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 aren't mentioned in any of the comics, you can guess are mine.

Sin City
Dirt White Lies
Chapter Eleven: Smashing

Fucker…

I move, he hears it and I wait for him to get close to I can send him to a realm of pain I'm close to. I grab his ankle and smash my fist into his knee cap, I feel it crunch under my knuckles and watch him fall over screaming. It doesn't take me a second to roll onto my stomach and shove myself up. Even with two bullet wounds which I just remembered I had, I still want to tear this fucker apart.

"You really are one tough son of a bitch DJ." Marty said.

I look at him as he holds the barrel at my face, the gleam from one of the lights shines off its nickel plating.

"Fuck you Marty." I said in a raspy voice, "You played my ass."

"Exa fucking actly!" Marty shouted, "But I didn't think your, GAH!" he stood up on one leg and looked me in the eyes, "Pant Ass would be alive after that."

"Alright, let's skip the bullshit, I wanna find out what your jugular looks like." I growl and start towards him.

I lunge behind the desk as the snaps of bullets echo past my ear. I yank my hoody off and toss it to the side and remove a Desert Eagle. I pump the trigger twice and fire two rounds that nearly break my wrist in the process. I hear and explosion and the wind from it blows my hair back. James cocks that damn rifle of his and fires again, another gust of wind blows onto my face.

Renveau had sent a hit squad, well, it wasn't a hit squad; it was actually 30 or 40 people with Uzi's, Assault Rifles and of my favorite, the all American M249 Machine Guns. He wants us dead, for moment I want it to just be a dream and I hate myself for accepting the truce with DJ. The bullets snap me back inside myself and I smile. James smiles back. Fuck, for the both of us, this has been a good day, who gives a shit if they had that. Renveau at least sees us as a threat, makes me feel so important. I let off a round to show them how happy I am. James laughs his ass off and damn near shoots off the rifle.

"You busted him in his loins Brown."

I let out a howl of laughter amongst the carnage of machine gun fire. I'm glad that the top of this desk is metal, makes this sort of thing so much safer. James' rifle explodes again and I nearly go deaf.

"I put him out of his Misery!" James replied.

I give him the thumbs up and chuckle. I think he realizes we're pretty fucked. The fact that if we kill these guys, there's going to be double that amount in this office looking for them, and even if we live, Renveau will somehow kill us. I think James said it best when we were going to die, we were going out with a bang.

My fist breaks his jaw and I shout in anger. He flies across the room slamming onto a table and knocking it over taking the chairs with him. He hits the ground with oomph. I walk over and grab him by the neck, he tries pleading with me, but all I hear is bluh and bloo. I grab his nose and tear it off like a scrap of paper and throw it to the side. He screamed to high heaven, not that they or god was here at the moment. I throw a punch to his rib cage and shatter something; I make no point to find out what. Marty grunts and begins drooling.

He sinks to the ground and I look down his body. I sink down to my knees and kneel before his broken corpse. I line his head up and drive my fist into his forehead. Blood shoots out like a bad horror film all over my face. I draw back and throw another, blood squirts over the front of me. I throw it over and over and over until finally my left arm feels like it's ready to fall off. I notice there's something washing parts of the blood off my face. I touch it with my index finger and look at the shiny substance. Tears; pieces of my broken and fractured life pouring out my face as something fills in its absence. I know what I have to do now.

He's out there, laughing, knowing exactly what has transpired I think. He still needs to die, it won't be for Marty, nor O'Callahan, it's for me. It's for me and every son of a bitch's life that's been ruined by him. I swear God, when I kill this man, I will start on a road of redemption, until then, I can not say that this is a wrong course of action…

James tosses the rifle, my ears are happy to know that it's out of Ammo. I dump the rest of the Uzi clip towards the hallway. James signals for a weapon, I toss him a shotgun. He checks it and pumps the shell in.

"If you and I are dead Brown, let's go out balls first eh?" James replied.

For once, James has an Idea that's got merit, so what, we're dead, I'll deal with it. I stand up in sync with James and we both start down the hallway with guns forward, triggers close to igniting the burning lead in the barrel. We step past the corner and fire. Blood splatters in both directions and me and James are covered in it. We look down at the bloody corpses and realize that we must've shot them all enough times for them to bleed out. Maybe we weren't so fucked.

James lights a cigarette and looks over at me confused, "The hell do you call that?"

I look down at one who's got a knife would to the neck, another has shotgun wound to the back. I stand up and shrug. I wouldn't be able to figure that one out if I had to. Now the large and important question, was DJ alright? And for that matter, was Renveau dead yet?

"No idea man." I say.

We walk through the doors into the dark night, "No idea at all."