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 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?”
Eisen’s move was... pretty good! Yeah! That is play of the game material. And the way he shouted fudge really cemented his place in the badass brigade. Such a shame he passed out after all of that. Someone needed to wake him up. But who?
—
Meanwhile, back at the ranch.
>> "Isn't that like, cheating? Hiding outside the bounds or whatever?" miss Juniper said.
Elliott arched his hairless eyebrows.
“What? You think I would cheat. Yes. It is. And I would. Eh.” He shrugged.
He didn’t look to see if she shrugged. He just assumed they all shrugged. Bella shrugged for sure, yeah? He thought he’d seen her out of the corner of his eye, agreeing it was better to cheat than to be dead.
They did not dwell on whether cheating was okay or not (though bella was familiar with cheating, so. Totally in her wheelhouse). Tez arrived!
Juniper did not seem on the same page as the other two. Had she received the script?
Tez seemed happy to see Juniper. Then he talked about joining the baddies and tagging them. Elliott had no idea what that was all about, but he did not like it.
“Look. I don’t want a fight but—“ In the distance, gunfire cracked. He spun to face in the direction from which it had come. Taken aback, he said “ l hope that was one of our guys kicking ass and taking names, and not one of you hunters...”
Bella sighed. “Today could be over any time now...”
—
Yes. It could. Smithers kept plodding, slowly, steadily. Taking his time. But there was a smile on his face.
"I dunno, keep your guard up and try and get a bead on him again.... what was with that crazy helmet?"
Juniper stopped, and calmed herself. Focusing on her breathing. Hyping herself up. Probably sounded a bit like ‘okay juniper! You can do this! You’re cool! You’re number one! Yeaaaah!’ The side effect of this self inspiration? She didn’t hear the follow up answer to one man’s question. Or the follow up statement.
“You fool!” Thing 1 said to thing 2. “Haven’t you ever heard of Cheshire? He goes around the city, fighting muggers n crap.”
Thing 2 gasped. “Cheshire?! Isn’t that the guy who cuts off peoples’ faces?!”
“No....” Thing 1 eyed him. “That is... someone else. Some guy in white.”
“Moon—“ He got cut off as something. Some body. Crashed into him from behind. “Ah crap!!” He shouted as he fell. As he fell, he almost fired off a wild shot into the ground. His hand closed. If those fingers had been on the trigger, he’d have released some frantic panic fire by mistake. Luckily for everyone involved, Thing 1 had exercised excellent trigger discipline. So the boat did not get shot. Nor anyone else. Then, He lost the gun. Which made him sad.
As the gun got phased right out of his grasp, a little sound escaped him. A very disappointed “a-aww.” Followed shortly by a “Aw, crap” as the gun went bye bye. Chunkified by his mysterious assailant. He still had some payments on that...
What would he say to Gary?!
Thing 2 eyed the person atop his friend. A mutant. From his vantage, it appeared as if she had grabbed the man’s gun and disintegrated it with a touch. Thing 1 was busy trying to paw at the remnants of his weapon. And the woman? She was within range. On top of his friend, sure. But he was certain she had already given away the game by showing her hand. Her power. She would not be able to stop this.
Thing 2 shot at the woman. And watched as the bullets went right through her, into his friend.
Thing 1’s focus drifted away from the remnants of his gun, like smoke floating out of a smokestack. Towards a light at the end of a long tunnel. And he thought no more.
“Oh.” Thing 2 said. For extra emphasis, he added. “Oh, shit.”
And then, someone flew out of darkness to kick him in the face. Down, he went. Cheshire landed from his flying jump kick, turned towards Juniper, and dusted himself off. He was still soggy. Which lessened the cool factor, slightly.
The helmet grinned at her manically, tongue lolling out from the jagged smile.
“Well. Guess that’s two grunts down and more grunting to go.” He noted wryly. “I missed the mission briefing. I take it these are some of the bad people Crimson samurai lady wanted us to whomp?”
Surely, more baddies would be appearing shortly. But for the moment, they had a second. The calm before the storm.
“God I hope not...” Elliott said distractedly. He was still running. The possible situations ran through his mind, too, but... he didn’t want to think too much on them or his head would explode.
Really, who joins the bad guys?
