Beard is a head-banginā, hard mother. He rides the spacelanes on his Brough Superior 119, looking for the next cool vibe. Living life in line with the 'bikers ethic', Beard is a loyal dude who never blows out on his buddies.
The fact that he travels everywhere with his long dead partner ĪMad-dog McCoyā is testament to this fact. Mad-dog was involved in some hard-core police action that left him hanging with Elvis, and Beard short of a partner. Beard decided that a dead McCoy was better than no McCoy and promptly bundled him back in the sidecar... together forever in metal heaven. Let's rock!!!

Cerbero is an outworld bounty-hunter who preys on the scum of the universe. The fact that he is little more than scum himself is a detail he prefers to overlook. Cerbero specialises in taking down the ĪTube-Dudesā, genetically engineered humanoids, which he finds particularly distasteful. However, in order to maintain his edge, Cerbero has been under the bio-surgeons knife several times himself, a titanium heart, toxin resistant lungs, and IR sensitive eyes being his most recent enhancements.
Cerbero often severs the heads of his victims to ensure that they are no longer active, in these days of high-science you can never be too sure.

Cuvel Clark is your average, cunning, double-crossing, gambling, swindler... and then some. He knows where thereās money to be made and how to get it. Why work for something when you can steal it?

Wanted throughout most of the Imperial systems for a variety of nefarious acts, Cuvel manages to avoid the dumbass authorities with uncanny ease, leaving them choking on his exhaust fumes and cursing his ever-present sardonic smile. Cuvel has connections throughout most of the criminal underworld; thereās nothing he canāt get his hands on for the right amount of cash.
Extremely arrogant, Cuvel considers himself far superior to the fools around him.

Cruising into town, bass drums driving home a P-funk groove, Earl Sleek, the purveyor of fine gems and jewellry is back.
Packin' a nine at his side, Earl is the dopist, flyest, clubber come DJ in effect. There 'aint nothing going down in town that Earl don't know about, he pulls the strings of most of the local hoods and takes a cool slice of their profits.
Earl has dealt himself into the freeloading mercenary business sensing an easy profit. There 'aint a guy alive who's got the balls to take out The Earl, this man's suit is sharper than most people's brains.
Stand aside, the man's in town, baby.

A hideous genetic mutation contained within a life-sustaining steel womb, the thing known as the Foetoid brings death and destruction to all who would stand in it's way. No human conscience clouds itās thoughts, and no shred of morality hinders it's actions.
A product of the archaic cloning vats, Foetoid was left abandoned by his creators soon after they realised the error of their ways. Lying in a pool of nutrient enriched syrup, Foetoid's malevolent, fully formed mind, festered for over a decade. When Foetoid finally forced itās saurian body from the chaotic primordial slime, humanity had cause to shudder.

Intended as the last word in cyber controlled attack craft, the HK-5 was a disaster waiting to happen. Programmed for total self-sufficiency, it soon concluded that the inadequacies of the human mind could hinder the logical process of robot domination. This outcome was not a desired option, those of inferior intellect would have to be suppresed. HK-5 has since embarked upon an eradication program of genocidal proportions.
Despite HK-5ās high intelligence, itās warped cybermind is infected with megalomania, greed and loathing for all humanoid lifeforms. In essence, standard programmer traits; no doubt passed on by HK-5's less than sane creator.

Jo is the ultimate computer-junkie with a laid back sleazeball character. A lifetime porn subscription coupled with a hard core techno overdose have shaped him and his slacker attitude.
Jo is in this line of work for just one reason, his love of cyber-junk; computer hardware, smart weapons, and gadgets. Easy won gems and jewels are for the brain-drained, greaser mercenaries. Over the years it has been Joās pumping brain, rather than his trigger hand, which has been the undoing of his adversaries.
Yo! Bum rush the show!

L. A. Jay has long been surfing the solar waves, a man whose over-the-top attitude is matched only by the brightness of his shirt. L.A. is not so concerned about what he's doing, so long as he looks cool while doing it.
A repeat fraud offender, L.A. has spent a large proportion of his life behind bars, although this only seems to have intensified his Ītake it to the maxā outlook on life.

