Asra

Stephean slowly walks into the shuttle and sits down in the first available seat. He uploads the personal mission briefing, along with any relevant date intelligence had managed to gather, that was forwarded to him onto his scanner. "So, this looks straight forward enough," he crosses his arms and focuses intently on the crawl of information passing over his eyepiece. "Opposition is an unknown, however, so stay alert." Stephean begins a systems check on his suit, especially over the hydraulic cushioning, as a degree of stealth is required during the initial infiltration. "And remember to keep an eye out for the zabrak. He could be anywhere on the station. And if he was discovered, I'd expect to see him hiding around maintenance areas." He checks the charge on his blaster rifle and pistols.

Stephean taps on his scanner to see if the schematics and photo of the zabrak were included in the forwards.

There's a bright flash of light as Stephean's starship, the Black Omen, leaves hyperspace. The pale blue of a holographic projection of an imperial soldier dimly lights the face of a fierce cathar, "Docking permission granted. Proceed with standard docking protocols." The ship's engines whir and the correctional thrusters roar, as the ship is taken into dock. The aft hatch slowly lowers, and a hulking, heavily-armored warrior steps off into the hanger. He touches the side of his scanner, and with his deep, raspy voice, "I know I'm late. I was ... detained." He narrows his eyes, and exhales slowly, "Just send me the briefing." Light green text races across his scanner, and he slow steps to join the team in the hanger as ordered.

To Stephean, this isn't just a job, it's his life. He's a warrior. He's a mercenary. He fights, because he loves to. He kills, because it thrills him. And he wants to prove that he's among the most elite warriors in the galaxy. It doesn't matter who hires him, or who his target is, so long as they are challenging enough. And this mission looks more than promising.

Upon entering the hanger, he narrows his eyes and slowly scans his eyes across the room, attempting to gauge his squad mates. Sith. He's never been too fond of sith. More often than not, they have an over-exaggerated sense of self importance. He respects the fleet and firepower of the imperial army over the posturing and magics of their lords. Never-the-less, they are usually formidable enough, and having a couple in this mission should increase the odds of success. He snickers to himself, slightly when he noticed the number of cathar present. It's almost amusing. He hopes they have not spent too long within the Empire, and that their pride still remains intact.

Stephean slowly steps towards the group.