His attention waned as Juniper turned her focus to Bella. He casually overhead this exchange:
>> "... did you all purposefully theme all of this after the books? Please don't tell me Jacob only married you because of the kid you will eventually one day have. That's creepy and I didn't bring my ass-kicking boots."
“Sniff. Would you, like, drop the book thing? I really don’t get it... and we’re kind of in a thing here.”
Ouch.
Quite rightly, juniper switched her focus back to him.
“Good questions. All of em. I’d said, my plan was to run to the edge of the compound and hop the fence. But— if they catch up, I’ll fight em. As for speedo Eisen... hopefully he was speedier than that... well just have to wait and see...”
And he ran some more, hopping over roots on the ground as they started approaching forested area.
—
As for Eisen, and what he was actually doing. He was avoiding lethal buckshot like a boss. As far as avoiding a painful fall off a rooftop went... less so. He was hanging on, sure! Jacob couldn’t really get a good line of shot on him, right! But if he fell... well. That’s all she wrote.
He opened his mouth, ready to pound another insult towards the man as he fell. Adding that to the injury the guy would surely face. And— well his jaw went slack and dumb as things did not go according to plan.
Something shattered and he took several stunned steps back. Brought his gun up, to aim at the suddenly much closer man. He’d avoided most of the shrapnel from falling rock, but there was a nick on his cheek that bled red. He was mad now. And there he was...
He cursed at Eisen, and tried to aim at the kid point blank. It did not go as planned. That seemed to be a recurrent theme today.
Ugh! Argh! Why couldn’t he— shoot! And— shoot!
The kid did some slick move to kick him, and suddenly he was on the cold hard ground. SHOOT!!!!
For a moment, Jacob’s vision went dark. That had been when he had impacted the ground with the back of his head, and closed his eyes. He opened them. Then, it went red. With fury!!
That rat! What was he doing? What was he thinking? He didn’t hardly notice the gun hover situation. Or the bat babies. Just focused on the guy himself. Furious.
Mad. He was so mad. That— Bonk.
He went from mad, and seeing red, back to seeing black, and unconscious. Joy.
—
The bat babies watched the whole encounter. Gurgle laughed. Then reevaluated. Their prey now had a projectile weapon. This boded well not at all! They fluttered off to plan their next assault, and— vanished.
—
Back on the Tez front...
Tez had said something witty about blood types. Hezekiah had replied with something. It didn’t really matter what he had said. In the moment, it had been good. Possibly scathing. But Tez had probably been more interested in his massive beverage than in what the man had actually said. Which was a shame. If he’d been listening, he might’ve actually gotten a laugh out of it. Oh well!
Slurp.
When Tez actually finished his cocoa, it was a certainty he’d have to go like a racehorse. But for now.... slurp. Speaking of racehorses.
Zek, having realized he was basically alone, and cackling to himself at imagined delights... he summoned a friend. Was it a human friend? Nay.
He did some horse whisperer stuff that would have made a certain special someone at the mansion mildly impressed. Then he did some stuff that would have made her roll her eyes. That accomplished, he ‘hi ho silver’ away’ed.
It didn’t take long for him to reach the woods. He arrived shortly after Elliott and the girls. Immediately, he found the going much harder, due to roots and trees. Horses are large animals with delicate legs. Traveling at full tilt through a forest... the horse wasn’t all that thrilled with the prospect.
It let out a loud neigh.
Elliott spun, 200 feet away.
“Oh s%^#! It’s Tez. And he brought a ... a horse. Jesus Chrysler building. How gauche is he?” Or had he meant to say gaudy? Garish? Guileless? Galoshes?
Gosh!
Bella said some very unladylike things about Tez and what he could do with his horse, then self consciously glanced junipers way snd said “not literally, of course. That would be weird.”
—
Back with Eisen, he had probably made it about halfway to the forest snd the rest of the group by now. On foot, he would have been slower than Tez and that horse. Probably traveling at an angle that has kept them from running into each other. Which was good, because they both had guns.
Where was everyone, he was likely thinking. Where is the British man, the weird bat things? Anyone?
Well we will get to those questions shortly. As he was moving away from the house and towards the horse... we cut to Smithers, walking through his mansion, covered head to boots in guns and ammunition sashes and belts with compartments and pockets enough to make a grown woman weep.
He looked up, in his entrance hall. Noted the now absent chandelier. In a very posh, highly British voice, he noted “Oh motherf#^%##r.”
