her more attractive, probably because she was more real. She wasn't a new young beauty on the scene with an amazing mutant power. She was that girl you killed people with once.
In the bar, nothing happened. He sat where he sat, she walked in and asked for a drink. Same thing happens hundreds of times a day in the city and nobody bats an eye. So far, he was the only one to notice a situation that was remarkably different. It was sort of funny to Garrett that the first mutant he would run into would be this one. Of course, if his life abroad had taught him anything, it was that coincidence was rare, actual random coincidence. Even when it did happen to occur, it was almost always for a reason. What was this reason?
A long pull of his brown ale helped. He tried not to stare, choosing to look at whatever sports banter was going on, blend in. She hadn't seen or noticed him, so maybe he could just wait and see what happened next. Or maybe he would just step out and avoid the drama that was sure to happen next. Yeah, maybe leaving quietly would be the best move. "Garrett! Here are those fries!" Shanda. Perfect. Remaining calm, he smiled and took his basket, digging into them so he would have a mouthful and not have to speak, pretending to be even more interested in whatever crap was on the tv. "Need ketchup?" She was being attentive as she should, Garrett shook his head and gave a thumbs up. Wandering off to other customers, Garrett kept eating and looking straight ahead. If he felt eyes on him, he would just keep feeling them and mind his own business. If she noticed or wanted to make a big deal out of it, that was on her.
"You're just the best, Garrett. I'm telling you that you will make a killing in New York." Garrett smiled, always a fan of fans. "Well, Janice, I appreciate you. I think you should tell your friends. I just need a week or so to set up for gigs. I've got some money right now, just need to get set up somewhere and I'll definitely get in touch." He may have come back to the States but his reputation followed him like a cloud. At least it was a better kind of rep than the one he used to have in New York. For the moment, he was anonymous and that was just dandy. Looking around, he saw some dive called the Missing Link. Looked dark and seedy. Perfect.
Walking in, he was dressed in khakis and a T shirt that had Chris Walken's face from the famous skit, the black shirt saying 'I gotta fever!' His shades had to come off but they quickly adjusted to the weird black light effect. Girls in yellow shirts and short shorts worked fine. There was a kind of tang to the air that came with wing sauce and sweat that made the joint okay by him. Taking a seat at the bar, one of these florescent femme fatales rolled up to him and asked him what he wanted. "Newcastle, maybe a basket of fries?" The girl had a Cleopatra look with black bob and eye shadow to match. Her name tag said Shanda. "Want a tab? I'm Shanda. Welcome to the Missing Link. What's your name?"
"Just a sec, Janice. I'll be right with you." Looking at her, he smiled and said, "Garrett. Nice to meet you, Shanda. Yeah, a tab's great." She looked at him a little longer and then toddled off, bring him back to his call. "So, like I say, once I get set up proper, say a week, you will be the first person I call, alright?" Janice made a kind of sigh and relented. "Alright, but you better call me first! No way am I missing out on the greatest hands God ever put on this earth." He smiled some more. "You got it. I'm going to go now but we'll talk soon." He hung up because Janice thought that because she had money that she deserved airtime. Lots of people had money. Not everyone deserved airtime.
Phone in pocket and Shanda was putting a little paper coaster and a tall cool bottle of Newcastle Brown in front of him. "Here ya go, Garrett. Let me know if you want anything else. " A thumbs up came up as he pulled a draught of the ale. Maybe he could relax for a moment. Didn't look that busy. No one knew he was back in New York. Well, Janice did and her friends would, or probably did already. Whatever. Another sip or ten and he wouldn't care anymore.
Posted by Seizure on Sept 16, 2015 16:04:37 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
957
6
May 8, 2023 14:31:42 GMT -6
The door opened for him, though it wasn't at all the greeting he had expected. It wasn't a greeting at all, more a hurried exit interrupted by his own presence. He put his hands out to stop the girl before she ran into him but she seemed to catch herself just in the nick of time. Her eyes met his own and she seemed to circle him and size him up. Garrett could only grin and look back at her, the small sparks of recognition also glowing within his own tired memory. The faint smell of roses accompanied her query, thick with Eastern European of some sort. Garrett then recalled having several friends of the European persuasion back then.
His Romanian assistant, Madeleina? That seemed right. At the Clinic. The Russian girl that he kissed and almost killed? She went by Muse. Then this one. He could almost see the green house that she mentioned. Her eyes seemed familiar but he couldn't make the spark come any faster. I vaguely remember you, I'm sorry. The house, yes. The accent and the smell, yes. Your name and what we did or spoke of? No. But I've been in Mexico for a few years, so I hope I haven't offended you. Do you live here?"
She probably did, but one could never tell. Garrett certainly didn't, though he might try for a night or two of respite. It would be nice to look around and see what was going on at the old Mansion. He could always hope to run into old faces or friends. Hell, he'd settle for an enemy if it made more sense to him.
Things like this make me want to bring Roland back. In the meantime, bring it on! Garrett would be proud to be on the who's who of mutants that need to die.
