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.
The air had a vicious bite in it as Roland made his way across the street toward the service entrance. The van remained on the curb outside as it was supposed to. Roland realized there was an entrance for deliveries, but he felt it was better to act like a first time delivery man then take his chances with a screening process or bomb sniffing dogs. There were only two detonators to carry since the explosives were already wired. Gingerly lifting his hand truck up the steps, he arrived at the entry doors, quickly met by security.
A large man carrying the heavy face of a bully approached him, demanding to know why he was trying to enter the building, clearly pointing out the delivery entrance. Roland did a fair amount of looking around quizzically before descending into a manicured story of how he had to deliver the stuff quickly, due to the Senate hearings. How his family depended on his paycheck and he couldn't spare the time to go pull the truck around. How much he appreciated the allowance once some lei passed hands between the two of them. Corruption could be a good thing, depending on which side of the fence you were on.
The interior of the building was mostly quiet, as the emergency Senate session had all eyes and ears pointed inward. Short of the security watchdogs, whose eyes followed Roland briefly before settling on exits and other non suit wearing types. Like a good infiltrator, Roland had brought some legitimate deliveries for the building, taking care to have the main hall's reception sign for a package. This settled the eyes on him as he became a part of the scene, rather than someone in it. The cash at the door had allowed Roland the room to get in past security with several kilos of plastic explosive. Half the load, anyway.
“Would whoever is thinking of killing me please stop it? Or do so more quietly, if you can.”
Well, that made some sense of the world. The little tyrant had an open ear to surface thoughts? Strange that both the Order and Kabal leaders had a smattering of the sixth sense. Perhaps that was what put them on top and kept them there. Pictures were worth a thousand words. A thought? Perhaps even more. Something to chew on for a while. Roland's attention turned back to Circe, his hands returning to his pockets. She was doing a wonderful job of covering herself with conversation. No matter. He knew how to find her if necessary.
A shining eyed beau swept into view, as if on cue. More buffer zone between the two of them, no doubt. He apologized for taking Alexandra away. " No worries, friend. I'm sure I can catch up with her later." He took the hand offered and gave it a good pump, while winking over Sam's shoulder at the manipulator. " Dean Adwin. Friend of the bride. Actually, I was more concerned about your girl handling a knife. I'm not sure if you are aware, but she has quite the violent past." That would be worth a laugh, as the two would no doubt have plenty to chat about on the dance floor.
It seemed that for all the fun he was having, Roland felt that pushing his luck was never an option. During the exodus to the dance floor, where all couples could gaze into sparkling eyes and make promises, he moved his own body back toward the door. He wwas against the general tide of people, but he was clearly making headway toward the door. Miss Circe playing nice. There was just something off about it. Roland made his way toward the door, a bottle of whiskey joining him as his own dance partner as he waltzed away.
Roland sat on the curb, idling. He was in a yellow delivery truck full of good cheer and plastique dreams bound for the Senate building. The radio was on, barely picking up some old Chuck Berry. His task at hand involved a razor blade and the false ID that the Resistance had offered him. Fortunately he had spare passport pics of himself on hand. Now was just the matter of affixing it properly before running it through the portable laminator.
The Resistance was akin to most he had seen over the years. Loosely organized, barely funded, mostly out of the resistance's own pockets. Without the monetary assistance and manpower the Order brought, their shining moment would be little more than a massacre. Nothing wrong with massacres, of course. So long as they had some sense of order. He read the name and his classification several times, so it would be information easily regurgitated if asked.
Regurgitated. Bad words considering he had eaten and was currently digesting some kind of magic rock that let him understand the native tongue. An interesting device indeed. Too bad he hadn't had one while he was in the box in Colombia. He advised his informant in the Resistance not to call or radio him, as he had keyed the detonators already and had no interest in wiping himself off the curb. They mentioned some kind of helper joining him at some point. It didn't thrill Roland to have baggage, but it was their show, after all.
He slipped his hat on, turned the truck off and stooped into the cramped back of the truck/van to arrange the delivery.
The pallid shock face plastered over Alexandra's face was priceless. Roland fingered the handle of the knife as his eyes absorbed and drank it in. Her eyes betrayed her, flashing off to his right. He began to turn his head to see what the focus was when he received a tap on his shoulder. Turning back to the left, he saw Miss Altair passing him, demanding a piece of cake be saved. " Sure thing, Vega. Of course, I thought the bride got the first piece." Perhaps thsi was a quickly arranged gathering due to a little unicorn on the way. That might explain the bride's appetite.
