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.
An ATV moved across the pasture trails under the rising moon. It moved slower than it normally would have, had it not been laden down with multiple cases. It slowed as it reached the sparse woods near the wall of the school's perimeter, albeit the corner farthest from the front and the driveway. Roland opened one of the cases, the assembly of devices quick and hassle-free, as the pieces needed appeared and were fitted quicker than the fastest human could do so.
First, a bolt gun fired into the wall, attaching a hunter's tree stand to the exterior of the wall, about halfway up. Roland climbed up and had a look around. All quiet, though some commotion could be heard near the gates. Binoculars appeared in his hand and he saw what appeared to be the mutant form of a street rumble forming in the front yard of the Mansion. He was glad he had chosen to come early. He crouched and left room on the stand for the next two cases, which promptly moved themselves from the small vehicle.
The first case contained a .50 caliber rifle. These things would break a man's shoulder if fired improperly, hence the next two bolts being fired into the top of the wall, securing the cannon's stand to it. That was the backup. The main weapon of choice was a professional quality video camera, which also got its own stand, right next to the .50. Roland checked the lighting and set the camera accordingly, attaching a laser microphone to it, running the wires to a recording/power array on the ATV.
He hopped down and got the camera rolling, opening the last case, which he had saved for last. " The piece d' resistance." He was now quite happy that he had recording capabilities in the HUD display of his suit. He always left the camera rolling, usually to study techniques of opponents later to find their weaknesses. This new suit was quite the duplicate, however. Only the owner would know that it wasn't the real thing. He slipped the suit on, sliding the spandex type material over his body, ensuring that the duplicates of the batons and staff were fitted where they were supposed to be.
Roland got back in the seat, checking the feed on the camera and clicking the safety off on the .50. He wasn't sure of the bonus potential in recording this royal rumble of mutations, but he suspected it would be more than enough. Not to mention the free access to what would otherwise be a pay per view event. He wondered if anyone at the Mansion knew of the masked avenger that he was dressed as. Maybe the real one would show up, demanding his originality back. Roland snickered as he watched from lens to lens.
Roland looked out the window as the plane circled Logan International. It had been an uneventful flight to Boston. The first class section was fairly thin in terms of population, having upgraded the coach ticket the company had given him. He hadn't been on coach in some time, unless he was supposed to be on coach. He had spent the better part of the trip looking over the documents he had requested prior to leaving. Structural plans of the small company's building, the other suites in the building, city street maps that he had highlighted routes on as possible escape paths. Roland knew there were many situations that had to be dealt with as they came, spontaneously. For all other things, plans and details were key to him, even if they seemed either frivolous or paranoid.
Once the plane had landed and Roland was in the airport, he made his way through the security detail. The screeners looked him over, but didn't pull him from line. He placed his briefcase on the conveyor belt and stepped through the metal detector. A small ping and the emptying of missed pocket change later and he was on his way. His gear would be delivered the next morning via the company, to avoid any hangups. It felt especially satisfying to appear so legitimate when there would be so much to do later of the illicit variety. He hailed a taxi and gave directions to the hotel where he would be staying.
As the taxi rolled through the streets, the cabbie did the normal bit of shallow digging at his agendas. He answered politely with various lies about conventions. He looked out the window at the passing scenery, his mind trailing off to Nehanda. She had left town on business, so it made it easier for Roland to go as well. he would go regardless, but having her be away made it easier. He also thought of Melissa and her position of being his superior. It made for interesting possibilities. Next stop, his teammate in this endeavor. A young guy, but going by what little he had heard, he had the eyes and mind of a hardened merc. Merc types were random in their views and ethics. He knew little about the young man's abilities, though several things came to mind with the code name he was given. Zephyr.
The cab eased up to the curb in front of the hotel. Roland paid the man and entered the lobby. The doorman greeted him and opened the door. The wind was furious and bitter. He nodded to the greeter and entered the lobby, which was warm and rather stately. Roland stepped up to the counter and met the man behind the desk. He provided his false credentials. Ronald Turpit, Sales Consultant. The clerk mentioned a jewelry convention in the area, which Roland agreed with. It sounded good enough. He asked if his associate, Johnathon Stone, had checked in yet. It took a brief exchange of too much cash given with no change accepted to find he was on the top floor. Roland arranged having his own suite moved to be on that floor as well.
