Jean stepped into the light. She was wearing a white bikini. A purple mark bisected her torso, running from between her breasts to her right hip. The skin didn’t quite meet; it was jagged and raw. Scars of all colors covered her body: reds, oranges, and blues, like a toddler had scribbled all over her. Her left arm looked wrong, fractured like a broken mirror. Her entire right leg was silver, making her gait a syncopated hitch-roll-shuffle to compensate for how stiffy the metal moved. Metal shouldn’t move at all. 