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.
So, it seemed that Lori had brought her. One of the clones as well. While befriending Saturn in Romania, the others seemed to sort of merge together often. Big red muscles, got it. It was no doubt that they had seen the same potential in Kaitlyn that he had seen once her gift had manifested in person. "And it is a gift. Never forget that. You just don't know how to use it yet. But we will show you how to do that here."
She was mentioning a father that she was hiding from. Most people at the Sanctuary were hiding from something. Or they had found their niche in the world and snuggled in tight. Just as Roland began to wave off the family issues, a voice piped in from his side. A familiar voice. Too familiar. Too familiar to believe it was in such a close proximity. His head turned as time seemed to slow. The little tyrant. The Little Tyrant. His face turned into a combination of scowl and smile. How stupid could he be? His attention to security was as short spanned as his life might be. After all, this was Roland's turf. No phone calls to thugs like Bacchus.
The chair beneath him appeared three feet behind him as he stood, his body dropping to a knee as the pistol appeared in his hand. One fluid motion of will and intent. There was no little girl to shock, no room full of mutants. There was only the space between presentation and execution to ask a question.
"Stupid or brave, Slate?" The line sights were lined up to the sweet spot between the eyebrows. Perhaps two feet between origin and terminus. Perhaps Slate was both.
No Shade. That seemed alright with Roland, though it did bring a question to mind. " Was this training with Shade before or after Romania? I ask because when Saturn and I cleared the vault, Shade was there. He knocked the power out so we could bring down the vault. Something to keep in mind." With a quick stroke of the eraser, he was off the list. In his place, he put the name Calley. It rang no bells whatsoever. At the bottom of the list, he added the other two names.
It took a moment to register once he looked at it. Giant's Bane Wasn't that the name of --" Bacchus can be a mail clerk." His head shook from side to side as he began to chuckle. " Bacchus? Really? Huh. I guess all of the little tyrant's disgruntled employees filter down to the Order. Bacchus.....Wow." It was interesting that Miss Duskmoor held the leash. It was fortunate that someone did. Even moreso that there was another new hire already. Fire manipulator. That sounded fruitful.
Sidestepping the clones for now, Roland placed the marker on the desk with his hand. Looking down at the HMIC(Head Mutant In Charge), he decided to let some more information be known. It was better out of his mouth rather than whatever probing she liked to do. "I don't recall if I had mentioned that I worked for Slate. I did work for him in Colombia, working alongside that pig, Bacchus. I resigned from the Kabal on my own, having disagreed with his policies during that time." He imagined the little blue eyed terror in his own sweatbox. It brought a smile to his face.
All was returning to its natural state. Roland looked at the table and chair that Kaitlyn had been sitting in and in an instant they were back in place before her. She looked sad. Roland stood and looked around the room. Now what? No nanny to take to the baby. He'd have to find someone to do that. Maybe Isabel. She seemed to like sitting around the Sanctuary, so maybe she could watch some of these...kids. He might have chosen to abandon the scene that moment had the girl's mutation not been evident. With the right training, it could be something very useful. Especially in the package presented. Most law abiders would hesitate and then be on their back.
He went to the line and suggested to the servers to make something the little girl would like so she didn't do her thing again. they came up with pancakes, powdered with sugar and topped with chocolate chips, a tall glass of milk escorting it. Returning to the table, he placed these things before her with some silverware, its appearance on the table in its proper sequence. A chair appeared beneath Roland as he sat, leaving another table short and a disgruntled eater thinking of saying something. Only thinking. " Kaitlyn. What brought you here to the Sanctuary? Do you have parents that know you are gone? Are you an orphan?"
Roland continued to draw on his smoke, blowing it over her head. " Not often we see little girls running around unattended. llme what has happened so far here before now."
Roland's breathing began to slow and his composure returned. From his vantage point, he could see the movement of the Asian boy's feet. He couldn't see the bag so he had to assume it was in his arms. A curious image ensued next as it appeared as if he stepped up on the ..air? The feet hovered out of sight. Flying too, must have been how he followed them so quickly. Ah well, something to remember. The pistol disappeared beneath the coat once more, tucked neatly in the back of his waistband.