He continued, out the door. Noted the holes in his ceiling, and his roof. Said some more things, more coarse and salty. Saw the unconscious Jacob on the ground. Sighed.
No doubt, he was the cause of all this property damage. Well. Now he was out of the fight.
A low rumble cut through the silence of the snow-covered grounds. He looked down at the downed man, thoughtfully. Then, he smiled to himself. A thing had been decided.
“First blood,” he muttered. Looming over the fallen man. And— fade the screen to black.
Another jump cut. Oh yay!
Lesse! The main body of the party was busy with the horse and Tez. The result? Uncertain. And Eisen was separate. Working on reforming the split party. Would he succeed? Or would something happen the hit pause on that whole thing? We can save you all some trouble and answer decisively. He got stopped.
The bat babies fluttered down in front of him. One was on his right, one his left, and one dead ahead. Cutting him off. A laugh like rocks being gargled. They held up clawed hands. Clawed hands that dripped vibrant green.
“Alllll alllooone.” They trailed, in triplicate. “Neverrr splittt the party. It always ends well. For the monsters.” They licked their lips. Then, they attacked!!
Would Eisen win? Or would the monsters feast! Only time would tell. He had a shotgun, it is fun to note. And that did give him some edge. Though those claws.... what WAS up with those claws?
So he had more people in his side. Would this make it less of a hunt, or more? The thrill of the idea, of the hunt itself, surged through him.
Wonderful.
He would allow it. He would see. And if he, Smithers, grew bored... well. They would see where time took them. Because time changes all things. Of that, he was more than aware. He was Certain.
Three strange brings that spoke as one. Yes. With wings and beady little eyes, large heads, and sharp teeth.
He took inventory as he awaited the three minute mark. The end of the head start he’d oh-so-generously granted these worms. Would they run, would they join, or would they hide? There was also fight. The hidden fourth option. To fight back was always on the table, to attack him, to kill.
As of killing him were a possibility. Smithers was amused at the very notion. Oh, what fools these mortals be. To quote... something. Old Bill’s show. The one about the dream.
He nodded at the blonde girls question, and gripped his rifle firmly. “The pool is for winners,” he confirmed in the most dry of British accents. Dry enough he maybe needed a moist towelette? No. But dry enough, Fo Sho. In the modern hippity hoppity vernacular.
Ugh. Moderntalk . All one word. A word which he detested, along with all the doublespeak and idiotic slang that had replaced phrases of yore. Yore these days, even, was just a word used by yokels who did not know how to properly spell your order you’re. And don’t get him started on—
You’re right. He was getting distracted, now wasn’t he? But he felt positively ancient with his things had changed in his lifetime! A little forgiveness needed to be extended to cover up his bitter eying of the betrayal of language, itself. And if he laid it on a but thick with the hunting and the allusions regarding his views on words and their changes over time, well then! Maybe that was just another writer’s weaknesses in prose showing on through.
—
The blonde said one more thing before leaving. Something about banging one of his compatriots ex-wives. The man in question twitched, then thrust a finger her way snd shouted:
“I’d like to see you try!!!”
Ugh. Smithers sighed. He didn’t even have the remotest clue what he had said, did he?
“Are you absolutely certain,” he muttered, voice absolutely withering. “You have no desire to join them in our little hunt?”
“Huh.” Jacob responded fully, then snorted. “Chuh! Yeah right.”
Ughhhhhh. Maybe three minutes had been too long of an arbitrary allowance in headstart time? Smithers was certain he could shoot someone just then.
The triplets tittered, and clasped hands. They, at least, were enjoying this.
“And another one down, another one down, another one joins the hunt.” Smithers drawled the Freddie Mercury line, and paraphrased as Montezuma chose to join them. And pelted him with questions. Joy.
Badges? Special snacks?
“Will the blood of your enemies suffice?” He smiled coldly.
—
Elliott was good at running. His mutation... made it kind of his thing. Strong legs. Running and jumping. Kicking ass. Taking names. Okay, maybe the last of those had zilch to do with his mutation. Still... his speed made his efforts to slow his stride, in order to stay within a fair distance of the woman following him... difficult. But appreciated, by the woman herself. She gave him a nod of affirmation as she rushed to get into lockstep with him, running at Elliott’s side.
