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About Malmo

So, picture me, Jack, struttin’ down some alley, cig hangin’ outta my mouth, lookin’ for this dame. I spot her—legs for days, eyes sharp like No-Face sizin’ me up. “Hey, honey,” I growl, “you lost, or you found me?” She smirks, says somethin’ slick—prolly thinks I’m a nutcase. Makes me laugh, y’know? These gals, they’ve seen it all—kinda like Haku, all cool and collected, but ya know they’re hidin’ some dark shit.

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After that, I headed to the office on Maple Ave. Traffic was a nightmare. Bromoella’s streets are like a maze. I swear, I took a wrong turn on Oak St. and ended up in some sketchy alley. I thought I was gonna get mugged or something. But then I saw a cat. Just chillin’. I named him Mr. Whiskers. He was my spirit animal for the day.

Woman ‘locked up daughters for decade’