Lokasenna hails from one of the many Martian settlement cities. Years ago she worked tirelessly for the Government as an administrator in a mining facility. It was here that Lokasenna first came into contact with a group known as Pro:Borg, a secret society obsessed with the evolution of mankind through the symbiotic integration of mind and machine.
Loka was initially repulsed by the doctrines of Pro:Borg, but this soon changed. Years of exposure to the harsh radiation of the Martian mine pits left her with a simple choice, death, or immortal existence encased in a prosthetic body. Life would never be the same again.

The year 2212. The Transtec Robotic Corporation has just been found guilty of gross negligence in the design of their latest multi-purpose combat droid, the Ttec IV. In an effort to cut down on production costs, the company had neglected to install the mandatory emotion control circuits. The company was disbanded and all active Ttec IVās were ordered destroyed by Imperial law.
Mephistofun was a Ttec IV. A veteran of a dozen droid combat wars. The news of his imminent shut-down didnāt sit too well with his survival code. No carbon based arsewipe was gonna take him offline! Pure-pumping-metal-devastation just hit the streets!

Being a wild and violent psycho, it is no surprise that Nim Soo Sun has earnt herself the nickname ĪThe Babe with the Bladesā.
An ex-member of the extremely ostentatious and gruesome xeno-circus, Nim used her knife wielding skills to further her career and satisfy her desires, until even the tolerance of her decadent employers was pushed beyond breaking point. Her act centred around carving up hapless individuals who had been tempted from the audience by the promise of mega cash should they prove her equal. It went without saying that none ever were.
Now Nim works freelance, peddling ancient relics which she plunders from Condemned worlds. Earth is her next destination...

Nubia was once part of a very profitable partnership, she bootlegged her way across the stars in the company of a bizarre biomechanoid known only as ĪThe Nibā. They lived on the profits of their stolen merchandise and kicked arse when the heat came on. But nothing lasts forever, Nib got taken out by a stray heatseeker on the last looting job, so now she gets her kicks alone.
Nubia learnt long ago that it's far more satisfying being paid to kill the arseholes of this world, than to find yourself being paid to work for them. Nubia specialises in armed robbery and contract killings, but she has also dabbled with computer crime and fraud. No one has crossed her and lived to tell the tale.
A meaner bitch youād be hard pressed to find.

The doctor was once an eminent physician and a model citizen. A man of taste and refinement, he quickly became a well respected figure amongst the glitterati of society. And yet beneath all this lay a tortured and deranged mind. Nepenthe was the classic case of the manic depressive transvestite with homicidal tendencies! A doctor by day and a devil by night, fate finally caught up with him when he was caught anaesthetising a patient... with a sledgehammer.
At Nepenthe's trial much of what he'd done before was uncovered, and only his raving insanity saved him from the death penalty. The doctor remained institutionalised for nine long years before being released, apparently cured, upon an unsuspecting world.

"A man is only worth the cargo he's carryin', and I'm carryin' a large load"
Anyone who has passed through some of the seedier interstella truckstops would most definitely have heard the above words of wisdom; personified by the baddest trucker of them all... Rex Hardy.
Born in the back of an old 18-wheeler, Rex has quite literally spent his life on the road. Making his name running the long-haul operations into condemned systems, a practice shunned by most other truckers due to the high risks involved.
Rex is prone to acts of violent depredation, elevating him to the status of despised, yet feared, trucker God.

An outcast on his home world, Septre was the victim of a debilitating genetic disease. A disease which left his body bloated by unusable fat, and his skin white and flaky, unable to withstand the radiation of even the weakest sun. Eking out an existence on the streets, he led a tortured life of drug dependence and violent, bloody minded crime. In his more lucid moments he saw visions of future dominance, lusting for the day when thousands would fear his name.
In a few short years, such dreams had become reality, and many had cause to ruefully reflect upon the time when they had once mocked him.