It was humanoid, definitely gemue, but the quality of the work surpassed anything she had previously encountered. The creature stood about six feet tall, and had clearly been a human male at one point. It was gracefully muscled, hovering handsomely between bulky and wiry. Its skin was a pale grayish tan fading to ivory on its chest, stomach, and around its mouth. The face was elongated, stretched down and out at the chin and nose, coming to what looked like a shark’s snout.

Its eyes scanned the room quickly, small yellow gray slitted orbs that were barely visible from the sunken sockets. Its head sloped back sharply to meet a stark white shock of stiff hair. She caught a glimpse of working gills hidden by that mane, and she wondered if they were real or just elaborate mock-ups for added effect. The last she had heard was that gills were impossible to replicate on humanoids.

The gemue ran its hands through its hair, and she noticed that it was almost immediately dry. She gasped at the proportion of those extremities. They were half again as long as the average human hand, webbed with a thin elastic membrane, and each finger was tipped with a long lethal looking claw. At each elbow there was a small fin moving independently of its arm movements.

Various items hung from its utility belt, including a stunner and a Wet-Net set, speaking of at least tool-using intelligence. It made itself decent with a pair of cropped, neon yellow dive pants.

She watched as the creature glanced over the last of the patrons before turning its attention to her. She made the hasty conclusion that this was one of her uncle’s hapless creations, for only her uncle would insist on a gemue with a shark template. That would mean that this thing was here for her.

No sooner had she thought it than the creature, locking its eyes on her, snarled. Several rows of serrated teeth were exposed, completing the shark effect. She felt the black wash of the creature’s dreadful thoughts, of what it was here to do.