What had that slag done to his brain? He still felt waves of anxiety in his chest. A few moments passed as he lay his head on the cool metallic floor of the ferry, breathing slowly to compose himself. A scuff of shoe woke him up. Turning his head, he looked to see an officer kneeling down to his field of vision. " Excuse me , Sir. I'm gonna need you to slide out of there slowly. Keep your hands out in front of you. I just want to ask you about what happened, but for my safety and your own, I need you to come out very slowly, OK?"
" Of course, Officer." He did as he was directed until he was free of the cover. " Good, now get up on your knees and cross one over the other. Put your hands behind your back. You aren't under arrest, but in the course of the investigation, I need to handcuff you. Again, for your safety and mine." That part wasn't going to work. He was well acquainted with the progression of these movements. They generally ended with tasers and zipties. Not today, tomorrow or ever again.
As he stood, he heard the familiar sound of blue steel sliding free of the patent leather holster. Practiced statements quickly degenerated into curt commands and harsh orders. There was a crowd growing as another set of backup shoes made their way in the situation's direction. Now was the time to play conductor in this living symphony. Change the tempo. His eyes caught the side mirror of the stepvan he had hidden beneath, bringing a smile to his face as he met eyes with the young officer. And his gun. Which was now Roland's gun.
He took a step to his left and turned on his heel. A taser had come out quickly to attempt to compensate for the loss of sidearm. Probably for other things as well. It found its way to Roland's feet. Harsh orders devolved into shaky pleas of mercy. So terribly weak. " Tell your partner everything's alright and you don't need him or I will shoot someone. Not you." His eyes moved over the growing crowd of citizens. Assent and the orders given were carried out. The other mentioned that he would call it in anyway, just to be safe.
A small fragment of a smirk passed briefly over the cop's face. Roland shrugged. " Doesn't save you or anyone else, so I'd keep my mind tuned to the present. Put these on." the policeman's own handcuffs were handed to him. The man blinked incredulously as yet another item from his belt was removed. He hesitated until he saw the safety get clicked off. Not so much insolence after that.
Now Roland listened to the man in blue make a feeble attempt at negotiation, ensuring that there was no escape since there would be units waiting when the ferry docked."Well, I guess it won't be docking then. Any more tips you'd like to give me? No?" They stepped to an exit door, locked since it was not to be used while the ship was in motion, or so it said in several languages. A few parts removed and it swung open, kicking an annoying buzzing alarm somewhere above. Water began to enter the car parking area, sliding beneath the tires of the vehicles there.
Roland held a quarter in front of the officer's face and then flipped it out into the water. " Go fetch." A swift kick to the pants of the boy in blue sent him screaming and reeling with a splash. With that solved, Roland made his way up to the promenade where the bulk of the visitors were. Most were piled around the top of the staircase, questions and comments fired in his general direction. The gun parted them like oil and water. It actually pushed them in the opposite direction, loading them all up like cows on one end. The other officer said something but his gun fled to Roland's capable hands and silenced him.
This, of course, only moved the crowd tighter against the railing. By now, Roland could hear the sirens of a police boat making its way to aid the vessel, the cop, or something else irrelevant.He directed the throng precisely to the point above the open door below, helping to push more water into the slower and slower moving craft. Someone was going to pay for all of his failures. Might as well be these schmucks. "Stay right there. Feel free to call police or your loved ones, whatever you like. Call the news too, we could use some coverage of this scene. A nice wide shot of your watery grave."
Next it was the bridge. They seemed to expect his arrival, standing away from the controls. Didn't matter anyway since the ship has come to a stop. the captain looked at him with serious eyes." S-Sir, there's no money here or valuables. We need to get that door shut downstairs or we'll sink. Can I send one of my men to secure it?" Roland smiled. "Of course it is going to sink. In fact, I'd like you to open the ends up so it sinks faster. I'm afraid the technical term escapes me. The large doors that keep out the sea. Open them."
The good captain refused. Once. Then when his first mate lay there bleeding out, he decided to comply. He was hostile about it, which was completely expected. He still did it though. Roland could hear more screaming as the ship began to list one way or the other, the whining of the doors felt through the ferry as shudders. Bodies began to leap like rats from the drowning vessel. What would it be, haughty police boat? Round up survivors or worry over me? it was the same situation he had presented to Miss Quinn's knight in sparkling shards. As he followed people into the murky cold water, he wondered if the pair might see the scene on the news that evening. A couple hundred bobbing heads and thousands of dollars in losses seemed to take precedence as he swam to the safety of anonymity.
