Erik Gundrik walked in standing head and shoulders above most humans the Conference Room's ceiling brushed against the top of his head. The duffel bag in which he carried his weapons when not on the job slung against his back as he looked around.
The thick air was cloying and slightly smoky and he moved forwards examining the seats before picking one, reversing it and sitting down before lighting a thick cigar. He nodded at the man towards the end of the room.
Erik found himself quite curious about the mission as he took out a combat blade and began trimming his fingernails. His hands were heavily scarred from years of youth barely concealed beneath the tribal tattoos that covered much of his body. He only wondered who would arrive next.