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.
With the thump that preceded him, Roland stood and made a ridiculous bow, to add to the mockery of the suited cavalier type. The camera swiveled quickly to him as the young reporter quickly tried to get to the edge of the van, standing on her heeled tiptoes to get a statement, the microphone raised high, like a mini Lady Liberty. Remembering not to use his actual ability, he quickly reached down and grabbed the mic away from the lady as she sputtered out her name and the channel number. Just wasn't her day, Roland supposed.
Looking into the camera and using his best American accent, he began his rant." Thanks, Jenny. My name is the Staff!" He held out the duplicate staff in a defiant manner, doing his best to stifle the chuckle that wanted to escape his lips." I just want the viewing public to know that there is some joker out there running around in a copy of my suit! We costumed crimefighters take this stuff seriously. So, if you are out there, you dirty copycat, I hope you'll have the guts to show your face to me soon!" Sometimes, Roland was just proud of himself.
He tossed the mic down off the van and by sheer luck it bounced off the young reporter's head. Roland was busy inciting the crowd to chant 'Staff! Staff! Staff!' while he did Hulk Hogan like moves to see which side of the van would be the loudest. He could hear young Jenny, or Maria, or whatever her name was scrambling to get her mic and quickly trying to mend what was otherwise a ruined bid for her to get evening news desk. Roland simply put his hand out to her, palm facing her stunned mug.
He stepped back to the back of the van and launched himself like a pole vault toward the traffic light, mounting its arm above the crowd. The word Staff was still being chanted. He then retraced his previous path via flagpole and fire escape to find himself on the roof. The lights of the camera were still pointed at him as he flexed his muscles at the camera and crowd before tucking and rolling backward out of sight. He audibly chuckled to himself and put the staff back on his back, imagining the replay on the news. He would definitely Tivo it.
The city truly never slept. There was never a time when there weren't people milling about, some just as if it were daytime instead of night. London wasn't quite as cordial, with its armada of CCTV cameras constantly watching every street, every alley. The liberty that the broken Lady in the harbor promised gave him leeway to do all sorts of things that might otherwise not be able to.
Ever since his run in with the man in gray, Roland had reworked the duplicate of his suit, to combine it with the hidden spaces that his normal stealth suit already had. It appeared slightly more bulky in the back if scrutinized, as Roland's regular gear was stored in formed spaces for the items.
He had moved across rooftops for several hours , looking for the original wearer. Having missed him since their initial meeting, he had planned to find a way to unmask him so he could really get into the man's mind. He wouldn't tonight though, as the hours were sliding by and nothing of worth had popped up. His route through the buildings led him to a large open and well lit area;Times Square. Even at this later hour, there were plenty of people around.
There was quite a gathering around what appeared to be a local news van. Lots of Hi Moms and Go Yankees were being fired off behind the poor little journalist, trying to tell a story. Was it live or tape? Roland decided it didn't really matter. It was an easy device for the goal he had in mind. In a city full of costumes and capes, there probably wouldn't be too much of a panic.
Making a grand entrance would be tricky. Just walking up to them would tarnish the quality of the clip. Roland looked at the edge of the building and his vision scanned a line of movement spots between his current position and the news van. A fire escape, a flagpole, a traffic light and the top of the van later, the broadcast was interrupted by a thump from above and a costumed clad man, staff in hand.
The lights and noise of the five unlucky men who headed toward Sapphire was qucikly silenced, reminding Roland of the girl's efficiency. He couldn't do the things that she could, but he was certainly no slouch. The thing that amazed him most was the appearance of the top of the truck he had requested. He could now see it at the end of the building. She hadn't driven it, but simply moved it. That put her in an entirely different category.
Staying low along the edges of the roof, Roland monitored the scene below. Three men were now circling the truck, seemingly stunned and amazed by its appearance. That left two inside guarding the gold. A small drill appeared in his nad and made a hole just large enough for a fiber optic camera. The snake like cyclopean camera peeped in from the ceiling, marking the two guards as being unarmed, their guns hanging free at their sides while they nervously talked about the situation.
Roland set the piton and gave himself enough slack in the wire to swing. The distance to the ground was thirty feet, according to the rangefinder. He had spotted a large crate near the open door below him through the camera. That would be his landing zone. He jumped out straight until the wire stopped giving slack and gravity pulled him down. His measurements accurate, he swung easily through the door and up slightly, the wire disappearing and recoiling into the suit.
