He wears tight synthleather slacks and tall boots, and both bear the lime and azure slashes of the Ancients. Above the waist he is nude, displaying the wall of thorns tattooed onto his gleaming, sweat-soaked flesh. The datajack set into his shaven skull and the wild maniacal gaze of one riding a persona-chip psychosis high tell all that need be told, in so far as Machiko is concerned. That and his aura, rippling with violence, a repugnant living presence clearly visible on the astral.