A few moments and an elevator ascent later, Roland had freshened up and poured himself a small drink from the minibar. Once that was in his system, he locked up and headed down to the room in question. A few knocks and some waiting passed before Roland decided to look elsewhere. Somewhere out of the way and quiet on the top of the building. Roland accessed the roof stairwell and arrived at the door leading out to the roof proper.
A young man was standing there, with hazel hair and a look of determination on his face. Roland looked around the rooftop, out of general habit to survey and observe. He stepped a few steps closer and announced himself. " Johnathon Stone? Ronald Turpit." He was sure it was him, but best to give the aliases a run before shaking hands and getting to business.
The kids were so skittish. He couldn't necessarily blame them, due to the circumstances in which the three of them had met, but it still troubled Roland a bit that they thought him some killer of children. The two shared glances and words as Roland entered the vehicle, no doubt speaking of a timely escape. The Escalade hummed to life, the stereo resuming the last track of the CD inside, it being Santeria by Sublime. Roland eased the volume down, leaving it playing quietly in the background to help soften the oppressive feeling in the cab of the vehicle.
As they began to make their way through the streets of the city, Roland decided to illuminate them to a degree, choosing a specific plan of attack in this testy diplomatic mission. " I don't blame you two for not trusting me. However, we are escaping the mob and you are going home, so try to relax a bit. You said you were going to school, would that happen to be Xavier's? Just wondering since you are both obviously mutants." He imagined they were ogling each other after such a revelation of knowledge. He simply assumed that was indeed the school they meant and began altering his current route to go that way, making the ride more familiar.
" I myself am not a mutant, but I am seeing one. Her name is Nehanda Jenkins. She is the Assistant Headmistress of the school. Spending time with her has opened my eyes to the mutant plight. I knew that there was still some bad blood after the repealing of the Registration Act, but I never expected such a scene as I found you two in. I am thankful that you escaped unharmed. Feel a little better now?" He smiled and continued to drive. Mutants like these could be very useful. Especially the girl, as he believed her to be a bit too old for school, though he wouldn't say so right out.
“Vagabond it is then. Or perhaps Vaga?” Roland chewed slightly on his lower lip as he mulled it over. " If you need something shorter, call me V. You, personally, can call me whatever you like." It was probably slightly inappropriate to say so at the desk, but Roland usually steamrolled pleasantries for the most part. It took generally 30 seconds for a man and woman to decide something. One just had to be aware of the moment and seize it.
She introduced him to Noin Mortman, a woman who was clearly a stronger personality. She seemed nice enough, though Roland couldn't help but notice the lack of a little finger on one hand. It looked incredibly similar to the type of thing that the Yakuza did. He subconsciously toyed with his fingers. She was the majordomo here. Her presence demanded respect. Roland did his best to provide it. He actually sat in the chair across from her, to show this respect as well as maintain the air of order that hung in the area.
“Nice to have you aboard. Please fill out these forms while I get some basic equipment assigned to you. Will you be needing a room as well?" He took the forms, assigning the roles on the pages to his dedicated aliases specifically made for this kind of paperwork. No hesitation that way, as the process of memorized regurgitation basically comes off from a regular person remembering their intimate civil details. Looking up from his writing, he replied to the mistress of machination. " I won't be staying, regretfully. I live off campus. I have a lovely estate near the city." Also close to the Mansion, but not everything needed to be on paper.
He glanced over at Melissa, who was definitely at the end of a shift and looking like it. His fingers continued to write, even being open and honest about the length of his ability. After all, Roland was the one who didn't have powers. He'd played an alias with his ability before. It came easy as most lies do the practiced liar. Noin was asking Melissa about Roland's usefulness. Her answer came quickly through tired lips.“I suspect he'd be successful pretty much anywhere. He seems very efficient.” he smiled at her, nodding to her. " Why thank you, Miss Rivers. I do appreciate the compliment." The account number and deposit codes for his Bahamian cache went down and he returned the file back to the desk, placing the pen neatly beside it, nodding also to Noin as she glanced at him yet again.
Measurements and details, that was Roland's way. His partner seemed to go with viscera and gore. Everyone was different. The main thing was that the gold was moved and they left without detection. Every other detail was either irrelevant or something for fun. Roland would do his best to add all the options possible. He watched the sheer carnage of the darkness attack. He hoped the girl was well put together otherwise. There wasn't much he could do about darkness, but he had 15 hollow point reasons loaded for the wielder to reconsider a burn.