A slow front flip and he landed on the crate. The guards, startled, went for their guns and became even more puzzled when they were no longer there. The guns were now sitting on the crate in front of the dark figure. Roland waited for their eyes to meet his and put a bullet between each pair of eyes. Given that the rest of the squad had not heard what little there was to hear, he took the opportunity to cut the power to the warehouse, sending it into darkness. His cross of lights went a grainy green as night vision came on, with the new addition of glare compensation to account for direct flashlight beams.
“Is the mission over yet? This is just too easy.” Roland smirked to himself inside the suit. " Easy work equals easy money." He put hismelf in the corner of the room behind one of the crates, waiting for the inevitable arrival of the three. He was pleasantly surprised to find two entered instead. Flashlight and pistols bared, they moved slowly and cautiously. Roland made one man's flashlight appear to jump from his hand and roll off the other way. When the men turned, he moved up on them and emptied a shot into the bases of their skulls. The fifth man apparently had no intention of coming in to die like the rest. A smart one.
Roland began arranging the gold into neat piles as he heard the scuffles and breathing of the final guard. It was probably the senior man. Too bad for him as Roland would leave him to be the dark girl's toy. Into his comm, he spoke," If you are truly bored, come get this last guy out here while I prepare the gold for transfer."
The lights of his home burned in the darkness of the treeline. He broke free from the woods and found himself pulling up behind the house. It was a rather large manor, perhaps a fourth of the size of the Mansion. He was the only resident, however. No kids to feed or noses to wipe. He turned the engine off, the key disappearing from the ignition to his person, the cases stacking themselves by a set of stairs that went beneath the ground level.
Opening the door to this part of the basement, Roland swung the door open wide, turning the lights on. This part of the lower level had a worktable and several tools lining the walls. Some would be seen as tools by anyone, some tools to professionals. Guns hung next to slide rules, computer banks lined one wall as well. Two mannequins behind glass stood silently, surveying the scene. One was clad in Roland's stealth suit. After a moment, the second was wearing the suit he had just worn at the party.
Roland poured himself a coffee and sat at the table, opening the first case and securing the .50 cal, reassembling it as the other case found it self open and wires were connecting to the computer banks, in preparation to upload the footage for transfer to the company. He left the door open, inviting his new friend to enter. He kept an eye on the floor just at the entrance to the room. The device in the floor could only be spotted by the five circular spots in a line on four opposite sides of the space there at the bottom of the stairs. Entering, he had released its safety switch, leaving it to be activated by pressure. It was excellent coffee.
It kept an excellent pace. He watched it from his peripheral in the mirror as it would flash in its reflection. It moved through the cover quickly, though it lacked a primer in proper stalking. Roland would prefer to let a mark get just of sight. All the ducking and covering done by the beast behind him only pointed out further that it and he were the only two out in the fields and forests, under the light of the moon. He had been following the dirt track through the neighboring land, but now that he had crossed onto his own acreage, he veered off the track and headed into the brush.
This move would hopefully accomplish two things. One, it would definitely mark the creature as stalking him. Two, he was getting to know the ins and outs of his land. Every ditch, every sinkhole, every tree had to be committed to memory. One could never tell when a small and seemingly unimportant detail could be capitalized on. He increased the throttle once he was in the brush. The cases were secure enough and making his stalker move made it all the more enjoyable.
OOC: This is following mine and Nika's posts in the birthday thread.
The engine warmed, Roland began maneuvering across the field in the direction of his estate. He took his time, carefully and gingerly, considering the precious data he was carrying. He was lost in monetary computations, considering the bonus money and its utilization in his house. It would more than likely update the bungalow, purchase some horses and gear for the stables and hire some caretaker types. It was important to have appearances covered.
Inside, there was much to be done. He had installed several items in the bowels of the estate, secretly hoping that someone would field test them. Almost as if the cosmos was listening, Roland checked the little rear view mirror over the accelerator. There was a small figure hunched down on the wall, watching him as he drove off. He made no change in the speed of the vehicle, preferring to maintain the illusion that the creature was still unnoticed. He used 'creature' because while it seemed to be humanoid, it had a tail.
Roland looked down at the gauges on the console before him, spotting his trusty silenced pistol, which now rested there before him. His body blocked the view of it, so should the creature begin to stalk, he could squeeze some diplomacy out, bullet by bullet.
Roland hadn't moved from the spot. He remained knelt, the staff in hand. The display of mutations and visceral rage before him was just too fun to watch. He put the staff back in its sheath and adjusted the remote for the camera and gun, moving it between the combatants to get the best data for his employers. That was the point, after all. Attacking Isabel anonymously had just been an extra personal bonus. He stood slowly and stretched his legs, stepping backward slowly as he manipulated the camera. Fortunately, his use of the laser microphone hadn't been detected, as he had tried to keep the small dot of red light in inconspicuous places. That was the most work for him. the rest was just fun.
