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.
She was a cat. Lenna was a cat. They were both cats… together. No, She did not know the woman. They had just met, if by ‘just met’, you mean thrust into a difficult and confusing situation. Together. The how and why we’re not incredibly important, but for the sake of general knowledge, here it is.
How: a mutant did it. It a wizard. One of the two. There had been a flash, the world had gone bad resolution, Grainy, too yellow, too reverse coloration, then too vivid, too photo negative, too black and white, all in rapid succession. Then, regular colorations (got cats), for her. Which was weird. It meant that for the moment, Lenna had no access to her mutation. She was uncertain what she was, how long this would last, or where her telekinesis had gotten off to. All she knew was that she, and one other, were at a lower perspective. Closer to the ground. There was a burger box in front of her. It was larger than if she had been usual sized. She was not usual sized. The box said big snack. They sold them at one particular chain of fats food.
Why: she did not know. Because food is good sometimes, and sometimes you need a bigger snack? Oh. Why this happened. Right. Her pocket had been picked. Money taken. It had not been a fancy wallet, no credit cards were contained within. Just some cash. Not even a lot. $50, maybe? No id, no important papers or pictures. She has chased out of principle, not need. Could have lived without the cash. Could have used her power too. Not anymore.
Another person had bumped into the thief, wrong place, wrong time. The thief had been young, in a cloak. Child maybe? Shorter height, 4’? 4’5”? Gender not specified. Hood.
Who wears hoods, really? And cloaks.
Probably wizard.
Vile magic has been used. Or mutation. And now they were
They were
They were
She swore a caustic stream. It came out meow mew meow mrowwwl.
She looked at other woman. She was a cat. She looked at a shop window. Her reflection. White fur with a black spot shaped like the helmet of Darth Vader, on the nose.
If she had been a a cat, she would have thought Dark orange. This was okay.
Lenna looked to other cat.
Meow, she said. It translated to Hello. Cats can speak to other cats.
She did not know where the person had gone. Mew mew. “Did you see?”
A large black what-? Lenna did not know. Her whole body turned as she gazed up at the menu, for a sign of something black. She gazed a whole two seconds, and then she saw it. She turned, and quickly pressed the button on the register for one black… tea. The cookies, she found right away. One of their most popular sellers, cookies.
She read the order back off to the woman, and happily asked would that be cash or card? She was not at all prepared to be told black tea was not the appropriate item.
—
In the background, the weird guy moved. Looked, even. Impressive, when he was of average height. The big coat likely helped matters. And the big hat. Fedora? Trilby. He was impatient. Eyes flicked left and right. He sighed audibly when the order was announced as wrong.
— Lenna made amends. Fixed the order. Threw a free pie on. She could do that. It just came out of her pay. But who cares, she was not in this for the money. Finished the order.
She gave the woman a number and told her to come when it was called.
—
The next person in line approached. Lenna saw under his trillby, a face that— the man flew across the room, into a wall. Crunch thud. An even weirder man had been standing behind him, and he was the culprit.
She recognized him at once. He was not wearing a big coat or hat, to mask his appearance. He had a face like a Hollywood star that never ages, one who had entered the matrix, and done some silly gun films. You know the One. She had seen him the night before, in shade, crossing the grass. No mistaking the long hair and face though, or build. Lenna sensed where this was going.
”You are back.” she said.
“I’m thinking I’m back.” He said.
In broad daylight. Under cameras. Where his face could be recorded.
Stupid.
A guy walked up behind her, talking. “Hey Len. The drive thru is down. And registers. And—“
He winked at her. Then he reached up, over, and behind the counter. He hauled her up by her neck. Then, the screaming began. All the screaming, all the people.
They did, indeed, upgrade to the large drink. The pie was also in order. Americans, with their lust for sugar. She did not understand. Lenna filled the order and received payment with a smile, but this did not mean she did not judge them for dietary choices most foul.
The line moved along. Lenna built character. Hard work. Customer service. With a smile. Her best, she did. There was not even time to think on the strangeness she had witnessed the night prior.
