The scene outside the Wild Foxes club was a brutal chaos shrouded in horror and illuminated by the brightness of the midday sun.
Sirens screamed through the air as patrol cars, ambulances, and crime scene vans lined the street in a chaotic procession of urgency.
Yellow crime tape stretched around the crime scene, cordoning off the area from throngs of reporters and stunned onlookers, kept behind metal barricades.
Police paramedics worked frantically, their gloved hands slick with blood, while a forensic expert took detailed photographs and samples needed to uncover the real perpetrators behind the attack.
Nearby, a young detective was speaking to his supervisor, giving detailed reports of the information gathered from the scene.
"Sir, we have solid evidence that proves that the gang responsible for this carnage are the same people who attacked our police station."
"Okay..." The supervisor, an average, mature, tall and lanky man in his mid-forties, nodded his head in agreement.
