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.
Not much reason to be subtle with a houseful of dead officers. Surveying the scene in the living room, it appeared there was one less body. The open door laughed at the situation. As Roland stepped that direction, he heard a muffled pounding at the basement door. His head turned at the origin of the sound, his sleeve wiping residue from the side of his face, his eye still leaking. Stepping to the portal, the key turned in the lock and the door swung open. One of the cronies was on a phone. Unfortunate, but not too important. " --all dead. She's running? then who...." The phone left the victim's hand, entering Roland's. He looked down at it and held it out toward the unfortunate, flashing the blade in the half light of the kitchen. The office could record the last moments of its life.
Phone closed and in pocket. Knife gripped firmly in hand. Roland walked out the front door, surveying the scene. Looking down, there was a convenient spatter of Chauncy blood trailing down the steps and heading up the block. His smile opened like a Revelation seal. His pace was even. There was little reason to run, though his legs pushed the beat up from 4/4 to 8/4. It had been some time since he wanted to hurt someone. usually it just came as a hazard to those who became obstacles. Noel's face was clearly burned into his retinas, burning as furiously as the irritant behind his right eyelid. Someone came out on their porch to see what was going on. One look at the man walking by with a bloody knife sent them scurrying back into their hole.
Rounding the corner, he saw her. She was slowing, her pace a mere trot. The fire in her lungs must have been torturous. Torturous He approved of that word. His pace did not slow,however. Like a man casually grabbing a bag of groceries, Roland caught a healthy handful of hair from behind and dragged her into the space between the buildings. It was a bit narrow to be called an alley, but their bodies fit in it. He slammed her cheek against the wall, there, turning her arm up and inward behind her back, far beyond the point of saying Uncle. His body pressed against hers from behind,not allowing her an inch of recourse. The knife, covered with her friends, appeared in her vision. He leaned his lips close to her exposed ear. "Now. Tell me precisely why you are seeking me out. Lie once and I'll dislocate your shoulder. Lie twice and..." He chuckled, a cold tinny sound. "Don't lie twice."
She didn't fall on her ass. Too bad. Roland adjusted for that unfortunate non-event by enjoying the maneuverability of the X-Jet. Why children who played dress up on the Mansion grounds were allowed to have one was beyond him. He pulled back on the steering wheel, the ground disappearing from view sharply as it was replaced with clouds. No steep angle was necessary, as he was having fun rather than trying to stall the engines out. The controls were smooth and silken, the altimeter rolling as Roland also rolled the jet a full revolution.
Breaking the clouds, the sun shone over the chassis of the jet, making it gleam at the thinner altitude. The trip would be relatively short, but Roland didn't feel the need to zip through downtown in a secret stealth jet. Following the readout of the city, he located Faust below him, not too far away. He looked back over and admired Alexandra's legs, though she was thoroughly not looking at him, staring out the window with indignation. He wondered what look she would wear when she found out Streak wasn't the only one being delivered to Lori.
Considering the relative distances of Faust to the other buildings in the area, Roland knew only a precise landing with little acrobatics was vital to getting the job done. But that's why Roland was put on the job, wasn't it? " Going down." In an orchestrated and precise combination of moves, Roland pulled the flaps. All of them, while cutting the throttle down to next to nothing. This caused the jet to effectively hit the brakes and drop like a rock. The landing gear extended as the engines turned for vertical landing. With a press of emergency boosters, there was a brief thump and roar as the X-Jet set down on the helipad of Faust Pharmaceuticals. Not so much as a scratch.
White coated lab techs were standing ready as the entry ramp opened. Roland unbuckled himself and stepped over Streak. Oh, he had forgotten to secure him during the flight. What a shame. Stepping out into the daylight, he stretched as the crowd of eggheads approached. " Take the sample downstairs. The other one has a meeting with Miss Faust. She just doesn't know it yet." Making his way toward the door, he stopped and looked back at his trophy. The eggheads were carrying an unconscious and slightly bruised Streak out. One of Miss Faust's assistants was meeting Roland, a digital camera in hand. The camera came into his own, as she smiled a devilish smile to him. She'd be on her back before long. Turning toward the scene, Roland snapped off a few clicks and then handed the camera back to her. He stood in the shot and took a few poses for posterity himself, planting a kiss on the young girl's cheek as he disappeared into the bowels of the building.
