Perfect Crime

His body falls limp, a cold look is engraved in his eyes; his lips pursed as if trying to call for help, but the only sound made is the "thud" as his body falls limp on the ground.

BANG!!! Another shot rings out. Gunshots fired off by the bay as the work whistle blows, letting off the lowly night shift. The deafening cry of the whistle is loud enough to cover up the sounds of the gunfire, both send subtle waves through the harbor. The ambient glow of the city lights dance off the rain cascading around the pier. This time of year there was hardly any work that could be found, but the shipping season had been unusually strong this year.