Himura Jirou

Individual

Character's full name: Himura Jirou
Alias/ Nickname/ Code name: The Wild Card
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Date of Birth: 10/13/1987
Nationality/ Ethnicity: Japanese American
Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Hell’s Kitchen Manhattan

Appearance

Hair color and style: Black. Typically, he keeps his hair short and neat in a low fade, with the hair on top of his head kept short enough to prevent somebody from getting a hold of it. His bangs are kept a little longer, preferring to style them up with a bit of pomade or gel.
Eyes: Black
Height: 5’ 11”
Build: Thin and athletic, almost wiry some would say. Most that see him note that there is something unique in the way he carries himself, how he seems to moves swiftly and smoothly, and yet at a moment’s notice possess the ability to strike like a viper.
Visible mutation: N/A
Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings: N/A
Other features:N/A

Everyday clothing style: Jirou grew up in a small, less than middle-class family. He wasn’t poor by any stretch, but that didn’t mean his family could afford many luxuries, and this was reflected in his appearance. His clothes were well worn, but not tattered and dirty. Everything he wore seemed to be well taken care of, with the owner’s intent being to insure that they lasted. His faded blue jeans were comfortable and loose fitting, allowing a great deal of flexibility. His layered shirts, typically a long sleeved grey t-shirt and a run of the mill graphic t-shirt worn on top of it, fit well on his slim frame. His sneakers were broken in, and were comfortable, and he felt like he could walk for miles in them, and take off at a break neck pace at a moment’s notice. Two things were always a constant to his wardrobe though; a black leather jacket and a plain black fedora. Whether he threw the jacket over his should and held it with one hand, draped it across his back like a cape, or simply wore the damned thing, he always carried that jacket with him. A top his head, he kept a simple plain black fedora. The brim always pulled down and to the left until it just began to cover his left eye. It added an air of distinction to his persona, and completed his attire.

Uniform: N/A for the moment.
Sleepwear: Simple grey sweat pants and a plain white t-shirt.
Miscellaneous clothing: Sometimes he wears fingered black leather gloves.

Character

Personality: Jirou has one of those unique personalities that, regardless of how well you think you know him, always has something hidden up his sleeve, something hidden behind those dark eyes of his. He has a poker face that can stump a Las Vegas card czar and a smirk that will make you reconsider sitting down at the table in the first place. He is a likable fellow and seemingly carefree, though the manner in which he carries himself still causes people to be a bit suspicious, which is understandable considering the reputation he’s earned for himself. Now let me be clear, Jirou is by no means a double-crosser or a backstabber, on the contrary he is quite true to his word, but there have been a quite a few jobs that Jirou has completed at the inconvenience of a couple of partners, giving another meaning to his nickname “Wild Card”, but regardless of his methods there are many who will agree that Jirou gets results. Rarely does Jirou turn down a job, provided the rewards are worth the risk, and he isn’t worried about getting his hands a bit dirty either, but he doesn’t make a habit of taking many jobs of that nature and he refuses jobs which involve women or kids. Again, Jirou is a wild card when it comes to his personality; you never know what to expect other than that whatever does happen, it will most likely be on his terms and in his interest.

Hobbies/ Interests: Jirou is a masterful card player, especially blackjack, Texas Hold ‘em, and five card stud.
Job or part time job and description: Card Shark, and all around man for hire.
Fears/ phobias/ concerns: Jirou’s greatest fear is that someday his luck will run out.
Special talents: A very gifted card player and also has an uncanny talent of being able to read people, especially liars.

Morality

Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: Definitely neutral, though he does lean towards the villainous side a little bit. Just as what was stated about his personality, his primary concern is looking out for his own well being and survival, the same applies towards his morality. He will not hesitate to take a life if it means his own survival, and he usually won’t bother to risk his own neck for somebody else, though when women and kids are involved he finds it hard to turn a blind eye or unless of course he can get something out of it.

