Detective Phillips pulled up to the curb next to Kira's house. Her car was in the driveway but he couldn't see any lights on, or any commotion really. He turned the engine off, grabbed a pen and paper, and stepped outside.

Reaching the front door he rung the doorbell and waited. There was no answer. He rang again then knocked shortly after. Still no answer. He looked around the rainy neighborhood then tried the doorknob which opened with ease and without noise. Slowly stepping inside he checked the living room beside the front entrance. No sign. He continued down the hall from the front door which lead into the kitchen.

All the lights in the house were off, and it was suspiciously quiet. Coming into the kitchen, the blinds to the windows were closed, but through the bit of light peering in he could make out feet peeping from behind the kitchen table. Walking up, Kira's body laid faced down between the table and kitchen sink. Then a shiver went down his spine and he felt his hair on his neck brush, and then the slight thud of a foot and the rustle of clothes. Detective Phillips reached his pistol, pulled it out and in the same motion, twisted around to confront who was there. But he was met with two bullets.

They both hit his stomach, sending him into a shocking pause. Frozen in place, the blood began to drain. His antagonist stood before him, wide eyed, gun just down to his waist. Detective Phillips knew this man from somewhere. The two didn't say anything, they just stared, him trying to find some strength to do something, and the other waiting for his victim to drop. But there, on the shooters wrist, a silver watch with a diamond on the top. The man who was talking to the commissioner at the office, who was watching him at the bank.

"What the hell is going on in here?!" Another man rushed in, only to stop abruptly as he took in the scene, to realize what he was looking at. One of his own detectives bleeding out. And Detective Phillips was confronted with his own commissioner there before him.

"Oh god Philips..." The commissioner said under his breathe. Phillips then lost any weight, any hope, and gave in, falling back until he was on the floor, his back up against the sink. He didn't say anything, he couldn't say anything.

"You weren't suppose to be here Detective. What happened to patrol duty?" The commissioner walked closed and bent down to Phillips level. He felt some anger bubbling inside as he stared at his master, his teacher, his guide. But he hadn't the will to conjor any external formation of this anger. Suddenly, all the sadness he had been feeling these past few weeks, were becoming nothing but empty. There was a bit of release and happiness, release from the loss of his wife.

The commissioner rubbed his cheeks, genuinely upset to see Phillips fallen victim to his shady doings. "I wouldn't have chosen this, but I guess it's too late now." He looked up at his partner who was staring a bit annoyed, wanting to get this over with. He faced Phillips again, "You've been dedicating so much to this case, so you only deserve to hear it's story, complete. You met Mr. Kurtz earlier at the office," The commissioner waved his hand in show, "He's the head of a massive drug operation. We've known each other since college, but he approached me about his career on my third year as commissioner. Said I'd get a cut if I helped pull some strings and keep eyes off of him."

Some blood began to cough up from Phillips mouth, but he put what energy remained into staring down the commissioner and hearing the story.

"The bank heist, well it was pretty genius. A few weeks prior to it we placed a diesel in the back, let it sit there and become one with the scenery. Then the bank gets robbed, the four leave out the back, but they don't get far. They wouldn't be able to. Instead they hop in the back of the container attached to the truck, then lay low for a couple of days before we send some people with bags to collect the cash. It took a whole week to move all the money, we did it in parts. One day we'd take a fraction of the money, then another the next day."

Detective Phillips was beginning to fade in and out of consciousness, the pain oddly subsided.

"It was also about more than the money. The man killed at the bank, Dan Shift, he was a competitor in the drug industry. We hit two birds with one stone. Worked out really well." He reflected on the story, in some way more focused on stroking his ego and just listening to himself talk.

"Mr. Kurtz was yelling at me this morning about a couple of officers trying to get the truck towed for being parked in a no parking zone. The criminals always get caught on small infractions huh?" He went quiet for a minute, then looked at Kira's body. She had been shot in the back of the head, probably didn't see it coming. The two had spent some time waiting for her to return home.

"And Kira here," The commissioner laughed a little, "Well, it's a bit stupid. There was a letter she found in my office... I forgot to shred it. It was from Mr. Kurtz, thanking me for helping out, but she found it. And was unfortunately wrapped up in it. It virtually sealed her fate."

"Well, I'm sorry Phillips. It looks like your luck has run out though."

Detective Phillips couldn't take it anymore. The laugh, the lack of responsibility, the uncaringness. This damn city never changed, never seemed like it would. He simply shut his eyes, breathed in a few heavy breathes and faded into oblivion. The commissioner watched it happen, regret in his heart. He got up and faced his partner. "We should head out."

Mr. Kurtz replied, "There's no one else who knows? Nothing?" He asked annoyed but also threatening.

The commissioner gesture his hands in assurance," No, no. Not a soul more knows." Mr. Kurtz nodded his head. The commissioner looked at the two dead bodies. "Well, as the saying goes, it's a night when the city stands in tune."

"Yeah," Mr. Kurtz replied, "People have been killing before me, and people will continue to after me."

The commissioner sneered a little, "Let's just go before anyone else shows up."