PLAYER NAME: Mark Hall
CHARACTER GIVEN NAME: Hiroshi Reynolds
CHARACTER STREET NAME: Hank, Hiro
GANG AFFILIATION: Black Cranes
ALTERNATE IDENTITIES: None
AGE: 20
HEIGHT: 1.8m
WEIGHT: Gaunt
DESCRIPTION:
Hiroshi (he goes by Hank a lot, especially when he's dealing with
gaijin; his mother named him Hiroshi, after his father, but used her
last name) is a medium-height half-Japanese, quarter Phillipino,
quarter American young man. His black hair is kept short, and
while he's attractive enough, he's not really the kind of person who
stands out; he's simply a handsome face that might pass you by a
dozen times an hour on the street. His only identifying mark,
aside from a few scars on his upper arms, legs, and abdomen, is a
large black crane tattoo which takes up most of his back. It's
beautifully done, but only really shows up when he's shirtless; even
a wife-beater won't show more than a few disconnected edges of
it.
He's been considering, once he can find someone he trusts, adding
some smoke coming from the eyes of the crane, and maybe some touches
of red and yellow to make it look more like a Phoenix.
When he
gets the time, he watches anime almost incessantly, both classics
almost a century old, and the newer stuff that's coming out.
He'd love to get into that, but his artistic skills are currently
limited to tagging buildings and vehicles, not animation or even
simple figure drawing. If given the chance, he'd probably jump
on voice acting, but it never really occurred to him as an option to
seek out; voices in cartoons are just that, voices, so far as he's
concerned. Hiroshi is interested in Japanese culture, but
doesn't have much direct experience with the real thing. A lot
of what he knows comes from watching the Yaks, anime, and Japanese
television, but real time spent
with the Japanese would likely be a shock to him. He tries to
uphold a weird sense of honor in his personal dealings, but
completely ignores it in business.
BODY:3
STRENGTH: 3
QUICKNESS: 4
INTELLIGENCE: 5
WILLPOWER: 5
CHARISMA: 4
ESSENCE: 6
MAGIC: 0
METATYPE: Human
REACTION: 4
INITIATIVE: 4 + 1d6
COMBAT POOL: 7
EDGES and FLAWS:
Good Looking & Knows It, Level 2
Sensitive System
Friendly Face
Blandness
Perceptive
Quick Healer, Level 1
ACTIVE SKILLS:
Clubs 3
Pistols 4
Athletics 3
Stealth 4
Etiquette 5
Negotiation 5
Intimidation 2
Leadership 3
Biotech (First Aid) 2/4
Electronics 3
Electronics B&R 4
Bike 4
Bike Mechanics B&R 3
Car 3
Vehicle Mechanic B&R 3
Armorer B&R 3
KNOWLEDGE & LANGUAGE SKILLS:
Police Procedures 5
Criminal Organization (Yakuza) 3/5
Lone Star Tactics 2
Anime 4
Japanese Culture 3
Tagging 4
English 5
English R&W 3
Japanese 4
Japanese R&W 2
MELEE WEAPONS
Weapon (#) Conceal: Reach: Damage: Attack
Dice:
MISSILE WEAPONS
Weapon (#) Conceal: Ammo: Mode: Damage:
Attack Dice: Range Category:
Streetline Special 8 (10) 6 (Clip) SS 4M (f) 4 Light Pistol
Fichetti Security 500 7 (9) 12 (Clip) SA 6L 4 Light Pistol
BODY ARMOR
Armor: Conceal: Area: Ballistic: Impact:
Secure Ultra-Vest 14 Chest 3/2
Riding Leathers - Body - 2
Motorcycle Helmet, Close Faced - Head - +1
Layered Armor: TN Mod: Combat Pool: Ballistic:
Impact:
Motorcycle Gear NoTN -1 die 3/4
VEHICLES:
Sport Bike, Rundown
EQUIPMENT:
Concealable Holster, Holdout
Concealable Holster, Automatic
One Spare Magazine, 6rounds Flechette
One Fichetti Magazine, 12rounds Light Pistol
Flashlight, Pocket
Music Playing Device
Music Discs, 5 (Pseudo Traditional Japanese)
Ordinary Clothing (2 sets)
1 cloned cell phone
3 non-text pagers
Breath Mask
Leatherman multi-tool
CURRENCY:
50
KARMA:
Karma Pool: 1
Good Karma: 0
Total Karma: 0
PERSONAL INFORMATION:
I
was born almost 20 years ago in San Francisco. My mom was a
gaijin joygirl who'd given up the trade for a bit to become the
property of a Yak muscleman. Dad dropped Mom about the time she
got pregnant, so when I was born, she was back to living with her
folks, dealing drugs to get money to buy booze; doctors said all of
that drek fragged with my system; everything works OK, but its really
finely balanced... too much extra drek can toss it out of whack.