Returning to his initial point of focus, his head swiveled to find another old friend. The little tyrant, sipping punch and cavorting. Roland caressed the knife gingerly now, imagining a slice of slate being cut just about as easily as the frosting. His eyes returned to the buxom babe before him. " Are you a friend of the bride or the groom? I'm Vega's friend." His head tilted back in the direction of the dancing damsel. He imagined what words would be spoken now that she was off the clock. Or was she?
Debris. Flaming, melted debris flew around the tunnel, along with showers of sparks. Roland ducked down with his eyes shielded, watching as the great red beast knocked chunks of concrete away with hands and tail. He did his best to use his own ability to knock flaming bits into the sewage. It was amazing to see Saturn grab the vault like a box, a very malleable box at that. He still even spoke of supplies needed in the future while simultaneously holding the vault and knocking debris away. What a spectacle.
A small pocket of molten steel remained near the water's edge. As Roland began to unpack the chute with his ability, he stepped over to the pool. Getting more than a few feet closer was nearly impossible for a fleshy person, as waves of heat buffeted his body. The detonator and the drone control case took their curtain calls and leapt into the stuff, becoming part of it rather than evidence. With the unaffected part of the waterway open, the chute opened itself and was then unfolded." Says the man holding the bank vault like a pack of smokes. Just pull the door off and we'll fill it up here. Of course, I just dropped in, so I'll need you to take me to meet the Resistance and move on to our next mission." Kneeling to open the chute, he looked up once more at his monolithic companion. "Of course, if that is alright with you." Seven of them. Sheesh.
Timing, the great cornerstone of all that Roland did in life. As the light of the synchronization point dinged, the lights upstairs went out. he could see the outer lighting on the roof go dim from the drone camera. His cellphone alarm buzzed in his pocket, signalling the surface to air missile's release to open air and destiny. Moving the control stick in a semi circle, Roland pointed the view toward the general direction of the battery. The drone's fans kicked into gear as it flew up ten meters and three to the right, positioning it over the guarded streets.
It was only a moment before a dim light could be seen in the sky. Roland hovered over the trigger delicately, waiting for the precise moment. He moved the drone a meter more and smiled as he saw the strengthening light begin to track it, homing in on its prey. Considering the possibility of lag between the camera and possible electrical interference, he let a single second lapse before he hit the switch. he dropped the trigger once it was activated, using the free hand to cover his eyes. " Don't look into it!" A thunderous hiss and roar ripped through the tunnels as the concrete and steel below the vault and over their heads was cut precisely, allowing the vault to fall through the floor toward the red man's arms.
The screen cutting out meant that the missile found its target, exploding with its own thunder in the sky over Bucharest. The flaming remnants of the drone fell into the streets, an obvious sign of aggression by the wicked Resistance, no doubt. The explosion in the sky more than made up for the explosion under the bank, just as it was supposed to. The flaming wreckage was now the culprit and the focus of attention. Money gathering and the hell out of Dodge getting would be easy peasy now.
The pouty doll turned on her very high heels. The glass was apparently to be the apparent one. The knife, for show? She definitely wasn't interested. He wondered what might make her more interested. Last time it was a threat. Even that garnered little more than a chuckle from the vixen in Colombia. Nothing on Earth could be done to get respect from her. So, fear was the soup d'jour, so it seemed. " My apologies, I guess I got distracted and wasn't necessarily looking at the glass. The knife, however..." With a glance and a twist of the wrist, the knife was in Roland's hand." The knife. A blade should never be overlooked, especially in such capable hands." He placed the knife down manually on the table beside him and flashed her a grin.
A long swig of the glass in hand and it made its way to a passing caterer's tray. He just couldn't resist. This was going to be one of many times that Roland's ego put him in nose deep. C'est la vie. In a swift and sideways motion, similar to a snake descending from a tree branch, Roland moved his body to within a hair's aura of touching her. His mouth lingered for a moment at her ear as he whispered in his natural British accent." I've missed you since Colombia. We should get reacquainted properly." Roland moved himself back to his original posture, his hand extended, his accent returned to its practiced American tone. "Dean Adwin, pleasure to meet you."
The Sanctuary was emptier than usual. Wherever these people went to do their dirty deeds it wasn't there. Roland was unsure if they even slept there. Perhaps it was a training center and base of operations. No more, no less. Helping himself to look in unlocked doors, he found a discarded invitation. A wedding. At the Danger Room of the Mansion. All were invited. How nice of them. A hop and a skip to a safe house and he was in tailored tux and on his way.
