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.
The sounds outside the cargo bay door sounded vaguely like the types of warped screams one might enjoy as the standard background track of any modern Japanese horror movie. Roland could tell that the young girl enjoyed her work. That in itself was a plus, as there was no hesitation in the kill. However, this could also be a double edged sword, because if the killing urges were part of a psychosis, Roland may have to contend with such baggage at some point.
The crates were lined up at the door. Roland held the button to raise the door and then did his best to only casually glance at the twisted remains of the guard. She had indeed experimented with him. He opened the truck's doors and began loading the crates. It took a good deal of concentration for him to move them and he was glad that they were metallic crates as opposed to wooden ones, which would have remained behind as gold spilled all over the innards of the truck.
Roland eyed the large toolbox he had brought along. The false shelf inside made it appear full, though once the fake shelf and contents were tossed aside , a large hidden cache, enough to hold quite a few of the ingots, made itself known to him. He secured the crates while securing a fair amount in the toolbox for himself, placing its false top back inside and locking it up. He brought the toolbox around and placed it behind the seat of the cab as he sat himself down, ready to depart.
The girl's voice and demeanor had changed from calm, deranged killer to scared and remorseful girl. Roland left the door open and called out to her to join him in the cab. Once inside, they would begin their quick exit to the destination for the gold that they had received in their separate yet similar briefings. It was easy money and he knew already where his extra share was being alloted. Both grieving families and another psychotic teenage girl he knew would reap the benefits.
(OOC: This is the end of the action for me. In the final post from me, I will post a sort of prologue to finally deliver a special gift to Isabel.)
Roland stood as still as a cockroach when the light came on. The feline was looking down into the alley he had leaped over, her superior senses literally sniffing him out. She had lost the scent, but the glowing green HUD would no doubt return her to the chase in mere seconds. If he was to put distance between himself and the angry kitty, now was the time to do it. A small canister, about the size of a roll of film appeared in his hand, lid removed, as he turned on his heel to make for an escape.
His feet, however padded, would be easily heard by the rotating and flicking ears of the cat woman. His legs were already burning from the previous injury and the general exertion. He let another building gap float beneath him as he bolted across another roof, putting more distance between them. As he left the second roof and sailed toward the flat surface of the next, the small canister was turned upside down and hundreds of small ball bearings scattered beneath him, hopefully at lest slowing her down for even more distance.
Though confidence was a thing that Roland thrived within, stupidity was not. Sometimes his own belief in himself was an obstacle, hiding the truth of a superior combatant's prowess with the man's ego. He could tell though that he was severely outclassed in the realms of strength, speed and stamina against this feline femme fatale. He merely pushed on, pushed harder, the lactic acid in his thighs screaming at him to stop. He didn't dare look back at his pursuer. He assumed that she was right on his heels. It kept him running.
In the soundproofed basement of his home, Roland found himself practicing a new maneuver. One of his pistols rested on a nearby stool. A loaded clip of ammunition rested three feet away on a separate stool. On a table a metronome clicked away in an orderly fashion. On the first click the pistol was in hand, the second the clip in hand, the third, the clip in the pistol and the fourth beat found a shot fired into a paper target. Roland was working on cutting out the middleman and inserting the clip and firing in the same beat.
It seemed that this practice would have to wait as the blue stone in Roland's class ring gleamed slightly as it began to vibrate on his finger. Work was calling. The message came through in a tinny tone. He was to meet the new chairman and talk. A changing of the guard had obviously occurred in upper management and now the new head wanted to undoubtedly synchronize agendas with the staff. Seemed fair and reasonable to Roland, who quickly locked the house up and revved up his Ducati.
The helmet affixed itself to its master's head with ease as the high end cycle purred through the rural roads of the estate and beyond. It was a relatively short amount of time before Roland found himself dismounting his bike and walking in to the front of the company. He greeted Noin, who mentioned that she had just left the board room and directed Roland on how to make his way there. She added that he was on time and was expected. Roland had donned an Armani suit, tailored to his liking.