Mutations

Mutation description: Jirou has the power to take nearly any object and overcharging and destabilizing its molecular bonds. Once thrown, these charged items explode upon impact, regardless of whether it is with the ground or a person.
Strengths: Any object can become an improvised explosive.
Weaknesses:
As explosive as this ability is, there are a number of limitations governing it. First off, the mass of the object dictates how long it takes to charge as well as the size of the resulting explosion. Small items with relatively low mass, such as pencils and playing cards typically take less than a couple of seconds, while larger objects like a bowling ball can take upwards of 15 seconds or longer. In regards to blast radius and damage yield; small objects like poker chips and playing cards have about as much yield as a flash bang grenade. This means they are lacking in lethality, yet they still deliver a significant punch, equal to a strong straight right handed punch. The blast radius of these small objects is also relatively small, usually only double the size of the charged object (The smallest blast radius he can create is from a paper clip, typically only an inch or so wide). As for larger objects, like large dinner plates, the blast radius and lethality increases, usually to about two to three feet in diameter with about the same force as a kick from a horse. Objects with significant mass, again such as bowling balls and the like, become significantly lethal, with a blast radius and explosive yield of a typical fragmentation grenade (15ft kill radius at maximum).

Furthermore, Jirou can only affect solid, inanimate, and non-living objects that are not currently in motion. This means liquids, live plants, animals, and objects with moving parts, are not affected by this power. Third, Jirou must be able to hold the item in his hands in order to charge it, and it must be roughly less than 25 lbs. Also, size dictates how many objects Jirou can charge at one time. With smaller objects, Jirou can charge as many as he can fit in his hand comfortably with a tight grip. A deck of cards is no problem for him, yet each individual card must be charged, meaning it can take roughly 25 to 30 seconds to charge the whole deck. With larger items, he is only capable of charging a single item per hand, with items near Jirou’s limit requiring him to use both hands to charge a single item.

Lastly, there is a limit to how often he can charge objects. Smaller objects require very little effort to charge, allowing him to keep up a steady volley of explosive projectiles. Objects ranging from 1-3 lbs require almost no effort, 4-10 lbs require 5-8 seconds, 11-16 lbs take 10 to 20 seconds, and anything above 17 lbs take upwards of 30 seconds to almost over a full minute. Repetitive charging of large objects also takes its toll, quickly fatiguing him and increasing the time it takes to charge objects as well as the time between charges.

Secondary mutation description:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:

Fighting Style

Explanation: Growing up as an Asian minority in a predominately black and white neighborhood, you were expected to be good at two things. Martial arts and Math, and being exceptional at the latter and not the former made you an easy target. Unfortunately, Jirou’s family could not afford to pay for him to receive any sort of formal training. As a result, Jirou took it upon himself to learn whatever he could, from whatever source he could find. Many years of back alley street fights and scuffles have hardened and honed his unique blend of martial arts. While he is not an expert, much like his mutant ability, he is incredibly versatile and unpredictable.
Pros for fighting style: Very adaptive and versatile, complimenting his unique mutant ability very well.
Cons for fighting style: While Jirou is capable of adapting to a wide variety of situations, he does not excel in any one area either. This tends to be a problem when confronted with more experienced fighters with more traditional training.


Faction Allegiance
Unaffiliated. Man for hire


History Of Your Character
Jirou was born into a family of second generation Japanese-Americans, his grandparents moved to America prior to the war in order to escape the radical government that was rising to power. Growing up, Jirou’s family owned a small grocery store, which his family lived directly above. It paid the bills, and afforded them the basics, but that was unfortunately all it afforded. As loving as his family was, it wasn’t enough for Jirou. He wanted more than just the life of a grocer’s son, he wanted to be important, somebody people respected. Not just some kid sweeping and stocking shelves at a small market in a rundown and crummy district.

He went to school like every normal kid, though he never really developed many lasting friendships. Nobody was really who they presented themselves to be. Each one pretending their hand was better than it actually was, bluffing their way through life. It irritated him. It was during his time in elementary school that he was introduced to card games, and it was then that he began to learn how he could succeed in life. It all began with a simple game of Go Fish. The way people played, how they tried to cheat. The look in people’s eyes when you asked them for a king and they lied to your face, but knew they had been caught. It was a study of society itself.

It wasn’t long before he grew tired of playing for baseball cards and bubble gum that he started playing for loose change, and eventually betting each other’s allowance. He soon began to grow sick of the lying and cheating that schoolyard card games entailed, and instead sought game that required more skill, one where every player was equal. In the seventh grade he found it.

