Myrada

PROLOUG A cigar dangled out of Marti's mouth, his colorful bow-tie untied and slung around his broad neck. His large nose wrinkled as he sniffed, once then twice. He frowned-the room smelled like metallic, and rust. Cale stood bent, his shirt ripped and torn and his half-beak mask strangled around his sweaty neck-he was breathing ragged, his eyes where red. His fist clenched in his pockets, he sucked in a breath and straightened his chest. The ceiling fan clicked on creakily at Marti switching it lazily on. It made loud crieeek sounds at each turn. "You smell like blood." Marti said, still sniffing. Cale gestured at his body, covered i