He stopped with his hand on the door and stood quietly for a moment. No reason to come running in like a summoned lapdog, tongue wagging. He looked at the grains in the door before him as he made mental notes on jobs and searched his mind for any other pertinent details. He had nothing to fear. He opened the door and found a most interesting person seated before him at the end of the board table.
Stepping in quietly, Roland closed the door behind him and waited to hear from the young man before him. What immediately struck him as odd was that the boy. Boy? Yes, boy, seemed to be the very young man that Roland was to report on. He wondered what twist laid in store for him. Was it a test? Perhaps something else had occurred. Roland chose not to make a note of it unless the proper opportunity presented itself. Otherwise, he would just appear foolish and uninformed, something that professionals avoid like the plague.
"I already told you why I followed you, but you haven't answered my question. Why were you there in the first place?[/i]" She was feisty, indeed. A predisposition for petulance as well, no doubt. " You are not really in much of a position to be demanding answers or anything else, dear. What I was doing there is my business and my business alone. It seems odd to me that you would be so concerned as to my presence and yet ignore those who were maiming and injuring your friends and colleagues. Perhaps it is you that has their priorites out of line. That can be fixed, just like anything else. Please sit in the chair provided."
Roland chose to ignore the question as he made an inquiry via coded text to Ingram at the Labs. He needed a collar to keep this wild animal from breaking free. He also needed a remote to control it from a longer distance. He made the request and specifications as if it might be a primate, as opposed to whatever this girl was classified as. He decided ignoring her would possibly bring out some of the feral qualities she was keeping at bay. Besides, what was he to do with her? Just letting her go seemed to be implausible at this time. Finsihing the textting, he left the room she was in and entered the rest of the basement, looking for suitable longer term quarters for her.
As Roland pointed out the few details of the blueprint, he made an ote to watch the younger man before him. He knew that he was watching and paying attention and yet there seemed to be an air of boredom. He had probably seen as many blueprints as Roland had, which made them mundane and chore-like. No, it seemed to be something elese. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Of course, considering Zephyr's age and his apparent position within the company, he may just be such a prodigy that most things seemed as less than a challenge for him. The proof would be in the pudding once the job began.
“My function is mainly one of support, ideally my presence won’t even be needed, however should something happen to go amiss during your reconnaissance or during the mission itself then my task shall be to either create enough of a distraction to allow you to finish your objective or, if such is not possible, to pull both of us out as swiftly as possible. To those ends I shall be visiting several electrical substations in the nearby area and wire them with sufficient explosives to cause a blackout throughout a significant portion of the city, however our target building is likely to have a backup generator somewhere on the premises so the blackout will likely last only a few seconds at best.” This seemed to be good news. Multiple distractions, a security guard and even a blackout. This showed Roland the level of professionalism and courtesy of the company. He imagined they could be harsh as well, but only to those who failed missions. He was not a part of that group. He always finished a job, even if he failed secondary objectives. The primary objective had to be completed, regardless of casualty. It was just a point of ethics for him. Who would hire someone who had an average record? Average employers.
Seeing the man was more than prepared to fill in his part of the job, Roland relinquished his speech to him." Very well. I will deliver pertinent information to your room tomorrow afternoon and we can meet once more prior to the actual recovery. Either way, I'd wish you luck, but we don't need luck, do we?" He allowed a small smirk and chuckle to escape his lips. With efficiency and skill resoloved, no reason not to loosen the tie a bit, so to speak.
Roland sat in the parking structure, preparing his notes prior to entering the office. He was thorougly impressed with the details provided by the company for this job. Only governments had been able to pull strings and change details to such an extent prior to his current employment. He wondered if he shouldn't visit upper management when he returned from this little suarez. In general, as long as the money kept coming, he was the last to ask questions. However, work of this scale offered a modicum of curiosity. To ignore the scope would be to disrespect it.