Speaking of the dark haired maestra of destruction, she moved out of the roof next to him. Like she was always there. Roland had his final self check of his new suit as she delivered her report.“So the man outside should be in shock for a while and the men will assume he murdered that man so they will be distracted for a while.” Holding the mask in his hand, Roland nodded and smiled. " Sounds good. Use the earpiece if you see anyone coming, like security patrols or anything. I am going to get inside and have a look around, decide how to get everything settled. We may have to just kill all twel--well, ten of them. Something I am sure you may volunteer for." He returned the smile he was given.
She was probably already sizing them up for the kill. Considering that there would be zero trace evidence due to her abilities, he was all for it. He attached the mask, this one now with a cross pattern of lights on the head. He knelt at the edge of the roof, securing a piton and the wire from his wrist as he ran a spectrum check on the mask. Everything was in order, so he hopped off the roof, descending like a spider down his webbing strand. Once he landed, he looked up and the wire was back in place on his wrist.
He moved to the edge of the building and dashed across to the middle warehouse, his body flat against the exterior wall once he made it. The alien-like head poked around the corner, a red cross illuminating heat signatures. None present, so they were probably investigating the side where the killing had taken place. The patrol was probably calling for backup, which gave a two to four minute window for them to get something accomplished. A piton shot and a clink later, Roland was up the side of this building and perched and reset on its edge, looking down at the chaotic scene below him. The guards were looking for something to shoot and what appeared to be a senior guard was indeed on a radio.
Well, he was on a radio. The radio now sat next to Roland, who promptly turned it off after hearing two voices on the radio other than the guard. Expletives rained down as a second mysterious event plagued the men below. The ten left decided to split into two five man teams, one to stay and defend the warehouse, the other team choosing to investigate the area. Roland spoke softly into his comm. "You'll have company soon. Five guards coming from your right and ahead. Once they are out of the light, have your way with them. Just don't let them get a shot off. I'll deal with the other five. We don't have much time, so once they are disposed of, bring the truck around to this one's loading bay. Please."
Affirmative responses were the best kind, so long as you actually sought affirmation. In this case, Roland did and was sated with the acknwledgment of Melissa's single status. His smirk remained as she seemed to glance at the enough comment as it fell from his lips. He was equally pleased at what seemed to be genuine surprise at the revelation of his mutation. Who could really tell what was real or imagined here? Roland thought it best to stay true to the course,wherever that course may be in this labyrinth.
All of the halls in these types of businesses looked exactly alike. Only the initiated would know which door was a superior's office and which one a broom closet. It could even turn out being a broom closet that actually became a superior's office. Nothing was certain in the world of espionage, where subterfuge was as plain as the ID badge that no one wore.“Now, we don't really worry about background checks, resumes, or interviews around here. Your credentials are your skills and your loyalty. The forms you will have to fill out are simply the most basic employee information types of things. You'll also be provided with a bank account into which your salary will be deposited, if you don't already have one you'd like to use."
Roland listened and nodded some more. At the mention of a bank account, he summoned up the memory of the authorization codes for his Swiss account he had picked up some time ago. One that even the Feds didn't know of. He could see the reception area approaching as quickly as their feet carried them.“I still don't know your name. What would you like to be called?” Roland turned his head and smiled. " As far as a name type name, let's go with Ronald Turpit. I assume this kind of place goes more for the codename business once the training videos are over. If that is the case, hmmm...how about Vagabond?"
Roland's initial survey must have been taken well as he now found himself being escorted to the headquarters of this mysterious third party mutant organization. Escorted in the fashion that he preferred, the non restraint wearing variety. He now had a similar surveillance task for his own pleasure, that of trying to sneak glances at young Melissa while they headed down the road. They were both in a downtime mode, it seemed. A night of surveillance usually left one longing for a warm shower and a warmer bed. Perhaps they could share their visions.
Pulling into a large indoor parking garage, Roland was aware at once of the scale of the place, considering the fleet of identical black jeeps parked next to them. She was easing into the parking spot and then they were both out of the car. “Well, here we are at Mondragon Labs, the humble headquarters for our little operation.” Whether or not she was kidding, he decided she was. The garage alone could have echoed laughter at the statement of humility.“If you'll follow me, I'll introduce you to Noin Mortman, the woman who basically keeps this place running. She'll have all the paperwork we need to get you on the payroll.” Roland simply nodded and followed, though he knew that following Melissa around was quite easy.
