Physical:
A large, well-muscled man, almost two metres tall, and weighing about 120 kilos – all muscle. He is in his late thirties. He has heavy scarring on his chest and back, close cropped black hair, and his eyes are completely black, with no white visible, courtesy of a protective film implant. This implant serves primarily as protection, but could have some other functionality.

His skeletal structure has been slightly modified, strengthening it slightly beyond the human norm. He has also had extensive work done on his musculature, and is able to use his full strength for short periods of time, far surpassing unmodified human abilities.

Implants

Skeletal and muscular modifications. Protective film over eyes. Fine metal armour on the tops of his hands, bonded directly to the skeleton. This armour serves as protection, and forms into rough ridges when he clenches his fists, adding to the destructive power of his punches. No training in marital arts, but a very effective melee fighter.

Equipment (starting)

Standard shield bracelet, capable of forming an smallish – no more than 1 metre diameter – contained energy field shield that can stop small arms fire. Not suited to deflecting energy weapons, or anything more than small arms. Effective in close combat.
Heavy bladed vibrating-blade knife. Blade vibrates extremely fast, blurring the appearance of the blade slightly, and adding to the cutting power.

Personality

Soft-spoken, but quick to anger. Very loyal, and with a highly developed sense of personal honour. Dislikes stealth.

He rubbed his hands through his short hair, turning his head to study the other people in the room.

No point in hiding it, as I sure they will be doing the same. I guess we will be expected to work together. No other alternative really.

He automatically supressed his desire to try and guess the aptitudes and skills of the other people in the room- Appearances meant nothing in this world, and only actions revealed the character of the person behind it.

30 minutes, at least. Fashionably late, proving a point, or are we waiting for more people to join us?

The flowing water scuplture irritated him. Stupid expensive things, served no purpose other than to impress the gullible. He sighed, and forced himself to relax again.

This better be worth my time...

Kennrial followed the introductions of the other members of the group, wondering how such a diverse selection of people had been brough together.

Work together indeed. Trust is earned, not given, I really wonder about some of these... Dammit, I wish I could remember the name of the leader of the Habusa. Why would a gangleader even be approached? As for the strutter... I wonder if he can back up those big words. That short guy, he has military written all over him. Wonder how he got here. The others... Definitely not fighters. I am not sure about the balance in this group, not yet. What in all the hells could this job be?

'I am Kennrial,' he lifted himself from the couch, easily the biggest person in the room. 'Think of me as providing protection. I can handle myself fairly well in a fight, if needed.'

He glanced at the others, knowing that they could not see the direction of his gaze through the implanted protective films, and sat down again.

'So now we wait, until our employer decides to enlighten us.'

Kennrial stood up again, shaking his head.

Typical. What the hell was our employer thinking, this many individuals with no clearly appointed leader. I hate doing this, but someone needs to.

'Right, listen up. This is going nowhere at the moment. We need a plan, and a good one, before we even think of hitting that Orbital. Getting into the Staatentek launch facility, even a minor one, is not going to be easy. In fact, that might be the hardest part of this job. Staatentek is not known for playing nice at all, and as far as I know they employ one of the largest armed forces on this planet, probably close to matching the Emperor's Guard. If we go in unprepared, this will get messy.'

He glanced around at the others. At least I have their attention.

'We need to get to equipped for this. One of us - Nehiruun, you seem to have some contacts - should get the info about the launch facility. Won't be easy, but if we can at least get some info 'bout the layout, security, launch times we should be good.'

'We also need to get into their computer system, or wha'ever the hell you call it. Get some info on that launch, figure out how to get onboard. We cannot engage their forces in the facility, so we need stealth, camo, wha'ever works. Someone needs to get on top of that. Volunteers?'

He turned to Kuan. 'I think it best if you sit back for a while, until we get our asses into that Staatentek compound.' He lifted his right hand, scratching at the light scarring around his eyes.

'I figure we stick together, drop down onto the firezone - we will get noticed, but with some luck both the police and the gangs will be too busy to really pay attention to us. Gonna take a coupla hours to get there. Anybody know of a point where we can hole up for a bit to recon, before we head in?'

Kennrial lifted his right hand, again scratching at the scarring around his eyes.

Damn this. I do not want this responsibility. Why should I do this? Not as if I'll be paid more for it. But if no one else takes the lead we will be running around in circles the whole damned day, and I need this job.

He left with the group, not caring about the order, wondering if anyone of his new team would be trying to analyse, reading more into the situation, trying to turn it to personal advantage.

More than one, for sure. Poor bastards. Sooner or later everyone learns that you do not cross a corp, unless you have the backing of another one.

Two hours was plenty time to reach the meeting point, and he did not need much in the way of gear. His shield was always on him and his fists needed nothing but his own strength.

Once outside the room the harsh dry air was like coming home. Water was scarce, and extraction units made sure that every last bit of moisture was claimed and recycled. He smiled without any humour as he compared the lushness of the corporate interior with the cold reality just outside. Crowds of people, pushing, walking, talking - Rythellan was alive. Lines overhead carried those who were taking longer trips than walking would justify, conveyor belts for humans, endless kilometres melding together, connecting the entire planet. You could circle Rythellan, if you had the inclination, without taking a step.

Kenriall decided to walk, having no difficulty in moving through the crowds, his size and appearance making people get out of his way. He barely noticed this, trying to think of some way in which a small group of people - that had never worked together - would go up against a big corporation, sponsored by... By who? He wished he knew, but the size of the payment guaranteed an absence of questions.

He found the bar, cheap, tacky holographic signs extending into the open space above the heads of passers-by. He pushed his way through the doors, into the smoke-filled, crowded main room.

At least hiding in here will not be a problem, right out in the open. No one will pay us any attention.