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 Welldrinker Cult
A shadowy group is gaining power, drawing in people who are curious, vulnerable, or malicious, and turning them into Mystics. They are recruiting people into their ranks to spread the influence of magic in the world, but for what end goal?
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.
First, someone shouted Freeze. And then, someone hit him! Hit HIM. Him, who was helping. Who had helped take down the bad guy. The one who had thrown one woman out of a building, and had raced up the side to try and hurt another? Yeah, that him.
Cheshire, Nee Elliott, was pissed. This was why he wore a helmet. The blow with the lamp had connected with the motorcycle helmet he wore, the one with the big smile? And he wasn’t smiling about it, but he was conscious.
The lights came on, and Cheshire fumed.
>> "What in tarn-nations is going on here?" A female voice asked. There was one visible woman present, and she had not been the one to say that. She had been the ‘freeze’ girl. Whoever had hit him, it had not been her. Invisible? .
“Yosemite Sam called,” Cheshire drawled. “He wants his bit back.”
He could be loopy with the invisible woman. His eyes were still focused on the one who had shouted freeze. He was not even looking for someone who was not there.
>> "I got him right?" The same woman asked her friend, little miss Shouts freeze at the hero. Again, still invisible. But deferring. The freeze girl stood there, processing, and did not immediately reply.
“I think you got the right idea and the wrong person,” Cheshire sighed.
He recovered his mentality, and turned back to what he had been doing before he had been clocked. He kneeled on the bad guys back, and proceeded to zip tie his hands behind him. He tried to ignore the two women, it wasn’t as if either had a gun drawn? That he could see… And he had made no moves towards them that they could construe as threatening. Which didn’t always count for cops. But oh well.
The guy was zip tied.
>> "What do we do now?"
He glanced towards the woman who had not said that. She was looking to her friend for advice, but he still could not see her. Sensed the general direction of her voice, yes, but… he stared at the one seemingly calling the shots.
“I’m Cheshire.” He said. “Hello. This guy is tied up, the second woman is hiding in the next room over. I told her to get inside a closet.”
Red everywhere. Black, like ash. It clung to everything. He had watched it happen, almost in slow motion, watched it happen in disbelief. And now, here they were. Utter ruin. It had happened. It had fallen. And a wise man would say you cannot put the paint back in the tube. It made Elliott sick to look at it.
“This is the absolute worst thing,” he muttered. “No coming back from this. We have to start over.”
With a sigh, he picked his canvas up off the floor. His hip had checked it, toppled the whole thing and spilled the paint. It looked like a blasted landscape. It looked… “You know what? I actually like it,” Elliott smiled a zipper smile.
He made quick work of the remaining foes. His extending batons went snicker snack, and — well. It was all too quick and violent to show in good lighting. But suffice it to say, whoever he’d been fighting soon followed the crates into the water. One even landed atop a crate, with a solid crunch.
Cheshire turned to face Juniper.
“Good idea! That’s one way to—“
Had he suggested it? He couldn’t removed. Ah well. People came up from below decks to object. Two people, both women, both twins with black raven wings. They flew at juniper who was doing heavy lifting.
Elliott shouted watch out!! Then remembered it was juniper and she’d probably let them crash through her form and hit each other like a slapstick comedy act.
Elliott looked away for one second, next thing he knew, juniper’s seat was on the vampire’s shoulders.
Smithers sighed again, and pointedly did not make any further comments. Even though Elliott could read them plain as the nose on his face.
He skipped making them as well! He just turned, and said “okay!”
They left.
Back at the mansion, juniper found a real chair. Zek found a piano. Just kidding about juniper finding a real chair, though! She stayed put.
“If you murdered glow stick dude,” she threatened him. Bodily and spiritually.
He did not rise to the threat. He merely told her what she needed to hear, and gestured to the couch. For her friend, obviously, because she remained seated.
The man arrived. Smithers continued to pointedly ignore all and any rudeness directed his way, or to his property.
Children. They were children.
The boy returned the pantsless boy to them. And the butler got to work.
Elliott whistled to himself and looked around, rubbernecking like a fool. Eisen was delirious. Poisoned. Then he was unconscious. Had the butler hit him? Well. Whatever.
