Post by Jack Vincent Fitzroy on Sept 18, 2009 20:55:04 GMT -5
Player name: Shinoa.[/blockquote]
Contact Info: Pfft, the almighty Zi knows how to find me.
Basic Character Information
Type: Original.[/size]
Full name: Jack Vincent Fitzroy.
Goes by: Jack.
Code name(s)/Alias(es): Mattermeld. He hates that name.
Gender: Male.
Age/Birth date: 17 / January 7
Place of birth: Paris, France
Hometown: Paris, France.
Height: 5'11
Weight: about 175 pounds.
Hair: Dark brown to Black.
Eyes: Light blue-grey.
Education: Up to Grade 12.
Occupation: Student
Family:Vincent Fitzroy - Father
Mary Fitzroy - Mother
Criminal record/citizenship: Clean
Affiliation: Neutral
General Appearance:Jack is an average sized man he likes to say. Figures he looks like age caught up with him a little too fast though. Let's start with the top and work our way to the bottom shall we? Now. Jack is a brunette. Sort of. His hair can never seem to choose whether it wants to be brown toned, or black toned. A pain in the neck when taking drivers tests, as you have to have a set hair color, and can only choose one. His face is built rather slenderly, the angles of his bones rather obvious under his pale skin, and he has to admit, due to an accident, he has the creepiest smile ever. He has a scar in his left cheek, and due to this scar, when he smiles, it turns into the large and creepy form of a dimple. This alone will warrant you never seeing Jack smile. It also does not help that his almost colorless bright eyes glint when he smiles. Scares some people away, it does.
Moving right along, Jack is not a big guy. He's slenderly built. Made for speed and agility rather then brute strength or anything. His skin is rather pale, and he has this odd thing where he doesn't grow a lot of hair. No chest hair or back hair or anything like that, in fact, he almost grows hair like a young girl. He finds it useful in this day and age, as he finds many people prefer men better that way. He was just made for this day and age. His most nottable body feature is his hands. They are long, spindly like hands. Almost creepy. And the muscles that move his fingers are creepily obvious whenever he moves his fingers. Some find it interesting, Jack thinks it looks skeletal. Take your pick.
On the subject of clothing, Jack will dress quite literally to suit is his fancy. He'll wear anything as long as he thinks it's proper to wear. Yellow spandex among other things is not on his good list, of course. This being said, never ask him if he has a set fashion sense. The only reoccuring object you will see on his body a lot is the family ring that glints on his right hand. Don't expect to get a good look at it. He's protective of it.
Personality:Jack is an interesting character, or as some say, creepy, but alluring. People are drawn to him, but they don't know why. He doesn't either. People seem to want him to trust them, no matter how much he hides himself away. But, oh well.
He tries to never get angry. It's a particular thing he hates about himself, for he loses his precious control when he's angry. When one is not angry, he can think straight, and that is how Jack lives. If he does get angry, he takes it out on the next girl who is willing.
Unless, it were to be someone he cared about. If someone hurts someone he cares about, they will be gone, taken care of, before the week is out in anyway Jack sees fit. That is how things are done.
Now, he can also be rather cunning. He knows what he wants, and he usually can find ways to get it. It's usually not hard, for him anyway. If there is a particular girl he wants, he will treat her well until he gets her. If he wants money (which he usually doesn't), he will usually find a way to blackmail or con his way into getting it.
And all around odd character, indeed.
Powers:Telemorphing: The ability to change things with his mind. He can, for example, take a car, and morph it to make it faster or better. He hasn't yet found a limit to it, he can even morphs people's skin, say if they have a cut, to close up and heal itself. Rather useful, actually.
Minor Telekinesis: The simple lifting of things. Nothing special. He can maybe lift something for a few minutes, then he has to drop it before he faints. It's a rather new power for him, and it takes up a lot more energy then his Telemorphing does.
Weaknesses:Cement blocks, Aliens, Burnt skin, any woman who SERIOUSLY catches his fancy, pouting, and Zombies.
Power Potential:Telemorphing: He has yet to see if he can make it to a molecular level. Morphing what he can't see instead of what he can. It would take a crazy amount of concentration. He's already working on it.
Telekinetic: He doesn't imagine he'll get very advanced in this. Possibly be only able to lift heavier things, and smaller things for longer sort of thing. He's falters quickly at heavy things now. He hopes to fix that at least a little.
