Detective McFly was the first detective on the scene. He was a small, rugged fly with tough wings and a furry face.
“What’s the buzz?” he asked no one in particular.
“Male,” replied one of the techs, “seven days old, reportedly on his way home from a shit feast. Three witnesses say they saw him antagonizing a pair of Behemoths.”
“My god. Do we have a positive ID?”
“Poor bloke,” McFly said. “I’ll reach out to his family personally. Do we have the rest of the body?”
“No, sir. I’m afraid the Behemoth kept his torso. It’s on the Device.”
“Get the SWAT team in here. I want them to retrieve that body. I’ll be damned if another fly goes without a proper burial.”
“Sergeant McFly!” Detective McFly called out to another officer. “How quickly can we get this mess cleaned up?”
Sergeant McFly was a small, rugged fly with tough wings and a furry face. No relation.
“Detective, good to see you again. I wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Me too, brother.” Again, no relation.
“We’re trying to get the scrapers out here, but we just got word of a Behemoth attack in the south sector, near the Pit of Everlasting Feasts. It’s… it’s a massacre.”
Detective McFly shed a tear. Sergeant McFly licked it off his eye.
“These beasts. Why do they do this?”
Sergeant McFly put one of his legs on Detective McFly’s shoulder-or-whatever.
“I don’t know, brother, I don’t know.”