Roland was impressed with himself. Certainly not the first time. Lori actually thought about something he had to say. No smarm or sass. No waving off of the details. He felt he might actually be close to being engaged in conversation with the slippery sylph. "I want to say it's about control. People keep giving it up so I may as well keep collecting it." Roland let a staccato chuckle slip at this comment. How couldn't he? It sounded like something he would say. The next thing about science seemed logical, considering the amount of books, research materials and papers which covered the area. It also seemed like a way to rein in any personal slips.
"I want a safe place: a base of operations, a family and a home worth living in. The makeup of the family is irrelevant, but the trust is important. If I know what motivates them then I'll know how to predict their actions. It's what you're doing with me now by asking these questions." That seemed to be a fair analysis of things. Trust was important to Roland as well. ' I can see what you mean, but I was actually interested in your agenda also. I appreciate your candor."
The meeting was going well and two seemed to be enjoying themselves. Then, then. The subject of the Adapteds came up. Before he answered her question as to what he was doing on the board, an aura of steeling himself shrouded the man. " I think it is important to mention that I have a particular hatred for those aberrations. I have no fear of their particular quality, but considering that it was one of them that gave me back the face I was born with, well, I hope you understand if I don't share your enthusiasm for study. I'd much rather just wipe them clean off the planet's face."
The air around him seemed to sizzle and pop with his inherent rage for the Adaptards. he took a slow breath and exhaled, nodding slightly as the moment had curtailed. As if it had never occurred, he turned to the board, marker in hand. A long line was drawn vertically to the left of the the first category. Roland began writing names down. His own, Lori's, Isabel, the word clones in quotations, Shade, Aura...the marker tapped in dots against the board. " Is this it? The current roster? I hope not or we had better put recruiting up high on the list. Anyway, I wanted to go through the various members we already have and decide their roles in each endeavor, as listed here. Additions or suggestions?"
Roland watched the young leader speak to him in a way that many people had spoken to him. No one wanted messy details or more information. They wanted results and they wanted them now. It had to be a b**** to work management. " I understand what you're saying. I want the Order to rise and become a force to be reckoned with as well. So for that, we are on the same page. However, when I have business partners, I have to know where they are coming from. The angle." Old Roland had no interest either way. Give him the job and have the payment ready. New(old) Roland had his personal interests staked into the Sanctuary, the Order and Faust. Both the company and the woman.
His legs uncrossed and he sat up straight, his eyes focused on Lori. " I think we are more alike than you might initially believe, Lori. I've heard the fiery rhetoric about mutant supremacy. It's a believable tale, but who really cares about it? Let those Christian soldiers march onward. I think that you and I are above that and we want to see things done for different reasons. I can keep it between us, but please don't give me the propaganda. Tell me what is driving you and what makes you want to succeed where others failed. Give me a reason to respect you and follow you into Hell."
Roland couldn't blindly take orders anymore. He was glad that she didn't want a robot, because he wasn't one. Nor was he a babysitter. " Do you think I have any more interest in day to day operations and wiping the noses of untrained kids anymore than you do? Of course not. But someone has to do it. If you give me the keys to the castle, I can get things in order. Trouble is, you might not approve of my methods. I think coddling and pats on the back are for those at the Mansion. If I begin training soldiers, I expect them to be used in war."
Standing from the table, A dry erase marker found its way to Roland's hand. He glanced over some scientific mumbo jumbo and erased it. " I'm sure you have this written down elsewhere." Once the slate was clean, he proceeded to write three words across the top of the board, each underlined. FaustPharm. Sanctuary. Order.
Roland wasn't the only one dressing to impress. He had certainly expected her to be striking, she always had been. Seeing her in this office, with so much work being done, one could see that Lori Faust always did her research. The first evidence of this theory being a certain quip about Interpol, which received the grin that it demanded." You're not worried about Miss Duskmoor's activities with the NYPD. You're not worried about me." He took a seat across the table from her, leaning back a tad while crossing his legs slightly.