Just for funzies, he pulled up in the BMW Z3 that he had arrived in as Jordan Hornbuckle. He was no longer the man nor even resembled him, so it was more of a personal thrill than anything else. No valet, just a bunch of cars. With a chirp of the alarm, he made his way into the hallowed halls he had stalked in silence. Apparently the service had already started once he got to the Danger Room, so rather than appear fashionably late and generally unknown, he thought it best to take a look around. When would he get such a sterling opportunity?
Most things were locked up with keypads, but even the general layout was more than enough for his memory. he might be sent here again on official business. He walked the halls with a face of wonder, worn in case he was spotted. Just a well wisher, lost on his way to the ceremony. The library brought his memories of Nehanda and her own tour she had given him. The grounds were quiet. Everyone was downstairs. Offices were locked and while it would be easy to pilfer, Roland chose to get to the mingling. Returning to the illusory reception, he found all sorts of faces to look upon. Miss Duskmoor was dressed to the nines as was everyone.
The bride and groom. What an interesting pair. The unicorn man that he had seen with Iris at Melissa's request. Vega Altair, the cute little bookshop owner. They were both pale and white and looked as much father and daughter as man and wife. With a stiff whiskey down the gullet and a fresh one for sipping, he made his pleasant smiles, mostly at unattached women, as he made a beeline for the person he really wanted to see. In a luxurious gown reminiscent of a temperate Greek island, he put his eyes all over Circe. The dress she had barely worn in Colombia was more his taste, but she could wear a trash bag and make it hot.
If anyone else was speaking to her, he ignored them. It was a greater thrill than the car. Standing so close to the woman who he had held a gun at not so long ago, close enough to touch. New face and clean American accent prepared, he made his move. " Hello there. Could you use a drink or a refresh?"
(Leapfrogging Shade to allow for more prep before the power is blown. Feel free to do your magic at your leisure, Shade.)
As if one super strength man wasn't enough, multiples with independent personalities and the same face was overkill. Roland was pleased to be on the friendly side of the street in this case. Taking a seat several meters away from the point of impact, a small flat case was produced from inside the pack on his back. It was powered on and opened, looking a bit like a small laptop, though it had no keyboard. A popout control stick and a few buttons for control. The HD screen lit up in the dank darkness of the tunnel as it came online. Roland placed it with his hands on the concrete as he separated the chute pack from the gear pack.
" Yes, the temperatures might be extreme but I suspect a living tank as yourself could handle it. Still, I'd be careful of your clothes. The air temp might set them ablaze in the immediate vicinity of any overflow. Once the fires are out, I'll use my chute to bag up what we can't move. You can just sling it over your shoulder like Santa, right? Rafts I hadn't expected, so the chute will have to do. Anyway, I'm not in it for the money, just for fun." Flammable chute pack got a good dousing in the water, just to be safe.
On the bank roof, the small fixed wing drone began to hum to life. Its little fiber optic eye began to soak up the night sky, feeding it to the small console that Roland was viewing below. " Alright, little bluebird, time to fly." Practiced hands took the controls as the drones powered fans fired up, though only making a high pitched buzzing of a whisper. It was now hovering a few feet off the ground over the bank's roof. Roland turned his watch to see it was go time for the power. A grin pasted his face as the concerto had begun.
No questions. Roland's thoughts on the professionalism of the new organization were improving by the moment. The teleporter took the watch and went about his business like a good soldier. Romania was looking more and more profitable by the second. Time was ticking and an incoming text on his cell told him that the Resistance was holding up there end of the bargain, as the batterry had been accessed. Hopefully their watches were synchronized as well. The drone was armed as Roland stepped over the edge of the utility ladder at the back of the building. The coast looked as clear as it was going to be, so he started the sllide ot the bottom.
The gloves of his flight suit were made to withstand the atmosphere's friction, so the ladder didn't make much in the squeaking department, which Roland appreciated. He saw the sewer cover and gave a good look around before hopping down. The cover left its place in the street and appeared before him, appearing to flicker as it was being teleported a few feet at a time as he jumped down below the street, He positioned it over his head and teleported it back into its original position above him, with only a slight bit of screech and jarring.