Had there been news on her neighbors in the paper? No one had shared the details. She did not use the paper. No one had contacted her about any funny business, so…
She did her job and she did not think too much.
Eventually, she came to a customer who reminded her of a movie star. They had the appearance to have been in any number of films. Science fiction, fiction, non-fiction. Unpopular western. Hero flick. Her face kind of reminded Lenna of the widow of that president who had been assassinated, only she had better hair.
Lenna asked the woman what she could get her, in her best American accent. No Colombian slipped through. She practiced.
Nobody noticed the weird guy as her got in line. There were loads of weird folks in New York. In the line, too.
It was empty. Empty. He had searched the house, high and low, scouted first, then infiltrated.
There had been guards, several, and varied. Two on the entrance, one at each corner of the house. The man He had watched had even had two, on body guard detail. Made him think of the song from the movie. Whitney Houston. So beautiful. But he had been careful. So damn careful.
Careful. He had not even hurt anyone when He had infiltrated the mansion. He could have. He had wanted to. It would have been easy. Servants to silence, guards to guard himself against. Disposal. Many tools, at his disposal. String, fist, hand, blade, other. But he had been good and avoided them, evaded any alarm. And now, He was here.
Victrola mansion. Wealth on a scale the poet-rappers sing about. The safe was empty, and few was here. He cursed softly, in his head.
Where was it? Had someone been warned off? Tipped? To guard against… him? His power welled up inside of his body, like a surging wave, and he fought to ride the current, rather than control it. Break it. That would have been impo—improbable, he mentally corrected. Not impossible. Nothing is impossible. But improbable, sure. Yes. Quite. When the strength came, he had to go with the flow, and use it. Or it would tumble him, like a surfer who turned into a wave at the wrong time, and got broken in the curl. Tossed and turned.
He clenched and unclenched a fist. Knuckles were white. It prevented him from crushing the wood of a nearby desk in one fist’s grip. Would not do to leave marks. Hand print. Fingers, dug into wood. Evidence.
He took a breath, then another. There had to be something he was missing, some detail, some hidden location. The man was better than this. He would not have… nothing.
… there.
~~~
A short time later, he left the mansion. His prize was stowed away in a small black bag, under one arm. Again, no one on the premises had detected him.
On the premises.
As he had left the area, he had noticed a set of eyes. Across the way, in a neighboring mansion, behind a window pane. A woman in a hazard-vest orange sweater, with brown hair, and those eyes. She was watching. Calculation? Was that calculation in those eyes? Judgment? Assessment?! Who was she? Who was she?! Identity. Why, the assessment? Witnesses, He didn’t want’em. Could not do anything. Now.
Now….
Later.
Later, how could do something. Later.
The headlines the next day spoke of theft. Any witnesses, step into light. Speak. It was just a Tuesday morning. She had no use for this much intensity, this early. She had work to do.
——
Some time later, Lenna arrived at the location. She had dressed in the colors of condiments, very trendy, with a visor that had a W on it. W, for win? No. WcDonald’s. What.
Yes. She lived in a mansion. Her Aunt’s mansion. She still needs must work for a living. She was an actress. That means fast food. Do not turn up your nose, think of the “character it builds.” Her aunt was right, of course. And the place was not “slumming it,” as was put to her. They had Class. For instance, they were Now Serving Breakfast. See? Not Just Hamburgers, So Much More. Sausage. Eggs. And potatoes, fried a different way than the normal one associated with Freedom. Very fitting, since she was not. They were Now Serving Breakfast.
Lenna clocked in, and got behind the counter, by the register. A poem came to mind:
Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the Golden … door… Arches.
Tired, check. Poor, check. She fed them coffee and bacon and sugary water it was far too early to imbibe. Like a new colossus, Lenna lead the people to their freedom and opportunities. With her best American accent, of course. This was New York.
Sausage, egg and cheese biscuit. Dating today, are we not?
” Woulf you like to upgrade to a large drink? Can I interest you in an apple pie?”
Freedom means the opportunity to make bad choices at 7AM.
Her head bobbled this way and that. To the man, to the boy. To the man. To the boy. Like a bobble head doll.