It was a good sentiment. Bring the lambs to the slaughter. Roland wouldn't need to go looking for them since he was between them and the door. His eye burned madly, the residual fluids on it making the other sting. Perhaps a full, well placed gout would have incapacitated him and made him easy to deal with. The missed attempt only threw a big rock at a hornet's nest. The first one was completely unaware, taking a deep stab to the stomach, the knife twisting and pulling free. Roland crouched low as the second seen pulled one of the bludgeons. The knife left his hand as he ducked behind that oen and it reappeared in the other, sinking into the back of its neck, just below the skull.
At that point he disappeared from sight as he disappeared behind the wall where the steps ascended to the second floor. There were sounds of shuffling, grunts of opposition and then, ultimately, silence. Roland stepped over the bodies and put the bloody knife next to the upstairs bathroom sink, turning on the water and splashing his face with it, trying to relieve some of the irritation and burning from the spray. Once he was finished, or as finished as he was going to be, he picked it back up and made his way downstairs.
The sun was just beginning to make its trek beyond the hroizon. Roland had maybe an hour of good light left. His scotch was getting warm, the ice beginning to be little more than slivers in the glass. A stiff sip down the pipe and he licked his lips, sliding his leather gloves back on and fitting his USGA cap tight on his head. The wind was marginal, if present at all. It was the end of a productive day. After he had left Alexandra and Streak with Lori, he had debriefed and came straight home for some scotch and driving.
The ball was fished from his pocket and placed on the tee hands free. The driver had to be manually handled, considering the leather grips. While being an expert in many things, regripping golf clubs was not one of them. Wearing a navy polo, khaki slacks and cleats, he lined hinself up for another swing. Each one helped to center his mind. Each drink helped to wash away the thoughts of Alexandra. She was at once irritating and attracting, repulsive and irresistible. The club swung back, winding up to send another ball off into the fields.
A hard swing came down on the ball. Slice. Roland looked up briefly to see where it went, but the ball immediately came down. Straight down, as if it had hit a tree branch. Covering his brim with his hand for further squint avoidance, it was discovered not to be a branch at all. It was some kind of ....floating kabuki? Seeing the ball in the rough, it appeared back in his gloved hand and was returned to his pocket. he shook his head in disblief and looked at the nearly empty glass. No residue of a drug. He turned his head again. Yep. Floating kabuki.
An ear twitch of recognition. It brought a smug smirk of satisfaction to Roland's face. Not so high and mighty now, Mew Mew. No more near fatal attacks via claws and hanging upside down by the leg. Now the tables would be turned and predator would become prey. "Have we met before?" The lean muscle mass began to move back, sliding away from him, though the movement seemed very cautious and determined. Exactly the correct response.
She didn't move all the way back. Really, she hadn't changed the possible outcome by much at all. if she could leap several yards as a frolic, she might as well still be on top of him. In fact, a cat pounce is much worse than being mauled. She'd have to get leverage to maul. This feigned attempt at retreat was only the winding of a spring. Time to up the odds. Roland put his elbows down and slid his legs from beneath her as he looked at the open holsters. The pistols found themselves sheathed and with a quick glimpse over her shoulder, the shotgun was back in his grip. At least now he could half scoot and ensure coverage.
" Of course you do. We met over Times Square. You gave me a dangle over the concrete and I gave you a faceful of explosion. Ring any bells?" Roland put his right elbow down and used his back and leg muscles to push him another foot away, his feet just clearing her body. " Now, from this range, I don't really need to be precise. So, why don't you be a good kitty, do as you're told and actually back off." Being prone in front of a lioness was never a good thing, but he would empty a shell into her chest if she didn't start complying soon.
Roland is in for Procedures, materials, and Collection. Anything else needed just let me know, Charge. Also, Garrett will be resisting to say the least. Once he finds out what happened to Muse, he is going to be a face that Lori will see often. often enough to throw up a little in her mouth. Have a nice day!