History:To understand Jack’s beginning, one must understand what happened before he was born. I am not writing this to bore you, gentle readers, for it shouldn’t. The story of Jack’s life until he leaves his home and makes his way into the world has almost next to nothing to do with him. It has to do with his father: Vincent Fitzroy, a man who just lost both his parents and inherited the money and estate people only can dream of; and his mother: Mary Hurst, an English girl from a not so well to do family, disowned and wandering the world on her own.
They met at a car show, oddly enough. A rich guy and a wandering girl meet at an antique, million-dollar car show. Kind of an odd coincidence, but the two hit it off completely, and within a few months, they were married. They both loved same things: Cars, yachts, etc. Anything with power. It was what brought them together. They brought Jack into the world shortly after. Due to difficulties at birth, Jack was the only one the two would have together. Jack’s birth was too hard on Mary’s body, and she was told that she would be having no more children in her lifetime.
This put a sort of strain on things. Both Mary and Vincent had wanted a huge family, many children to fill a large, empty house. Mary had envisioned toys littering the now empty lawn. The younger children playing while the elder kids lounged in the pool or playing tennis. But that was not to be. Mary’s dream was ruined, and she lost a love for everything she used to, and instead tried too hard to raise her child. She wanted this one so deeply now, seeing as this was the only child she ever would have. She wanted him to be perfect. Thus, she spent every waking hour with her son. Jack has many fond memories of her for this.
Vincent took it quite differently. For the last little while, he had had Mary all to himself, at least half of the time. Now all Mary thought of was their one child. Even slept in a different room. She refused to let him get a nanny for Jack, and when he was a little older, a tutor. She wanted to do everything with him herself. It was then that Vincent and Mary started to split apart. They argued readily, and never saw eye to eye on anything anymore. Vincent started to secretly have affairs, and Mary disappeared from most of the outside world’s knowledge. Where had Vincent Fitzroy’s wife gone? Who are all these new girls? Where’s the baby?
When Jack was five, everything blew out of proportion. Vincent appeared home, drunk, one evening to find his wife sitting arms crossed by the fire. Ten magazines lay at her feet. You see, at first Vincent was careful not to be caught by the paparazzi with his new women. His wife never went out, so he did not have to worry about gossip. Any rumours that came up in the papers before were easy to cover up. He could just be talking to a woman and everybody would assume affair. Those times, Mary bought it. So, he became a bit more careless, sure that his wife would never figure it out.
Mary, one night, about ten months ago, decided it was high time she went and stayed with her husband. She could have done it a little while ago, but she wanted to make sure her little angel would be safe and well when he was sleeping. She had crept up to their room, and had opened the door a crack, to find the lights on, and found her husband in a heated conversation over the phone with someone. She recognized what he was calling whoever it was on the phone. It was exactly what he used to call her before she had Jack.
Mary closed the door quietly and ran to her room, where she cried for hours. She stood awake all night staring at herself in the mirror, trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with her. She looked the same as before. She was still pretty, wasn’t she? What was so wrong with her that Vincent could not stand to be with her and wanted another? Questions, accusations, and tears swam through her head as she tried to understand what to do. She tried to reassure herself many a time, to say he was suddenly taking an interest in theatre, or had to smooze some woman over a business deal, but she could not be sure.
At around seven in the morning, Jack woke up, and lazily went to his mother’s room, wondering what they were going to do today. He found her on the computer, searching the internet, and printing things off. "Que faites-vous, maman?" (“What are you doing, mom?”) He asked. She turned around to face her son. Bags were under her eyes, and it looked as if she would be sleeping the rest of the day away. "Venez, d'amour," (“Come love,”) she said. "Nous allons à la pratique vos caractères aujourd'hui." (“We’re going to practice your characters today.”) Jack and Mary spent the rest of the day filling out hundreds of subscriptions.
Finally, 10 months later, Mary sat before her husband with ten select magazines all opened to a certain spot. Pictures of him and one other woman riddled the pages every time. It had taken her months to go through all the magazines that poured into her house, and she used many of them to teach Jack how to read and write. She glared at Vincent, and told him in an angry tone to start from the beginning, to explain himself. And thus, their household finally fell apart.