A small tech case in hand and a jumpsuit and hat displaying the name of the tech company were worn. ID badge, so realistic that he wondered if his company didn't own this one. Arriving in the office's reception area, he used the subdermal trigger in his finger to activate the monitoring devices in the case. The young and fresh secretary took his name and noticed his efficiency. He waited patiently as he noticed the heightened level of security for what the office was supposed to be as a front. Even with Dr. Hu's credentials, the cameras and keycoded doors seemed a bit much. All the more excitement for later.
A few moments later, a peppy man in his thirties arrived. His badge read 'Judson Perry, Data Technician'. A gopher sent to deal with the help, no doubt. He shook hands with the man, who seemed terribly cheerful. Perhaps he enjoyed his work. Roland enjoyed his as much. After general details and a varied array of perusing, Roland set himself to task. He assured Mr. Perry that should he need him, he would let him know. The server banks awaited.
Subroutines and coded messages were applied as test programs as Roland walked the server banks. From his blueprints, he knew that Hu's Laboratory was on the other side of a wall from his current position. He initiated a string of viruses that caused the temperature to fluctuate in something called a 'Cold Room'. Alarms sounded and he noticed that a security guard entered the offices and several men and women in lab coats and facemasks came from a different direction, more than likely leaving this room. It had to be the target area.
Once the general alarm was over, Roland was surprised to see Dr. Hu himself enter the server banks. The door closed behind him. " I need to see the data on the cooling systems. Am I able to access that without interrupting you?" Roland stepped back, flourishing. " By all means." He already knew that the program he had introduced would show a random faulty circuit in the coolant tanks. No matter how many times a circuit was replaced, the subsequent tests would reveal the fault in a different line until Roland shut the program down. It was an educated risk and it seemed to pay off.
" It is out of the ordinary, but I need you to enter the Cold Room and find this faulty circuit. This problem will set my research back by weeks and I don't have weeks." Roland began to gather his equipment, a feigned look of worry plastered on his face. So, there was a timeline. But who had put it on Hu? It was odd enough that he had stopped his research on the common cold for this new project, but now a timeline as well?" It's against normal policy, but I'll see what I can do, Doctor." He was led through a coded door. Easy enough. A second with a longer keycode. Not a problem.
Arriving at the vault-like door of the cold room, he was given a facemask and goggles. Immediately the red light of a retinal scanner and the gel like substance over a grid indicated its brother the palmprint scanner. Roland expected as much, just not so quickly. He pretended to fumble with the goggle straps until Hu took the goggles from him and handled them well enough to glean a palm. While he was busy with that, Roland sent a small plastic adhesive covering to the right eye of the goggles strung around the good doctor's neck. The covering was thin enough to evade detection of anything short of an electron microscope, itsp urpose to record the retinal pattern as it was scanned. Another billion dollar patent in the works for Mondragon Labs.
The fluorescent lights of the basement hummed to life. Footsteps entered the room as Roland surveyed the area. He had nothing but work to do. Before him on the table lay several different guns and devices, neatly arranged in their disassembled parts. Accent lights were on and he was turning them to face various arrangements on the table as well as different sections of his stealth suit. He brewed himself a large pot of coffee for the long night ahead.
His polished and pristine movements against his foes were not automatic. Hardly. He had spent so long pretending that he was not a mutant that it put him at a disadvantage without this kind of meticulous planning. As he poured himself a cup of steaming coffee, he recalled a time long ago when he was on a job. He pulled a gun on a recon mission and the hand cannon blasted away, not being the mere clicks and chirps of the silenced variety. Without planning, everything was a crap shoot. A simple coin toss where Lady Luck was prayed to. His new mutant foes would not give him the quarter to pray nor wait for chance to intercede.
Where to begin? The disassembled guns seemed to ask to go first, longing for their established personae. Roland stood before what appeared to be an MP5. He had a chess clock before him and slapped the top to start the clicking arm. Parts began assembling in an orderly, yet not so timely a fashion. He would be shot by now. Once it was finished and the clock reset, he began again, his mind working the pieces.
Momentum reversed. The Meow took two of the shots. Roland wasn't aiming, but rather doing whatever he could to put distance between the two of them. He saw the blood and the stoppage of said feline beast. That was good. The throbbing in what was probably a bruise to the bone? Not so good. He staggered to his feet as the injured kitty recuperated. He noticed she was far from out. Was it a healing factor? Only time would tell, as he didn't believe he would get another chance to look closely.