The fresh smell of water and sewage assailed Roland's nostrils as he found the hulking red associate waiting. With a feigned salute, consisting of two fingers flicking from the brow, he set upon the dimensions of the waterway ceiling, attaching the thermite charges in their practiced and precise places." One of the other clones, I presume? Or the same one? I hope you don't mind that I can't tell you apart." With a flick of some switches, a green light flickered on each bundles apparatus, signalling their readiness. Roland slogged through the calf deep fluid to the big man. " Have you worked with thermite before? I've used the smallest amounts to get the job done, but even those may burn through the floor here. I was told you are quite strong, so I assume you'll be able to handle the vault when it comes down? ICan't claim that I could do much with that, personally. Anyway, our friends in the Resistance are ready. Just waiting for the power to go and we are ready. Anything you need from me?"
Roland began to assemble the small drone which made up the rest of the innards of the capsule he had brought down with him from the heavens. It was a pitiful thing, with just enough fuel to make a few circles, but for what its purpose was to be, it was lovely. He turned the small fixed wing creature over to ensure the two pounds of plastique were intact, primed to blow when it was caught by the missile. Everything was moving along like clockwork, precise and smooth. It made Roland appreciate this new organization that much more.
A scuff of foot in the darkness moved his eyes to his left, the silenced 9mm on his back ready to take flight. Fortunately, Miss Faust had briefed him on his accomplices . One was of the large red and super strength variety, which left this one. The shadow teleporter. Just the kind of guy Rtoland liked to have as an inside man. He thought it might be good to introduce him to others in the field somewhere down the line, as his gifts were quite profitable. Placing the drone upright again, he stood slowly, as he heard the shadow was fond of knives."Right on time. Dean Adwin. You must be Shade. I need you to take care of the power and whoever might be inside while I get these charges set in the sewer. I have a watch synchronized already. Removing one of two watches he wasn't wearing from a pocket in his flight suit, Roland made it appear at the shadow's feet.
" Three marks on the clock. First one is when you cut the power. Be sure to cut the backup generator as well. You should already have the blueprints. If not, I have some here. Second mark is when all guards are to be down and the vault blows. You'll hear a secondary explosion up here. It is a decoy, so don't let it throw you. I'm using thermite, so stand clear of the vault. You don't want that stuff on you. I suspect the initial explosion may be rather bright as well. Don't know if that affects you. Make sure no calls for help make it out of the place. Third mark is when we are to make the train. We'll meet a resistance member at the junction nearest the sewer. It doesn't leave much time for looting, so fill your pockets as fast as you can." Assembling the charges and detonators carefully into a sling bag and placing it gingerly over his shoulder., he made his way to the edge of the building." Any questions?"
Only his slow, measured breaths and the muffled roar of the air around him could be heard as Roland rocketed further toward Bucharest. Swallowed entirely by clouds, he floated in a surreal moment, surrounded completely by the heavy vapors. On the side of safety, Roland began to flatten out somewhat, moving his body slowly until it was more of a resistance for when he left the visual hindrance of cloud cover.
Air traffic patterns had been averted for the most part, but whenever Roland jumped like this, there was always the possibility of a flock of birds or worse, a scenic helicopter tour. The idea of hitting lift blades at maximum velocity only gave the consolation of a quick and instant death. The altimeter continued its own descent as his fate would be unveiled. From grey haze to the sudden appearance of the lights of Bucharest. The city was bustling below him as his altimeter flashed, signalling a countdown to release his chute and guide his way in to the rooftop of the National Bank.
Turning his head slightly, Roland could see the capsule behind him, trailing back a few yards on its tether. With a focus of his will, its handle was wrapped tightly in his free hand, the one not reserved for the ripcord. He locked it onto his chest straps with the help of teleporting carabiners just in time for the chute to open. A black chute unfurled and remained aloft, thanks to expert packing. Using the two guide handles, he maneuvered his way to what seemed to be the only feasible landing zone. The architecture and statues of the building's rooftop was lovely to look at, but made for a precise spot on landing, which was executed perfectly.
The chute had no time to drag or be seen, as once Roland had landed, he teleported it into his hands , wrapping it up and repacking it on the spot. His gift was more useful than a Swiss Army knife when it came to operational effectiveness. The capsule was quickly unattached and gently placed before him. He kneeled and opened it slowly, revealing the prepared thermite charges and radio detonators. The detonators were calibrated and the charges prepared as Roland eyed his point of entry.
The hum of the turbines was smooth now, as the turbulence had eased. Roland had been working the nitrogen from his system by breathing pure oxygen as he had inspected his pack and the small capsule that would be tethered to his body. It felt good to be working again. Especially for free. His suit was pristine in its arrangement, with all he would need on his person. Keeping things simple seemed best, especially when the Romanian Army would most likely arm him.
