Who killed Markiplier?

A night to die for.

                                   Maybe you should have slowed down, as everything that happened the rest of the night was a complete blur. Cards, poker chips and shots of one too many drinks danced in your head. Bright lights, loud music, cards flying through the air. The Butler and the man from earlier were holding Damien's legs while he was doing a keg stand, others where messing around with each other. The last thing you saw was Damien standing over with a concerned look on his face while washed in bright blue light. The next thing you saw was your alarm clock in your room, it read 1:30 AM. You blinked and now it read 8:30 AM. The alarm bell shirll broke the quiet air. The incessant ringing made sure you stayed awake, you clicked it off. You stretched your arms, they were sore, what happened last night? Yawing, you walked out of the comfortable room. The Butler was there with a glass on a tray, waiting for you. "Ah, good morning, hope you've had a good night's rest. I've prepared for you a seltzer with cocaine, best thing for the morning after if you ask me." He winked, handing you the glass. The area you were in was bright with sunlight, and the honey colored walls didn't help. Standing at the top of the dark wood stairs, was Damien. His dark tuxedo standing out against the sun. The light behind him made look almost angelic, there were no rings under his eyes from lack of probably much needed sleep. "Ah, there's our little monster, you really knocked them dead last night." He spoke with an admiring tone. He set his cane on the ground, "I haven't seen you go wild like that since our days at University!" The Mayor humed with admiration, "Good to let the beast out every once in a while, eh old friend?" Damien looked down at the tile floor under him, and then up to you. "Then again, I-I'm still not exactly sure what we're supposed to be celebrating here. I mean it's good to have the gang back together, but, out of the blue like this seems..." He paused, thinking. He did have a point, you were all called here to celebrate something. But on the invitation, it didn't say what. You were the Mayor's +1, and you did know Mark. But Mark was your friend, even if he did things you didn't approve of... But there was no reason not to trust him right? Damien's calm voice broke your thoughts, "Anyway, not's not the time to become conspiratorial. Life is ours to choose, as I always say." The Mayor smiled warmly, the sunlight shining in his hickory eyes.  "I have some work to finish, but I'll meet you at breakfast. We'll all catch up soon." The Mayor nodded as he walked back to his room. Which most likely had an office, as Mark knew his close friends well. You started to walk down the spiraling steps, looking around at the art that Mark had collected on the walls of his house. A piece of what looked to be a stone cut from Mesopotamia, and a suit of armor as you turned the corner into the room were you had spent the blurred hours of last night. A sudden sharp flash of lightning and booming thunder filled the room. And on the ground, was a body.