The butler did it, whatever it was. What was required to keep Eisen atop this mortal coil. While he was working, the man they’d thought dead wandered into the room. He looked around, perfectly fine. Maybe a little bruised. Then asked where his wife was. While that was happening, Smithers finally reached his tipping point.
He glanced up at the woman astride him and actually said it. “You know, some people pay good money for such things.” He said dryly.
“Holy shit.” Elliott said out loud. Whether it was for the man or the comment, it was not clear.
“Where is she?” He repeated, louder. Noticed Eisen. Said “oh hey. He isn’t dead? Cool. Hey butler dude why are you feeling him up and trying to use normal medicine when you have that glowing hand thing that healed me and the imps?”
The butler eyed him. Said nothing. Flexed a glowing hand. Casually doused Eisen in healing light.
So nobody had died at all, Elliott wondered. Wow what a ripoff.
A trap? Perhaps. But then, maybe the old man had simply seen the error in his ways and had chosen to move on with his life.
Yeah, right. Elliott had been around enough bad people to know a Tiger does not change its stripes. They can, however, behave with honor. Maybe. For a predator. He had not really been around tigers very often. Maybe that one time?
Nah.
Juniper wanted a holy man and some holy water.
Tez said he was a holy man, of some hokey made up religion. Which put him up there with the pope as far as Elliott was concerned... buuuut he couldn’t bless water because he was also a scrub.
Something better? Elliott paused dusting himself off to look at Tez.
Hot liquid. Ew. Smithers did not look pleased. Even as they watched, though, the burned skin healed itself. It was disgusting and fascinating to watch. Like time lapse videos of... stuff.
As Tez, nee Hezekiah, wandered off, Smithers growled: “I was here first, little pup.”
Elliott stomped up to the old man. “So you got medical staff back at the mansion?” He asked. “Doctors. To see to our friend?”
Phones, he left unsaid, to call the police.
Smithers grunted an affirmative. By now, the hot chocolate burns had healed completely. “Not for me, mind you. But my butler was an army doctor back in the Great War.”
“... so. Hacksaws. Leeches. Yey.” He waggled his arms.
Smithers sighed. Then paused... “little girl. Much as I like this arrangement, can you please get out of me? And my man has kept up with the times. Please. Do not lessen him by comparing him to primitive hack jobs.”
He smiled a little at his pun. Elliott smiled too.
((OOC permission to god mode us to the mansion for whoever wants to progress the scene so we can get my man Eisen out of ball space.))
This man kept getting in his way. He tried to dump sand in his face, he shielded against it, tried to escape, and the exit was blocked. Had a damned sword which made any thought of getting close laughable at worst, and suicide at best. Plus, he’d killed someone and they were in a bank vault. The police were on their way. He had to be reasonable here, and he really did not want a fight.
The guy had thrown a mid-length sword, which Elliott evaded with a quick side hop . And the crackling energy shield hung in place in the blasted entryway.
Crazy sword man still had a sword, and was doing something funky. So, Elliott plopped to the ground and started throwing things at him.
There was plenty of debris, from the blast earlier. He had ammunition to spare. He threw about three small chunks in quick succession, then turned and lobbed a medium-sized hunk at the barrier in the doorway. One hit, and it was dispelled with a quick burst of electricity.
He was not going to touch those...
As he ran away from the swordsman, into the doorway, he contemplated scooping up the wakizashi and holding onto it for safekeeping. But it was entirely possible the psychopath had booby trapped his blade. Instead, Cheshire hauled back his foot and kicked the handle of the sword to send it spinning 100 feet into the distance. Then, out the blasted hole, he went.
The man turned towards him, took his eyes off her. Just as Elliott had planned. Well, really, he had planned it to go either way. Smithers could have focused on her as easily as he had focused on him. But this way, Elliott could duck a punch, hop an attempt to sweep the leg, and dodge roll to one side, out of the path of a follow up roundhouse kick straight out of one of the most recent MMA bouts he’d watched on pay-per-view. Dang, Smithers had moves.
After a long time of living, anyone could learn to kick like that. Given the energy and inclination. Or you could sit on your fine ass eating Cheetos and watching Scrubs.