He wasn't expecting a kiss for good luck or a heart to heart. Alexandra had been percolating with rage the entire trip down to the hangar. He also didn't expect the mean jab to the kisser either. He fell back and landed square on his butt. A familiar taste oozed into his mouth as crimson slid down his face. He looked up at the femme fatale, his mouth opening to say something. He never got a chance. Here came the talking to, the time when a woman became enticing as she was filled with indignation and sought instant validation. He kept his mouth shut while she continued.
It seemed she did know about the cameras. It made sense, considering she had been spying on the Mansion. Maybe he had slightly underestimated her. She took a step forward, closing the distance between them slightly, the lights of the jet's interior creating a sort of nimbus around her body. She had wants and desires, as most women did. She wanted to be treated with respect both as a woman and a spy. While she appeared to take a breath, he put a word in edgewise beofre the next torrent spilled from her perfect lips. " Deal. I'll treat you with respect. You punch me in the face again though and I'll punch you back. " That was the real way to test a potential partner's mettle. See if they could take a punch.
He thought she might have something more important to say, but it turned out to be more female emotional venting. So he waited until she was done, wiping the blood from his face and regaining his original standing position. His eyes never left hers, just in case she decided to throw another punch or try some of her own magic. She had two more requests. Start the damned jet. Stop smelling his hand after he touched her. One request he could comply to. He snapped a sharp salute at the vixen and turned on his own heel, taking a the pilot's seat.
The entry ramp at the back of the jet began to close with the whine of hydraulics as ligths began to come on before him. The powerful VTOL turbines started to come to life as Roland buckled himself in. he thought for a moment to tell Alexandra to do the same, but then he recalled that she had not requested that. She was smart enough to figure it out on her own. Roland's eyes lit up as there was indeed a place to put his CD> He assumed it was probably for visual discs, but most were compatible. As he slid the disc in, he pressed the button for the hangar doors, which were directly above his head.
Sinatra's voice began crooning 'Come Fly With Me' as the jet engines blasted to life and the scenery began to brighten. The landing gear retracted, as the kiddies in their various costumes looked on. Roland achieved the minimal safe distance before slamming the throttle down. The speed that this jet had was off the charts. It was definitely a custom model. He thought that maybe when he got it to Faust, they might get some blueprints together before they returned it. For now, it was joyriding at the treeline.
Alexandra's long tresses were luxuriously soft in Roland's grip. He kept his murder face on for Streak until the kid went to sleep. He allowed her to wrestle weakly as well, though he did press slightly with the blade to ensure she did not do it again. The jury was still out on her brainpower. At first, he thought he might have made a mistake judging Alexandra as another pretty face with no brain inside. Every time she spoke to him, the opinion resumed. Her eyes continued to narrow and she looked pretty pissed. That was good. Her body pressed against his and a handful of hair felt good too. He backed the two of them up to the plane, pressing the button to release the entrance ramp.
Once it had descended and made a sound against the metal floor, he pulled her back with him until they were safely inside the confines of the plane. It was only then that he let go of her hair and pushed her to the floor. He smelled his hand to remember the scent of those luscious locks. She turned her head over her shoulder, rage filling her eyes. She opened her lips, only managing to say, " You.." Roland crouched and gave her a look like he might just smack those lips off of her face.
" Shut the hell up! Listen. For someone who gets away with as much as you do, your spy abilities suck. Hard. You had better hope that the cameras in the hangar don't have audio or you've completely screwed yourself out of ever returning. If I had talked to you normally after shooting Streak and we happily walked into this jet together, what would that have looked like, Alexandra?!" He stood again, adding some more lecturing in before she could do much more than pout, which she was world class at. " Do me a favor and try to be subtle enough not to be seen in the cockpit windows. Or maybe you want to write a big sign to hold up to the cameras that says 'I'm in on this.' Just keep your mouth shut until I get back."
Roland turned his back on her and walked back into the hangar, crouching down and removing the dart from the boy's back. He then put his arms under his armpits and dragged him backward into the plane, laying him down next to Alexandra. He stepped over his body and headed for the cockpit to begin the pre-flight check, when he heard Alexandra's voice behind him. " Oh, Roland?"
