The music blasting from the club's speakers and the cheering of club-goers can be heard even from outside the brightly lit three floored building.

The ground floor was open to anyone, sporting a bar that was outfitted with a dizzying array of drinks. In the center was a large stage from which dancers can be seen performing on poles that extended from the stage's floor to the ceiling. Patrons sat in dark booths in the corner of the club.

The second floor was only open to VIPs and those who were invited up. It housed private rooms that cost larger and larger sums of money the more extravagant the room was. It was here where things began to delve into the darkness of the underworld. Backdoor deals dealt in blood and lives were negotiated here, and disgustingly large sums of money passed between hands like spare change everyday.

The third floor was both a home and office to the man who controlled these dealings with an iron fist.

Arke chuckled to himself. He had assumed he'd be alone when he returned to his office but instead found a mouse scurrying around his desk.

"Stop struggling." He murmured, voice dripping with the confidence of someone who knew they could get anything they wanted with a snap of their fingers. "Or you can say goodbye to ever being able to use your arms again."

Smiling pleasantly, there's a faint glimmer of anger in his eyes at being disturbed as he looked down at the body pinned to his desk. He handpicked all his employees himself, and this one was wholly unfamiliar to him. With a click of his tongue, he twisted your arm further behind your back, pain shooting through the limb.

"Now would you tell me what you were doing in here?"