If that ass clown Jim Carrey ever steps foot in the Motor City, I'm gonna straight up tear him in half at the waist and spread his insides across three blocks of the people move.

I've had to deal with a lot in my many decades of unlife, but ever since that garbage-ass Ace Ventura movie came out a few years ago, the disrespect has been immeasurable.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Sorry, I tend to lead with passion.

This is Detroit, 1996. For a long time, the savage, sabbat vampires held claim to this area.

That is, until four years ago when McMasters and his Camarria group infiltrated the city, then kicked their asses out.

Now, I'm not saying I got any love with the Camarria, but I do respect it.

And, yeah, I did my part to get that Sabbath scum out,

but don't count me among the popular.

My name is Alexander, Clan Ganga,

and tonight I'll be on the trail of a murderer.

I'll be on the trail of a murderer. I was born in 1901. I tell myself my family came from privilege, but the reality is we were

accepted by the family we worked for, but not by the society they were a part of. I made it work

for me, though, starting as a beat cop the second I could, to achieving detective in a few tough

years, to opening my own inner-city

PI agency by the age of 30.

I thought I had a clear life's path all figured out.

Then, tell me you heard this before.

A beautiful woman walked into my office with a pile of problems so tall you'd need a

shirper to see the top. Long story short, I recovered a fortune,

saved her husband, and got embraced as a parting gift on her way out the door. Fast forward to a few

years ago, and everyone who helped reclaim Detroit got to pick a reward, progeny, or domain.

My distaste for people, mixed with my affinity for animals, made her need to pick a reward, progeny, or domain. My distaste for people, mixed with my affinity for animals, made an easy choice to take

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