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Lisa's a few inches shy of seven feet tall, even when she wears flat heels. She's got the physique of a fetishistic muscle goddess, impressive in every sense of the word. Her eyes glow when she's staring down her enemies, and her right arm is a prosthetic multi-tool. She's got the firepower of a capital ship on her sturdy little vessel, her armor has seen veterans and laborers through the worst of conditions for over a century, and both the ship and the armor were a gift from her foster father after he'd finished teaching her everything he knew about being better at violence than whoever she'd be hunting down. Even her surname, chosen according to the traditions of her culture, was tailor made for her choice of career. Huntress.Lisa's also chronically depressed, desperately lonely, and filled with self-loathing so powerful it's practically a split personality dedicated to making her miserable. She lives in her ship like a recluse, she's terrified of large crowds, and she's convinced she's a big ugly monster, only good for hunting down other monsters. Her prosthetic limb is a reminder of everything she's lost, her home planet has no place for her, and her love life fits in the drawer next to her bed.But just because that's what she is, doesn't mean that's what she always has to be. Maybe, just maybe, she can learn to be more than what she is. Maybe she can learn to derive self-esteem from her career. Maybe she can learn to see herself through the eyes of an unexpected assortment of bashful suitors of varying genders and backgrounds. And if nothing else, there's always a few pirates out wanting to hurt others…And just like her Daddy, Lisa loves hurting the people who hurt other people.

Bugs. Bugs can be a problem.Sometimes they're tiny, small things that burrow where you don't want them to. Sometimes they're grotesquely gargantuan xenoarthopods that evolved in a gas cloud tens of millions of years ago, that come crashing through atmospheres to become invasive species. Sometimes they're humanoid abominations coordinating under the totalitarian control of a collective intelligence with the mentality of a creepy and petty stalker. Sometimes they're mechanical drones operated by criminals with malicious intentions.Bugs can be a problem. Problems require solutions. For help with solving all your problems with bugs of every shape and size, contact your personal problem solver, Lisa Huntress. Recognized by the FIA for her work in exposing Fey operations. Discretion is our watchword, and results are assured.To see some of the many sterling reviews left by satisfied clients, click here. Appa was screaming. "What's going on?" Vic demanded, sounding even more terrified than Vionne felt. "Report? Appa? Chang? Jenette! Report!" Appa continued to scream, passionate but hardly articulate. "Jenette?" Vic repeated, and he was beginning to sound near to hysterics. "Chang!? Answer me!" "Jenette's dead!" Chang howled, barely audible over Appa's shrieking. "Something… something ripped her…" Appa finally ceased his howlings, now reduced to panting for breath as he sobbed and whined with each gasp. Chang repeated himself. "Something ripped her in half," he wailed in horror. "It… it's everywhere. M¿ de, I can see her… her…" He sounded as if he were holding back vomit. Vionne felt the ice run down her spine. Chang was sobbing and gulping. Appa was whimpering. Finally, Peng spoke up. "Can you tell which way she went?" he asked. Vionne had wondered what Vic would look like if he ever stopped smiling. Now she finally knew. His vestigial rictus had finally collapsed entirely, as he screamed in shrill hysterics. "She's still in there, you idiots!"