The report slid across to him, caught by a single palm placed on the table. His eyes skimmed the material as she explained it to him. Her ideas were fresh, while not completely original. What was anymore? His eyes would flash up to her own as she explained the process in detail and the current state of the project. He appreciated her not dumbing the data down for him, though he found her plan to be only a facet. Listening on, the intent and general variety of 'actualities' mentioned piqued Roland's interest.
" Whatever work you need done is done. Give me the details and each task will be completed to the letter." The file was tossed back across the table. "Sounds like you may need some raw genetic material to work with. I assume you have a short list?" Whatever the case, precision and perfection were now a matter of fact. Roland's run-in with Kealey Quinn had illuminated the many flaws in his routines. It was all too sloppy, even if other influences were involved..
His fingers tousled through his goateeish beard. " While I'm interested in learning more for these plans, I must admit, I thought you might want to talk about another project that is in sore need of overhaul. It also exists in the realm of things that aren't above board. I speak of the Order. I hope we can discuss that as well."If she knew about Interpol, why stop at the threshold? This journey was going to be coast to coast.
Faust Pharmaceuticals loomed before Roland Pruitt, the open cloudless sky of the spring day a great canvas, the subject in its medium the great jewel of possibility. If he was going to start over for real, no masks or aliases, then he was going every last grueling inch of the way to see it through. An appointment had sat on his calendar for a day. Miss Faust wanted to see him. At the formal office, no less. If this wasn't the beginning, nothing was.
After an announcement was made, Roland was given the nod by security to proceed to the private elevator, a one way trip to the office. Security, heh. His eyes filed over them as an appraiser might valuable artwork. Only one wouldn't be fired. The car itself was immaculate, hardwood floors, polished ebony and mahogany inlays. The back stood as a full length mirror, so those who were not prepared for meetings to make a last attempt. Roland didn't have that problem.
He was wearing Armani, custom tailored by the man. The suit was a charcoal gray, a silk red power tie in accompaniment. Shining in luxurious confidence at his feet were a pair of New & Lingwood Russian calf shoes, made from reindeer. He had taken a day at spa prior, having a facial and his pores cleansed. Only a powerful mutant like Miss Faust could recognize the statement. Mortal women would be on the floor. He let a chuckle escape his lips. "If looks could kill, I'd collect quite the bounty on you, Sir."
The gentle chime of the car awakened him and he turned on his heel, the doors opening gently before him. Roland took a step into the grand office of Miss Lori Faust, surveying the design of both area and person. He waited patiently for her to speak.
Since Roland had returned to the Sanctuary, he began taking mental stock of the place. It wasn't so much in disrepair as it was atrophied from lack of use. It was a stark analogy to the state of the Order. He hadn't been around Miss Faust enough to know what drove and motivated her, but he sincerely hoped she had some plans up her sleeves. As it stood, the place was barely a hair above Romper Room with deadly intentions. Changes were sorely needed and he was determined to be the catalyst for said change.
The food in the cafeteria seemed to be a fine place to start. The so-so slop that it was currently peddling was barely above elementary school fare. While starving people off the streets would eat anything and be happy to eat it, professionals, which they needed more of, would demand something more substantial. Overseeing crime waves took alot out of a guy. This task, among many others, needed to be assigned to others. The workload needed to be shared among the troops. How else could a mutant army be formed?
Looking over the assembled eaters, Roland noticed many eyes upon him, not counting the guy with multiple eyes. It was a funny and ironic thought that these soldiers believed that mutants were superior to humans, but didn't see the further reach of such a hierarchy. Once you got past sapiens, the circle came full and mutants began to behave as animals. There could only be one Alpha in a pack. Roland's own eyes squashed any stray looks from the pups. Any time, any place. One punk was just as ----
THWWOOOOOOMMMM!
A shockwave blasted through the cafeteria, a wake of tables, chairs, and mutants flying aside. Roland's eyes travelled to the point of origin of the blast, finding a child. Judging from the living jack o' lantern dusting himself off, Roland could see how she might have been frightened. What a gift. If it could be sculpted and trained, it could be some great arsenal. Before Jacko got to her, he stepped between the two, his eyes locked with those of the flaming head. "Obviously an accident.Take a step back." Jacko's fiery grin peeled back over his skull. "And if I don't?"