Juniper broke Smithers c-c-combo, by— vanishing... into him?
Elliott took a step back.
Wait, what? When had she been able to do that?!
Course, he had no clear idea what she could actually do, aside from Imbibe cocoa. So...
The man tried to battify, but he was batting poorly. A swing and a miss, but the whole attempt was absolutely fascinating to watch!
From the ground, Elliott commented: “You should have sold us popcorn. For the show.”
>> "Can you get some- Ack! I don't bend that way!- Get a good angle on him, Elliott?!"
He tuned back in to the battle. “What, yeah? Uh, of course!”
So they were going to do it THAT way, huh?
>> "Don't worry about me! You can't hurt me!" She said. Which was good advice. Because he’d figured Smithers would love the anime reference here, seeing as he loved anime. And—
“This is just like when Shikamaru uses his shadow jutsu to pin someone in place so his other friends can beat the crap out of—“
Smithers caught none of it. His mind had reduced his field of vision to red and his sense of hearing to long drawn out internal high pitched screams.
The green man ran at him. Jumped. The kick sailed straight into the old man’s head. And— snap— the head turned like an owl’s head, so that it was facing the wrong way.
Elliott felt like Urkel in Family matters, as he landed several feet away, turned, stared at what he had wrought, and asked : “Did I do that?”
It would have been super cute if he’d posed while stating the legendary line. A glance over his shoulder, a finger to his lips. A look like “ooh my~”, but no. He just glanced over his shoulder, one knee on the ground, the other stretched out in the superhero landing pose. Ready to get back up and try again.
Had he just— no. Smithers was— moving. Twitching. His head, it turned... back around. Towards him. Then towards Tez.
Elliott supposed the man had enough control over his body to do that. Creepy, but wait. I hat did that mean for Juniper? Hopefully she had not... like... died, or something.
Smithers, the man who had stolen Tez’s name, blinked at him, having stolen his snappy neck bit, too.
British accent thick, he said: “Um. Yeah. I think we are done here. You all win. Let’s go play in the pool...”
He was wiped. Getting your head spun really takes it out of you.
Elliott paused as his brain did a quick reboot. He’d lost it for a second, when he turned and saw the new corpse. He had went all Christopher Walken there, for a minute. Words, jerky, as he’d tried to go through the verbiage to explain what, why?
“How, do you do?” He said. Aw, hell. In for a penny, in for a pounding. He continued the Walken impression, but this time, out loud.
Had the man called him mr green demon in Japanese? How overblown affected can one get? Says the man in the costume. Least he wasn’t head to ass in a red jumpsuit, or painted with spiderwebs on his skivvies. And he didn’t having a sparking katana. He pocketed his sticks.
Again, he repeated the question. what, the hell?
“Do you, see this guy?” He asked the security camera. “He, straight up butchered that guy. You all saw that, right? It—“
On the word it, his focus snapped away from the camera to land on a gold brick that had just been sitting there. On top of a pallet of other gold bricks. Long pink tongues shot forth from the slits in the palms of his fingerless black gloves. Slits cut for just such a situation. The two tongues lanced out in unison to wrap around the brick. Once, twice. His voice deepened as he picked it up, and huuuurlred it.
”—was NOT ME!!” He finished, in a shout.
The brick sailed towards Senor katana, and as it did, Elliott sprang backwards, to plant both feet on the bank vault’s back wall. Then, he did a quick about-face, and skittered up and over, to the ceiling. He channeled Curly of the three stooges, as he ran across the ceiling, going “Nyuk nyuk nyuk!” The dangling hand-tongues slurped up into his hand mouths like floppy twin noodles as he went.
Right as he reached the place on the ceiling directly above the man, he halted. Fumbled with something in his pockets.
“Take! THIS! Ichiban Gijutsu, school of the undefeated of Texas!! Gribble-Sensei no pocketo SANDO!! Sha sha sha sha!”
He dumped a little baggie of sand on static samurais head, then ran like hell towards the exit.
He was still on the ceiling. The helmet was smiling. He was not.
Raijin took a step towards his nearest prey, aaaand—
Someone in a leather jacket, with visible green skin on his feet and parts of his hands blurred onto the scene. He leaped down from an upper level somewhere above the man, but to the casual observer, he almost flew.
