So I decided to make a sort of adept/go-ganger. Feel free to have canon dictate that they're responsible for botching the last job via needless violence.

[hider=Kanchana 'Kali' Bhattacharya][b]Real Name:[/b] Kanchana Bhattacharya 
[b]Alias:[/b] Kali 
[b]Age:[/b] 34 
[b]Gender:[/b] Female 
[b]Metatype:[/b] Homo Sapiens sapiens (Human) 
[b]Metavarient:[/b] Nartaki 
[b]Specialization:[/b] Physical Adept/Go-Ganger 
 
[b]Appearance:[/b] Five-foot 'mind your own business' of kamikaze crazed, BTL addled vulgarity; a myriad of scars and obscene body graffiti warring for dominance across her auric hide. She's a visual overdose, a sight that screams she's lived life too fast for too long--even by ganger standards. Four arms and the twenty fingers between them announce what her golden hue makes obvious, this Delhiite in exile is a genuine Nartaki, the rare (And nigh homogeneously Indian) human metavariant, though she couldn't be further from the peaceful, priestly image they've cultured as a whole. 
 
Robust and apple figured she cuts a strong but admittedly fleshly silhouette; a large bust making due where broad shoulders and narrow hips fail her. Never would have been billboard material, strictly speaking. A loose 'ombre' styled braid sags its meager length away from the feathered gradient that eats itself away to ink and stubble (left to right) a piss-poor platinum dye job failing to hide the early grays that mingle therein. Large deep set brown eyes lay pinched between dark circles and darker eyeliner, the pupils often stretched to saucers or shrunken to hateful pin pricks. The Kangchenjunga mountain range is featured prominently across her back and her hands and feet are noticeably vascular--just ugly with strength. 
 
[b]Personality:[/b] Murderjunkie. Full stop. Hits runs so stimmed up on freakers she's been known to take a bullet for the jollies and spends her off time zenned out on BTLs to the point of barely registering a conversation. Between this and that are moments of dreadful lucidity, usually spent agonizing over the next fix and generally being a dyed-in-the-wool bitch. Silver lining: if you need a gun pointed elsewhere, goon turned into Chinese take-out or bizzed-to-the-gills duke behind the wheel Kali's the go to gal. 
 
[b]Bio:[/b] When it comes to her past Kanchana isn't so much a close book as one missing a few pages, a few too many blackouts and braindances behind her to make if fit together neatly anymore. This is how she's tell it: 
 
[hider=As Told by Kali]"Yeah, so see I was born--not that I remember that bit--but, right? Gotta know that means something over there, you carry your caste with you--grok that you're gonna live by a  dharma too. So there i am, brought up Brahmin from day zero, and chummer if you think you've got people up your ass with 'can's and 'can't's here you don't suss the half of it. You might get dirty with a badge now and then but even the frag'n corps give you an inch here and there--Nartaki either swallow or suffer that religious bulldrek they peddle back home, and friend they peddle it like geese at a drig off. Then...yeah..so this goes on for a bit, catch? Tired man. Reruns yeah? Here I was groomed for the life of a mascot, soaped--then it roars up in my noggin right? Bee-aye chummer, real loud. It's the mountain, right? Not the real one...frag it I don't know, maybe? Call it my mountain. Says to me, says it's my mentor, right? I figure I'm halfways whacked from boredom but turns out it's the chip-truth chummer. Spirit, right? So. So. So. Yeah. So. I'm like--yeah--I'm like not really ace at it. Ain't got killing hands, gotta have killing hands for it. Or elsewise--yeah, how you going to fight someone that can stop your heart with a love tap? You don't, drek don't stack chummer. Mountain don't like that--gotta stick with what works even when it don't he says, and says and says and...and..yeah. So yeah, I try at first right? Freakers help...this was...yeah. I was revving then, go gangs. Real dukes, no Grid Guide back home. Me though? Made them look like rackin' bourgies--cheating really, phys-ad and all. Crisp eyes man, like ultra crisp, like know how much you weigh exactly crisp. And quick man...quick like...really, yeah? So I start wearing colors, wax some dinks and bronze, R and P, thrill it up--get heavy into guns, yeah? So really--I mean--wake up one day and I'm like arctic you know? Hard man. Then...you know. I don't really catch what happened next right? About that time I started running beetles, low-core at first. Then deep into snuff and moodies. Blue passion. Needed real scratch man, spilling it left and right, right? That's...that's...eh...slow, that's how we started running together right?" [/hider] 
 
The short version? Somewhere along the line she became a gun-toting, trick shooting adept specialized in a cinematic (and impractical) style of run-and-gunnery. Juiced to the point of being a 'gun-berserker' she makes use of magic-assisted parkour and mystic armor get close enough that 'broadside of the barn' style accuracy isn't an issue. Preferring to fan the hammer akimbo than peer down the sights. Go. Go. Go is her mantra, an absolute hellcat behind the wheel of her tricked out Suzuki mirage. 
 
[b]Cyberware/Bioware:[/b] Simsense Player 
 
[b]Loadout:[/b] Four cavalier deputy revolvers (Nicknamed Eenie, Meenie, Miney and Moe), A tricked out Suzuki mirage motorbike, a really rad duster 
 
[b]Opinion of teammates:[/b] TBA [/hider]