Roland raised his hand in a gun gesture, his finger pointed between those orange orbs. In less than a blink of an eye, the same finger was curled around a warm trigger. "I'll put that light out for good. Find out if I will really do it.Please" Two birds with one stone. A potential weapon saved and the pack sniffed the air , recognizing the scent of true superiority. Jacko took a step back, like a good pumpkin. The rest of the room followed suit, returning to banal murmuring. The gun disappeared, Roland's hand reaching in his coat pocket and retrieving a cigarette. Leaning into the pumpkin, he lit the tip of it off his head and blew the smoke in his face. Go scare the tourists with that face.
Crouching next to the young girl, he extended his hand."That's some gift you have there. I'm Roland Pruitt. What's your name?"
She was moving alot, thrashing around wildly. Would only make the job more messy and full of weeping. The knife moved through expert fingers as his head followed her body. Like a snake preparing to strike, Roland hovered over his prey, waiting for the opportune moment to sink the blade in. Just as an artery presented itself, Roland stopped in his tracks, frozen for a moment. This gave Kealey time to work her way out of the bag halfway. Was it like drugs?
A great rush filled his body, his chest tingling with pressure. The color in her rosy cheeks brightened as Roland's pupils dilated. His eyes opened wide and his mouth began to tremble. A slow, choppy sound began to trickle from his lips, each syllable of inanity bouncing off the van's floor like spilled cereal. It sounded like a madman's mantra, something resembling at the unholy union of laugh and scream. The man could hear its cacophony rattle around inside his mind like some hopeful penny gone down the well. He could see himself, eyes wide with temporary insanity, his mouth wide open as he cackled incessantly.
But then, the squirming. Like some kind of skittering cockroach down there, he could see Kealey squirm around. The same clicky climb to the laughter of madness gave way to the ste drop into some lop de loops of anger and rage. "Zip it!" One swift kick of his booted heel caught her in the temple, putting her back in night night land. He began nodding, as if there was some answer in his head waiting for a question. ....what now?....A high pitched screaming sound hit the van behind him. By the time he turned on his heel. the door was being wrenched open.
It was the little Asian fellow. He looked none too happy. Had he followed them there, waiting for the moment of vindication? His eyes said yes. Glimmering shards of energy spun around him and solidified into a wall. Another mutant. He'd have to find which side of the tracks this one lived on down the road. another time. He wanted to rescue his drunken damsel and Roland would aid him in this.In one swoop, Kealey went in the bag like a bundle of toys for Santa and the bag was in his hands. " You want the b****? Take her!!" The weight of the unconscious snipe was hurled fully at yon wall of energy. Choke on her, Roland thought as he went out the back doors of the van.
The commotion had already drawn some people, who weren't accustomed to seeing energy shards. More common was the hysterically cackling man. Roland sprinted through the rows of cars, finding a large stepvan to take cover behind. His pulse was racing, his breathing shallow. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and it was both easy and hard to focus. A new clip went in the pistol as he dropped prone, sliding under the chassis and watching the van. Quietly, his trembling voice whispered, " Take your winnings and run, boy. Run as fast as you can."
Roland gave a deadpan look at the man who took his fare money. Not surprisingly, the picture in the forged passport looked much like the stone faced man staring at him. Just because roland had chosen not to put on any false fronts within the mutant community didn't mean he would start giving authority figures his real information. He still had records that were ready to be exhumed from his previous resting place of anonymity. He placed the passport back into his inner trench pocket, looking back at the squirming bag in the floor of the van via the rear view mirror.
Pulling into a parking spot among the other vehicles, Roland turned the key and it found its way into his pocket. His hands caressed the steering wheel briefly as he sat staring forward. Turning the crank on the window, fresh air made its way into the interior. He still wrestled with the sudden departure of his feelings, as if the rug had been pulled from beneath him. all of the methodical planning remained in his head as a blueprint, but it all seemed too messy now. Too many stops, too many exposures. Especially for any hope of escape. Why had he been so sloppy? It was out of character for him.
No time like the present to take care of that. Stepping into the back of the van, he knelt by it, studying the shape of it. " For some reason, Miss Quinn, I have lost the ability to enjoy what's going on here. This has a positive outcome, as your suffering will be cut short. The negative aspect being that I must kill you now. I can't very well shoot in such a public place, so I'll have to use a knife. I'll make it quick." The lock came away from its place around the knots. The knots were untied. The top of the bag was opened so that the quarry could get some of the fresh air seeping in. The last breaths should be fresh.
