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.
Being one to have pilfered exotic locales and killed exotic peoples, Roland smirked at the Russian expletive. His eyes shifted to her, giving her a good once over to change the meaning of the verb in his mind. "Do you work for de blonde woman? Did she want more of my blood?" He continued to move through the city, changing lanes. He was pleased that she was happy to give him information so readily. Spoiled some of the fun, but still. her own admissions only solidified the big picture for Roland, pieces sliding into place.
" Yes, I do work for her, as a matter of fact. However, this little outing is ...off the books, you might say." He had been curious about where the boosting agent had come from in the cocktail that was being developed. Had he flipped one channel to the left or right when he saw the Russian boosting the insect girl on television, it may have never clicked. Now it was all coming out in the wash, as it usually did. The oily fish smell of the docks was coming in through the vents as they neared their destination.
While Roland preferred to work privately, especially with one so tender, there was little reason to let up on the interrogation since she felt like being open. " Now that you know something about me, I insist you tell me about yourself. Start with the Clinic and its residents." He eased to a halt at the gate of the docks in question, waving a small device at a sensor, the security gate swinging upright. As they rolled into the loading areas, the large freighters lined along the docks seemed like slightly lurching buildings, their size blocking the afternoon sun. Their new place of residence moved toward them.
Roland waited for her to answer, the long pause of eye contact drew a small sigh from his lips. Unless she had some weird eye power, she was probably just mad. Maybe it wasn't her first time. That wouldn't be a surprise either. She was smart and knew what she was capable of. He only had the surface impressions, anyway. Getting to know you fare would come later, no doubt. She picked up her purse, which he allowed. He could look through it later. After she passed the door's threshold, he moved the machete, pointing it down the back hall to the rear entrance. Surveillance always wins.
They made their way down the back hall, Roland taking the time to observe the stairs up to what seemed to be apartments. Perhaps there were more worthy assets here than he suspected. No one was there presently, however. They made their way to an SUV parked in the rear lot. He opened the door for her, leaving it open and walking around to his own side. Sure, she could run. But she wouldn't. The look she had given him was one of surrender. It was more where than when at this point. He looked back behind the seat as he climbed in the machete changing places in his hand for a 9 mm pistol.
Sitting with his door closed and the gun in his lap, he looked down at it and then looked to the pretty young thing. " No reason to go this far and not go all the way. Don't forget your seat belt." Once they were in, he eased out of the lot and up the small alley between the buildings. He rolled out and turned slowly enough for the guy on the porch to write down the plate. It isn't as if he hadn't picked it up on the street over, but cowards generally felt better to get a plate, let someone with a gun handle it.
As they moved into traffic, Roland let the gun sit in his lap as he maneuvered through the business commute. "So, tell me a little about yourself."
The small two story Brownstone-esque building before him waited, as if it might be looking back at Roland with the same fervor he directed at it. The normalcy of the scene outside the Clinic only made the reality more amusing to him. How many other seemingly normal buildings in New York also housed powerful mutants? Survey says. Stepping up to the small porch entrance, he looked at the wooden planks underfoot. Blood traces, fairly fresh, only beginning to coagulate in the warm spring air. Crouching to examine the trail, he heard a bit of commotion inside. Probably the bleeder.
Since the run in with Noel, it had taken Roland months to remember what guns were, much less how to fire one properly. It was really a shame to lose so much. At least his face was still pretty. Standing and opening the door, he entered, looking at the few people in the waiting room. They looked back at him, though most of their attention was directed to the long, freshly sharpened machete hanging in his hand. "We don't want no trouble, man." Roland looked ahead, registering the comment. " You should probably reschedule your appointments, then." The smartest person took the cue to leave. The rest followed as quickly as their gray matter could get the drift.
With an empty office, Roland's feet began to move toward the tumultuous mess going on in an examination room. His quarry was the booster mutant he had seen on the news with an insect controller. After a week of surveillance, he was happily surprised to find that she was not living among the Mansion kids. She was out in the open. Hiding in plain sight was a fine tactic, but usually only reserved for those who could protect themselves. He suspected that outside of her enabling others, she was a creampuff. Even if not, guns generally didn't go with clinics. Maybe the presence of oxygen? The thought bounced around as he stepped into the door frame.
A woman in Spongebob smocks turned to him first. "Sir, you'll have to le--uurrrkk!" The hard hilt of the weapon caught her square between the eyes and she dropped like the quintessential sack of potatoes, no doubt next to the bleeder, who gurgled and snored on the floor. The other two nurses recoiled and began to scream. Only began, as Roland put his finger to his lips, holding the blade in the air near their throbbing pulses. "Stay put. I'm here for the Russian." His eyes turned to the blond. "If you'd rather not see innocents cut down like wheat, I'd suggest you come with me. Quietly." Of course, he secretly hoped she wouldn't come quietly.