Len. Lenny. Lenna. Theeeeee. So much accentuating, so much importance, so much she was entirely missing because her up-to-dateness on American pop culture was sorely lacking.
Was he important? This was his name? Was he the director. Carrick seemed to be indicating he WAS of importance. Or maybe, he was just acting like a piece of pig meat. Ham? No, wait. Pork butt.
Lenna liked pork butt. Marinated properly, with some adobo spices, or maybe some carnitas. Or slow-roasted, maybe with barbecue. Smoked? One could work the butt in many ways. Brown sugar garlic butter… her eyes glazed over for a second and she lost the thread of conversation going on as she realized she was hungry.
Her mind tuned back in just as Carrick was insisting he could be extra. Yeah, for reaalll though. And also, Texan? Hrm. Probably not.
”No cowboys.” Lenna made a face. ”I could simply not control myself.”
Lenny latched onto that, like she had been telling him an important secret, like ‘not being able to control’ herself were a good thing. But no, it was opposite. She did not think she could stop a hand from hitting someone’s face if they started chatting her up with a Texan drawl. Bad ex, worse breakup. Yet here Lenny was, practically bubbling over, hugely insisting to Carrick.
“Ohhh, oh yes! Texan! You can do southern? Verrry niiice! Can you ride a horse, young man? A horrrssse! Not that we’re doing that for the commercial, this is pizza, but I do love a good horse ride, and—“
Lenna ROLLED both her eyes. Both of them. In her face. In her head.
Oh, to have wings so she could fly away. From. This.
”I did not mean…” She seethed. Turning to Carrick, she looked him dead in the eye. She felt pretty dead about the situation. ”Do your Boston. Show him. Quick. A distraction.” she said.
Oh joy. There was the big boss, as one of her friends might have said. The big bad evil guy, himself.
Lenna finished untying all the women as Mike fought, and sent them all on their way… out of the way. Way, way, out of the way. They moved like they were waking up, but they moved. Meanwhile, Mike was fighting… so she figured she needed to assist him.
To her, things would appear differently. To her, there was no strange shadow or spiders. To her, the man was— well, what was he not? He attacked Mike, like a man in a rabbit suit with a hatchet, swinging at Mike’s arm. Holding it in place with one hand so he could swing the hatchet down.
He probably could not see a hatchet. She had no idea what he actually saw. She had no idea what she actually saw, only that— and this was odd, her orange glow could not actually suffuse itself around the hatchet or any of the imagery. Which meant it might not actually be there, just what she was seeing, thought she saw, did, only… Lenna did not immediately make the connection. She went on instinct.
Lenna thrust down her telekinesis to a single area, the elbow of the arm that hand snagged Mike in its grip. Her mind began to squeeze and haul the arm back. With a free hand, she picked up a stapler off the desk and threw it at what she thought was the man’s dumb bunny face.
Flicker.
To Ranger, it would appear a red swing line stapler had flown at red eyes.
Flicker. Anime dodge.
Something stabbed into his side. Was it shadow claws?! And who were the creepy corpse brides with bride of Frankenstein hair meandering towards the exit in a conga line?!
Also what was the light mist in air? Not apparent when first they had entered, it smelled like burning… everything. Bagel? Muffin.
He held up the bagel. The bagel he was eating?! Yah, that bagel. She kept up her poker face, and let the hamsters in his head get their morning exercise. They got tired, eventually. And clambered off.
He did his lines. He was not actually terrible. She fed him more lines, and he did his reply.
God, the script was like, good or something!
Were they actually good?!
>> ”Not bad love. Accent work is better than I was expecting.” Carrick said.
”Yah, you were not that bad yourself. The accent is accurate. Good job”. She gave the Thumbs Up! Her accent was back. She only kept it for the lines.
Now, who did they have to kill to get a director on the scene so they could knock this one out of the park?
A bugsy man with thick glasses stepped out from the shadows. He was practically buzzing with excitement as he pushed his frames up with the heel of his hand, and cleared his throat. The voice he had started with his nose, and just kept going from there.
“Verrry goood. You seem to have been,” he eyed them for emphasis she really did not think needed any placement. “Prac-tiss-ing.”