" I wanted to thank you again for the opportunity. I look forward to working with your organization for a long time. I hope to see you as well. Is that possible? Are you single? Or at least single enough?" His smirk placed itself in its usual position. " Also, I think we should get something cleared up right away, for paperwork's sake." He walked up next to her as they slowed their pace. He reached over as her eyes followed and tapped the umbrella under her arm with a finger. He then pointed under his arm where it was resting as it was hers. When she looked back down, it had popped back under her arm. " I normally keep that to myself, but I heard mutants are paid better."
The most grateful of mutants walked before Roland. They both seemed to believe he was there to hurt them. That possibility hadn't completely escaped Roland's mind, considering the task of rendering all of his toys useless. There was probably a dollar amount he could attach to give the argument more weight, though he felt he really didn't need anymore explanation. The girl was still doing most of the talking, a fact that the boy didn't seem to enjoy. He didn't speak up too much to stop her from running over him. Perhaps it was a mating tactic.
As they put distance between themselves and the mob of angry patrons, Roland chanced a look over his shoulder. None seemed to be following, though doubling back would be impossible should they run into anything else up ahead. People were still clamoring about, though the cars had been kind enough to stop driving around too much." None of your goddamn business" Roland chuckled, though the noise seemed hardly lighthearted." Actually, I believe it is my business, in a way. I knew about the little stunt as I happened to see it occur, around the same time that all of my electronic devices decided to stop working and be ruined."
He could see the pilfered vehicle up ahead. He pulled the keys out from his pocket and clicked the locks and alarm. " The silver Escalade up ahead. I'd prefer you both sat up front. I have just as much to be concerned about as you two do. You seem confortable enough together. Who wouldn't like a pretty girl to sit in their lap?" Roland had a feeling that the girl might begin to fume and spit if he kept up this faux kindness. So, he would.
The hotel was rather nice considering its location. Roland assumed that people who did dock business needed somewhere to sleep too. Melissa had arranged suites for both he and his partner. After a fine dinner, the three of them had covered the general meet and greet, ability descriptions and surveyed the layout and detail for the warehouse in question.
Warehouse 6034 looked like just about any other warehouse in its specific area. Same lack of color or individuality. Just a large building with a loading bay and two doors, one on a side and one on the back. What separated this warehouse from the others were the specific differences of the inside and outside. The outside difference was where the other warehouses had a sleepy security guard pacing the property, this one had an armed detail of guards, 12 of them with two posted on each door which put the other 6 inside or patrolling in pairs outside.
While it could be seen as an exorbitant precaution to have so many guards on a seemingly indistinct warehouse, the contents therein made it seem about right. There were no specific details other than a similar warehouse shown bare in exterior and interior. There was a catwalk and upper floor with an office, below a large space for forklift use. Roland imagined the cargo in crates.
Judging from general knowledge and speculating at the shrinkage when an "evil" organization passes hands, he figured that there were still at least 5 crates inside still full with gold bars. The truck he had rented was two warehouses over, parked at Warehouse 6038. The company had been gracious enough to rent the space for the week under one of its many subsidiary fronts.
Roland sat perched on the roof of Warehouse 6036, his stealth suit reworked at Mondragon after the EMP business. He suspected his partner was somewhere on the ground preparing the initial distraction. Roland pulled a small device out, the size of a cigarette pack. He moved it in the direction of the target building, numbers cycling on the display. Ranges of meters in distance, guided with a laser pointer. Roland set various lengths of grapnel wire in his arm to coincide with the lengths measured.
The two kids seemed agreeable enough. Besides, what were they going to do instead? Roland particularly liked the female's sass."Your car had better be parked far enough away." Before turning on his heel, he smirked and his eyes opened wide in an exaggerated fashion." Realllly? But why? Oh, would it be due to the pulse that knocked everything out? I wonder how you could know about its radius so easily?" Chuckling, he led them up the street and away from the mob, putting himself behind the kids.
" Keep your heads down and keep walking. No running. Running is like running around with a bloody murder weapon. Just nice and slow and easy. We have a few blocks to go, yet. SO, who actually knocked the lights out?" The boy with the green eyes seemed to be the quiet one of the pair. Strong and silent type? Interesting. His girlfriend was quite attractive and seemed to be the brains of the operation. Or at least the spine. He kept his wayward glances at a minimum and regardless of the length of the conversations, by their end, they would be at his new Escalade.