The switch point was the next roof over. Roland turned his head and could see the large black case waiting for him. He knew he would only get one chance to do this. All of the grueling hours of matching up suit pieces with his ability would be worth it, should this one trick work. Yes, this dog did know a new trick.Here it comes., he thought to himself. The cat was locked on to him with her slit eyes, but looked like she might be down long enough. He quieted the static and chaos in his mind and focused on the task ahead. He started sprinting, albeit jittery due to the bruising, toward the edge.
At the moment his feet left the ground, the Wraith suit remained behind. Gravity and the lack of his body inside crumpled the suit, but for a brief moment it seemed to stand and watch the man hurtle through the air. He was only in boxers beneath, so should a random vagrant look up between the buildings, a nearly nude man would sail over. When his feet landed, they were black boots. His stealth suit had come out of the case and wrapped itself around him, like an old lover's embrace. He knelt for a moment and smiled widely as the green night vision HUD came to life.
Roland had a good idea that the projectile would not hit its mark. It also seemed that the feline was becoming numb to his taunts and jibes as her instincts took over. The situation was going to turn ugly with a quickness unless he put some distance between them. The Baton was caught with tail and whipped back in his own direction. He merely caught sight of it and placed it back into the sheath on his back.
Her strength and quickness was indeed superhuman. He barely skidded out of range of the jab, his legs trying to react as quickly as possible, though sorely outclassed by her raw power. Her own taunt about old dogs and new tricks would glean success for her, as the back leg sweep came as a complete surprise to Roland. That is, until he was on his back. His legs were throbbing already, pain shooting up his legs. He had no doubt that were he completely stationary, he would have broken legs.
It was evident that time for fun comments and the like was over. He imagined that in the brief second or two he had for her to gloat or go for the throat would be enough. He groaned in pain for a reaction, though it did hurt a good deal. His right arm raised in defiance, the pistol now in hand opened fire, casings hitting the concrete beneath him until the clip was empty. It wasn't that he wanted her to die. He wasn't even sure if the bullets would penetrate such a beast. He only hoped for the time to get to the point, which was in sight now.
The fleeting look of the angry kitty as Roland passed over her through the air was enough for the evening. Adding in his own small verse of song to turn the screwes was just something extra. He realized, however, that once he had landed that rather than have a superior view to fight from, he was going to get a uperior show of what he was really dealing with. No sooner than he had set himself in postion was the furious feline flipping and changing direction.
And leaping. Sailing high above him through the air and ready to draw blood. It briefly reminded Roland of an old Wild Kingdom he had seen once, when an angry Bengal tiger charged out of the brush at poor Marty. Only precision, muscles and perhaps even luck moved him back in a tuck roll as her weight came down to bear on the roof before him. As he rolled back, he brought himself up into a squat. The extension of her legs and the claws that extended from the feet, which actually dug into the concrete of the roof, gave him all the knowledge he needed to know. No playing around. Should she actually get in close, he would probably not live to tell the tale.
"Hell hath no fury like a Meow Meow scorn it seems. Here, a chew toy!" The taunting was now for a purpose other than mere ego stroking. He hoped that his continued verbal assaults would continue to keep her angry and off her game. He didn't need her thinking in a calm and decisive manner or his edge would be lost to the edges of her claws. The spare baton he hadn't thrown came out and went sailing, in the same teleported manner as the staff, toward her chin. He would have to stun her and open the distance between them if he was going to make it to the switch point.
Once he stepped back after releasing the staff, Roland enjoyed the chaotic batting that Meow Meow made with the staff as it just seemed to follow her. He thought of a kitten idly attacking a toy with its paws, which made him grin beneath the hood. Its own weight and velocity had apparently injured her slightly and pushed her back toward the roof's edge. It was too bad that he had to end the show with a bang. He braced himself and covered his face with his forearm as the detonator switch was depressed.