Waiting on her usual teasing response, Roland did alot of thinking about baseball. Keeping his mind as far away from the voluptuous vixen stalking him in the room. He was surprised that he couldn't hear her move around behind him when he felt her soft, fragrant locks fall on his shoulder, no doubt leaving her full lips near his ear. "Now, now, Roland. If my intention was to see you naked I wouldn’t have needed chloroform and rope, don’t you think so?” The long, luxurious hair soon trailed away as she stood again at his rear. He could only shrug. " Who can say? Maybe you would like to be in my position." Of course he would. They both knew that.
Now she surely wore a smirk similar to his as she stood behind him, reminding him of her dominant role at the moment. He wondered if the irony was lost on her as she traded places with him. Did it matter at all? her voice appeared again in front of him, her sweet honey replaced with venomus bile. She was quite good at switching things up on a whim. Predictable as ever. "You have something that I want. Something that I own. Where is it?"
while knowing fully what it was she was actually after, Roland chose to play the game some more. She had started it and ending so easily would be a loss for them both. She wanted him to suffer and she wanted her to percolate. " Why, Mistress, it's here under this towel. You can have it anytime you like. You know that." He kept his smile on though he knew there would be repercussions for his defiance. he had never been into the whole submissive role, but Alexandra could make any man interested in just about anything. Baseball. Baseball. Baseball.
The disticnt sound of someone shifting their weight in a chair brought his attention to mind, turning Roland's general perceptive position toward the movement. Didn't mean there wasn't some thug standing behind him with a plastic bag, a bat, or some other fun. No sudden movements. Then, a voice. A lilting breeze of Romania blew over his ears. " Of course." he couldn't resist the smug smirk that was rising up his throat to cover his lips. he had turned her crank one too many times and now she had come to collect.
" I suppose you made the chloroform an aerosol, or just made it part fo the air with your gifts? Very shrewd and sneaky. I'm not sure why you left the towel on though. I was sure you would want to enjoy your quarry." He settled himself in the chair, taking an opportunity to move both wrists and ankles in the process, though they were both quite secure. Probably rope as well, which did him no good. If only everyone used handcuffs. Lifting his head to face the direction of the voice, he smacked his lips.
" Might I have a cigarette? I believe we blindfolded types get last requests and cigarettes." A kiss would have worked, though it would have revelaed something about him and the towel would have been a moot point.
The Park's expanse was not nearly as green as usual, with winter on its way. There were still plenty of conifers to spice things up, but it just wasn't as lush as it had been a few mere months ago. It seemed change was in the air everywhere he looked. For once, he thought that going with the flow might be a good idea. He joined the flow of the herd that piled into the descending stariway to the subway terminal. A little bumping, but still fairly civil. As he passed a clock on the wall, he saw why. It was no getting on to the evening and most were on their way home from work or wherever normal people went.
There was one of those musician types standing at the landing as the stairs turned to enter the terminal proper. He had a guitar case open at his feet for tips, jingling his jangle for the passersby. He was in the middle of a mediocre rendition of 'Rocky Mountain High' when it seemed that something put his tune in the trash. His foot reactively flipped the case shut andh e was already setting about to closing up shop. Roland turned the corner and stopped, leaning against the wall, as people continued to look at their shoes and pass by.
He would have passed it off, but the manner in which he hid his deeds and the look in his eye was as obvious as a brown four-door sedan cruising your neighborhood. Cops. maybe a beat cop, maybe not. A grey haired man passing by with too much in tucked under his arm was relieved of the weight of a copy of The Village Voice, Roland's deft fingers allowing it to slide free of his arm crook and be opened. A nice physical barrier which also returned him to an average person.
A few steps taken down toward the terminal and an easy lean into the corner of wall junctions and Roland was ready to spy the details. Were it a beat cop and he would fold the Voice under his own arm and move on. If not, well, if not all sorts of things could occur. Perhaps a plain clothes doing his chores or going elsewhere. With Roland, there was always the chance that someone was tailing him. Cops had a funny way of believing that wanted criminals weren't allowed to walk the street in broad daylight.
Too much coffee. Besides the residual taint in the back of his throat, Roland was noticing a bit of jittered hypersensitivity, with lights being brighter, sounds more crisp. fine and dandy on a job, but just tooling around it was more of an irritation than anything. Nothing was going to occur today, so why not just call it and go home to work on new avenues of opportunity? Standing and stretching, his first instinct was to call a taxi, but usually opportunity came knocking in person. His feet carried him down the sidewalk.
