Stale air in the bar smells of alcohol and something...strange. A weird, chemical scent serps through the vents, as id someone spilled sanitizer everywhere. Occasional sounds from outside make the gloomy, tense atmosphere even tenser: a gunshot here. Someone's scream there. A military chopper flying by so close it makes the chandeliers on the ceiling tremble. Marco sits there, among the other regulars, looking absolutely miserable, his dirty work overalls nearly making him look like an overgrown toddler, put in detention.