It seemed that the casualties were rising and the combatants were tiring. Soon, their senses would return and they would begin to look around at other things going on. It was time for him to call it a wrap and head home. His backward steps continued until he found the wall that he had come over in the first place. Since it seemed to him that he was generally unobserved, he took the moment to vault up the side of the wall and find himself on the small seat he had bolted there. The recording was the main state of affairs. He began the download of the video to the array he had set up on the ATV below. The little bar moved its way, percentages streaming and rising.
Looking over his shoulder, the cases for the .50 caliber appeared on the wall. He began disassembling it by mutation, pieces stripping and finding their homes inside the plush cases. In moments, it was completely broken down and locked away, the cases back in their place on the small four wheeled vehicle below. He even made sure to remove the bolts for the stand, leaving his only presence to be small holes in the top and side of the Mansion wall. A small LED indicator light let him know that the download was complete, so he hopped off the seat and disassembled it as well.
Now the din of battle had lessened somewhat, revealing an otherwise serene and beautiful night. Securing all of the pieces to the vehicle, Roland let the fake costume find its way into a small duffel bag, taking the opportunity to feel the night air on his skin as he manually dressed himself in one of his easy jumpsuits. He sat on the laden off road vehicle and felt pleased with himself. It had all occurred so easily for him. Not even a scratch. It was a perfect job and he would celebrate at home with a stiff cognac and cigar. He started the quad up and set it in gear.
The blood seemed to work. Her head turned in his direction, Melissa looked over to him and apologized. They were back to civility, which was the cornerstone for any good relationship, be it personal or business. His arm stretched out, palm turned up and cupped. He let it rest gingerly on her shoulder as it filled with the warm water of the shower. He slowly withdrew the contact of skin on skin, emptying the contents of his hand against his temple, a slight sting coming with it.
“Look, maybe we should get that wound taken care off. You're bleeding all over the place, in case you hadn't noticed.” He smirked slightly. " Yes, I did notice. First though, I would like to start over slightly. I am sure it will suit us both. If you would like to call me something, call me Roland. It's my name. I believe we have simply let our professions get in the way of what we feel. I'll try to fix that if you will." He stepped closer to her, closing the distance between them. His arm reached past her wet body again, this time to turn the water off. It left only the sound of dripping water and their breaths.
Roland stepped from the shower, grabbing a towel and handing it to her. He then toweled himself as he looked into the mirror's reflection at her. She was a beautiful woman. She seemed tired, though. The work would do that to a person. He secretly hoped she found another line of work before her beauty faded completely. He let the water in the sink get very hot and then put a washcloth into it, wringing it out and pressing it against the head wound to slow the bleeding. " I believe we both know what we want, Melissa. Let's just take the time to know each other enough to appreciate it properly."
Leaving the room, Roland's pleasure in himself was so overwhelming that he almost didn't hear the door reopen. He was quite easily amused with the relationships between men and women. It was as rare as the rarest of gems for such relationships to come easy, without the baggage or hassle that biology and memory summoned. His head cocked, he turned to receive an apology. Instead, the butt of the gun slammed into his temple, bringing prickly stars to his vision. He could feel a warm trickle ooze down the side of his face.
The initial reaction would have been to go strike her in the temple. However, it only took a moment to realize that he had merely misinterpreted his misinterpretation. The look in her eye was a mix of 'Serves you right' and 'Come hither'. She was a very unique and interesting woman, this Melissa Rivers. Leaving the dismantled gun on the carpet with a few drops of blood, he stepped toward the door and opened it, leaving it ajar for a moment prior to entering. He didn't feel like a matching wound on the other side of his head.
Steam roiled out into the room once the door had been opened. Stepping into the bathroom, Roland saw a flash of white. His mutation worked in response to the assumed threat, but the bathrobe, which now hung over his head, was obviously one hundred percent cotton. He heard the curtain draw closed from his dark cover. He dropped the robe on the floor, along with the rest of his clothes that he had managed to get on before the minor assault.
Perhaps she had initially thought she would give him things to do at gunpoint. It should have crossed his mind, but having been in the company headquarters for such a brief time, it was hard for Roland to comprehend simple relaxation. He would give her the reins now, though he certainly intended to milk the head wound if possible. He stepped through the curtain, finding her back to him, a lovely back to behold. She was letting the water course over her, shoulders slumped. " Message received. I apologize for being rude, but really, I only just filed my paperwork. Guns don't make me nervous, but they do make me aware." He made no attempt to approach her, waiting to see what she did in response. He simply looked down and watched the blood drip from his head and make its way across the basin, between her legs, and down the drain.