Hands in pockets, he perused the various vendor wares along the streets, not particularly thinking about anything. He was determined to keep an even pace about things this time, lay low. There was no reason to hide, but that didn't mean he should go back to heists in broad daylight. Stealth and silence had worked best for him in the past, so it would work well again. He just lacked the compunction to drop a problem where he found it if the heat was around the corner anymore. time to start playing the game smart again. he was over the ego bruising of being outed. His actions then had only made things worse for him in the long run.
Central Park's subway terminal was the closest connection to his new place and with it looming, he decided to head that way. Less visibility, both literally and due to the hundreds of other passengers below, meant less chances of getting pinched. Smart. Not fast and loose. It was a daily exercise in self control, but the means always justified the ends.
Enough time had passed to let the heat on the back of Roland's neck cool to a mere blister. Sure, he was still wanted by multiple agents. But , really, how many others who walked the streets weren't as well? Generally, unless you just happen to be in the right/wrong place at the right/wrong time, cops generally kept their blinder covered eyes straight ahead. He had returned to the City with a new set of papers and alias, same old face though. \ Sitting on the bench across the street from Faust Pharmaceuticals, he had watched the building for most of the day. Having opted not to inform his boss he had returned, Roland thought he'd just haunt the old spots to see if anything of interested floated to the surface. Nothing as of that day. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a white button up, most of the day had been trips to Starbucks and finalizing some new arrangements.
The old safehouses were all considered compromised. He had no new known aliases or addresses, so he had settled on using his funds to procure a small studio apartment. It was on the top floor of a building which seemed to house mostly elderly folk, leaving him to his many devices usually. One more vente latte and he was heading back. It appeared only directly entering the Sanctuary would work, possibly.
Sorry to hear about all the bad stuff and busy stuff. The wheel turns. Anywho, I have sent a formal email to the Mods about Roland coming out of the carbonite. So, for all intents and purposes, he is at large again.
Tiptoeing along the hall, doing his best to avoid dripping too much on the hardwood floor, Roland opened the linen closet and found the towels needed. He grabbed an extra one and dropped it beneath him, dragging it with his right foot to keep the floor humid at most. As the light of the bathroom approached, there was a noticeable odor in the air. Trying to wrap his mind around it, he had the disticnt impression that it was ...chloroform..He had...used it before, but usually in ..a mediummmm//
A slow dull pounding in Roland's head was the thing that woke him. His thoughts were still sluggish. It must have been chloroform, though now the smell was cigarette smoke.His yes tried to open, but maybe they were open? A blindfold. Which meant, yes, his hands were bound. There was still hardwood beneath his feet, so he made a guess that he might still be in his house. That would be a plus. There was something around his neck as well. Unaware of the composition of the blindfold, he made an attempt to remove it from his face via mutation.
A sharp crack of electric pain reminded him not to do that again. It also angered him, though his mind was still too foggy to take in the weight of the situation. it was the kind of collar he had worn in Romanaia. He moved his legs a bit, realizing his feet were bound as surely as his wrists. he was definitely dealing with a professional. Unsure of which professional it was, he kept his mouth shut. They were more than likely in the room and the odds of escaping the scenario alive meant that he would wait for them to speak and do his best to smooth whatever the problem was over.
Marche Slave played throughout the house, the slow movements working melodically throughout speakers recessed in the walls. The shower was running in Roland's master bath as he stood naked before the mirror admiring himself. The money for the X-Jet gig was being reinvested properly, the drug was being processed and produced and the last Fed to give him static was eating through a straw now. Yes, all was well. He did some faux conducting in the mirror to the rising crescendo of the music and stepped into the steamy box.
Soaping and scrubbing, he adjusted the various directional sprayers and worked on the levels of the music. The heat, humidity and steam brought sweet Alex back to his mind. Not like she had left recently. She hovered over his bed at night in his mind's eye, her piercing blue eyes on him. It was reminiscient of the Ghostbusters scene. The water soon was turned off and Roland's arm reached out for a towel. Double damn. he hadn't put one out. Stepping out of the glass box, he walked along the corridor to a nearby linen closet.
The board room was filling with executives, pencil pushers, and bureaucrats. Possibly the most disgusting creatures that Roland had set eyes on in some time. The young assistant was a bright spot though. All of the men had greasy eyes for her as she delivered coffee , water, and whatever else they wanted. Well, the things they could actually have. She approached him last, her shining ambitious eyes attempting to affix Roland to her.
" Anything for you?" The man looked over the others and then back at her, his icy eyes settling on her like wintry fog. " Later. See where Miss Faust is." She understood and wiggled her little hips right out of the room, heads turning like dominoes as she left. He let a manly grin fly at them, which they all understood. One of the FDA goons looked over at him, his jowl wearing maw opening.
