It's cold, and it's getting misty. A tall man hurries down the alley, needing to get home before he's late. The mouth of the alley is blocked, then, and Luke squints to see who is there in the darkness. He takes a step forwards, then steps back.

"What are you doing here? He asks slowly, frightened. It's hard to scare him. "You're not supposed to be here."

The other steps closer, Luke stepping back in response. The other lunges forwards too fast for Luke to retaliate, lifting something too fast for Luke to tell what is it. Then, it flies back down and hits Luke so hard over the head, things go dark.

Ducking under yellow tape, normal. Looking at another murder, normal. Where the murder has occurred, expected. Walking into the strip club was weird, the air was tense, and the workers were all looking ready to duck and run. The investigator looked around. Nothing special about the place, honestly. The bar took up the entire left wall, the back and right wall occupied by posters and a stage. A door at the end of the stage went to the back, probably were patrons went if they paid extra. The floors are wooden planks, the walls dark purple. No bother. The investigator walks further into the club, searching for the one man not dressed in revealing clothing, who would be the manager. But, a short man in green lace stops him, grinning.

"Hello, sir!" He chirps, grinning like there hadn't been a murder, "Are you here to figure out who here is a murderer?"

The investigator raises an eyebrow, doing his best to keep his eyes level. "Of course I am, and who are you sir?" He asks, though he already has his guesses.

"I'm Lui!" The kid chirps, the investigator guessed he's no older then twenty-five the way he's talking, "I'm one of the workers here, as you can tell. I'll give you any information you need!" He explains, disappearing again, just like that.

Next to walk up to the investigator is the club's manager, Tyler Wilde. He smooths down his fancy striped suit, grinning at the investigator like he's about to make a business deal. To Tyler, everything is a business deal. His mouth splits with a grin, and the investigator scowls when he speaks, "David! My old friend!"

David huffs, fixing his jacket. "It's Detective to you, Tyler," He says as politely as he can, writing Lui and Tyler's names down in his note pad. "Can you show me where the body is?"

Tyler rolls his eyes, turning on heel and walking further into the club. David follows, glancing at the strippers. A group of them are sitting on the stage, one puffy-faced and red-eyed. Probably the one who found the body. He has a jacket on over his bunny costume, all the workers but one trying to comfort him. Tyler gestures for David to go through the doorway he noticed earlier. The walls are darker purple in this hall, posters displaying more revealing pictures and explaining options. David grimaces though he tries not to. The hall is riddled with doors, David doesn't bother to ask where they lead. At the end of the hall is a gray fire escape door, Tyler pushing it open.

Cold, winter air sweeps over David again and he steps outside. He looks to the left, the mouth of the alley, and the right, a wall. The snow is littered in footsteps, so no luck getting foot prints. There's a dumpster, crumbled cardboard boxes soaked with snow, and trash. Also, there's a police sheet over a lump right next to the door, flags and evidence markers littered everywhere.

David crouches in the snow, making points. "No tracks, no attempt to hide the body, no weapon. Either this murder was very well planned, or not planned whatsoever." He says, Tyler giving him a slow clap.

"I wouldn't have guessed," He snickers, leaning in the doorway and holding the door open. "Don't lift the tarp, it's nasty."

"I find it interesting, Tyler, there's been a murder, and you don't seem to care," David points out, peeling back the tarp. "One might think you got one of your goons to do it." He accuses.

Tyler whines his outrage as David examines the wounds, no cuts, only large whelping bruises. Blood is almost everywhere, leeching from bruises and dribbling from the mouth, dry now. David frowns, putting on examination gloves and closing the victim's eyes. The death was most likely slow and painful, a baseball bat maybe. David stands up, looking at Tyler. "I'll be needing a list of your workers and your patrons."

Tyler shakes his head, chuckling like the idea is hilarious. "The strippers, I got you. The patrons? No way."