The cargo door of the aircraft opened, icy cold winds no doubt whipping through the empty shell of the carrier plane. Roland couldn't feel it, as it suit was now sealed and insulated. The sky had an eerie light to it, since the moon was so much closer than it would be two miles below in Romania. The curvature of the earth was slightly present from here, as were the rich ocean of clouds, bathed in the moonlight. A serene moment, similar to the opening of a symphony, where the woodwinds whistled along quietly in preparation.
A green light came on and all was prepared. The target coordinates were going to be below him in enough time for him to hurtle toward them like some kind of lightning bolt. The rush of oxygen in his body had him giddy. Or maybe it was the idea of being unleashed on the hapless saps below. It was something to think about on the way down. Feet left metal and then the great atmosphere pushed on him. He turned briefly to see the door closing on the plane as it veered off to friendlier airspaces.
Now it was just him and the sky. The great cloud ocean was on its way to meet him as he hurtled through space. Roland's altimeter clicked away as he positioned himself into a javelin of speed, reducing the air resistance. Even the capsule got in line as it drafted behind him. He imagined those of his breed that had the ability to fly. If he could, he would never come down.
An opportunist. Nothing wrong with that. Roland thrived on opportunity, so working for someone who did as well could only mean success. He appreciated the idea of not only thinking, but working outside the box. The box was for nine to fivers, desperate for some fleeting idea of a vacation at the end of the year. The box was for the little tyrant, whose schemes wrapped him up tight in it. Lori was something fresh and new. He hadn't seen much in the way of action or power from her, but suspected that a show could be arranged if needed.
" So what happened to your former superior? The crazy eight bonkers lass with the candy striped hair? She seemed rather formidable when I saw her in action. Did you just put a pillow over her head? Maybe snuffed out her electrons?" Roland chuckled a bit, a pack of Dunhill Internationals coming from his pocket. He opened the pack and put one of the fresh cigarettes in his mouth, standing and stepping to the door. He saw no ashtrays, so he would drop his ashes on the hallway floor rather than muck up her room. A Zippo appeared in hand, open, his finger snapping the wheel and lighting the smoke. A long draw and he exhaled into the room.
"So, running an organization and manipulating mutants is funzies. That it? I surely doubt you are a one trick pony." She had many tricks, no doubt. He watched as pins went sailing into the bathroom. The last one she removed left her hand and entered his mid flight. It was palmed and entered a back pocket." I'll take a room to exercise in. I am sure you have other places to do that as well here, judging from the size of the place. What other luxuries await in this place? What would keep me here longer?"
Sweet Miss Lori was getting frazzled. the proof was in the pudding and it was all over her face. Her hair was coming out of the pins and she was pulling at it, her eyes rolling. Going was the professional boss lady and in her place was the frustrated teenager, finding a man rather than a boy to toy with. "You don't need us." A genuine smile crawled over the face looking at her. It had been some time since the skin had contorted in such a fashion. Probably when he was watching the fear crawl into the Irish Lass like a new plague." True enough. I'm glad to see you want to actually talk. I was wondering when we might be social and friendly. You're right and you are wrong. I have worked for many organizations over the years, all for different reasons. Used to be money. Money is no longer an issue." He stood long enough to twirl the chair on its leg, taking a seat in it properly, tipping back in it slightly.
" I am here because I know how violent your group is. Finally, without the bondage of a payout, I can really get into my work. Few rules and fewer taps on my shoulder if I kill targets rather than scare the hell out of them." Time to switch roles on the pretty young thing. "You definitely need me, though. Your enthusiasm couldn't be more obvious. Am I an egocentric sociopath? Of course I am. You need that though. Especially since you seem to be the new girl in charge." Roland let his tongue play in his mouth after letting that little lovely do its damage. True enough, he was no fresh apple off the tree. He'd been watching.
The room was getting smaller for them both. No longer was it bright eyed applicant looking for structured superior's approval. Now it was a man and a woman, talking. Door could be closed and blinds pulled or windows could be wide open. He'd seen this look of distress before. Some people, regardless of gender, were fairly used to making their own rules and all others abiding. When they encountered someone of their own caliber or beyond, they became frazzled, as rules no longer applied. It had to be a living nightmare. Roland needed to answer the question properly. "I'm here to get my hands dirty. Dirtier than they have ever been, if such a thing is possible. I'm here to explore my medium as a proper artist, to really grow as a professional and individual. If I happen to shake your foundations in the process, so be it." He put his killer eyes on her for a moment."Why are you here?"