I'd worry about it if I had the nuyen for 'ware.
Mom died of
a lead overdose when I was six; she tried to get money out of Dad,
him having a wife and two other kids, and she pissed him off enough
to make her less expensive dead than alive. It's about that
time I started hanging out with the Black Crane; too young to join,
I'd still filch cigarettes while members distracted the store owner,
or cried my slanty little eyes out until someone came and asked what
was wrong, so they could roll him. I got good at making people
do what I wanted, blending into the people around me, and being
instantly forgettable as anything other than a stereotype... a little
bit of Japanese helped to work on the sariamen, so I picked that up.
I lived with Grandma and Grandpa for a few more years... I
was about 14... before I got sick of their bulldrek and started
living with the boys in the Black Crane full-time. The Black
Crane were working for the Yaks, mostly dealing drugs and gandering
for the bunraku, but GTA was becoming a hobby we were trying to break
into; too much money, too easy to get, for a
smart man not to be
into it.
Problem was, GTA was almost all-Tong at the time.
Marines didn't like going into Chinatown, so a car that went into
there could disappear and be parts inside of an hour. They
didn't like us sliding in, especially since our bosses could get us
toys to make the job a little easier... at not too much more than
cost, so long as we sold to them. We started taking more and
more of the business, but when the Tongs finally got pissed enough to
strike back, our Yak backing fraggin' evaporated; Omoto Taki, who was
supposed to be our link to the Yaks, had been on the take from the
Tongs and sold us up the river.
The Tong strike was bloody.
I was one of the lucky ones, since I'd been shagging a joygirl in the
upstairs bedroom (we were going to turn her over to the Yaks for
their bunraku once we'd gotten our fun out of her) when the firefight
started; one glance out the door showed that half the Cranes were
down, and those fraggin' Tong magicians were trashing those who were
left. I scuttled down to my stash, grabbed my stuff, and took a
couple shots for gang solidarity at the fraggin' wizard before I
jumped out the window, spraining my ankle. A couple more rounds
took down the Tong muscle on the Rapier outside; I grabbed his pistol
and keys and took off, heading for our safehouse.
Out of the
entire gang, only a few made it to the safehouse. Mako, who'd
been coming to tell us about Taki when the Tongs hit, told us what
was going on, and also that the fraggin' bastard had been telling to
Yaks that _we_ were the ones on the take from the Tongs. Drek
creek, and paddle is caught in the current and pulling away. We
decided that Taki, who had been leader, had more or less fragged us
all, dissolving the old gang. A couple people called it quits
right there, but most of us decided to set off for Seattle; carve us
a spot in the jewel of the PacRim, the Smoking Phoenix gang. We
came up to Seattle this morning; frag if I know what we're gonna do
here, but its better than being fed our fingers back home.
In
terms of crime, Hiroshi isn't outstanding at anything; he's
semi-competent as a car thief, an above-average pickpocket, and a
reasonably accomplished scammer and panhandler. Mostly, the
gang has used him as a lookout, dealer, and go-between with other
Yak-affiliated gangs (not allies, but enough to keep the enmity down
to a dull roar). He ran for the Yakuza from time to time, as
well, but nothing sensitive; just things that needed to go places
with a minimum of fuss.