If he’d had it his way, Cheshire would have flew in to kick the bank robber in the side and send him tumbling. But the robber was in the bank. So he landed outside the building, and ran towards the danger.
What kind of mutant blows up the side of a building? That car alarm was still crying. That meant it was probably something that sent out shockwaves. Sonic, maybe? Or a very big kinetic concussive blast. He would find out soon enough.
—
Soon enough was about two seconds later.
“Hey man,” he waved at the guy. The man looked strung out. He was about fifteen feet away. He spun and dropped the sack of money he was holding.
“Who dares challenge me, the might Nice-Aid man?” He bellowed.
Elliott stared at him, hands on hips. “Yeeeeah. Guys?” He glanced at the very visible security camera. “I’m not feeling the name. This nothing doesn’t deserve such a disaster of a name. So anyways, here’s Wonder Wall.”
“WHAT?!” Wonder wall screamed.
Cheshire threw a long black drubbing stick at the man’s head. Whoosh whoosh whoosh, it spun through the air.
Whomp!
It hit the guy square in the temple. He staggered back, clutching his head.
“Owie...” He moaned.
There was the sound of footsteps rushing by him as the smiling vigilante swept by to scoop up his club. He stopped, turned, and got ready to throw again.
“It's not unusual to be loved by anyone~~~~~ It's not unusual to have fun with anyone But when I see you hanging about with anyone It's not unusual to see me cry Oh I wanna' die! It's not unusual to go out at any time~ But when I see you out and about it's such a crime~ If you should ever want to be loved by anyone It's not unusual It happens every day! No matter what you say You find it happens all the time~~~~~ Love will never do what you want it to Why can't this crazy love be—~”
The green man finished his set at the karaoke bar. His red-haired girlfriend, Kenzie, shot him a double thumbs up as he strolled back to the table with his cocky ‘yeah, I just did that’ walk.
As he sat down, she said: “That was only mildly awful, Ell. Good job!”
He eyed her, not without a hint of amusement. Darkly, he said “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Only cute?” She laughed.
“Fine. A knockout. Drop dead gorgeous. Stunning.” In her little black dress, she really was. Her hair was up in a messy swirl held together with chopsticks.
“You’re goddamn right,” she said. Channeling Heisenberg.
He wore a pair of nice blue jeans, a red sweater, and a black leather jacket over it. It was cold. Her big floofy coat was on the back of her chair behind her.
Elliott dropped his attention to the contents of the table, and took a drink of his Japanese beer. Kirin or something? He gave her time to herself, and her self satisfied look.
The night continued, as a heavyset man with short brown hair got up on stage and lit the night up with Sinatra’s What’s New, Pussycat?
“What's new, pussycat? Woah, woah! What's new, pussycat? Woah, woah, woah Pussycat, pussycat, I've got flowers~ And lots of hours to spend with you So go and powder your cute little pussycat nose.”~~~~~~
—
The clock read around 1:00. It had been a good night. Good food, good drink, good fun. Elliott lead Kenzie back to her car.
She had a car. He had a motorcycle. It was cold enough, having a heater was preferable to windburn.
Just as he was shutting the drivers side door for her, he heard a boom in the not too far distance. A car alarm wailed through the night.
Elliott gave her a significant look. She sighed, but she was smiling.
”Okay,” Kenzie said. “Helmets in the trunk. Go get em, Tiger.”
The trunk popped open. Moments later, he’d slipped into his shin guards and donned the leather jacket from the trunk. The one with armor strike plates slipped into key locations. As he stepped away from her, he slipped on a simple black motorcycle helmet with a macabre maw painted on it. Looked like a ravenous mouth full of jagged teeth, with a lolling tongue coming out one side. A too-long tongue. The visor was tinted, so nobody could see his eyes. He finished by slipping off his shoes, and sliding his fingerless black gloves onto his hands.
They were parked out of the way of any sight lines, on the street. No cameras would catch the costume change.
He leaped onto the side of the nearest building and ran. Up. Up and over, towards the sound of the car alarm.
The man vanished beneath the press of the chandelier in a wail of squeaking and broken glass.