The size and power of the explosion told him that he had shaped it right, yet he may have added a bit more than he should have. It was hard to overlook grudges, even when it wasn't business. Lesson learned. He was impressed with Meow Meow's agility and grace, as she managed to turn what would have surely been a mortal wound into a grazing blow, though it did send her over the edge. He heard the crowd below respond to both the sound and the appearance of the pretty kitty.
Roland began to make a slow pace across the rooftop, staying clear of the lights, pistol in hand. Judging from the 'ooh' and 'aah' sounds of the crowd, he assumed she was still hanging on, as it would have more than likely been a shrill screaming had she plummeted to the street below. Roland mulled over the various possibilities that lay before him. Should he approach the edge of the roof, he could leave himself open for a surprise attack as well as have to dumb down his routines to carry on the illusion of the zealous hero. He could also wait with the gun trained for Meow Meow to stick her big furry head up over the edge. The third option seemed best.
Roland took a few steps and then sprinted to the edge of the roof and leapt to the next building, which was a full story shorter than the one he had previously been on. The small structure which housed the stairwell entrance provided suitable cover and gave him enough range to see the cat coming, regardless of which side of the building she mounted. He stood against the edge of the structure, staying crouched, the silenced barrel waving in time to his own little singsong." Eeny Meeny Miney Mail, Catch a Meow Meow by the Tail, If she Falters, Let her Fail, Eeeny Meeny Miney Mail."
At once, the feral cat girl cooled down into a docile kitten at the sight of the firearm. Roland was pleased to see she could practice restraint in light of changing circumstances. However, he was no less irritated at her pursuit."I followed you from the mansion. I wanted to know why you were there. You had weapons so I thought you were there to hurt my friends.[/i]"
He wondered if it was her acute senses or what it was exactly that had pulled her away from the carnage that had preceded his departure. The two sides of mutants were fighting so hard it seemed they had some sort of tunnel vision that left them open. Had he wished to fire into the crowd, he doubted anyone would have noticed until they were bleeding. He lowered the pistol since she seemed to be easier to manage with its presence. He placed it on the table beside him to give the illusion of vulnerability, one of his favorite tricks.
" It was noble of you, I suppose, to wish for the safety and well-being of your friends. However, while I did indeed have a weapon, it was for my own protection. Many of those on the battlefield were quite powerful and simple firearms would have been laughed at. I don't recall firing a shot though. So, that leaves me to wonder why you would come the distance between here and there and then actually invite yourself in to my home? Take your time replying, we have all the time in the world." Roland looked into the corner of the room at a folded metal chair and then back to the impromptu cage, where it was now unfolded behind her.
The coffee was Jamaican. It left a wonderful aftertaste. Roland watched as the curiosity got the better of the cat. She was as careful and cautious could be in such a narrow and unforgiving entrance. Roland looked over the steam of his coffee at the small circles in the floor. There were five in a line, four on each side. Holes on the ceiling lined up to the circles. His eyebrows raised slightly as she came into view. She was a lovely creature. Perhaps it was her feral quality that made her so wild and untamed. Some time in the box would help her.
She apparently was going to do some sort of leap. He could only guess at what her intentions were initially. The end result was that as soon as her feet hit the floor, the pressure plate responded. Twenty steel bars sprung from the floor and met their female counterparts in the ceiling, turning and locking in place. The cat girl was now secured. Roland put his coffee down on its saucer. She looked both surprised and immediately angered. For his own security, Roland moved the steel shutter where the wooden outside door was down, keeping the room silent from the outside, should she have another with her.
" I see you chose to visit. It's rare that I get visitors. Especially ones that are so lovely." Roland smiled at her, though she clearly wasn't feeling civil. He stepped over to the wall and pulled down a Glock. It was loaded and cocked shortly after. He turned and kept the gun on the girl. Being a mutant from the Mansion meant she probably had some tricks of her own. The bars were solid steel and were four inches thick, but perhaps she could break them anyway. He kept the gun trained on her little cat head to discourage such rebellion.
