Disclaimer: I did not make Sin City, or the Characters. They respectfully belong to Frank Miller and Dark Horse comics. Also, any characters I come up with that are mentioned in any of the comics, you can guess are mine.

Foreword from the Author: Ah yes, I decided that I'll try and split up my duties between Haley brown and This Sin City fiction. Not a bad piece of work for a start and I don't think it'll be that hard to churn the two stories out to whatever length I think they should be.

Sin City

Dirty White Lies

Chapter Two: Wrong Side of Town

I woke up in the darkness. The air was hot and stale. I tried to grab my face for a second and only hit a piece of cloth; a towel. I pulled it off my face and instantly wished I hadn't. The smell of rotten eggs and burned wood shoved its way up my nostrils. I sneezed in the darkness and started trying to make my way out of the dumpster. I had to kick the lid to open the thing up, wasn't fun when your lungs felt like two deflated balloons.

I rolled out of the dumpster and slapped onto the alley pavement. Things had been going good up till about. I paused, I didn't have a clue how long it had been since I'd been shot, only that I passed out on a body reflex. Son of a bitch must pay. The thought of shooting him propelled me to get back on my feet.

The morning light, as dismal as it was, was welcomed with open arms compared to the crap and eggs smell inside the dumpster. I walked slowly and deliberately on a simple thought. I needed to get to a doctor, one that trusted me, not the Syndicate. The Syndicate just hit rock bottom on my shit list.

I ran the faces of the sons of bitches that betrayed me in my mind. I was taught how to survive on the street without help or a reputation, something the Syndicate would likely regret teaching me. I swung open the door to a back alley bar called The Oyster. As gay as it sounded, it was a straight bar and I was a good customer. The owner owed me a favor or two. Couple of times the usual crowd would get a bit… rowdy. Course being the guy that I am I kindly pounded their faces in and left there to dry out a bit.

I swayed back and forth and left to right as I made my way down the alley. I was lucky they'd cleaned the wounds so I didn't attract any unwanted attention. I pushed the door open and looked at the Bartender. Her light frame, red hair and usual half smile betrayed that she was one of the most feared girls of old town. Word on her was that she sliced a mob bosses nuts off and fed them to him. Her name was Freya after some dusty old god that didn't exist in a world of money and power.

"Kirra," She said looking at me, "Little early."

I muttered something that didn't come out of my throat, I just made a blood bubble.

"Jesus Christ!" She shouted and hopped over the bar without making more sound then the wind.

The next couple of minutes were blurred. I think I was being pampered and there were some phone calls to people I didn't know.

"Oh you poor bastard…" She said laying me lightly on the bar with more grace then a fork lift.

"O' Callahan's coming so you oughta be fine." She said looking at me from an overview.

O' Callahan was the owner of this piece of shit establishment that I was laying in. I should be more grateful, the guy was a pretty good surgeon and he fixed up anyone that needed fixing. I didn't sit happy with him when he'd pull out a bullet that I'd put there but I dropped that prejudice as soon as those two hot streaks of lead popped my lungs like blisters. The doors opened and I looked over at a greasy hair, walking, talking, and breathing stick. Michael "Mike" O' Callahan.

"Jesus Fucking Christ…" He muttered looking at me, "you're fuckin' lucky that I Fucking owed you, you son of a bitch."

Not only was Mike a good surgeon in a pinch, he was also known to be able to string the word Fuck into just about anything. I rolled my eyes as best I could to the comment; I was still a bit on the delirious state of mind.

"Freya, get this piece of shit up to the couch in my office," He ordered, "And get some towels too!"

The frail looking bartender with the strength of an Amazon lifted my rather limp body up the stairs. She rested me against a wall which I did my best to stay leaned up on and lined the couch with towels. I slowly dragged my ass over and threw it onto the couch flat on my stomach. I could hear O' Callahan cursing and bitching about having to take care of guys like me. I was glad he was in a happy mood too.

He came up about 4 minutes later. From what I could tell he'd gotten his 'tools' which consisted of thread, a needle, a pair of coke bottle bottoms considered glasses and a brew. He quickly chugged the brew and put his glasses on. The wounds were still in shock so I didn't feel him pulling the skin closed. While he patched me up like a torn pin cushion, I lay quietly thinking about that son of a bitch.

Renveau, it'll be a good day when that bastard is met with a gun shot to the head. I do want to see that son of a bitch's look when I bring that pistol to his head and pull back the hammer. My dream quickly shifts to him on his knees begging for his dirty, pathetic, cowardly life and I play the total hardass that I am. Mentally I pulled the trigger and laughed silently as his blood stained that carpet he loved. It looked like hobo rags sewn together.

"Alright lad, you're Fucking tip top in my eyes." O' Callahan laughed.

I prayed that he wouldn't hit me in the back, I was wrong when I felt the giant piece of meat he called a hand smacked my spine. I hacked up blood seconds after word in a trashcan. Once my blood donation was done and finished I made my way downstairs, tripping on a few steps here and there. I was still seeing spots and further more I couldn't walk a straight line even if my ass depended on it.

"Looks like the fuck'll be okay..." O' Callahan said, "Freya! I'm going back to my flat, don't tell any fucker about this or I'll kill ya!"

"Alright Mike, jeez." Freya answered.

O' Callahan slammed the door behind him and I sat down in a booth on the side. Freya somersaulted gracefully over the bar and sat down in a stool.

"So DJ, how've things been?" Freya asked.

"Peachy..." I snapped.

"So are you going to play twenty questions or are you going to tell me who decided to try an make you into swiss cheese?" Freya smirked.

"Renveau," I uttered, "Son of a bitch shot Marty and Me. I wish they'd finished the job if I thought it were going to be this hard."

"Shut your pie hole ass." Freya said cutting him off, "Where the Fuck did that Killer Kirra bullshit go? What did it like drain out of you along with that blood of your's?"

I shook my head, "I don't know. I guess I'm thinking out loud but now the more I think about it, the worse it seems."

I looked up just in time to stop the miller lite bottle with my face. My back hit the booth and the bullet holes underneath as well. Beer leaked all over my face and the bottle rolled onto the floor beneath the table.

"Alright, cut this bullshit, it's Fucking sickening." Freya answered, "If I didn't know what you could do I'd've beat the shit out of you for simply being an ass. Grow a pair would you!"

I shook my head sending the beer onto the walls, "You bitch!" I cursed, that little bottle had to have left a welt on my head, I could feel it growing.

She got up off the bar stool and looked me in the eyes like a devil, "What're you going to do about you whiny little bastard? You don't have the stones to even talk bad to me."

I got up out of the booth and looked at her with seething hatred, "You..."

I threw a punch that was deflected like it was nothing and was met with a right hook that could be confused with a car running me over. I hit the bar floor with my face and fell limp.

"Like I said, you don't have the stones." Freya said rubbing her fist.

She wasn't an ordinary woman; I just found that out with the punch I just took. She grabbed the back of my collar and lifted me up off the floor and the ground. She let me dangle there for second then threw me to the bench again.

"Are you a woman?" I asked laughing.

She huffed in response, "I'll just pretend you're a guy."

With that comment said, I just lay there and started turning the cogs in my head. I'm doing this for all those sons of bitches that're misunderstood or blamed for shit that wasn't under their control but had the nuts to take the responsibility. I was going to kill that Fucker even if I had to die myself.

"Thanks for the wake up call Freya…" I said.