”Are you the director?” Lenna asked.
“Lenny Kravitsch,” he said. As if that answered anything.
”No.” she second-guessed herself. ”We do not really need to set the building on fire. Besides, we are up high. How would we get our people down low? Bad idea.”
She had really just wanted to end this entire thing. These vampire-like people. But they were mutants, not magical. Not mystics. Could not possibly be mystical. It was highly unlikely they actually had all the strengths and weaknesses of real-life vampires.
Real-life vampires. Had she really thought that thought? It was a bad joke.
”We will keep that as a solid backup plan. Let us see what is in the next room.”
They went to the next location. Up the stairs. She looked to him, pressed a finger over her lips as if to say “be quiet.” Even though all of the building was likely aware they were coming. Then, she pressed forward, through the doorway, and immediately went into a diving roll.
It was an office, a plush one. Lot of browns and wood furniture. Drawers and a bookshelf against one wall, windows against the other. They looked out over the interior of the wardrobe. It was far too nice to simply be an office in an abandoned warehouse. Far too nice.
The stone face man was behind a desk. He had a bunch of woman off to one side, tied up by the bookshelves. Six or five. He had that creepy ass mask on his face. The stone mask. A hand was just moving away, as if he had just withdrawn it after having pressed the mask to his face. Then, he fell to the floor like a boneless corpse.
Lenna ran to the girls, dropping her gun to mentally holster it against her side. She started untying them, but looked over her shoulder at the Ranger as she did.
”Watch him. He will probably stand up shortly, like some sort of creep. Hello, Rachel.”
The girl said hello, she was groggy. It came out like a mumble, more than a greeting.
Sure enough, the chair behind the desk rattled. The Ranger should brace himself.
He smacked his cheek, then turned to her and asked what she was going here. He looked like he had more to say? And thought better of it. She eyed him, carefully. Like how he would eye a squirrel? No. No hunger in her eyes.
He kept talking after a second. Full of self worth and bravado. Braggadocio. He looked around for his scene partner.
Lenna put on airs, strutted around, and recited her lines in an absolutely flawless American accent. She had been working very hard on such a thing.
”I’m soooo hungry. What do we eat, what do we eat?!” She drawled. Then looked to him.
That was the cue for his line. He would speak, then the comical puppet pizzas would appear on the screen to scream about the pizza place/brand in question, and all would be well in the world.
Did pizza places even have commercials any more? This seemed dated, maybe ‘pizza, the Hutt’ might. Or ‘it is not delivery, it is D’evilry’, the one frozen pizza brand. But… what did she know. She could count the amount of television she watched during her free time on one closed hand.
”I have a hunger a hamburger just won’t stop. I need more pizza,” She purred ravenously.
”How long has this been going on? The hat I mean. It’s a look alright.”
Martin fled, like boohoohoo. In the m’anliest way possible, of course.
After Carrick’s comment, Lenna wished she had stolen Martin’s hat from him before he had left. If only to annoy the shifter.
The boy said something,
>>> “Who would have guessed there was hidden storage in the middle of the hedge maze.”
And Carrick said “Me, the amount of paranoid preppers in the mansion? Please. They are looking fer reasons to dig a hole and bury something. Locks sound new though. Found three of Frosty’s out in the woods. Man has a signature with his stuff.”
And suddenly, Lenna was up to bet first.
Lenna placed her bet. A modest amount. Starting small. Not too much. She wanted to see what came next, did not want to bet it all.
”It is strange. This was intentional, after the rebuild someone had to say ‘terrible idea, let us do it twice’. Yeah?”
She looked to the others in the game.
She had two pair presently, on her way to a full house if she got something good. 10s and queens.
He wore a trilby hat, and called it a fedora. He introduced her to the underground poker game as “m’lady,” and bet hard, and often. He was the first out of the game. She was not his lady. She had pulled the trigger, herself. It was nothing personal. He had simply been someone with information, disposable after said information was freely given.