He was all about not dying himself but that did not mean he would leave anyone behind. His d ceased roommates voice echoed in his memories. That’s not what heroes do. Benji’s ghost would haunt him till he died.
—
“There. Three minutes are up.” Smithers looked to his allies. “Go hog wild.”
The triplets looked at each other. They were in agreement. They had watched as He had run off. To urinate. But had never returned.
Nod nod nod.
They shot out the window and went airborne, taking to the skies to hunt their prey! They saw people below as the climbed vertically, people running towards the woods. But none were in neon pink and yellow. None, Him. Perhaps if they went higher?
He had left from the front of the mansion. They had exited the side, by the window. It was the only thing that kept them from immediately locating their prey. As they floated up the side of the building, towards the roof, someone else stumbled out the front door.
—
He was in a dark hunting jacket now, with a shotgun and a black ear flap hat and a canvas duffel bag full of ammunition and other things slung over one shoulder. He ogled the grounds, then sniffed.
Cut back to a minute prior.
He had opted to leave through the halls, rather than a window, as would any sane mutant. He had found the brightly colored pants. He had smelled them. He had taken in the scent.
Cut to now.
Jacob turned, and glanced up. Up. Up.
The coat billowed dramatically against the backlight of the sky. “Oh son of a—!!”
Jacob reeled back several steps and took aim. Took a few seconds. Fired.
It seemed he had found the man named after a dead president first.
The thing about shotguns is, the shot spreads. So maybe he had chosen a poor target, one that was distant. He certainly got the front of the building and some chunks of roof. But Eisen?
“Shit!”
Maybe he shouldn’t have screamed before he’d shot his load. Hastily, Jacob fumbled a couple shells free of the duffel and put some more shells into the gun.
—
The triplets spun, towards the sound of the shotgun. A sound like three throats gargling pop rocks escaped them. Was that a laugh?
They hovered in place above the roof. The hunt, it was on. Slowly, like stalking tigers, they drifted in the direction from which the sound had come.
—
At the sound of the gun, Elliott glanced over his shoulder. What he saw was—
“Hi juniper,” he said breezily. “So nice of you to join us. Where’s Montezuma?”
That was her name, right? Juniper? And Monty. Tez?
—
And speaking of Tez. Rifles, shotguns, pistols, and all the ammunition he could stuff in his pockets. They had hooked him up. He even had been given a badge with a large L. It stood for Hunting Party cLub (and nothing else). Although the butler had smirked when he’d offered it to the man. What was up with that? More importantly, what was up with him?
With him, with Montezuma? With Zek? What was up with that?
And what was up with Hezekiah? After the hunt had begun, Hezekiah Smithers had strolled amiably out the door to the room. But he had not rushed to the front of the building. Not had he rushed to the side, out a hidden side entrance or something. He had simply... vanished. Which was strange, considering how nefarious and eager he had been about continuing the hunt. Almost as if...
His servant did exactly as was expected regarding anyone nosy enough to actually root through the contracts small words. Smithers was all too happy the facilitate the clothing of the man in the pink bathing suit.
He directed a servant to get a pair of hunting pants in the man’s exact size, with the polite British excuse given that in a past life, he was a tailor and knew a thing or two about inseams.
As Eisen waited, he might’ve noticed tall, dark, and brooding in the scarves glancing his way. Then again, he may not have.
Elliott was busy watching the other people in the room. What was with the guy who had the giant cup of cocoa? He hadn’t seen him bring that in. And why had that guy gotten naked?
“Ahem. Now that you have been given your pants.” Smithers said, a couple minutes later, after Eisen had put on his new clothes. “Perhaps, we can begin?”
Eisens pants were a neon hot pink with yellowish green reflective lines on them. He looked like a 90s track suit.
“I’ve taken the Liberty of bringing hunting gear out for each of, which was brought in with young Eisen’s pants.” He smiled. “It is equally bright and reflective should you wish to stand out.”
There was a pile of jackets and pants, as he had said. In links and neon greens and yellows and oranges. Not all at once, Mind, but as a selection. Elliott stayed at least ten feet back, lest it burn him. Or his retina.
“The closet in the entrance hall has gear for you. If you wish for something more plain. And there is hunting gear on the way. Should you desire to wait. Shotguns and rifles... Now then!” Smithers clapped his hands cheerfully. “Dusk is three hours away. You all have a three minute head start! As the contract said, the goal is to evade capture (or death) until nightfall, after which the real fun can begin!”