It seemed that Kealey understood the instructions as she helped herself into the bag. Roland looked over in the passenger seat and took the lock from it as he returned to the back of the van. With a tight grip on the drawstrings, the bundle was tied into a knot or two and the lock inserted through the metallic rings which the drawstrings were laced. A click and Miss Quinn was settled. he returned to his seat and put the van into drive, easing out of the alley, turn signal engaged.
A few bumps and some angry horn barks in his direction. Roland registered their anger and continued in his original direction. His eyes remained focused on the road, while occasionally checking his mirrors and using his signals. It was quiet in the van, short of the rustling from the bag. The delay with her defiance had only put them slightly off his timetable. He pushed his foot on the accelerator and moved through the traffic, speeding up to catch the ferry before it departed.
As he drove along the coastline, he could see that the vehicles were already in line. Hopefully he would make it on the current ferry so as to stay on course. If not, there was always another one. After a few cross streets and a ramp down to the shoreline, he found himself in line with the other cars. " We'll be entering a checkpoint soon. Please remain quiet until I say we are across and safe. You know the outcome otherwise and I can assure you being in the bag makes you an easy and accessible target."
Roland had expected some roughhousing from Miss Quinn. He doubted any woman would willingly get in a bag in the back of a van, most assuredly this one, who knew that her time might be slipping away on this Earth. What he did not expect was the sudden drain on his psyche. There was suddenly no feeling of ravenous vengeance, no urge to force her into the bag. Nothing at all. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to summon the feelings back. What had done this to him?
His eyes levelled off on Kealey."Did you just do something to me?" He only thought logically about the chin of events. Nothing had occurred until now. Was it her Asian friend? Was it her? It seemed irrelevant. The lady had asked a question, though, and he felt obliged to answer it. " I'm doing this because no one escapes me if I want them to die. You have twice. I don't suspect it is my failure, but more a lack of preparation on my part. This time I am prepared. Please step into the bag now or I will be forced to shoot you several times. The shots will be fatal."With that, he stepped between the front seats an took his place behind the wheel.
The engine started and Roland reached up and turned the mirror back toward Kealey, who still seemed to lack comprehension of her duties. He took a cigarette out and lit it, opening the window slightly. " Perhaps you didn't understand me. I will give you until the end of this cigarette. If you are not in the bag by then, I will step back there and shoot you. Several times was vague. I will shoot you once in the chest, around the sternum area and then once between the eyes. It is known as a double tap or execution style killing." Ashes were flicked casually out the window as Roland stared forward into the traffic from the alley.
Apparently, Roland was the reason for some lessons that the little fellow had given Kealey. Were they self defense lessons? Something to remember for later. The look of burning anger in the kid's eyes told him that he wanted to do something. Most knights did, in defense of their damsels. Roland almost decided to put his gun away and give the boy a chance. Half a chance. If the kid could beat him unarmed, he'd more than likely cheat and put a knife in his eyes. What kind of expression would he wear then?
The lass was very agreeable now, preparing to stand and leave with her new beau. Old beau sat and kept staring, but that was about it. Maybe he was a mutant and he was powering a death ray or something. Nah, probably just realizing how impotent he was. Had to be a sinking feeling, knowing you were powerless to save your friends. Fortunately, Roland had no friends anymore. No one to use as leverage. The two rose together, the gun returning to his waistband in the back. Arm in arm, like old friends, they walked out the front door. They turned into the alley next to the shop and walked its length, approaching the white utility van that would take her on her final journey.
" It won't be right here in the alley. We are going for a trip. A going away party for you." Unlocking the sliding door on the van's side with the key which appeared in hand at the moment of contact, Roland nodded toward the interior. It was completely bare except for a large US Postal Service bag and a golf bag full of clubs. He smiled, his white teeth shiny beneath the dark black scruff around them. " In the van, please. And once you are inside, go ahead and get in the bag as well." He stepped in after her and waited, stooping low to avoid the roof. The van's door was slid shut and his head turned slightly, the key appearing in the ignition. " Come on now, we haven't got all day. Well, I suppose we do, but my bets are your little friend will get his balls back in a moment." The pistol reappeared for coercion, being waved at the bag.