Jack was woken up that night to the two screaming at each other in his room, his father pointing at him, while his mother standing near him as if to protect him. His father had beaten his mother in front of him, and had told him that if he stepped out of line as his mother did, he would beat him too. Jack, an already responsible boy, waited until he left before he climbed into his mothers lap and wiped away for blood and tears with his bed sheets. Their house cleaner Elena came in not too long after and took Mary to a nice hot bath. Jack never left her side and helped Elena care for her.
Things were silent for a long while in their house. Jack and Mary took care of each other, Mary showing him the things she knew about cars, and other vehicles, as well as many aspects of the world that she knew of. She was ultimately impressed with how Jack had taken care of her almost immediately after she was hurt by his father, and deemed him more than responsible and ready to learn such things. It was what she knew best anyhow.
Illegally so, Jack knew how to fly by the time he was seven. Pilot a boat and a helicopter by the time he was ten, and was learning how to drive when he was eleven. It was the summer of his 16th year that Mary had come running down the steps of their home to the back yard and had thrown a letter up into the air for Jack (rock climbing) to read. In an effort to catch it, Jack had to let go if his equipment to catch it, and unfortunately, his equipment broke. Of course, Jack started to panic, and tried to think of ways to save himself, when one of his armbands scraped a rock and held. Gave him quite the whiplash for his shoulder and a gash in his cheek, but they were surprised to find that his armband had latched itself to the rock. It took three people to get him down, and then he had to be rushed to the hospital to get his arm snapped back. The scar would be with him forever on his cheek.
He had some arm scrapes and other such things on his body, and he learned he was a mutant by fixing those scrapes just by thinking about them healing. He knew he had to keep it hidden, for at that time, mutants were hated. He told his mother that he had to leave to keep her safe, and then left the safety of his home, Mary insisting if he had to, he would have her financial back up. Which he did. He always had more than enough to live excessively comfortably, not that he always did. He just bought something every once in a while to show he was alive.
He first flew to America, in Greenwich, where he planned to go to the Secere Academy of the Arts. He was accepted quite quickly, for the music part of the arts, piano, saxophone and string instruments mainly, he hadn't even started school, and he made his first mistake. You see, Jack grew up fast. By the time he was 15, he looked 20 already. He has slowed down for his later years, but we have not quite got there yet. He was able to walk into a bar anywhere at the age of 16, and would not be ID'd. And that is just what he did. Into a club he went, and forced to have alcohol by women buying him drinks. One of these women took a particular liking to him and both of them drunk tremendously, though it was found Jack really does not act drunk when he is, wandered back to Jack's new condominium, where, to be frank, Jack lost his virginity.
Now, this doesn't sound like such a big mistake or anything, they woke up and said good-bye to each other and such. No commitments or anything, but when Jack went to his first day of school, a girl named Crystal dragged him almost automatically to the cafeteria, where he came eye to eye with the "Queen Elite" of the school. Or, in other senses. , the woman he had just lost his virginity to. She stared at him for a bit, and then snapped rather harshly at him: "How old are you?" "Eighteen." he said simply, having been homeschooled, and had to finish his last year of high school no matter what he did. She stared at him for a bit, and made a first for Queen Elite’s history. Without even asking what he enjoys, or anything of the sort, she named him a "Slut", and as per Secere Academy standards, he was known as such ever since. He hadn't even been screwed twice, and he was a slut.
The Queen of Sluts, who oddly enough carried her title rather proudly, took pity on him. Her name was Olivia, and eventually, though she knew his story, named him the King of Sluts. She said she needed someone who will actually treat women how they wish to be treated as her King, not all the guys who got their title from going out, finding a woman and just using them. In this manner, Jack changed the original stereotype of Sluts, at least for that school. Women who had only had him once would stick up for him against people who looked down at him for his title, even. In addition, it drove away someone he wished would look past his title.
For his last year of school, he decided to make a switch for schools. Something new. So, he came here, to attend this school that he had heard so many rumours about. Mutant like rumours. Perhaps he would fit in in this one. Perhaps not. We shall see.
Other:He has a photographic memory, and can play the piano, the bass guitar, string instruments, and the saxophone. He is also fluent in French, Spanish and English.
Sample RP:[from a bit of his history. Sorry about the length.] If one were to take a stroll through the huge Greenwich Condos', and made their way to the 130th floor, they would find the only door there wide open. If they were to dare wander into that open door, they would see a desolate, huge condo practically ripped and smashed to pieces, as if James Bond and some assailant had blown through there. If you were to walk in even further, you would be surprised to see a whole bunch of steam emmitting from yet another open door, and upon looking at it, you would see the creator of such a mess, Jack Fitzroy.
