A man in his late forties stood behind Kalika Chilson, one big hand still knotted in her hair while the other held a small hide-out pistol screwed under her jawline. Madness twinkled in the solid purple cybereyes set close together in a face that looked sculpted from a plascrete pyramid. The shaven skull, overlapped by scarred chrome that still had a few shiny spots, came to a narrow wedge of bone and metal over the wide shelf of jaw.