Chauncy did not seem to want to move. An older, wiser officer would actually move along, using his own body to block the vision between them and exploit an opening. It was as if he thought that if he moved slow enough he wouldn't have to go inside. He stopped short, though. Completely stopped. Roland would have given him a hard shoulder but he stopped as well. A gun flew by and landed on the porch. It skidded across the wood planks and fell over into the hedges lining the front of the house. The two men actually both turned their heads and looked. Roland even let go of Chauncy enough in the chaos for Noel's eyes to meet his own.
But then. Then something happened. A hiss of compressed air, releasing what must have been mace or some other kind of deterrent spray arced over the pair. Being where he was behind the other, he took less of it, though he got a particular gout of the stuff in his right eye. He looked back up at Noel. Her eyes became dark pools. Pools of hypnotic bliss. Chauncy was released immediately, but time seemed to slow down to a grinding crawl. His hand became heavy as the staring contest continued. He heard a thump as something fell from his hand. He looked down at it. What was that? It looked like something else. His head tilted as he examined it further. It seemed to be very important. Something he needed. Whatever the case, time quickly rebounded as it seemed Chauncy grew half a pair and attempted to capitalize on the situation. The boy had reached down and picked up whatever it was that had fallen on the porch. He was now holding it and pointing it at Roland, though the latter doubted the former could shoot much of anything with his eyes nearly swollen shut.
"Freeze!!!" Roland looked in his direction, but he was still studying the metallic item in his hand. He wanted it, so it appeared back in Roland's hand. Maybe it was some kind of bludgeon and Noel was trying to throw it at him. It didn't look very aerodynamic, though. It was very odd. In a fluid motion, Roland stepped into Chauncy and hit him beneath the jaw, a small yelp coming from the younger man. It just didn't seem to have the weight of a blackjack. What an odd device. It seemed to be a waste of time, so he threw it into the hedges as well. Blood poured from the other man's mouth, his posture one of being bent over. Now he was looking at something. Teeth.
Whatever that thing was, Roland was acutely aware of the kitchen knife beneath the apron. He looked down into it , seeing it in his waistband. It appeared in his hand. The free hand caught the belt of the other man and hauled him inside, his weight a battering ram to Noel. The door slammed shut behind him as he listened to feet moving about the house. No time for love, Doctor Jones. The knife went cleanly across Chauncy's neck, removing his interest in teeth and pain. Stepping over Noel, he slammed the basement door shut, securely locking it. He removed the apron, tossing it aside as he approached her. " It's not Orlando Turpitt. It's Roland Pruitt." The spray can was still in her hand, so it came to his. He looked at it through his one good eye and then turned it back toward her, giving her a good dose of her own medicine.
An older gentleman moaned softly, his glasses broken near him. Well, they were cracked in one lens, but they might have still been useful. His lower half was under the car. The door on the Lexus swung open and a black boot stepped out, landing on them. He uttered another sigh of resignation before shock took over. That was a moment ago. This moment carried the echoes of subsequent shotgun blasts into concrete. Come on, kitty. He had seen her leap before, but logic demanded that either the next shell or the following one would find her.
Before he had a chance to find out, she decided to make her move. And what a move it was. In the time it took him to track her, she was already on the ground, twisting her body to tackle him. The tackle was unavoidable. The aftermath? Not so much. As she landed and twisted her body, Roland looked over at a nearby car and the shotgun found its way to the hood. He crouched so that when she hit him, he would just go with the impact, rather than try to stop it. it still felt as if it would be the equivalent of what American football players did to each other. And he wasn't covered in girly padding.
Roland slid across the concrete, the trench coat taking the abrasions he would. Her weight was tremendous. She was in no way and no where fat, but the mere mass of her muscular body felt like he was supporting concrete. His hands crossed at the wrists, fingers curled and pointed in a V toward her neck. Then the pistols appeared, the two barrels pressed firmly against the strong pulse there. " Even you can't heal from this kind of wound, Princess Mew Mew. Now back off." The safeties clicked off and the twin hammers slid back, ready to come down and euthanize the feline. " Slowly."