Garrett liked Uber. It was a new thing to him since he had returned to the States. Simple, no cash transactions, GPS related. Simple. He really appreciated simple. His driver was a lady in her forties, it looked like, who spouted all about the different tourist attractions once Garrett said he was a tourist. Was he ever. She didn't bat an eye at the address he had put in for his destination, either. That was a good sign.
One, it had a link at all. It still stood. Two, she wasn't like 'F Muties!' or 'It's that place.' Three, he felt strangely giddy. It was probably how people felt at their class reunions in Normalville. Who would be there? Would they smack his face or kiss it? He chuckled a little to himself at the various faces he might see at the threshold. The thought of the word threshold brought one particular face to mind, a face which left him smiling in a more demure way. He still thought of her ivory locks, how they would be curtly moved out of her face by a formal hand. Of course, she was still married to Mr. Immortal, the lovable healer that no one could hate. Almost.
The car pulled to a stop and he unplugged his phone from the complementary charger that the driver provided. He knew they weren't supposed to take tips, so he forgot the twenty in his seat. When she tried to flag him , he just smiled and waved her off. She went, leaving him standing before the place where he had found his footing in the world. He suspected that cameras and eyes were on him. Garrett was okay with that. Summer was finally retreating, his old wardrobe of khaki shorts and snarky T shirts changed out to khaki pants and easy collars. Clothing wouldn't really be much of a change to the older eyes, considering that his blessing had never allowed so much as a single hair to grace his head. Still silky smooth, along with his scalp, he walked up to the front doors.
It took him a moment to stand there and caress the heavy wooden doors. They weren't the original ones, probably. They would be covered in the scars of various battles and 'accidents' as his kin were prone to. Once nostalgia had settled enough, he pushed the button, calling those who would greet him.
Garrett equated his current predicament to holding a black mamba beneath a Tupperware container. The snake had recoiled and accepted its present position, but even the village idiot could guess at what might happen once pressure was released from the lid. Nevertheless, this game was one of trust and at least Isabel had a functioning cerebral cortex. Logic would clearly explain Garrett's position once his mutation wore off. It was time to take that leap. Her flushed, wet cheeks and trembling eyelids were as much a red flag as a rattler shaking its warning song.
Without much pomp and circumstance, he simply removed his fingers from her head, the visual map of her neural pathways losing its vigorous gleam. He stood slowly, looking down at her. He knew there would be retaliation, but he had no interest in violence. If he had, he would have gone an entirely different route a moment ago. Hands in pockets, he paced backward slowly, his eyes still set surely on his quarry. He had no idea what she would do for his intrusion. He lacked apprehension as it was replaced with a much more vivid excitement and anticipation. He kept these jovial emotions beneath a slight stoic grin.
" Don't push yourself too hard, now. I am going to stick around to make sure you can get up and manage on your own. Before you start being stubborn, do remember that I am a certified EMT, so I am just being cautious." The days of sunny compassion and exuberant longing for cohesion with humanity were gone now. Now was a simple calling to unite his people. Isabel Duskmoor, recently put in the most abhorrent of places, was a surefire litmus test as to his future successes.
Posted by Seizure on Sept 11, 2011 21:35:04 GMT -6
Alpha Mutant
957
6
May 8, 2023 14:31:42 GMT -6
A real wild bunch, those two. He could almost see the analysis of their minds running over him like some kind of scanning device. He had done his bit, now they were generally clamming up. Stoicbutt was in agreement as if he were a Vulcan and the girl seemed to reach a point where the data stream had been computated and her face turned back on. Garrett wondered if he pulled their shirts up, would he find buttons on their backs? Now he remembered why he liked Scotch. He'd have one later. Or three.
“No one that I know anyway, but I like the idea. How long has it been around? What else do you do?”
Quite a flurry and could be answered in many ways. Humans would get the thin lipped version but these two would not. Brief and concise. Robot/Vulcan speak it would be, for easiest translation. " MORA is relatively new, though the partners have been in establishment for various years. Unfortunately, humans really don't want us mucking about in their business, unless of course they need us for something they can't do. I, personally, am the Public Relations Director for the Sanctuary. You may have heard of our golden doors, always open to the wayward mutant." Yes, that seemed about right. To the point. Garrett thought to himself that he might try that way of speaking, since it was no secret that many an eye rolled when he got some steam.
" Either way, would you mind leaving some contact info? I will also give you guys my card." A small black case came from his pocket, snapping open to reveal his little babies. he fingered two and handed them to the young pair. " Do you have any questions?"
A finely tuned nervous system brought many subtle nuances to light. The small smile and shift of eyes at his question made Glumbutt seem more likeable. Perhaps Garrett had misjudged him and he was more Antisocialbutt. Either way, the two of them were mutants, which made his presence at the fair easily worth the mime assaults. The flesh of his hand met hers and she began to sparkle further. He released it after the obligatory shake and let go before he could see more than he wanted to.
His hands flourished to the table and banner as if they were much more grand than they might initially appear outwardly. " This.." His hands returned ot the table, the cool fake wood comforting his fingertips. " ...is the Mutant Outreach Resource Alliance. It is a network for mutants to find services that they may need that the human world may not be able to offer. As you might suspect, I am a mutant myself." He paused briefly, sorting his thoughts so as not to start preaching. They could come to Sanctuary Services for that kind of thing.
