In the dim light of early morning, blue lights flashed across the façades of Kreuzberg. Heinrich Tosse slipped on his gloves and glanced at his partner, Anna Beer, who was already disappearing into the staircase of the old building.

"Another day in paradise," he muttered and followed her. The apartment door stood open. A musty smell greeted them as they entered. They paused briefly to take in the scene: clothes were scattered everywhere, and empty pizza boxes piled up on a table.

In the living room, on a bright red carpet, lay the body. Around it, clones dressed entirely in white were bustling about, snapping photos.