Roland had decided to look for the masked crusader again, to throw things at him. Though rather than sticks , he was thinking more along the line of concussion grenades, to see if the gymnast could fly. He had been stalking rooftops for an hour or so but it began to seem as if the vigilante was having a night off. He decided to take the initiative to practice his own rooftop exercises in order to better face him or any other things that went bump in the night.
Bounding and leaping from roof to roof, swinging from flagpoles and fire escapes, Roland moved across the city with efficient speed. He found himself in a more populated part of town, with the neon and music indicating that bars were open and prospering. A drink didn't sound terrible. He stopped at a suitable roof corner and surveyed the alleys below, which were conveniently occupied with two upper class looking types committing some sort of transaction which involved sniffing. He attached the grapnel to the roof and began rappelling down the wall of the building to the alley below as one of the two, more than likely the supplier, walked off. The other remained, which was fortunate as he was roughly the same size as Roland, which was the real point of the robbery.
Dropping behind him, he removed his mask, still clad in the slick black bodysuit. He came up behind the man and pushed the gun into his back. It must not have been his first time, as he merely dropped his head slightly and held the little brown vial out." I'm not interested in that, you keep it. However, I was curious as to your measurements." Hearing the man's groan and stammering of said measurements, Roland rolled his eyes." It's not that kind of party either, friend. I would like your clothes however. Keep the coke. It'll keep you warm."
Roland took each article and put it over his suit. He let the man keep his underwear, shoes and socks, opting to just use the boots of the suit as they blended in nicely as regular shoes. He even let the man keep his wallet and money, choosing to keep his keys after being pointed to an Escalade. Another test of equipment passed as Roland tried one of the knockout gas emitters that came from beneath his wrist. A small puff of air and the victim was a sleeping babe.
After having a look over the vehicle for anything suspicious, Roland found it surprisingly clean and in good order. He despised being pulled over for an expired tag or a non functioning signal light. He drove it down the street a few blocks and then returned it to its original parking spot, which was still there, to his surprise. He locked it up and set the alarm, walking the streets. Looking over the various watering holes, his thoughts returned to Nehanda. He wondered how her wounds were healing and if she was well. Lost in his thoughts, several blocks passed underfoot. He took his phone out and skipped through the contact list to her office at the Mansion.
It was suddenly dark. The buildings, the cars, even his phone. The link between them all and their loss of function made him think of one thing. An electromagnetic pulse. He looked around ahead and behind as cars hit each other and people began their general panic. It seemed that many humans were afraid of the dark, whether they claimed to be or not. Roland stepped into an alleyway and checked his suit. Dead. He checked his phones. Dead. He even checked his new communicator ring. Dead. He's have to speak to Dr. Ingram about this unforeseen eventuality.
Considering leaving the scene for brighter places, he saw something most interesting. Two people emerged in an alleyway, both with light sources. One had a strange green glow coming from his eyes and the other seemed to have a flashlight or something similar. He stepped back against the shadow of the wall and saw it was no flashlight. It was a light bulb, held by the female of the two. It also didn't take enhanced hearing from the suit to hear them bickering like an old married couple. He couldn't make out the words specifically, but the hand gestures and general tone said it all.
Two mutants moving down an alleyway after all the lights go out. It didn't take a rocket scientist to deduce who may have been the cause of said outage. Watching the two was interesting at first, as the girl tossed the bulb to the guy. It went out as soon as it left her fingers. Something to remember. She seemed to be hesitating, as if she didn't want to leave him behind. Was it a lovers' quarrel? The sound of an angry mob made it clear that it was going to evolve into something else entirely soon.
Seeing the two quicken their pace and get closer, the cause of the mob was evident. Roland heard sirens nearby and a helicopter sweeping the area as well. The kids would be fools to turn down a helping hand in this situation. Of course, this city was full of fools, just like the world was. He stepped out into the mouth of the alleyway before them. " Need a ride out of here? Looks like it might be getting ugly for those of the mutant variety."
Just a heads up, I'll be out of town Saturday and Sunday, back on Monday. I can probably post sporadically, myself or Garrett, as my friends over the mountain are all hooked up and I'll probably have some spare time.
Three shots. The man was fast. Roland also noticed that his specters didn't try to stop him. If they wanted to observe their master's downfall, so be it. What better audience than his subordinates? Roland noticed a flicker in their appearance as one of the bullets slammed home. He was hiding, no doubt assessing his wounds. Judging from the lack of blood and the remaining presences in his midst, Roland estimated that he was wearing some sort of body armor. Something he would have to look into. It just didn't help when it came to pressure pads. it only hurt.