“Wait,” said Elliott. “WHAT?!”
Smithers smiled, and chuckled to himself. He swung the rifle down off his back, and checked that it was loaded. “It was all in the contract, little one. You should have read the fine print as I suggested. Nevertheless, you’ll have a three minute head start before I begin the hunt. On your mark, get set, g—“
The person in the overcoat and scarves stepped up beside Smithers and placed a hand on their shoulder. In a voice like three, in tinny tones, it said:
“The contract stated options. For the hunt, we were able to flee, hide, or join.” It shifted, and the coat fell to the floor revealing... something.
Three purple skinned demon babies with tiny bat wings, standing on top of each other’s shoulders. “Weeee would wish to joooin you.” They said. Their eyes glowed with an Eldritch light.
“Us too!” Jacob stepped forward, eagerly. He grinned at the rest of them, especially Juniper. “I’m all too happy to play a dangerous game.”
“You don’t speak for me,” a small voice piped up. Elliott turned to see Bella. “You always do this!” She said, voice gaining strength. “Talk over me. Speak over me. SHOUT, over me.”
“Those are the same things, darling. Maybe you’re not thinking this through. It always takes you a minute, just—“
“Forget you, Jacob!!” She yelled. “I’m not stoooopid! I’m not dum! I don wanna be a murderer! And—“
“Bella,” he said. Honestly sounding hurt.
“Can it, Jake! Maybe we shouldn’t have even done this. Got married. ‘M having buyers remorse.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying!”
“Besides,” she shook her head and tossed back her hair. “I’ve been doing your brother. Edward Edwards is a real man’s man! More man than YOU!” She pointed at him. He pointed back.
“You WITCH!!!”
There was a crash as the sound of breaking glass interrupted their quarrel. Cold air swept through the room. Elliott stood breathing hard by a freshly broken window. The room was down one chair. “You all need help!” He stated. Then he hopped through the window.
Smithers sighed heavily, and checked his expensive watch. “Back to business, then. You have a three minute head start. Three, two, one, go!”
Bella grabbed a bright winter jacket off the pile, turned and used it to brush the broken glass from the edges of the window frame. Then, daintily, she climbed on through after the green man. She left the jacket hanging in the frame. She did not want, or need, it.
From his perspective, he was in one place one moment, and in another the next. And all because he’d touched that jerkwads hand.
Those goddamn balls. he’d forgotten. And the ass had used them on him?! Some people have no respect. That rat bastard. Because of him, he completely missed aaaaanything red woman had said. He was a little busy, fighting for his life.
Or, at least. He thought he would be.
Because Zek’s balls were timeless, he’d lacked the time to think those thoughts “in the moment.” So, he used his plethora of time spent falling to think the thoughts. Because one really cannot fight gravity. And as the thoughts blazed, he summed them up in a single word.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuu—“
There was nothing to hold onto. Nowhere to go but down. Zek, that ^*##*# #^#}^% had thrown him clear over the harbor. He pin wheeled his arms, took a deep breath, then fell. Into the water.
Oh god it was awful. He was going to murder Zek. There was sludge, and stinky, and pollution... his jacket would be ruined. But, struggling, he made it back to the surface. He lame-ass doggie paddled to the nearest dock. He found a rope ladder, and hauled himself up. Got to the sanctity of the wooden dock planking. Dripped, and crossed his arms.
“HMPH!” His helmet may have been smiling, but him? He was not!
He stopped. Something funny was going on here. He looked up at the boat by the dock he’d climbed up onto. Made direct eye contact with a man in black lifting a crate. A man with a visible sidearm holstered at his waist. And another man, who pointed at him and shouted— twitch.
“CRAP!!!!!!”
He lobbed the fish that had found its way into his pocket all the way into thug 2’s hairy face. Effin Zek, that blue-tongued Cheeto Bandito. He was gonna make him pay.
The fish had been the funky thing, but these guys? There were pretty funky too. Soggily, he ran for the cover of a few nearby crates that had already been unloaded. And that was when the wild gunfire began.
((OOC sorry of this skips juniper. Wasn’t sure on the posting order. L can run into Elliott whenever she makes her way to the docks!))