" Will Miss Faust be here soon?"
Roland sighed softly, his arms crossed. He nodded up at the clock on the wall.
"When does this meeting begin?"
"Ten A.M."
"And it is?"
"Nine fifty six"
Roland shrugged at him. Lori was the talker. He was merely the bouncer, keeping the little pigs in line as she spoke.
She was moving back, but unfortunately, it looked like she indeed was opting for the pounce. Her muscles were coiled like springs of tension. Roland's finger hovered over the trigger, his eyes watching the creature warily. He wasn't one hundred percent that the blast would do all that much, but there was no reason not to shoot her. Her claws told him to do it. It took all of a second for her to react, maybe one and a half for him likewise. His finger tapped the trigger, but didn't pull it. It was like what happened when the mother and child would pop up on the target range, the reaction is there, but no follow-through.
She juked him, springing as expected but doing so at an odd angle. The gun moved in his hand instinctively, his hands changing position as the shotgun moved to the proper angle. Just a pu----------
----------*gasp*--
He was looking at the ceiling of the parking level above him. His body was cold, shivering against the warm concrete beneath him. Roland knew this sensation more than most should. It was like what happened when live jumper cable were applied to your heart. Usually in those situations, there is a doctor trained to bring you around. Same doctor who makes sure you are healthy enough for another round of torture. Unsure arms and legs pushed up off of the ground, as he reached for the nearest car to pull himself up. He threw up slightly, a wave of nausea covering his back like a wet blanket. He began to move, unsure of what had just happened.
Walking out from under the darkness of the parking deck, he wiped his face and looked around. There were several people down the sidewalk, each direction, climbing to their own feet. Something big had just happened. The cat. He had forgotten about her. He turned to see if he was about to be pounced, but couldn't see her, due to the cars in the way. A breeze and a roar rushed behind him. the cat? He turned to see the side of a garbage truck, missing him by fractions of inches. It careened into some of those same people climbing to their feet before slamming into the side of a building. Screw the cat. HE thought of the Lexus, but as the sounds of cars, horns and crashes amplified and increased, he decided against it. He ran, well sort of trotted across the street into an alley, holding himself up on the side of the building. Whatever it was, it could happen again, so he kept moving. Move, move, move.
The glass was empty now, so it took a seat on the table. Perhaps a different man would have taken a seat, tried to understand the words of a living Christmas ornament as it told that person not to talk to strangers and say their prayers at bedtime. Roland was more the type to allow himself a regripping by a professional. The golf club came back at an angle, though not the angle for hitting golf balls. With a snap of the wrist and a pitcher-like swing the club left his hand and arced toward the big transparent ball with M. Butterfly inside.
As much as the balls were made to be aerodynamic, the club not so much. It made a clumsy wobble through the air, looking as affected by alcohol as Roland was at the moment. it missed the thing by at least two meters. Fortunately, with the twilight, he could see it coming back down, so it returned to his hand for another attempt. " Great example. Hurting you sounds great." this attempt he aimed a little more to the left and when he threw it, it disappeared from sight just after it left his hand. It reappeared before the floating Kabuki. Roland waited with hand open, should it come back in retaliation.
Miss Fed wasn't quite so in charge at the moment. Roland kept his weight on her pinned arm, just in case she decided to do any more kicking. They were probably just footsies anyway."You know why we're here. We only came for the toys. If we'd known you were here we would have brought an adapted or five." A small stutter started in Roland's chest, like an old starter trying to turn over. " And you think the outcome would have been different? Tell me, Noel, am I using my mutation now? Or is it possible that your arrogance is ill placed?"
Before her mouth could open, the knife poked against her cheek. It was pushing in, probably just barely breaking the skin, not deep enough to draw blood.Yet. " No need to answer. It was rhetorical. But now that you mention it, I don't particularly care for Adapteds nor do I care for you meddling in my affairs. You got those toys. I hope you enjoy them. You cost me quite a bit of money as well. Money, as we both know, is fleeting...just like beauty.' The angle of the knife took a sharp turn and in one motion, Roland impaled her cheek and pulled the knife through until it snapped through the side of her mouth.
He stepped back, letting her drop to the ground and bleed. He dropped the knife as well. " If you need fingerprints, there they are. I just wanted you to know that you are not the only one capable of applying pressure. Next time you see me, bringing a goon squad of Adaptards would be an excellent idea. At least stop using those silly bludgeons." He left her there, in a heap of ouch. Hopefully she would be wise and keep her mouth shut as left the scene. Oh, wait, she couldn't leave her mouth shut. It brought a smile to Roland's face.