Poker.

It started off much like his younger elementary years. Playing for minor trinkets and things, but before long he was again playing for more valuable stakes. This time, his ability to read people became even more important. He noticed how some people would fidget when they were bluffing, or how they would touch their nose when they had a great hand. Each had their own quirk, and to the normal passersby it seemed like nothing, but to Jirou it told him everything he needed to know.

When he finally hit high school, he had already established himself as a gifted card player, and he never once turned down an offer lighten somebody else’s wallet. This caught the attention of a few teachers, and drew the ire and concern of his parents, who were naturally against their son’s hobby, but he never let that stop him from playing the game he loved.

Eventually, we all run into that one person who you should never have messed with. That one guy who took things too seriously, too personally, or just couldn’t handle losing. When he was seventeen, Jirou met that man. He was a senior, a high school bully and all around jock who thought that the world stopped and started at his convenience. He had it all; the classic muscle car his parents bought him, the hottest girl in school was his girl friend, and a full ride scholarship to some fancy college on the east coast to play football. He was a prick and was exactly the kind of person Jirou loved to play against. They were careless, full of themselves, and always risked more than they should have. It was an easy steal. Out of the five people gathered around the table, he was the first one to go, but he didn’t leave. He convinced himself that Jirou had been cheating and was intent on beating him senseless for making a fool of him.

It was all a blur to Jirou. From the moment he called the jock’s bluff, to Jirou trying to comprehend the loud ringing in his ears. He remembered the look in his opponents eyes as he saw the full house Jirou played before him crush his three of a kind. He remembered the brute grabbing and tossing the table in a fit of rage, and then the feeling of the wind getting knocked out of him as the bully tackled him out of his chair and into the vending machine behind him, destroying the chair and shattering the glass window of the vending machine. He flailed around, punching his opponent in the face several times before his opponent wrapped his hands around his throat, picking him up and tossing him into a corner of the cafeteria. He sat there with his back against the wall. He searched around for something, anything that would help him escape this brutish thug. His eyes fell upon several poker chips that had been scattered during the scuffle. He grabbed a handful of them, as the bumbling jock made his way towards him. He threw them at his opponent with all his might. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as the chips seemed to float through the air. He watched as each chip seemed to be surrounded in a sort of glowing green aura, and as they made contact with his opponent’s chest, erupted into a bright green flash. The sound from the explosion, coupled with the bright flash, disoriented Jirou, but the resulting shockwave from the multiple explosions sent the jock flying back over the overturned table, crashing into several cafeteria chairs. Jirou sat there, completely dumbfounded at what had just happened. The bully laid there in a heap, his clothes singed and burnt, his eyes rolled in the back of his head.
Jirou quickly jumped to his feet ran out of the cafeteria, and out of the school, as fast as he possibly could. He was certain he would be immediately expelled from school and would have to repeat his junior year, hell he might even get arrested for assault, or worse yet; murder! He thought about how he would tell his parents, how they would react. His mother wasn’t in the best of health these days, and news of him getting kicked out of school and potentially arrested would surely not help her condition. His father would probably be furious. The thought that kept coming back to him though was the explosion he had seemingly caused. He was certain there was nothing strange about the poker chips he had picked up. How could he have done that? He kept running, not caring about where he was going. He needed to think, he needed to be alone.

He had been wandering around Manhattan for hours, still bewildered at what had transpired back at school. He made his way down a nearby alley way, leaning up against the cold brick wall and slowly began to dissect his thoughts. He remembered the round hard plastic poker chips; the feel of the chipped and worn matte finish from countless games of poker. He had used those same chips during many of his school yard poker matches. They were just regular plain old poker chips, again nothing more, and nothing less. He looked around. A recycling bin containing a plethora of crush soda cans and empty glass bottles filled it. He reached out and grasped an empty can firmly in his hand. He thought about the fight, about the poker chips. He tried to picture how he had done it. Was there a trick to it? Was it his mind making things up? He stared at the can in his hand for a moment. It had some decent weight to it. He compared its shape to something similar to it, like a grenade or something. He pictured the pin being pulled, the spoon being tossed; nothing. No green aura, nothing at all. He laughed at himself. What was he thinking? There was no way he could have made a couple of measly poker chips explode like that.