Well. Now that that was taken care of—
A moment later, a blur of darkness flapped away from where the chandelier had fallen. It swirled in the air, like a living cloud, then reformed several feet away.
“Imbecile.” Smithers muttered, glibly. He pronounced it imm beh sigh ull. And he was untouched. He had reformed. From the cloud. The very rubbery looking cloud.
Elliott had been tagged, but he hadn’t vanished as he had expected would happen. Like with the kid. Just a high five. So, he saw all of that.
“Freaking bat cloud kawarimi. Are you serious.” He deadpanned.
“Kawa...” Bella trailed.
“Kawarimi no Jutsu is a basic Ninjutsu technique. When in danger the ninja will quickly substitute themself with another nearby object. This can be a block of Wood or even another person. This allows the ninja to quickly flee and hide while the original object takes the brunt of their opponents attack.” Smithers sighed. “Except, in this case. I turned into bats.”
“Um. Wow.” Elliott blinked. “You’re a freaking nerd.”
“When you have centuries to kill, you occasionally watch—“
“Naruto.”
“Strange things...” Smithers finished, peeved. “And I seem to recall you starting this conversation about the art of substitution.”
“Yeah, well. You have blood on your chin.”
“Oh no! Jacob! You —“
Elliott wasn’t sure whether he’d temporarily gone deaf, or she had just streamed one long trail of beeeeeep, or she had been censored, or what. Next thing he knew, Bella was literally flying at the British man, a crackling ball of electricity cupped in her palm.
Smithers eyes flashed. Bella stopped short. But the act of him using his sway on the woman broke his concentration elsewhere. Also, Elliott chose that moment to take a running jump 30 feet and land a kick on his face. No bats, this time. Smithers went sailing, end over end.
He got to his feet a moment later, covered in snow and mud. There was a large black bruise on his right cheek. Otherwise, he seemed fine. He dusted himself off briefly, then flicked his wrist towards Tez. The girl turned, and rushed him with the crackling ball of lightning.
Elliott felt a little winded from the super kick. Couldnt do too many of those a day. It had been a real whammy. And Smithers had shrugged it off for the most part, in true boss battle fashion.
“Juniper. The only way we’re gonna beat him is if we all team up!! You go left and I’ll go right! Avoid his eyes!!”
He took off in a sprint a moment later, matching action to words.
Well. That was certainly strange. Things halted, things changed.
Things change all the time.
The two giant things turned and faced him. Elliott eyed them. And then, things melted away in a hiss.
Coooool.
All that remained was him and his perch. And another. Elliott glanced over his shoulder at mr tea cup. Strange. The funky thing was, before things had melted, Elliott had been crouched on a flag pole. The only way the person / demon could have been seated at a table, level with anything, would have been if he were established on the side of the building, stuck there like a suction cup on glass.
Well, okay then. Elliott hopped down from the flag pole that had dangled out over the void, and casually approached the man at the table on the side of the skyscraper. Walking up the buildings side like both things were normal. And still, the tea did not dribble out from his cup of his tea pot, in spite of gravity’s oddity.
>>well well well what have we here?
“Dunno, doc. You tell me.”
Elliott stood impassively, arms crossed.
The flames on the head were fascinating. They drifted to the side, not up.
He remained standing, even after that nice offer. Gee! Maybe he should have listened to the stranger.
He had remained standing. That made his sudden perspective shift of being seated all the more a betrayal.
>> "Would you like anything to drink? Tea? Coffee? A beverage you saw on TV once that you think you'd like? I do try to be courteous to guests in my house."
“Got any grapes?” He quipped. He would have asked for tide pods at this guys tea/lemonade stand, but there was a chance he would actually get them. Electric kool aid was also off the menu for jokes. Too easy to mess with him and actually give him poison or acid.
Even though he poured something, Elliott did not drink it. Did he suddenly find his hands holding a cup this time? No? Good.
The thing asked what it could do for him, and called him dear. Its voice was... freaky. For lack of better descriptors.
His motorcycle helmet kept on smiling as he told mr tea time. “Well. First off, please never call me dear again? We can go by first name basis here. You have mine. Please, do share yours.”