" All of our work is not for profit. We only seek to bring our own kind together and provide a resource for them. I was homeless when I first came here and what would have been hard enough was compounded by my racial status." He chose racial over genetic. Obviously. " I hope you might have a look at the Iris Clinic should you find yourself needing medical attention. They can treat things that are sometimes overlooked by the mainstream. Faust Pharmaceuticals is also a mutant friendly venture. The Full Circle is a popular gathering place for mutants to enjoy a hassle free scial environment. If you two know of anyone in need or perhaps are yourselves, I am happy to help."
Looking down at Isabel from his haunches, Garrett watched with a fascination. Perhaps a cruel one, like a child holding a magnifying glass over an anthill. Whatever the motivations of sensation, they passed the moment that tears formed. The initial shriek had felt righteous, breaking the otherwise stalwart countenance of the resident copkiller. Though an earlier incarnation of himself might have pushed her farther and punished her for her stubborn behavior, Garrett just couldn't stand to make Isabel cry. He knew she certainly wouldn't want anyone to know she had and he would never tell. The pain ceased.
The sequential locking down of her body continued, however. Just because he felt compassion for her didn't make the manipulator stupid. Her injured ego could easily lash out in a symphony of bone shards. No, he still wanted her to listen. If she could behave, he might even help her up. As a gesture of kindness, Garrett massaged her temples, duplicating the sensation of pleasant goosebumps he had received after kissing Maya in the bushes in another lifetime. Sure, it might make for a strange segue for Isabel, but all the other pleasures he had stored were definitely not appropriate.
His voice came as a hushed tone in an attempt to soothe her. " There, there. I'm sorry I had to do that. I want you to listen to what I have to say and I knew that this would be the only way to make you receptive. I love you, Isabel. As I love all of my brothers and sisters. It should be clear to you that I am returning and we should really try to move past that. I want your support for a simple reason. Lori may run the Order, but you are its heart. If I were truly so uncaring, I would have just returned and never consulted you. But I want your blessing. We have so many things to do for our people, Isabel. I need to know you will at the least hear me out and accept it."
The rush of neural symbiosis was always something to behold. As damaging as pain was to the psyche, its use as a weapon always soothed Garrett. Perhaps it was because there was a point where it all simply became sensation, to be done with as one willed. Like a violent concerto, he could see great crescendoes of fortissimo[/b][/color] streaming through her arm, its rampage causing a rare call, so rare few ever heard it. The Isabel shriek.
Soon Miss Duskmoor was on her knees to join him. The two looked as if they might engage in prayer. Garrett decided it would be prayers for relief, uttered from her lips. The relief would be given freely as well, provided she kept her mouth shut long enough to listen to him. First things, first, more control. She was already falling back on her rear, the pain no doubt commanding it. Rising from his haunches, he released the point of contact, the neural map glowing before him, laying her bare before him.
Circling her and kneeling again by her smooth hair and crisp bow, his fingers found her temples, her condition surely not one for resistance. He watched as her body revolted, various arrangements of bone stabbing violently and jaggedly through her flesh. He focused and quieted his mind, sending ripples of the pain of puncture along her body to keep her still as he began to exert control over her motor functions. He began to lock her at the shoulders, his voice a cool whisper. " Now, if you want the pain to stop, I suggest you remain still and listen. I know you can do without my sermons, but participation in this case is mandatory."
Biding time with a homicidal maniac whose entire skeleton was an armada was an easy task. A painful, taxing one, but easy nonetheless. Garrett wished he had bangs to hide his eyes beneath, but in their absence, he settled for glances at the bone goddess. The light of her neural pattern was working its way like poison through a well. It had traveled acrossh er torso, slowly crawling over her skull like a sleepy tarantula while the bulk of the coursing moved toward her other shoulder and arm.
"Let go!" Unsuccessful tugs meant that she believed she was in control. Or at least that was what Garrett hoped for. he was more than surprised at the reaction, however. The spikes from her wrist penetrated his palm, which was painful, to be sure, but he had thoroughly expected to see pinnacles of bone shoot through the back of his hand. When they didn't he knew. She was toying with him. The pain made him reflexively take a knee as his vision caught the bone blade making an arc toward his chest. Blood was beginning to trickle down his forearm, his grip remaining tight as the wave of sensation made him clammy and feel a bit nauseous.
Funny how nausea becomes rage with two shakes of a lamb's tail. " You're done." While the sensation of the injury to his hand was moderate, it would most likely only piss her off. No, since it was time to gain the advantage, Garrett ran his free hand over his calf and ankle, his fingers feeling the wayward groove of the scar there. he still carried a metal rod and pins in his leg. Maybe one day Isabel would come around and help him with that. Not today though. Today she would feel the nearly blackout inducing trauma of a crushed leg. His nerves held the memory of Abyss' rage, the sick cracks of sinew and bone beneath the red giant's hands. She could have it in her arm first.