"Act fast, I can’t hold his attention forever." Roland nodded, his eyes piercing her. He made no particular stretch of face to give away his feelings, but something didn't sit right. What was it? Alexandra was much too cooperative. One minute she's ready to take him out, the next she's telling him how to take out Streak? Maybe the cameras were only visual. Didn't make much difference to Roland, really. He had no interest if they saw him. Actually, he wanted them to see him. It reminded him of when he stood on the edge of the Mansion grounds, donning the fake Wraith suit. No one saw him at all. It was troubling.
No reason to worry over that occurring now. Streak looked suspicious, as if he had a sixth sense that something was up. Too bad he didn't also have eyes in the back of his head. He watched her talk to him and attempt misdirection. It was almost sweet. Surely it was just an amateur attempt, but in Roland's mind, it was the most sincere form of flattery. Imitation. He almost wanted to say something to her, but the trigger was squeezed. The small dart flew through the air with only the slight hiss of the compressed air's release. Oh, and the small thunk of it hitting him in the middle of the back.
“Streak, run!” Was it disappointing that Alexandra had done that? It didn't feel like a surprise. Maybe they could talk about it on the plane. In the meantime, Roland did not want him to run. Standing from his hiding place, he moved to Alexandra's back and got a healthy handful of hair balled up in his fist, pulling her head back so it faced the ceiling, the sharp edge of the kukri against her throat. " I think it would be better if you didn't run. Perhaps you could just sit down and let the medicine do its job. That...or get Johnny in here to mop up the blood. Your choice, kid." In her ear, he whispered, " Not incredibly bright, but forgiven."
The Lexus lifted from the ground, jumping in anticipation. Mind you, it was only a millimeter or two and it was for a fraction of a second, but its speed and power could not be contained for that flash of a moment. Smoke rose from the concrete as the tires pushed it hard and fast toward the cat girl. What would it be, Roland wondered. A jump to the right or left? Only the rapidly declining time would tell. Her reflexes were as sharp as her claws as she left the ground herself. It was more than a millimeter. Much more.
She seemed as if she might actually take the hit. Roland wasn't sure of ehr strength, other than knowing it surpassed that of a human. Her hands used the hood to vault her feet forward, one punching the windshield, the other denting in the car's roof slightly as she simply walked over it. He looked in his mirrors as he applied the handbrake again, hearing several thumps as pedestrians helped him drift. She hadn't landed. The shotgun was resting on the door through the open window as he scanned for her. Some guy was yelling at him about the fact that he had hit his wife. The barrel of the shotgun gave the guy the idea to save it for later.
There was a clearance sign swinging that could not have been hit by anything, save the feline gymnast. Roland let the engine roar in disgust. Those not unconscious from the impact started to crawl away, no doubt as cellphones called 911.The key turned in the ignition, silencing Roland's own beast. He opened the door, his long leather trench coat hiding the two pistols on his sides. He crouched down bu the car, looking up into the spaces between the concrete beams. It was the only place for her to hide. He didn't think cats could fly. A blast fired into the first space. Nothing. He moved up a few inches, the darkness of the shadows up there hiding anything or nothing.
Next he would just start emptying shells into each space until something fell out.
It was by chance, really. While driving to a meeting, Roland saw her on the street. It almost caused him to have an accident, his instinct telling him to pull his car into the sidewalk. Run her down. However, this was no normal quarry. This one was every bit as dangerous as the creature she resembled. As fast, as resilient, as deadly. Attacking her head on would have been a serious mistake. A mistake he remembered too well. Some men would have forgiven and forgotten, happy to be allowed to live on after such a brush with death. Most men weren't hunters.
A hunter stalked his prey, watching its routines and rituals. She traveled the same grounds, found her meals in the same spaces. He assumed she had a den, but that, again, would be a mistake. It would be too familiar to her. To capture and kill this one, he would have to catch her completely unaware, wait until she felt safe. It gave him time to prepare, to find the right angles, the right guns. No more claws and teeth. He accepted that. He was no match for her in a fair fight. That's why he would make sure it was as unfair as possible.