Lenna had played a lot of poker in her childhood. Games had been with adults far more often than with people her own age. Sailors, thugs, members of militia or cartel. It did not matter what their ties were. She won some, she lost some. She played fair. Lenna took her losses. She won often enough, she could recoup those losses, afford them when they happened. And some people, you let them keep your money, if you know what is good for you. Some of her experiences were lost when she was de-aged, but a lot remained.
She was playing well enough, presently. Not dominating, a clear “middle of the pack”. Or had been, until she took out trilby hat. What had his name been, again? M’Carl? M’Earl? M’Conne— oh, it has been Martin. That was right.
M’Artin.
Lenna looked at the cards in her hand. She had something good going on, and if she could get one more card in particular, it could be very good. She did not give away what she had with any body language. She merely looked ahead, as if this were another Tuesday. Nothing special.
It was wild, though, where this entire underground Poker game was located. She would never have thought to look for it in this location. Who would have? Absolutely wild they had arranged an entire poker game, tables and chairs and all, in the middle of a maze of hedges on the mansion grounds.
Her aunt was a wealthy woman, and Lenna herself was heiress to the wealth of this world’s version of herself (now deceased). It would have been easy to turn that money into connections, and jumpstart some sort of acting career. The wealthy do such things all the time. With acting, with music, with sports… as long as they had at least some talent. This specific scenario was not because of any such endeavors.
Lenna did not actively seek attention. She did not request her aunt help her become a “star”. The girl did not have any goals to be rich and famous. She had merely… gone for coffee. And maybe a bagel. Or a donut. Someone in line had “discovered” her. Interrupted, and told her that they thought she had the perfect face for a role. They told her if the job went well, it could potentially turn into further jobs, future work, and was she represented yet? Because they could certainly do the work, if it had not yet been taken. That was how she met her current “agent”, Beverly Switzler. No relation to the singer from the band, Cherry Bomb, she had been assured. The woman told her Lenna was lucky she wasn not some creep picking up girls and telling them they would be stars. This was a wholly innocent event.
Okay.
It had been a pizza commercial. Nothing fancy. She had read lines. There were lines. They were about pizza. It was not the script for a movie or anything. Money was not an issue for her, but more is always better. So… she showed up.
They had her dressed better than she had ever been dressed in her life. Costuming had made certain that all her clothing matched, and made sense together. it was an outfit some might even seem “cute.” Light blue skirt, tall white knee socks, white shirt, with a light jacket. Little ball-shaped earrings. Nice shoes. Her hair had been seen to, her face made up like the ways she never did. She looked nice.
The place supplied both bagel and coffee. Lenna was just taking a bite when the person she assumed would work with her as costar walked in. She assumed this because he made his presence known for the whole room. And also, she knew him. Lenna chewed, and chewed that over, as he was chewed out.
Carrick. They had trained together, gone to Atlantis together, fought together at the battle for the mansion, but she knew him very little. She finished her bagel, then looked to him.
”Behind you. Squirrel.” She said, without inflection.
She remembered how he liked to chase squirrels, from training. Would the comment get a rise from him? What was professional behavior again?
And that was it. They were dead. Readjust your timeline, folks. Outmatched and overpowered, the Ranger and Lenna died then and there. Everything that happened after was merely fantasy. A nice story. Pure fiction of an obsessed mind.
…. Not!!
As Lenna dive out of the way of her attacker, the Ranger shouted their warning. Vampires, with their hands…
Wryly, Lenna muttered “is that a m^%##^ing Jojo reference. Because I have seen it.”
It was funny, because she had. Agree actually had. A mansion resident had made her watch at least the first few episodes, in an attempt to woo. A thinly disguised date. She had seen through it, but the show… she had allowed him to show it to her because it was too bizarre and interesting to walk away. Also, He was nice. So
Lenna almost told him to control his breathing to channel the power of the sun but that was too much and this was no cartoon. It was real. They were in real danger.
She mentally threw something at her foe, d as mike threw his own attack. The chair tumbled and clattered against the woman she faced. Mikes woman was onto her back, stunned for the moment. Her foe was tangled, arm through the open back of the steel chair.
