[b]Name:[/b] Ana "Fritz" Fromm

[b]Age:[/b] Thirty-Two

[b]Gender:[/b] Female

[b]Race:[/b] German-American

[b]Personality:[/b] While on the job she is dangerously serious, most of her off time is spent hanging around bars or lounging at home. Any time that isn't spent with a gun in her hand is normally time spent sitting in a bar or lounging around in her own apartment. Sarcastic and crude, she's a natural hit among the mercenaries and whores that lounge around the streets, fitting just perfectly into the little mold laid out for her in Roanapur. However, out on a job, she's serious and punctual. Nothing stands in the way of her getting the job done, whether it be enemies or allies. This has led to some conflict, especially moral ones, with her co-workers at times, but she has always done what she's needed to. Nothing more, nothing less.

[b]Background check:[/b] Born to a pair of Germans that had moved to the United States a few years before her time, she was raised in what may as well have been a boot camp. Her parents were very pro-militant, especially her father, and since there was no son to teach, the burden fell to her. However, Ana liked the training, even if it did keep her from having what others would consider a "normal" childhood. Luxuries such as television and rest were unknown to her; she either was asleep, training, or doing chores.

Once she hit eighteen, though, she set off on her own. It wasn't long that she was able to find a mercenary group to join up with. They were impressed with her background, but it quickly proved that in a live situation that she wasn't particularly on par. She was put under the wing of Yuri Resnov, a former Soviet soldier, with Jermaine Jackson acting as her partner. With his tutoring, the pair were able to perfect their arts, his being a sniper and hers being a soldier. On the day that he deemed her acceptable, she was gifted his old coat, while Jermaine got his beret.

After that, the mercenaries served mostly in Africa, bouncing between different rebel groups and would-be dictators. There were few fatalities; they may as well have been soldiers, with the effectiveness that they worked, and the barely trained men they went up against were like children with BB guns in comparison. Not until they were betrayed and their leader killed did things turn downhill. Yuri, Jermaine, and Ana took charge, and led the mercenaries on a crusade through the heart of Africa to the wannabe dictator that had killed their men.

In the end, only five of them remained. They began to do odd jobs for the mafias and gangs of Roanapur, Jermaine's bright idea that killed them all. It only took another year for everyone to die through one means or another, where Ana claimed Yuri's beret from Jermaine. For the next two years, she sat around the Yellow Flag sulking, the lone German in a Russian army uniform. Confused the hell out of a lot of people. That's where she found Jack, and how she was able to less-than-smoothly grab herself a job on the crew.

[u][b]Skills/Abilities:[/b][/u]
-Adept marksman
-Trained to use heavy weapons.
-Adept in melee combat

[u][b]Equipment:[/b][/u]
-Two H&K USP (Pistols) kept in holsters at her waist.
-H&K MP7 (Machine pistol), kept in a holster in her coat. Under her pillow at home.
-AK-101, only used during missions. Kept under her bed.
-Remington Model 870, kept in a holster just above her rear on missions.. Kept under sofa cushions.
-Gerber MK 2 fighting knife, kept strapped to her thigh.
-Old flip-open cell phone
-Ipod with headphones.

[b]Role on the team:[/b] Gunman, Contact

[b]Vehicle:[/b] N/A

[b]Appearance:[/b] Ana stands at a normal 5'10, with short blonde hair cut choppily. Her skin is pale, giving her a bit of a creepy look to her, only accented further by the half-lidded, bored look she normally has plastered over her face. Icy blue eyes peer out from beneath her eyelids A few minor scars run across her cheeks, mementos from Africa, but other than that her skin is unblemished. Her body is lithe, small muscles bulging out from the constant training.

Her clothing is usually a pair of cargo pants and a plain shirt, covered up by a long, green army coat with some old Soviet ranking on the shoulder. A beret sits on her head, an odd fashion statement in Roanapur. Dark, rectangular shades cover her eyes when she is out of the house.