Waving it off as something to ponder at Mondragon, Roland raised his vision back to his target, just in time to catch the baton in his gun hand, sending it sliding to the edge of the rooftop. Roland went down on one knee. It hurt like a son of a bitch. There went any quality lockpicking for a week. the man had done all of this in the midst of a well executed handspring. Roland simply stood, the rain hammering down on him. He remained relatively dry inside, save for the layer of sweat. He still shook his head in a manner of disdain, at a loss at his lack of compunction.
He walked through the ghosts, moving to a position near the gas tanks the vigilante was crouching behind. The man was a hard worker and deserved some credit. He tossed the baton behind the tank, followed by one of the two tubes. A gift, intended for the frame below, had his electromagnetic sensor not picked up the slight ticking of a silent alarm. Yes, silent in that ears don't hear it. Roland simply clapped in appreciation for his adversary. He pondered removing his mask to say something charming, but he would have another chance. The rooftops would find him visiting again. Next time he might be the predator.
He stepped to the edge of the rooftop, looking down at the pistol. He looked back up at the skyline, the gun now missing from the spot where it was. He smirked in his suit, imagining the look on the man's face when he unfurled the contents of the tube. In the one he carried was a painting, valuable beyond price. In the other tube, something of nostalgic value. A rolled up poster of Sid Vicious crooning his stunning rendition of Frank Sinatra's 'My Way.' He dropped off the building and into the night.
(To be continued on another night. Also, for anyone who would like to hear this lovely ballad, it can be found here)
Roland's ascent slowed and he stopped at a window sill, landing in a handstand. He braced his legs against the sides of the window and slid down into a frog stnace, looking up at the rooftop. He couldn't see his opponent. Surely he hadn't given up. He seemed so active otherwise. What a shame. He thought that....."What?" Roland saw movement to his right. It seemed to be a dark humanoidshape, crouching against the side of the building, watching him. The gun appeared and a single shot slipped out to the creature. The bullet made no impact. That couldn't be good. Was it his opponent? Could he somehow become a ...no, ghosts were fairy tales.
Roland looked up at the building he was on the side of. Glancing back, the crouching wallcrawler was no longer there. Turning his field of vision, Roland saw various creatures moving up the wall from below in his direction. His eyes widened inside the suit. Could he replicate himself? What was this? Roland looked up and saw the long gutter pipe that clung to the edge of the building. He shot his grapnel up and out to the top of it, where its joint attached to the roof. Using the line and some quickly inspired climbing, he made his way up the pipe as the creatures only hastened their ascent after him.
Disengaging the hook and line, Roland crouched at the top of the building, now seeing his quarry across the way, looking around in his direction. Was he directing the creatures and their movements? A puppet master? Roland stood and turned to move on and then stopped again. The rooftop was full to capacity with these things. They had no faces, they only stood and stared at him, seeming to hold an energy of anticipated movement should he decide to turn away. Roland looked back. The puppets or the master? Kill the head and the body dies. The gun came out once more, a new clip replacing the old. Roland lined his sights up.
She was quite eloquent, especially when she was angered. He wasm ore pleased that she was no loger so serene and untouched. The speech was afine oen. A bit bland and not of the type he would sit and listen to for long, though. Not on purpose. It was time to close things and send little Vega home. FIrst, however, there was a good bit of washing to do.
Roland listened and then smiled. " That was an excellent speech. You really do have the school's ethos in mind. I am sure you make an excellent addition to their ranks. I apologize for my stern demeanor. It's been a long night. Allow me to explain myself properly. I do know of the school. I have been there before, yes. I am an agent of sorts for a foreign national. My superiors wished for me to retrieve the item you saw earlier, the small satchel, from a known terrorist earlier this evening. " He began to walk out of the alley toward the streets and relative safety.
" Thing is, our mugger friend from before and about 6 of his cronies jumped the man I was after and Junior took the satchel, the only item I was interested in. So I had to get it back. My anger seeped over which caused me to act as you had seen previous. I am sure you wonder why I tell you all of this? Well, because you will more than likely see me again at your school, as I have been seeing one of your teachers. Nehanda Jenkins. We have been keeping it to ourselves, so I'd ask if you could also do the same. most private schools are nests of gossip, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread it around." His smile of beneficience on, Roland waited to see if the bait took.
