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: Chapter 3, I'm surprised to be honest. I didn't think I'd actually get noticed too much, but now with it at the mature rating I doubt everyone will be eyeing my fic as much as others. Regardless! ONWARD!

Sin City
Dirty White Lies
Chapter Three: Rocking the System

I sat quietly in my seat. Only the sound of my breathing broke the fragile silence. I stared at the semi-automatic Colt .45 M1911. The nickel plating showed the eye-sore that was my reflection. I picked up the gun and put it in my pants and opened the door.

It'd been two weeks since I was shot. Word on the street was that I was a dead man. That Renveau bastard even had the stones to pay for Marty's and my funeral. Out of humor I went to it disguised as best I could. The Irony of the situation overcame the sheer hatred I had for the Man who was putting on the worst act of caring I'd seen since gunning down a lone shark a few years ago. What a crock of shit that bastard was. The destruction of his empire was going to be the greatest thing I ever had on my record. I would probably be put up for a recommendation for the key to the city.

I laughed at the memory and threw on a jacket. First I had to pull myself back up on my own strength, and then I had to start throwing a monkey wrench into the plans, then most of all I had to avenge Marty and kill that fat pig. The look of him begging for his life made me smile all over again.

I walked out onto the streets of Basin City, somewhere near Trust and 21st. I bumped into a guy and kept walking, once I was a couple more blocks down the road I ducked into an Alley and removed the freshly jacked Wallet. I checked the ID and memorized the name. Edgar Rufus. Lame in my opinion but who cares right? I took out the 75 he had in cash and the Visa Platinum as well.

It took me an hour to a Jewelry store. The place was nice, definitely a top notch sort of place that rich and the fake rich would spend a crap load just to have a hunk of metal that looked good.

"Hello sir…"

I turned around and looked at the salesclerk, he half backed off at my rather ratty looking complexion.

"Do you have any Rolexes?" I inquired with a rather snobbish accent.

It was the standard fake, you walk into a place that's rich, act rich. Demand bullshit and they'll believe you one of Sin City's privileged if there even was a class like that.

"Yes we do, we have the top notch of the line. Are you interested?" He asked.

Salesmen, the lowest form of scum on the earth, these guys could pass up some of the most heartless killers in the Syndicate without trying.

"Let's skip the formalities. I want three of the best. Top of the line, price is no issue. If I am swindled I'll have a talk your boss are we clear?" I answered.

I'd struck a sound blow to his confidence; he crumbled like a house of cards in a wind storm, "Y-yes sir."

He pulled out three watches; One silver and two gold ones. Not bad, but way too much flash for my taste.

"I'll take all three of them." I said.

The man nodded and rang them up. The total came to 7,823.57; which is enough for someone to get weeks worth of pussy in Old Town. But I wasn't aiming for Pussy; that'd be an added bonus if I found it.

I stepped out with the watches in my pocket and made my way towards a rather shady part of town. The Pawn shop door creaked as I stepped in. The owner turned his head and eyed me.

"You here to sell or buy?" he said rudely.

"Sell." I replied shortly.

He raised an eyebrow and then I held up three pieces of valuable metal. I walked out of the Pawn shop with 10,000 dollars; obviously the guy was not one for detail. I stuffed the hundreds in my pocket and got myself a taxi. I came back to the Bar and sat down on a stool.

Freya came over, dressed to kill as always, "So how'd it go?"

I removed the wad of bills and smiled, "Like Clockwork."

"Very nice, what was the scam?"

"Simple snatch and grab, buy the goods, and then pawn the stuff." I answered.

She nodded, "Easiest way to clean money."

I spent the rest of the day in the bar upstairs in O' Callahan's office. The gun in hand and a smile fit for a psycho on my face. I was on my feet again, now it was time to start drawing the web.

The phone rang on O' Callahan's desk. I picked it up and sandwiched it between my ear and shoulder.

"Hello?"

"Kirra, you fuckin' bastard." O' Callahan snapped.

"What's up man?" I said with a sigh.

"Damn bastard's down stairs, he's lookin' tah kill someone." O' Callahan explained poorly.

"Can't Freya handle it?" I asked.

"I gave 'er the Night off. Now get down 'ere and 'andle this bastard."

I put the phone back on the handle and got my gun; could never be too careful with people, especially drunk people in Sin City. I walked down the stairs slowly and stepped out behind the bar.

"I swear there oughta be a law against you assholes that serve this shit that you call Whiskey!"

It was a guy from out of town, and I hated tourists. To blend in they overly bitched and complained more then the usual drunks and saps.

"Hey buddy, mind toning it down?" I said politely.

The guy whipped around and looked me in the eyes like I had just insulted his lineage or something, "What'd you call me you piece of dog shit?"

I rolled my eyes, "I said, tone it down or I'll have to throw you out."

"I ain't going nowhere! It's a free country!" He answered.

"Not in this bar it isn't." I shot back, "Now I'm giving you your last warning. Shut up before I have to bust you up something fierce."

"Bite me you little prick…" He replied.

I gave him the three strikes, and he just struck out. I never minded beating a tourist up but I never did sit well with it till just when my fist crushed his nose like a toothpick. Blood sprayed onto the floor and the guy hit the ground. He rolled onto his stomach and looked at me. I punted him in the face sending him crashing into the tables.

"What the fucker you doin'? Take it outside!" O' Callahan shouted.

I shook my head in annoyance and grabbed the guy by the collar and dragged his ass outside. I gave him a fair chance by standing him back on his two feet. Then I put it to my favor by sending a fist to his left temple. He hit the ground out cold, his nose leaking blood onto the pavement. It really was a sad sight. The guy probably didn't even want to fight, but I did warn him so I didn't have guilt for it. Back inside the bar became a little quieter until I went back upstairs and sat down at O' Callahan's desk.

The noise died down at around 3 o' clock in the morning. By now there was enough liquor in the bladders to keep people out till around seven or so. I rolled onto the Couch and closed my eyes. O' Callahan had probably gone home so I had the place all to myself. Sleep took me quick and the dream was as splendid as usual.

"Please god! I'm sorry! I was wrong! PLEASE SPARE MY LIFE!" Renveau pleaded.

I smiled and lit a cigarette, "Well Jean. You fucked me over hard; you put to holes in my lungs and left me to die in a dumpster. You had the fucking balls to give Marty and Me a funeral. In all aspects I see nothing wrong with dumping you in battery acid and have a shot while you scream in pain."

"DJ! Please, show compassion! I was always good to you, I never was mean to you! I practically thought you as a son of mine!" Renveau cried.

"Save it you blubbering pile of cat vomit," I said cutting him off, I took a drag on my cigarette, "I don't think I'll kill you…"

A light of hope gleamed in his eyes; I smiled wickedly, "too horribly." I added on.

He squealed in protest and begged and pleaded, and then I knocked him out with a pistol whip to the face. I lugged his sorry ass all the way up to the roof taking the stairs to make sure his head hit every single step. The wind blew through my hair as I opened the door. 75 floors of concrete; one helluva long drop. I patted Renveau on the face and stared him in the eyes.

"Hello again." I laughed.

"What're you going to do?" He asked.

"Oh, I think I'll see if I can hit you're Porsche from here." I said still laughing.

His eyes grew wide as walked over to him and lifted him up by his collar. He squirmed and tried fighting the inevitable drop. I walked with him dangling in my grip to the edge and hung him over.

"Buh bye!" I yelled as I hawked him off the roof.

I woke up just as he hit the Porsche face first shattering the glass like a bomb going off in the car. A smile curled onto my face and I made sure to remember the dream for inspiration.