The steam was from an open shower. Hot water poured from three different spouts in the walk in shower. There were no glass doors, just a wide open shower seemingly big enough to fit at least 20 people. A useless courtain, probably to shield ones self if they were in the shower hung uselessly to a hook on the wall. Oddly enough, the bathroom was completely untouched, where as just outside the door it was a royal mess.
Jack himself was sitting in the middle of the shower, holding a bottle of liquid polysporin. He was pouring it on cuts all over his body. Luckily for him, his legs and were not touched, but his feet, his stomach, his chest, his arms, neck, face, back... all of them had a cut of some sort, and here was Jack, cleaning each wound and then pouring Polysporin on it. Everytime he did so, his face would wrench itself into a silent scream. No sound came out, but the face was made. It was obviously painful what he was doing, but he seemed to be doing it himself on purpose, as if punishing himself.
Now, you are probably wondering what put him in such a state? Well, be patient, and I will tell you...
Jack had come home yesterday in a fit of distress. Earlier that day, his girlfriend, the love of his life that he would love until the end of his days, had treated him worse than she ever had before. She had never snapped or yelled at him like that, and now he was afraid for her, for he was sure she had gone out in search of alcohol of some sort. Lily, a friend of his whom he sometimes had arguments with, had helped distract him and calm him down, but she told him to leave Quinn be for the moment. Jack had agreed reluctantly, and had gone to lock himself in his home.
For the first little while, he had been pretty good, but when he had tried to go to sleep, to try and sleep away his worries about Quinn, he found he couldn't sleep at all. Instead he rolled back and forth trying to figure out what he had done wrong that would make Quinn so hostile against him. He didn't understand, for he couldn't think of anything at all, and ended up throwing on an old pair of jeans and wandering downstairs. Skye was out somewhere, he wasn't sure where. He made himself some tea, and thought to himself some more. Again, a blank.
By some freak accident, when he was pouring the tea, the cup he was holding slipped from his hand, broke on the floor, and Jack poured hot water down his arm. He threw the kettle across the room, which automatically smashed a large expresso machine. The pain seered through his arm. It wouldn't be a permanent burn, the water wasn't that hot, but it was hot enough to sting. It was here when Jack sort of snapped.
From there until around lunch time, Jack had smashed pretty much everything in his house. Sometimes people phoned, but he would just pick up the phone and drop the phone back on the reciever. He compeletly ignored his cell phone. He was in the process of trying to get the huge chandalier down when his youngest cousin, Daniella, managed to break into the door. She had broken into an axe case (the axe was incase of fires) and the young twleve year old had smashed at the door lock with it until the lock came off and the door opened. Her brother Derek had said to try and get it. Well, she was going to bloody try. All it took was three seconds of her staring at Jack halfway up the ceiling, and phoned her brother.
Derek, oddly enough, happened to be with Quinn. She took pictures of Jack on the ceiling and sent them over, and stayed on the phone with him. Daniella was a good talker, and was pretty good at calming Jack down. Jack was her only and favorite cousin, for he spoiled her all the time. She talked with him as Derek talked with Quinn on the other end. There was a phonecall, and Daniella tried to get Jack off the ceiling in time to get to the phone and pick it up, but instead the answering machine clicked on, and they could both hear Quinn yelling through the phone at Jack. Not wanting to hear anymore, Jack threw the phone at the wall, and then slid down the nearest wall to the floor, where he started to shake very violently. Daniella was told to get out of there by her brother, and to meet him at the front entrance. Daniella did as she was told, but not before going over and hugging Jack tightly. It took a second, but Jack finally recognized his cousin and returned the hug.
It was then, when Daniella left, that Jack wandered over to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn't feel them a few minutes ago, but he could feel them now. All the cuts. His pants had seemingly taken care of anything hitting his legs, but everything else was just ripped to shreds. He was pretty sure he was lucky he still had hair. He went over to the shower and turned it on, to heat up, and then pulled a big bottle of polysporin out of the medicine cabinet. And that is where you could find him now, dousing his wounds.
Activity:As active as I can be. University kills at times. But, my work load isn't so bad yet, so I should be fine.