The sights on the sniper rifle followed her down the street. Occasionally, it would waver to a nearby mindless citizen. then it would find its way back to the back of her mane again. He only needed a few more seconds, the adrenaline pushing the clock on each one. With a click, the safety went off. Magic time. All he had to do was squeeze. Unfortunately a large crow landed net to him. Its flutter of wings and loud caw would have been little more than a nuisance had the safety been on and Roland's nerves not wrapped tight like razor wire. The gun fired, though it was well off from its mark.
People began to scatter as the glass behind her exploded and fell over her. A few superficial cuts were hardly enough. The crow flew off, cackling in its raspy voice at its trickery. She started to react and move. Shots popped off as she moved, the recoil kicking the gun off. He would have to work on that problem.. No problem, as it seemed she was running into the very structure that Roland was on top of. Cars began to scatter like their drivers, in a panic. The gun disassembled itself and found itself snug in its case, soon slid under the hidden compartment in the trunk. Its relatives joined Roland in its stead. A pistol grip shotgun and two pistols.
Starting the car, he pulled backward into a precise half circle, one move. The engine gunned and he was on his way down to meet her. He'd be just another car among the others. Just another face, driving another car. The guns would be a giveaway, so they would come out at the very last second. The Lexus devoured the concrete as its tires gained courage. The shotgun across his lap, he slid the strap over his neck so that it would hang on his left side. The power window slid down as he kept his focus. Pedestrians leaped out of his way on the way to their own escape from the scene.
Rolling into the final turn to the bottom level, Roland stopped the car. There were people scrambling this way and that. He held the handbrake, gunning the engine, planning his own charge. She was in his sights. The other bodies moving past his vision were speed bumps.The safety was clicked off on this gun as well. It would come out after she dodged him .Which she would. The charge would be a distraction. Once she moved, he would see how she liked Mr.Shotgun's opinion of her.
Roland smiled as Deirdra did, the pen appearing in her lap. He watched her with interest as she filled out parts of it, more interested in her facial features. She didn't like forms, which could mean many things, all of them helpful. At some point, it appeared she was done. Or as done as she was going to be at the moment. She looked up at him." I look forward to see where I’ll be staying. This building seems to be pretty large. There must be plenty of rooms available to people who may want to stay.” Roland continued his method of acquiescence. " Usually we just assign rooms. I thought I'd give you the option to pick your own. It's the least I can do, considering you saved me from the police." Hardly, but it was her ego being inflated, not his.
“Well, I think that mutants have abilities for a reason. It shows that we’re above humans. They’re no longer the top of the food chain, though many of them treat us like dirt and persecute us. We’re superior to them. It’s just that simple and I don’t want to hear their talk anymore. It’s ridiculous.” Exactly what Roland wanted to hear. She already believed in the propaganda so that saved the lecture. He probably wouldn't be the one to give it considering his own views on the subject. he remembered to nod in approval so that she felt as if things were going well.
'I could bring plenty of things, such as excitement. Besides that, my loyalties lie with mutants and my mutation is very strong. I’ve never seen anyone else with quite the same ability. Three doses of my venom can kill the average sized human.” Another smirk. “Don’t ask how I know. I think that partly answers what I can do. I’m very handy in cases where someone needs to be stunned. I can keep someone in a paralyzed state for about 30 minutes before it would actually kill them." Paralyzed for 30 minutes. Now that was a plus. Roland could think of a number of people he would like to be paralyzed. " What kind of excitement?" Of course he would ask that question. He left it at that.
He listened to her speak about her morals and ethics. It was really none of his concern. She could be sorted to the missions that required her skills, whatever they were outside of shapeshifting into a scorpion and being a secretary. her general enthusiasm and her actions had made her a shoe-in for the forces, though he wanted to make a point. "I think you'll make an excellent addition, Deirdra. One thing though, the Sanctuary is public knowledge. The Order? Not so much. So, if you could keep its existence to yourself, I'd appreciate it. I'll run your info past Miss Faust, our esteemed leader. I'm sure we can use you though. would you like to go find yourself a room now?"
