[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/oJbW92K.png[/img][/center]
[center][h3][color=#FA8072]The Fly of the Needle[/color][/h3][/center]
[right][sup][b][color=#FA8072]Location:[/color][/b] [i][color=silver]The Paradise[/color][/i] [b][color=#FA8072]Interaction(s):[/color][/b] [i][@Mcmolly][/i][/sup][/right][hr]

[color=silver]The car ride to the Paradise was in some ways more disturbing to Marty than the murder scene they had just driven away from. He didn’t have the slightest clue what to even say to this woman. Not that he often knew what to say, but there was a special kind of anxiety that came from being trapped in tight confinement with someone he barely knew. Looking around helplessly, he finally let out an awkward cough before giving up on trying to talk and spending the rest of the ride combing his fronds in the mirror within the sun visor.

[color=#FA8072]“Just so you know,”[/color] He grumbled at one point. [color=#FA8072]“The neighborhood we’re headed to is a real shithole. In case you’ve never been.”[/color]

One car ride from a place somehow worse than hell later, they arrived at the location.

Hopping the many inches from the car seat to the pavement below, Marty fluttered his wings to soften the blow to his ankles before slamming the door shut and surveying the area. Coming round to the driver’s side, it was apparent that property damage was becoming the running theme of the day. As his focus flicked from the eviscerated concrete to the vaguely door shaped opening ahead of them, his proboscis began to quiver with amusement as he turned to Yam and said, [color=#FA8072]“Talk about a real hole in the wall, amirite? Anyways, let’s uh, figure out what the heaven happened here. Be ready for a scuffle though.”[/color] Jokes were great for team building and icebreaking. Everybody knew that.

Marty buzzed his little wings over the majority of the rubble before landing with a soft [i]tmp[/i] at the entrance, pausing to let Yam catch up as he peered inside. The place was fucking trashed. Shit was strewn all over the place, barstools were ripped from their bolting, and not even the plastic décor was safe. Then again, decorations that tacky probably classified as attempted homicide all on their own. The gangsters inside looked just as messed up. Probably attempted a lot of homicides as well.

Each of Marty's four hands came to rest inside the pockets of his jacket and jeans as he strode into the place, his head faced forward but every sensory fiber on his body working in tandem with his compound eyes to preempt any kind of ambush, general funny business, or even worse, the return of whatever fucked this place up so bad in the first place. Last thing that he needed was to embarrass himself in front of Yam by getting his ass beat.

A man in purple barked what definitely wasn’t a warm greeting at the pair as all eyes that still functioned came to rest on him and Yam. 

Marty felt relieved. Uncooperative lowlifes were so much easier to deal with than coworkers.

[color=#FA8072]“C’mon pal,”[/color] Marty buzzed. [color=#FA8072]“You’ve still got one working eye. Let’s uh, keep it that way.”[/color]

He withdrew his hands from his pockets as in near unison, the sound of four [i]clicks[/i] heralded the sharpened points of four separate switchblades. He mustered up his most threatening sounding voice, which for the sake of both the gangsters as well as his cleaning bill, he hoped was threatening enough.

[color=#FA8072]“We’re just here to ask some questions, mainly about who just trashed this place, but anything you have to offer so that you don’t get turned into sashimi down the line like your pals would be great.”[/color] He glanced at Yam briefly. [color=#FA8072]“I’m uh- I’m actually the good cop here aren’t I?”[/color] In an instant, the blades clicked shut. 

[color=#FA8072]“[i]Fellas![/i] Let’s have a conversation!”[/color][/color]