Just flicks of tail and swivels of ear in response to his catcalling. Either she was full of resolve or something else and a good bluffer. Little quips and remarks were all she had, with this ridiculous bit of calling him Sir. Sir was a title of respect and she had none for him. One of those idiots on the street below would have been able to tell that much. Nevertheless, he was doubtful that she would just let it go. Roland certainly wouldn't. His whole schtick of wearing the costume and mask was to display the absurdity of it. He hid perfectly well in plain sight.
""Won't talk, huh? You are very confident in yourself. I appreciate that. I am sure your master would be proud of your loyalty. I suppose we must now make a round of banter and blows. Seems to be the way things work in this strange city. I'll go first." He began moving the staff in various katas and psuedo katas, mostly for show and misdirection. As his nhands were moving the staff, she was no doubt watching its movements and him. She more thanl likely was not watching his hands, assuming them full. Partially true. As the staff moved to one hand. a small detonator appeared in the other hand, kept hidden in palm by sinple hand gestures.
The staff spun around the wrist and then was thrown in a spear like fashion at Meow Meow. Knowing she more than likely had 'cat-like' reflexes, he used the same trick he had used on Miss Isabel at the Mansion. Once the staff left his hand and had its kinetic energy, he teleported it to six inches from her, so it would not lose its speed or flight capability. It would also be very hard to dodge. His steps went backward. Whether it landed in her hand or came near her, he would push the button. If it was thrown back at him, he would immediately return it to sender and press the button anyway.
Meow Meow seemed to completely wave off his first question. Roland continued his feigned display of vulnerability by taking a seat on the edge of the roof. She seemed friendly enough, claws and teeth and all. She was a good Meow Meow.He had definitely drawn attention, just the wrong kind. Or so he had thought. Her civility and clear speaking was just what a good kitty would do. He wondered if he watched her long enough if she might groom herself.
She also had style. At the obvious slur of her mutation, she continued her charming approach, though he guessed she might be capable of not so charming as well, which suited him fine. “It’s laughable at best and you have no idea what this look cost me.” A flourish and a flash of very real teeth. He almost wished he had a water mister to threaten her with. The wait proved profitable with her next statement.“Please leave the original Staff alone." There was the connection he sought.
He nodded to her. " Very interesting. Surely you know there is no such person as I made the name up. However, you do seem to know the man of whom I speak. What is your stake in this? Are you his dutiful sidekick? Perhaps his furry lover? Or does he just fill your milk bowl?" Roland stood from his seated position, retrieving the staff from his back. He turned it once to the right, a small click indicating it was armed. It was lined with a lovely plastique which he had the detonator for. It was a trap he had intended for the man in grey, but his Meow Meow would do just as well.
" You tell me who I am truly impersonating and I'll play nice. If not, then we'll play it another way. Either way suits me. I suspect it suits you as well."
Roland looked out into the night and among the many rooftops, almost expecting a swift response from the real Staff, or whatever he called himself. He hoped that the man fumed over it because next time he saw him he would have a trap waiting for him, not unlike this time. He could see the lights moving away from the edge of the building as the report was undoubtedly being sent out to the news station. Looking into the sky, Roland suddenly wondered if there wouldn't be a news chopper on its way. He needed to have his victory party at home, not in a paddy wagon.
Ensuring his staff and baton were secured, he began to move to the edge of the building, scanning the rooftops for the best and quickest egress out of the scene. Spotting an excellent beginning to the chain, he stepped back a few feet and began to run forward. A female voice stopped him, surprising him enough that he had to reach down and brace himself at the roof's edge so as not to go hurtling over. Turning on his heel, he saw ...yes, he saw what appeared to be a female cat..woman?
“I know you’re not the one being impersonated." came from the lycanthrope's mouth, in a low singsong voice. Roland chuckled from behind the suit's hood. He let his American accent continue, as appearances were way beyond deceiving at this point. "Do you now? And how would you know that?" He turned and kept his hands out to his sides and open. It made for an excellent disguise of being unarmed. " I thought my costume was impressive. Yours must have cost you a fortune!"
