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, moving right up in the story. Oddly enough I'm ahead of my regular update schedule. I blame it on love of writing and interest in my own stories. Can't help but write things that appeal to you regardless of the subject matter. I won't go into specifics or we'll be here for 5 pages talking about bullshit that's more opinionative then a politician trying to save face.

Sin City
Dirty White Lies
Chapter Four: Sure Fire Plan

I put my shoe up and grabbed the loose laces hanging. The money I'd gotten from the Rolex's had definitely set me up on my feet. Some clothes, a nice USP Tactical; good gun, very accurate, packs a wallop. But now that my financial situation was more stable, it was killing time. Before I could even so much as touch Renveau, I had to massage the bastard a little bit then bring his life crashing down like the Basin City Bridge back in '58.

Freya caught me just before I made my way out the door and asked me a very simple question, "What're you going to do now?"

"Money's set, now it's killing time." I informed her, "And tonight, Renveau is about to lose a valued man in his little organization."

I walked out the door, USP in a holster at my side. I put on my sun glasses and tinted the world a shade darker and kept walking. The rain was pouring down in sheets and my rain coat, as nice as it was, was still getting a little moist underneath.

As the rain tried to shower the city, I started reviewing prior knowledge of my mark, Mark Gerald Aski. I know stupid name huh? Regardless of personally thought, the guy was as ruthless as the next criminal asshole he had brains though and was as clever as a fox. I won't go and say I was better then him, far from it. I could glad hand my way out of a bad situation but, Aski was light-years ahead. I was with him when he got people to put their guns down by simply asking them politely to take them out of his face. Mark Aski wasn't a very threatening character like some of Renveau's other mutants; he could pass off for a paper pushing, needle dick that had trouble getting it up without chemical help. No, Aski was quick, quick and smart. Getting to this guy wasn't the easiest thing in the world. He saw around corners and pondered security and the extent it went. I wouldn't be the least surprised if the lily livered cocksucker lived in a bunker at night.

I stepped over a puddle and walked across the street. The one thing this so called brainiac of Renveau's operation did wrong was consistency. He came to the same place every morning at 9 A.M. It was a small coffee shop with a senile old man who he had no relation, just off the main stretch near the safe house that Renveau hid his cash. He'd stop in and order the same double shot cappuccino with mocha. Spend exactly 7 minutes drinking it with a crueler and then it was off to unknown dark alleys littering Sin City like a bad case of acne.

I stepped into the shop and grabbed myself a donut. The old guy was nice enough, not a care in the world. Not until I'd put a bullet into his best customer's head and covered his shop in a nice uneven coat of Crimson. I bit into the frosted chocolate donut and waited quietly. The door bell rang quietly and I checked my watch; 9:00 A.M. on the dot: Party time.

"Hey Erza. Just the regular." Mark said softly.

"No problem, sir." The old man said digging around in the back.

I smiled and started walking towards the counter and stood right next to the guy. He looked over at me and smiled quietly. Poor bastard didn't recognize my, he would, no doubt about that. I put the gun up to his kidney and looked over at him.

He looked over at me surprised, "Oh my…"

"Hello Mark. Long time." I said smiling.

"Kirra!" He uttered quietly, "Jesus! I heard you were dead!"

"I am. For a little while longer anyway." I replied biting into the donut again.

"You know this is suicide killing me." Mark begged.

I loved it when I snapped people who were either playing Billy Badass or were Billy Badass. Mark knew I'd pull that trigger without hesitating, another little by-product of killing human beings.

"Suicide in your eyes, but not mine." I corrected, "You're going to be the note I leave for Renveau to tell him his boys should've finished the job in the first place."

I grabbed his collar and dragged him into men's bathroom and put the gun to the back of his head, "Any last request?"

"One, I never did like Renveau, so kill him for me." Mark said with a tear.

I pulled the trigger and put the bullet in his head, "Spots taken… you can thank Renveau for that too."

The body flopped to the ground, the head still intact, minus a hole big enough to stare through. I took a plastic bag out of my jacket pocket and put it over the head. Now came the clean up and delivery.

It was 10 A.M. in the morning; the phone on my ivory night stand was ringing. My people understood never to call me unless it was a grave emergency. With Kirra out of the way, there shouldn't have been an Emergency. Probably some false alarm or some stupid fucking thing like that.

I reached over and picked up the receiver, "Hello?"

"Mr. Renveau…" it was Jennifer, my assistant out in the front desk.

"This had better be important." I said grouchily.

I heard her voice break for a moment, "Aski is dead; he's hanging by his tie."

"Suicide?" I said waking up, this was sudden and unexpected.

"No, his head has a hole in it. I-I can see through it!" Jennifer cried.

"I'll be over, just calm the fuck down." I answered, "And don't call the police under any circumstances till I get there."

Jesus fucking Christ. What kind of cocksucker had the fucking balls to whack one of my guys? I knew no one with that much brass. The Corelli's might've had a couple of hit men with that kind of stone but they didn't know my organization, I kept names anonymous with everyone. It was rare I called people that weren't on a secure line and even then it was nothing important. It had to be an insider, someone who thought I was getting weak or something. It had to be. No one knew my operation other then the people in it. Something stank in this, like a skunk covered in three day old cottage cheese.

My Limo driver started the engine and we rolled out of my drive and off towards the cess pit known simply as Sin City. The place was horrible, nothing but drunks, hookers, drug addicts. The corruption of America all packed in a tiny little place like this. I hated Sin City, the smell, the look, the people, the places. It was like some ugly deformed person staring at me in the face everyday. But sadly, I had to use this poor deformed slob to make money. Money in all the forms that I'd previously listed above.

The streets were wet from the rain that must've come down earlier. We pulled up to the office building and I got out of the Limo and started up the steps taking them one by one deliberately. It was when I was two steps away that my blood ran a little chillier and my gut turned.

Mark Aski hung by his neck with a collapsed head. His suit was blood stained and his neck had gone purple from where he'd been hanging by his neck. I couldn't believe my eyes. I knew this man hanging here by his neck but as I came closer something much finer came into view. I pulled it off his suit jacket and read it. I'd had suspicions in my own company, but now, now I knew and it couldn't have been any worse if I was the one hanging by my neck up there.

DJ Kirra, that son of a bitch that I'd had whacked weeks ago. My best hit man, he was alive and well and obviously out to get me. I know he knew everything in my company, all the Dirty White Lies, all the blood shed. It couldn't have been any worse. This god damn super hitman was out walking the streets and he was very pissed at me. If he wanted to play it like that, I'd gladly oblige and bury this son of a bitch in a hail of bullets.

But I a nagging piece of self doubt seemed to gnaw my mind, what if he got me first? What if? I quickly smacked it out of my head and got serious. There's no way I'd ever let a punk piece of trash like DJ take me down, even if I'd shown him everything this company did.