The light of a cigarette flamed as the paper disintegrated. It's user huffed in a couple breathes before flicking it onto the wet ground, being washed away by the steady rain. The city buzzed and churned out it's mechanical sounds, but to the long stayed, it was simply static. There was those darkening clouds that glided above and around the city, layering itself as if it were just bottling up everything inside. A man wore a black wool trench coat, a fedora a top his head and his eyes were exhausted with determination. He sighed, rubbed his eyes in a rare moment of vulnerability, then turned to walk inside the building.

There was a lot of chatter that all just fell into one. People walked here and there, the clank of keyboards could be heard, a phone ringing, or the moving of papers. Police officers in their deep, blue uniforms walked around, no one and no where in particular. At the far end of the room was a commissioner's office, our characters end point.

"Mr. Phillips! I'm surprised to see you here." A young women sat behind a desk, a phone in hand that she held off to the side. She smiled. "Hope the drive wasn't too bad, the rain doesn't stop this time of year." Before Mr. Phillips could say anything she interrupted, "Oh I shouldn't have said anything about a drive. I do apologize."

Mr. Phillips wasn't living some normal life. It was only two weeks back that he and his wife got into a car crash. Her neck snapped, and he... Well his luck drew close. A pole had shot right through the windshield and when he opened his eyes again, it sat only an inch away from his face. Otherwise, he was mostly untouched. He had been ruined as a person ever since though.

"No, Kira, it's okay, I don't mind. The drive was fine, the city is busy as always." Mr. Phillips said a bit stoically, a gloomy look about him, but genuinely appreciating Kira's concern.

"Yeah!" She brightened up again, "It's like what they say? It's a day when the city stands in tune. Something like that." She shrugged her shoulders.

Mr. Phillips smiled, "That's the saying alright. The city never changes does it?" He said that nostalgically, but as a detective,  he knew it was also the problems that never changed. The greed, selfishness, anger, lust.

Kira then got hold of whoever was on the other end of the call and turned her attention away. She silently mouthed, "I have to talk to you later," before continuing with her mundane job. Mr. Phillips went on walking down the office until he reached the commissioner's room.

"I told you, it was too close! Your boys in blue were messing with fire. I expect that you'll see this ends." A tall and slender man in a grey suit walked out of the room. He was a bit flustered but his blonde hair was promptly combed, and he wore a silver, square watch with a diamond at it's top. He looked Mr. Phillips up and down then walked off without saying anything or giving off any impression. He was pretty young to be giving orders.

"Who was that?" Mr. Phillips asked the commissioner who had by now walked to the door entrance. This was a broad shouldered man, his arms with muscle and his cheeks stern. Eyes which stared but -most importantly- understood every person and every situation he was facing upon.

The commissioner waved his hand as a shrug, "Eh... Just some big shot. Beraucrats you know? Come in, I'm glad to see you back." He walked into the room, behind a slick wooden desk and into a leather chair. He motioned Mr. Phillips to sit. "Now look, you're probably gonna want to jump back onto that Charleston Bank heist case, but you don't have to. And I'd recommend you didn't. Please take some time to get back into the routine, and well... Grieve."

Detective Phillips fumbled his teeth with his mouth and breathed in thinking about what to say. Truth is, he had planned on going back to the Charleston Bank heist.

"I can't stop you if you decide to anyway, but please, you can always come back to it another day." The commissioner now stared waiting for any answer.

Detective Phillips sighed, "I'll just do patrol duty for the day. Take sometime to review the case over again."

The commissioner smiled, relaxed, and nodded his head. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out. Plus after what you've been through, you need a break."

"Yeah... A break." Detective Phillips thought to himself as he stared at his fumbling hands.

His car door handle was wet, and the rain slivered down his coat and down his hat, dripping from the brim. Inside the car he started the engine and warmed himself up. On the passenger seat was a newspaper. "Charleston Bank Heist left without a trace of who done it," The headline read. A few weeks back, four men run into the Charleston Bank and rob the place. Just before leaving they shoot one guy. After only fifteen minutes of being inside, they run out a back entrance right into a market place, full of active listeners and watchers. The problem is that nothing else is known of what happened then. There's no sign of a getaway car, and despite the plethora of people, no one saw anything. They just vanished.

Seeing that newspaper, well, Detective Phillips certainly wasn't going to do patrol duty.

By now, he found himself in the back of the Charleston Bank, just beside the marketplace. While he was collecting his thoughts on the case, he decided it would be good to retrace his steps. Walking along the bank wall, he came to a diesel with a container attached to it. It was dusty and there was a sign that read, "No Parking Permitted." If he were on patrol duty, that's what he'd be worrying about.

The small back alley was mostly empty. No foot prints or car tracks, not that they'd still be around by now. There's no ladder to a roof, no other door entrance, not even a sewer grate or manhole. By the time they reached outside, the streets were covered with police, they wouldn't have made it far without being spotted. If not by police, than by some bystander.

He reached the opposite end of the bank and took a moment to look around the street. Nothing is known of the four men who entered. They wore black balaclavas, so no one and no camera saw their face. They made sure to hide any skin, wore gloves, and seemingly the cleanest clothes known to man. They played it smart and only said what was needed to be said, so other than all of them being male, there was nothing unique to note. The detective then noticed something peering towards him.

Not too far off, across the street, there was this cafe, not particularly busy. But a man stood at a small table outside, just got served a cup, and was looking directly at Detective Phillips. He wore a grey suit and there was a glint of some watch on his wrist. Detective Phillips stared back as he lit a cigarette. The man made no expression, only took to drinking. This new character looked on with meaning, but Phillips couldn't figure out at what. Then the man looked away, got up, left some money on the table, and walked down the street, his back to Detective Phillips.

Well, maybe the man wasn't looking at the detective after all, strange how perspective changes things.

He sighed, put out his cigarette, and decided, after not finding much, he'd get back into his car. Maybe try to reach out to anyone who was in the bank at the time it happened. After just turning the engine, his phone rings.

"Detective Phillips," He greeted quite monotone.

"Hey!" It was Kira, "Remember I told you I needed to talk with you. Well, it's about the Charleston Bank heist, and it's important. But it's best we talk in person, for safety reasons." Detective Phillips's eyebrows curled, and his breathing heart leaned in. For safety reasons usually meant something was about to explode.

"Yeah, I can meet you somewhere." He started driving, not sure where but he felt time was of the essence.

"Okay. I'm about to pull into my house, can you meet me there?" She asked.

"Yeah, yeah, only a few minutes out." He rushed himself.

Her tone became serious, a bit frightened, "Thank you, you're the only person I trust with this information. Please hurry."

And with that, the two hung up.