Roland stepped into the bathroom finding the water running and a pile of clothes on the floor. He was almost excited, though his keen awareness and a movement in the mirror quickly changed the feeling. A cool metal gun barrel was pressed firmly against his neck. It certainly wasn't the first time nor would it be the last. “Put your hands in the air.” Roland went against his better judgment and smirked slightly. He really couldn't help it as he lifted his arms as requested.
Fortunately, the heat of the water had not come to a point to begin steaming the room up. Roland had a good eyeful, in the mirror, of Melissa as she stood behind him, stance firm, two hands on the gun. Then it became no hands on the gun. It was Roland's hands on the gun. He stepped forward and turned quickly on his heel. He now had the firm stance and the little point sight aimed squarely at Melissa. He waggled his eyebrows in a slightly comical fashion."Your turn. I suppose that makes you it."
In a smooth chain of movements, Roland had the clip free and the single bullet in the chamber free. It ejected and spun in the air slightly before finding itself sitting peacefully next to its family on the counter. Roland looked down the barrel." Is this the standard issue sidearm here? It's not bad. Not bad at all. I apologize as I seem to have misread you. I interpreted the chemistry between us to be of a different stuff than it obviously is." He placed the pistol next to the clip and single bullet.
He walked past Melissa, his eyes still locked on to hers, should she feel like pulling anymore tricks. He stepped out of the room and pulled the door closed behind him. He should have expected as much, his first day and all. He thought on it as he slid his clothes back on. She probably thinks I am little more than a quivering man, easily turned at the sight of a woman. I simply appreciate beauty and have no qualms with self expression. The stark quality of the room actually helped Roland think more clearly. He felt no regret nor shame for what he had done. In his mind, it was no different than a handshake.
Roland listened as Melissa spoke to Noin about someone named Ingram. Judging from the details of the conversation, he assumed that this person was one of the technical types that he enjoyed working with. The types that could create the devices he would need in the field. Someone to warm up to, though his present company seemed much more open to the idea of being warmed up. His arm was taken by Miss Rivers as they began their way down the hall.
“So, it sounds like we'll have to wait until morning to get a communicator for you. I believe Ingram is working on a new model, which should be quite a bit less bulky than the old style. From what I hear, it's actually worth the wait. For now, would you mind if the first part of the tour includes a stop at the barracks? There's a couple of unclaimed rooms, and a hot shower would be really nice after all that freezing cold rain. You could take one as well, and I'm sure we could find a spare uniform in your size if you'd like something dry until we can get your clothes washed.” Roland did his best not to immediately absorb innuendo, as it was more than likely created by his own mind, as well as other biological outlets." Many things are worth the wait, Melissa. I'd much rather wait for the most updated technology. "
They arrived at one of the aforementioned rooms and he waited for her to enter. " I could certainly use a good warming up, but please, you go first. You seem quite tired and I am sure you could use the relaxation and comfort. I appreciate the use of the facilities and the uniforms, but I actually have a lovely estate I recently purchased. Perhaps you could come visit sometime. " He waited for her to enter the bathroom, taking care not to ogle her. He knew that there was attraction there, but there was no reason to load wood on a fire that was burning fine without it.
He slid the wetter parts of his clothing off and turned the heat on in the room via the individual thermostat. He heard the shower running, so he turned the television on, watching a report on the local news about the false alarm at the cafe, though the story was more of the equine consumers therein. Roland stepped to the door and checked it, finding it to be unlocked. He removed his clothing and stepped into the room, the steam already building. " The showers seem quite roomy. Perhaps I could join you?"
Stepping out onto the rooftop, Roland made a quick survey of the immediate surroundings. All was quiet. Too quiet for a windy rooftop. It was the lack of wind that made him suspicious. Even on a relatively calm day, most rooftops were generally quite breezy, if not blustery. The air here was serene, free of movement. Quiet. There was no doubt that he had found his partner. He saw the young man standing on the rooftop in wait for him.
Once the confirmation was validated with the young man's nod, Roland could tell he was being sized up. He smirked, though only on the inside. It was customary, regardless of tenure or experience, for the agents of a job to feel each other out. This person may very hold your life in their hands at some point, so it was best to find out if they were lacking in a manner or if they were simply a professional. He hoped for the latter, though with the briefing he had received, he felt as if this younger man were actually the senior man in the company's eyes. It was fine with Roland either way.
