Individual

Character's full name: Michael Fite
Alias/ Nickname/ Code name:
Gender: Male
Age: 21

Date of Birth: 10/02/94
Birthplace/ Home/ Place of origin: Baltimore, MD, USA
Nationality: USA
Ethnicity/ Cultural Heritage: White

Appearance

Hair color and style: Black, messy or pompadour
Skin Tone: New England white (if that's a thing)
Eye Color: Hazel
Height: 5'11"
Build: Slightly muscular, but still kinda skinny
Visible mutation: Hands are slightly red, making them look sunburnt all the time
Scars/ Tattoos/ Piercings:
Other features:

Everyday clothing style: jeans or khakis, belt, button up shirt, white socks, sneakers or docksiders, sometimes gloves
Uniform:
Sleepwear: white t-shirt and rocket ship sleeping pants
Miscellaneous clothing: Has various hoodies, sweatpants, suits, ties, shoes, and loungewear

Character

Personality: Typically quiet, and will speak up whenever he feels nevessary
Hobbies/ Interests: Reading, writing, politics, parkour, jogging
Job or part time job and description:
Fears/ phobias/ concerns: Fear of murder, fear of cancer, fear of losing loved ones
Special talents: Done 3-4 years of karate lessons

Morality

Good/ bad/ neutral/ other: Neutral Evil. He will work with villainous groups to further his own ends, but typically won't break the law. Typically.

Mutations

Mutation description:
Due to a genetic mutation that results in excess carbon building up in his hands, he can light his hands on fire like a match (typically rubbing his hands together or on something). The fire doesn't hurt him, but can hurt others and set items on fire.
Strengths: Can set fire to things kinda quickly
Weaknesses and Limitations: Fire only lasts as long as there's carbon, which can last anywhere from 20 minutes to 60 minutes. He can't throw the fire, so his reach is only as far as his arm length. And since his hands are literally just on fire, things will only light up if his hand's at most a centimeter away from an object. Water or lack of oxygen will douse the flame. Due to the fire eating up carbon, he will need to eat a lot to replenish. The carbon can take up to a day to fully replenish from nothing, but some carbon can be used in 1-2 hours after eating.

Physical Abilities

General Physical Capabilities: Fast runner and fighter
Fighting Style: Karate
Fighting Style Pros/Cons:
Pros-Quick
Cons-Easy to counter once enemy learns patterns

History Of Your Character
Having been raised in Baltimore, Michael wasn't a stranger to crime. He grew up in a suburban household, but always found the city attracting. So when his friend offered him a chance to join a gang based in the city, he couldn't pass it up.
They'd run drugs together, beat up people that owed them money, and general gangster stuff. They weren't a large gang, not like the Crips, but certainly a decent size. They called themselves "The Slaughterhouse". Michael never really liked the name. Too long in his opinion, but he wasn't the boss or anything.
He typically wore gloves, which brought him some mockery. He didn't mind though. Not his fault his hands look like tomatoes (that's an exageration, of course, but you get the idea).
One night, Michael was with his friends and they were giving each other "Indian Rug Burns". Hurt like hell, but Michael started giving one to a guy named Taylor, and soon hears him screaming because Michael's hands had caught fire. They couldn't explain how, and his friends helped him put them out. Poor Taylor had to go to the hospital. The gloves burned away of course, but his hands were fine.
No one really knew how the fire started. Maybe Michael had touched some oil and the friction had cuased it to spark? Not likely.
One cold winter day, he was alone at home when the heating turned off. He had forgotten to pay the bill. So he turned on his stove, sat in front if it, and used it as his heat source. He rubbed my hands together and FWOOSH! They lit up. He panicked, and ran to the sink, running water on them. His hands were unharmed again.
That's when he knew that he was a mutant. What else could it be? He decided to leave his gang. They wouldn't accept him. No way. So now he's on his own, living in a crummy house.

Roleplay
Where did you learn about this site?: I googled "xmen rp" and this is one of the things that came up.
Do you have any other characters on MRO, if so who:
Sample RP:
Jogging in the park alone at night (always a safe thing to do), he stumbled across two armed men talking. They both had guns at their belts and were discussing something. Michael jumped behind a tree, hoping neither noticed him. They didn't look like cops due to their attire. They looked like gangsters that had stepped forward into time from the 1930s.
He went from hiding behind one tree to hiding behind another until he was close enough to hear what they were saying. Any normal person would've just high-tailed it out of there, and Michale should've, but normality isn't exactly his forte.
He heard them talking about their girlfriends and various activities, and then the conversation took a turn to a discussion about "M". The substance that's in the news a lot is being dealt right here. Not one to enjoy the sight of scummy crime (as opposed to high profile crime, his passion), he crouched low to formulate my plan of attack.
Once ready, Michael began to rub his hands together. His hands lit up, and he rushed out behind the first one and round-house kicked him in the head, knocking him out. While Michael was spinning, he reached his left hand out to the other man and grabbed his arm. Michael didn't have time to admire his scream as he wrenched himself free and reached for his gun, cursing all the while.
Michael bolted it behind the tree.
He tore his burning suit jacket off. "F@#%ing s%!t" he yelled, "what the f@#k ya doin'? Huh?"
When he gave him no response, he simply said "Gah! Mutie..."
Michael didn't feel the need to risk his life further, so he ran straight from the tree to a pond a distance away and put out his fire. He heard some shots come his way and a curse. Needless to say, he bolted it. He already got his two-cents in about that drug. Hope the man got the message: powers are for mutants, not humans.

Flaming Jazz hands for the win!!!

Welcome to MRO! I'd shake your hand but...

Remind me never to get a high-five from you Welcome to MRO!