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 Twelve: The End

I walk into the Pawn shop; the guy literally pisses his pants and lunges under the desk. The wounds I took from Marty shooting me are still bleeding but the gauze are holding me together. I know what Frankenstein feels like now. I yank the Katana off the rack, sling it around my belt, pull out my revolver and walk outside. The wind howls, a storm echoes in the distance.

The riots look to have quelled, James and Haley probably called them off. I know the Cops are ready to jump on them and me, but they're waiting for the last card to fall. They're waiting for me to kill Renveau and end this whole fucking thing. I'm not going to Jail, and if they do throw me in it, I'm not giving up anyone for a shorter sentence. I've caused so much misery and I'm so tired of this shit, I'm ending it all with Renveau.

I throw my fist through the window; I feel the glass crack and shatter. I start the car up after hot wiring it and get ready. The Junker groans and starts rolling down the street. The breeze blows on my face and refreshes me, like some goddess of vengeance asking me to make good on my promise. A thought goes to Freya; hopefully she'll be safe at Kadie's. It rolls to Marty and his dead corpse lying on the party floor. I feel something roll down my cheek, its wet so I roll up the window. The storm must be over head now.

Another drip, I look up at the solid roof for a wet spot, there's nothing. It slides down my chin and falls off. I pull the car over and wipe my face and look in the mirror. Two droplets of water roll down my cheeks; a streak of my skin is cut in between the pieces of grime. More begin to roll down my eyes and I pause. Something in my stomach rolls over and I rest my head on the top of the steering wheel.

"Bastard…" I mutter.

I realize their tears, tears that signify my mortality and my humanity. It rolls off my cheeks like some broken faucet and I don't even give a shit. Crying, it's my first time I think, all that sorrow that's welled up in my heart, making it cold and black, its gone, draining through my eyes, purified into tiny specks of pain and loss.

"You fucking bastard…" I mutter again.

For some reason it feels right, everything seems to just clearer. I understand that I'm not killing him for me, nor Marty or O' Callahan, or any fucking person whose life has also been ruined. I'm doing this because it's right, no rhyme or reason, just because it's right. Fuck the fact of vigilantism, fuck the fact that I've given up on myself. Fuck it all.

I slam my fist on the wheel and look up; the tears are flowing down my face, "Fuck it."

The pain subsides and the loss dwindles, I shift it out of park and start driving. The blocks roll past me, I drive through the empty streets not caring about the lights or if a cop was watching. I'm ending this one.

I park the car, get out and start walking; I yank the revolver out of its holster and unsheathe the Katana. Fuck it. I kick open the sliding doors, the windows shatter. The desk assistant looks up in shock. My gun doesn't rise to fire, she's not who I want.

"Tell him I'm coming for him." I tell her.

She nods scared stiff, I don't stick around to see if she calls him. Two thugs appear at the end of the hallway. I raise my revolver and fire twice; they fly back and hit the ground. I get close and hear one choking on his own blood. The blade goes through his jugular and he dies instantly. I keep walking, the empty shell casings hit the floor and I stick in two fresh ones. I light up a cigarette and look over my shoulder. My revolver goes off and kills the guy instantly; his brain matter flies all over the walls.

I start up the stairs, one thug comes running down, clambering to get downstairs as fast as he can, my sword cuts open his belly spills his blood over the side. He cries out and hits the ground, I keep walking upwards. I know the floors he's at. When I reach it I kick open the door and whip around behind the wall as the bullets from the two Sub Machine guns chew through the doorway. I stick my revolver around the corner and fire. I empty the chambers, pulling back the hammer and firing. The cracks of gunfire slow down. I hear a thump and a shout of surprise. I empty the cylinders and pull out my last bullet. I whip around the corner as I see him reload. The trigger unlatches the hammer and the hammer strikes the firing pin. The bullet races out the chamber and strikes the guy in the upper chest. I know he's dead.

I lower the revolver and toss it aside. I walk down the hallway and towards the door. The last time I saw this was two months ago and there was a lot of blood spilled in between these two times. I open the door and step over the threshold.

"She told me you were coming." He said.

I throw the cigarette to the floor and stub it out with my shoe, "I told her to."

"You really are a son of a bitch." Renveau answered swiveling around in his chair.

I don't respond as I want answers to the point, "Why?"

"You were a loose cannon DJ." Renveau snapped, "Christ, you were wild and Marty said he wanted to step up. He had a choice of any one of you three. He decided to go after you; you'd never suspect your own partner in the Murder. Especially if we made it look like he was dead too."

"You played me for a fool."

"We played you to die you dumb son of a bitch!" He shouted, "But you didn't fucking get it! YOU DIDN'T DIE! Now look at what you fucking did."

"I brought your whole life around you Renveau." I replied, "You destroyed everything I had, I'm returning this favor, ten-fold. You betrayed me, and made me kill a lot of unnecessary people. The only person I wanted was you."

"Well here I am." Renveau answered throwing out his hands.

I see the gun in his sleeve, for a second I think about letting him feel safe and decide that he shouldn't feel anything but pain for the rest of his miserable. My sword embeds itself in his desk and his arm falls off at the elbow. He screams like a girl as his blood spills all over the floor.

"AGH!" He cried out in rage.

He lunged over the desk at me, I catch him by the throat and squeeze. His arm comes out and grabs me by the neck and squeezes back. I lift him off his feet and start dragging him towards the window. He knows what I'm going to do and struggles with the best of his ability to fight me. I throw a punch that breaks his jaw and he goes limp. He's still conscious, fine. With a heave his body crashes out his own window. I see his face as he watches me get smaller. I look out over the edge and watch in slow motion as he travels to the pavement.

He screamed as loud as he could, I hear the wet splat as he strikes the cold pavement. It was beautiful, a masterpiece. I step away from the window and pull my katana out of his desk. As I start down the stairs I find my revolver, I pick it up and put it back in its holster. I step out of the stairwell and back out the front desk past the assistant who's fainted in her chair. I walk over to the desk, pick up the phone and make a call.

The car sputters as it slows down from its hasty pace of 40 miles an hour. I see him sitting on the steps. He looks like shit but he's smiling. For the first time ever, DJ "Killer" Kirra is actually smiling. I walk past the wet mark which I think is the reason and help him to the car. He sits down in the passenger seat and leans back.

"Where to?"

"Just drive Frey." He tells me.

I start the engine, the car comes back to life and we start out towards the edge of Basin City and hopefully toward a life out of it….

The End

Author's Note: I take my hat off to you all for bothering to read this, I know its M so that means its not to be seen nor heard on normal pages. To those who did, I'm sorry it took so damn long. Cheers. I hope you enjoyed this 12 issue series and I hope it doesn't dissppoint you with the end.