Name: Maia Leventis
Age: 32
Gender: Female
Disposition: Two things are seen as an inevitability by Maia: that something bad will happen, and that she will be the one to clean it up.

Living a hardscrabble life, first as a refugee and then as a merc fighting her way to a better life, has caused Maia to take a generally dismal and bleak outlook on life. In order to keep from cracking under the negativity, she has a small list of mental defenses. The first being bad jokes, the second being hedonism, the third being anger. Anything past anger, and she starts to break down.

Living a desperate life tends to make you distance yourself from others. Maia has a hard time saying anything meaningful, or sharing anything personal, with anyone else. She doesn't mind working with others as long as they keep their distance, and respect her space. She'd rather not think of anyone that dies in the line of duty as a friend, if she can help it.

She is very sensitive to changes in her environment: noises (even if inaudible to others), bright light, and quick motions bother her.

She also has an addictive personality, and is rather irresponsible with her money.
Background: Even before the war, things weren't exactly great for the inhabitants of the PU's northern territories. Maia Leventis was born in a small mining town nearing the end of its mineral reserves. Once the mines dried up, the mining company rolled into town. They gave the townsfolk a few months to either find another vein, or be forcibly relocated to an industrial center. Maia's family chose neither. They chose to flee over the strait, into OSU territory. That was when the troubles really started.

Turns out the nice men that helped her family cross weren't so nice. They were used as free migrant labor in an underground narcotics manufacture for five years, until a raid by the local police ended their business. Maia was fourteen years old at the time.

She was made a ward of the state after the destruction of the drug den resulted in the deaths of her parents, since they couldn't find anyone to claim her in the PU. In spite of her rough past, she drove on, and eventually earned the right to call herself an Osbanian citizen. After a brief and hectic stint in the Osbanian military that ended up in her dishonorable discharge due to mental health, she became a freelance mercenary, working first as infantry for eight years, and eventually earning enough to afford her own FRAME. At her age, however, she's decided that being a freelancer is too little pay for too much risk. She's hoping that her stay with the Panthers will provide her with the financial security she needs.

After all, cigarettes, booze and video games won't buy themselves.
Appearance: 5'6, dark-skinned, with an aquiline nose, brown eyes, and sharp facial features with curly black hair and bushy black eyebrows. Her eyes have nigh-perpetual bags under them, and there are more wrinkles on her than her age would suggest. She has a muscular and reasonably toned frame, although an unhealthy lifestyle is definitely starting to take its toll on her waistline. She has a burn scar on her forehead, and a slash mark on her collar bone from a close call she'd rather not talk about.
Inventory:
.45 automatic handgun, "Certified Asshole" carved onto the slide.
Plain steel hipflask, usually containing the cheapest rotgut she can find.
Cigarettes. One pack a day.
Funds: 55750
Other: Suffering from undiagnosed post-tramatic stress disorder.

Name: ACS-3G Zaruga, "Mad Dog"
Height: 4.1 meters
Weight: 5230 kg
Armor: 20 mm durasteel alloy
Speed (Walk): 65 kph
Speed (Skate): 91.6 kph
Sensor range: 5 km
Communication range: 25 km
Operating range: 600 km
Extra Systems: ECM suite, laser target designator
Power: 130
Weight: 80

Armaments:

Equipped:
AFC-40/L Autocannon x2 (16)
MG27 Light Machinegun x2 (4)
LP-90 Light Rocket Launcher (24)
(6 spare weight)

Storage:
MGR-2A Anti-tank Missile (20)