The first thing I noticed about Fetus when we exited through the side door was how impossibly pale she was, especially considering how strong the UV rays given off at the bar were—even her hair was white. It contrasted rather starkly with the dark ensemble she wore.
The other thing I noticed was that she was heavily into body modification. There was more metal in her ears than there was at Fort Knox, and her arms and hands sported three-dimensional subcutaneous implants: A raised omega on the back of each hand, and six cylinders on each arm, three each above and below the elbow. The ends distal from her body also had a pronounced metal cap or stud on them.
“I wish to express my gratitude that you have offered your aid in this endeavor,” expressed Acrylic. “My debt to you is increased.”
“No problem,” Fetus answered. “You’re an old friend. I always did wonder when we were going to get our revenge.”
“Revenge?” I asked. This was news to me.
“Oh, you haven’t told her?”
Acrylic sighed. “No, I have not.”