She had tried to punch the item, missed, gotten stuck. It slowed her. She strained, then paused… and extracted herself from it gently. The smart retort. Until it spun on its axis, to break her jaw. Lenna smiled.
Telekinesis.
“Run!” Lenna said
Her mind swung its power to redirect an aimed punch from mikes target away from him, into the floor. Where it snagged.
They could fight. Maybe these people did not heal. But discretion is the bestest part of valor.
Lenna started running down the hall the two had come from. There was a door. She opened it, and hoped Mike was on her heels. Beyond, and room. Large crates to block the door, if someone was setting enough to move them. Not her. Behind them, another hall, another door. Stairway to the boss. Lenna drew her sidearm and made sure it was loaded.
How much time had passed. It had to be nearing dawn. It had been late when she had met him in the alley. Travel time had passed, entry. Fights. With the time of year, sunrise… was still distant. Stupidthought.
The roar from where they had been cooked her. Briefly followed by very human cursing. Aimed at them . Their mothers. Dogs. Anatomy. Filth.
One more had been hidden, just as gag had stated. The table had legs, used them to tmp tmp away. But Mike went fwng whup whup thunk, and dispatched trash with a comical POW.
>> ”Maybe no one heard that.”
”And maybe my shirt is hot pink. It isn’t. Right. I was told it was black…” She had joked, but suddenly grew self conscious. When all things appear orange, you make bad fashion choices sometimes. That was when the ninja struck.
Ninja. Plural. The plural of ninja is…
There were four of them, all illusory. But at the time, neither of them knew this fact.
Two threw stars, at Lenna, at Mike. The other two were off to the side of the room, making rapid hands gestures. Peace sign, devil horns, thumbs up, down, the shocker. Index finger off right hand in and out of hole made with left. Weird stuff like that. Casting spells. A more worldly person may have said. Powering up for a Fireball or some crap. Lenna thought it was stupid.
” What the fu—“
She threw her mind into catching the stars, and throwing them at one of the ninja throwing gang signs. Or tried to. The stars went cleanly through them, ninja undisturbed. IF she had been using her power. She did this for HER ninja. Mike would have to dodge the stars, and handle his ninja. And his other ninja. But the ninja who had been pierced by stars, who she had expected to be pierced, had not been. The stars had not moved at all except to fly at her body— and do absolutely nothing.
Lenna turned her attention away from the ninja.
Her telekinesis had not affected the illusion. Not stopped the ninja throwing hands. Which meant—
‘Distraction,’ Lenna cursed. ‘Ceiling.’
There they were, the real threat. Two Women dressed in black, crawling across the ceiling like it was a floor. They bared their fangs at them, hissed. And flung themselves at her and Mike. Their strength was tremendous.
Tmp tmp tmp. The sound of feet on floor. On metal catwalk. Up stairs.
They encountered no threats on the way. It was good. They were apparently in a hurry. She hates mystics. Even their discarded toys caused trouble.
They reached the room before the landing and the final staircase. That was when they met resistance. Two men played cards at a table. “any 8s?”
“Go-“
Second man dropped his cards as he pushed away from the table, hand dropping to his side where his holster hung.
Lenna focused.
Twp twp twp. Playing cards flew at his face. Harmless, but he flinched and took a step back to put his hands in the way. Lenna took the distraction as an opening to mentally pull the steel chair he was near towards him, to sweep the leg.
She had her gun drawn, but she did not need it. Here was Lenna with the steel chair. A second chair flew at the downed man’s head. It hit his hands. It hit his hands. It hit his hands. It hit his hands. It hit his head. He fell unconscious.
Meanwhile, Mike was left to his own devices in fighting man one.
These two men had been mutants. Second man’s power had never revealed itself. It had been a sort of danger sense, that showed him things coming his way before they did. Fing great in a knife fight or fists or guns. Forewarned is forearmed. See the arm moving for the weapon, be prepared. Move first. It was why Lenna and Mike had not gotten the jump on them. But he had seen no arm going for the cards or the chairs… speaking of forearmed. Well. Four… the Ranger’s man…
——
After that was done, Lenna could not help it. All the stress had gotten to her and the fight had been so easy. Gag man had built it up, and…