Since the being referred to him by his name name, maybe he needn’t have kept wearing the helmet. But a gimmick is a gimmick. He kept his schtick sharpened, like his wit. No one would ever want to mess with that wit, either. They’d feel the stab of his wit’s end. It just wouldn’t feel nice.
“Secondly,” he continued. “You called me. So what’s up, doc? That thing where I was suddenly seated was pretty weird. Was that you?”
So much happened so suddenly. Juniper girl was there, then gone. Then back again. During her absence, Tez once more spoke about tag. He made a pool floaty vanish, then reappear with its brother a minute or two later, when the blonde had returned.
Elliott did not know what to make of Tez. He was not actively trying to shoot them. Juniper seemed comfortable around him. He had a plan that, seemingly, was an out? A way to get out of the whole situation? Involving, what, tag? Vanishing?
Elliott did not want him to vanish. He kept his distance, with Bella at his side.
“I don’t really trust you, yet... sorry.” He said. He wasn’t sorry. It just felt like something to say.
Bella nodded.
Tez probably thought the whole thing was tiresome.
On junipers return, she spoke about dead triplets and injured glow sticks. The boy from before was hurt. Hurt badly. Elliott cursed.
If only he had brought some first aid stuff. Though why he would, he did not know.
The boy was not dead yet. He muttered some stuff, clearly out of it. Juniper and Tez spoke briefly. Elliott shook his head at Tex’s cavalier attitude towards death and calling the cops.
“They’re actively trying to kill us,” Elliott stated.
Then Tez made the guy vanish. Like. Wow. Elliott would have questions about that, later. For now, Tez/ Zek was back to volunteering to vanish them. Then, he told them to form up, and a British voice cut in.
“My dear boy. That would be cheating.”
It was Smithers. Freaking Smithers. Elliott sighed. The man stepped forward, gun still slung over one shoulder. There was marinara all over his mouth and chin.
Bella covered her mouth. “Oh god.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Elliott said. Then, he stalked forward, straight up to Zek. “I don’t care if it is cheating. I’m not fighting a vampire. Tag me.” He stuck out one hand. Bella followed suit, placing her hand on top of his.
Smithers sighed.
At this point, Elliott cared more about getting out of this and getting glow sticks medical attention than he did about having a flashy fight with a British gent.
>> Oh hey! You ended up here, huh? Zek sure yeeted you pretty far."
“Sure did.” He agreed.
>> "Oh, uh, yeah. Docks. Drugs N stuff. Gotta stop em before they, like... take over the city or something."
“Drugs, huh.”
How fun. Street level stuff was far easier than dead Santa or that one thing from dream space he’d tried to mess with.
He felt slightly impressed with juniper and her outfit. Just chilling in yoga pants and a hoodie while he was wearing body armor and a motorcycle helmet, like some overdressed putz. Waaaaay less cool than someone exuding confidence like her.
>> "Armor lady didn't really explain much after that. Or at least nothing I stuck around to hear." She said. Then added
>> ".... How are we supposed to get rid of a bunch of drugs, anyway?"
He glanced at the harbor. “Boston tea party. Er. New York crack party? The fish are radioactive already...”
Terrible, terrible idea. But it was one plan. She wasn’t suggesting they dispose of them in an illegal, illicit way? Was she? Because he had been a delivery boy often enough to know how that would go down.
He did not get much time to really slog out an idea. More thugs came up on the deck of the ship. Three of them this time. Strangely, one of them was in a pirate costume. Or at least, the bandanna on his head and the eyepatch really sold him on the idea.
Elliott took off in a running leap and swept the feet out from under that one guy. Then, he booted him off the boat.
Splish!
He turned and rushed the next guy, snapping out his two extending batons as he went.
The mall security cop approached. “What seems to be the problem, guy?” He eyed Elliott. “Nice helmet. Inside.”
“I’m Cheshire.” He said. “Santa is hurt.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the circus. People milling, elves crying. Pandemonium. “You should get your people to take a look at it. I’ll help Billy over here find his mommy. Billy, tell them that’s okay. That you want my help.”
‘Because if you don’t, they’ll think I’m kidnapping you and I’ll be in trouuuuuuble’ he thought to himself.
The mall cop eyed the kid.
“Billy is it? What Cheshire say true? He helpin’ you?”