Hendrix stepped into the warehouse’s shower to examine his body for abnormalities. In the wake of the Giribaldi run, he needed to be certain he was still in perfect condition, just in case he’d picked up an unwanted eavesdropper or some slow-acting poison. He found nothing more than the usual—a large, cybernetically modified body encased in smooth skin as brown as semi-sweet chocolate. Chiseled musculature, wired reflexes. He was as strong and as fast as nuyen could buy.