The Story

A strange mix of desperation and excitement crosses the face of anyone that opens The Full Moon’s main door. Inside, an overstocked bar cradles the center stage, where discarded lucite heels and nipple tassels pile up around the stripper’s pole. On the floor, girls circle the tables, shark-like, hoping to entice customers to the lucrative Champagne Room for a private dance.

To the naked eye, The Full Moon is thriving: they have the hottest dancers, a host of regular clientele and well-oiled management. However, just beneath that shiny veneer, backstabbing runs rampant, drug use is routine and the Mafia is closing in.

Nicky, the manager, sighs, hand propping back his carefully greased hair. Wiping the excess pomade on his pant leg, he leans back relishing this brief respite from the DJ’s hammering bass. On his computer he flicks through the video feeds provided by an array of cameras covering the club floor. Everything is running smoothly.

Behind him, his office door creaks open. Before he can even register who entered, a lacy, DD bra is looped twice around his throat. He chokes, sputters and slumps over, dead. By the time the DJ has cued up the next song, Nicky’s body has been dragged across the sticky carpeted hallway and into a private dance room.

With so many possible suspects, you’ll have to act quickly before someone else is next.

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