The sun was already sinking low when a noise down further down the alley caught his attention. A strung out junkie was making his way towards him. His eyes were that of a mad man and his dirty disheveled clothes clung to his skeletal frame. In his hand Jirou could see a dirty hand crafted shank. Jirou turned to face the threat, dropped the can in his hand and grabbed an empty glass bottle, brandishing it like a knife or club. His hands shook, and his body trembled. The druggy began to circle, looking for some sort of opening to plant his rusty knife. Clearly this man was not going to listen to reason. The madman lunged towards Jirou with a frighteningly quick burst of speed. Jirou managed to side step just in time and the man stumbled past Jirou before lurching around awkwardly before trying to swing at him again with his homemade weapon. Kautsurou was ready this time. He sidestepped again and threw the bottle as hard as he could. The bottle crashed into the junky’s head, and again exploded in a bright green fireball. A scream of pain and anguish escaped the druggy’s throat as he was sent crashing into a nearby dumpster. Jirou looked on in shock at the crumpled body of the junky, then down to his hands.

Without stopping to further comprehend what he had accomplished, Jirou once again ran, and he was terrified. He ran as fast as he could home, the sound of sirens trailing behind him. Was it the cops? Had they found the junkie? Was he going to go to jail? These and a million other thoughts raced through his head. He was only seventeen, just a teenager. These things weren’t supposed to happen to him! He kept running, the sirens growing louder as they gained on him as he ran home. He stopped when he noticed something different about them. They weren’t police sirens. They were fire trucks, or ambulances. As if on cue, and ambulance rounded the corner and sped off in front of him. He watched it race through the heavy Manhattan traffic. Now, normally Jirou wouldn’t pay it much attention, but this time he felt something in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong. He mustered what strength he had left and made a mad dash the rest of the way home.
When he arrived, the horror that befell him was more than he could have prepared for. His family’s entire grocery store was up in flames before him. Fire fighters and paramedics were attending to the victims and the flames. Jirou ran towards the store, screaming for his parents. A police officer grabbed him from behind, pulling him away from the burning building. Jirou tried to fight his way free, but the officer was far stronger than he. It wasn’t until after the fire was under control that the he finally knew what had become of his family. According to the investigation, it was an act of arson. A fire bomb had been placed in the grocery store and had erupted near the boiler room. Jirou’s father had ran up stairs to their apartment above to fetch his mother, but the fire had grown far too quickly, and his mother was in such horrible shape that he was unable to rescue her. Both had perished in the blaze before the fire department arrived.

Jirou, now an orphan, was forced to fend for himself from that point on. He uses his unique ability to survive in the metropolis of New York making a living playing cards and working as a man for hire, typically as a hired thief and sometimes mercenary for the local thugs of Hell’s Kitchen.

Roleplay
Where did you learn about this site?: Needed an artistic outlet. Google is bombtastic
Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who: Nope
Sample RP:
He sat back, watching as everybody gathered around the table. All of them were new faces, yet each was familiar to him. The way they each carried themselves, how naïve they all seemed to him; he’d seen their faces a thousand times before. Here, huddled around the table with their fancy cocktails made from 23 year scotch imported from the UK and their thick Cuban cigars hand rolled by Fidel’s personal craftsman, were some of the most powerful men on the east coast.

And here he was, wearing a suit he picked up from JCPenny’s only three hours ago and drinking a rail gin and tonic. They wouldn’t know what hit them.

“So gentlemen, what will be the game tonight?” he asked them. Each one of them looked at each other, trying to gauge their odds, wondering what game they had the best odds of winning at. A middle aged man in a grey pin-striped suit and a pencil thin mustache cleared his throat.

“I’m up for a game of Texas Hold ’em. You know, like you see on ESPN. I can’t get enough of that stuff.” Each man nodded in approval.

“I see… well then, I guess it’ll be my deal first.” This was going to be like taking candy from a baby. He eyed the man with the pencil thin mustache. Before this night was over, that man would lose more than just his money.

Himura “The Wild Card” Jirou would see to that.