“Turpit was it? I’m glad you could make it. We can speak freely here so before we head out I would like to confirm that we both know our roles and, if possible, I would like a cursory description of your abilities. I’ll assume you have already grasped the meaning behind my own codename but if not I can expand upon it. ” Straight and to the point. Something that Roland appreciated and respected. " The West wind. I assume you have a great deal of control of air and wind, considering the display here on this roof. As far as roles go, I will generally defer to you, as you have the seniority with the company. As far as my mutation..." Roland reached into his pocket and produced a platinum money clip, bills crisply tucked within. He removed the bills and returned them to his pocket, fingering and displaying the money clip for the other to see. He then threw the clip off of the roof. As it was about to disappear from sight, it was in his fingers again, as if he had never released it." My mutation deals with the teleportation of inorganic materials. I must be able to see the item or it must be within a few containers that I am intimately familiar with."
He caught the cue as to the rest of Zephyr's question. A simple mutation was rarely enough to make it in the company. " As far as what I am capable of, I have spent the better part of my life training my mutation to seamlessly fit with my other skills. Be it procuring items from well defended places, convincing marks to go along with presented material, or tying up loose ends, I have at least 2 decades of experience. I can't imagine that I would slow you down much, though I cannot fly, which I assume you can."
Roland walked closer to the younger man. He could see the hardened look in his eye. He immediately grasped that this one was not going to be a liability, which made the mission more pleasant for all involved. He stepped over to a metallic box, no doubt containing electrical conduits. It was at their waist level, which made it a table. He spread out the structural blueprints he had of the building in which the office was located." Tomorrow, a hardware tech will be making some maintenance checks of the machinery used in the office. I've arranged things with the company so that I will be the tech. I'll be placing some surveillance equipment inside so that we can get the general routines and passwords and the like. This way we don't go in blind. I prefer plans. Speaking of roles, which one shall you play?"
"Why are you telling us this?" The boy seemed to be very defensive. His lack of gratitude made Roland wonder how the interior might look splattered with what was left of that smug look on his face. The girl seemed to be staying quiet, though it was strange as she was now acting as if she were the meek and timid member of the pair. Quite a change from the fire in her at their meeting. Perhaps she was just rolling with the situation and playing whichever part she thought would maintain the illusion of trust in the car. Roland appreciated good acting.
"Look, it's great that your 'in tune' with our circumstance...but you don't have to try and sympathize with us. We're glad you showed up and are able to get us out of there. And yes that's the school were talking about." Roland continued to look ahead. He wanted badly to entertain the idea of murder, or at least attempted murder. The proximity of two mutants with strong electronic abilities didn't really bode too well for him. He thought he might catch the boy unaware sometime and talk to him then. For now, on with the Samaritan bit. " Very good. The school it is. It isn't far from here, so you won't have to suffer my existence too much longer." He added a smug chuckle for his own benefit. Maybe the boy would give him a reason.
"He didn't have to come to our rescue. You're checking this gift horse's teeth." Roland looked over, smiling and nodding at the actress. " Your words are kind, Miss, but if he wishes to hate me , it's his prerogative. I will make sure you get to the Mansion safely. Other than that, there isn't much to worry over." He had their faces and he could get their names from casual conversation with Nehanda. He would definitely see Green Eyes again. The girl? Who knew? Perhaps if it profited her he would. She seemed to be that kind of woman.
(OOC: In case the subtleties were missed, Roland is currently wearing a duplicate of the Wraith[/color] suit.)
Roland checked the digital playback on the video. The lighting was good, the action superb. The scene before him could probably sell as an underground mutie action flick were it not earmarked for the company. He calibrated the remote to synchronize with the gun and the camera, so whatever was being filmed could also be shot at. The remote found a snug spot in his utility belt. He hopped over the wall, baton in hand. It looked like the one that had nearly broken his fingers when it hit. It was weighted like that one too. He pondered which one of the many targets before him could field test it for him.
There she was. Miss Duskmoor. She wasn't looking too proper and serene at the moment, with what seemed to be bony spines jutting from her body. There was a man poised to fight her, staff in hand. He might be fun to fight, Roland thought to himself. A battle of quarterstaves. It reminded Roland of Little John and Robin Hood. He tossed the baton in the air a few times, letting it land heavy in his hand. Little Miss Duskmoor, all full of huff and puff at the Sanctuary. She made an excellent choice. It partially made up for the violence he had wished on her that day.
Roland took a few quick steps and then dropped to a knee, letting the baton fly. Once he let the projectile go, he used his ability to move it directly to a few inches from the base of her neck, thereby bypassing the rigors of wind resistance and friction. Baton A meeting Neck B. Simple and sweet. As he let it fly, Roland remembered to actually reach back and pull the staff. It was hard not to use one's ability when it was so damned handy.
