A Resurgent Whore #14
A Swinging Dick and Other Deceits
Welcome to chapter fourteen of an ongoing gritty noir series from ‘Sin Street’ created in partnership between Kate Granger and Sissitrix. Chapters published weekly on Friday’s.
Follow a woman’s desperate tale of humiliation starting in a pit of despair before her rebirth, revenge, and resurgence. This series began in a dark place because it must.
Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13
"Well, that's a fucking conversation killer, Max, darling."
"It's my gift to you, sweetheart. Don't be so ungrateful."
Max downed his bourbon in one, suggesting he felt victorious, but I noticed his fingers were trembling. He gripped the tumbler as though struggling to break its lead crystal glass, and I wasn't sure if anger dominated fear or the other way around.
His expression was mixed and unpredictable.
"You're out of control."
"Says the bitch who really is out of control."
"You're sneering, which is most out of character. What's going on, Max?"
"Oh, fuck it... just leave me alone if you can't be happy about a victory like this."
I glanced away from Max, back to the bodiless head dangling on a rope, swaying slightly in a breeze. Life was gone, and now color drained from The Enforcer's eyes while I cursed Max's hubris, trying not to look at my boyfriend lest I say something regrettable.
This was no time to quarrel because, from the look of him, my boyfriend was in an unusual state of anxiety. His expression shifted frequently, revealing a momentary frisson of hysteria before calming, confirming the man I loved was a facade.
He eyeballed me for a split second, and I saw stark staring, crazy, dancing inside his baby blues. Max turned abruptly and almost marched away into the house as though following a playbook.
You didn't do this. You're a fucking puppet.
I took one last look at Simon, feeling sad that I'd lost an asset. When I turned away, a sense of ruthlessness possessed me like a calming cloud that offered to guide me to victory. My cards were being played out of order, I was pissed off, and now it was time to retaliate with cold calculation.
Max was lazing in the shower when I approached. I leaned against the glass partition and stared at a man who was obviously deeply conflicted.
"Have you calmed down?"
"Somewhat, yes... sorry."
"Why did you kill him?"
"I told you already that Simon knew too much. You were supposed to kill him at the ice rink. I'm sure Rex wanted to."
"Did he know too much about you, Max?"
"About both of us. They didn't want so many dead bodies, so they sent him to kill you tonight. Killing him is the obvious play. Simon knew what you were up to, and so do his masters."
That doesn't explain why Simon had to die at your hand.
"What am I up to, Max?"
"The same as me, sweetheart. We're going to own Sin Street. If you recall, that's what this whole thing was all about in the first place."
"I want resurgence, and you chose money."
"More than money, Erin. I'll have influence because ultimate power sits with the engineer, not the oily rag."
"I'm an oily rag now?"
"Sorry, no... I didn't mean that, darling."
Oh, I think you fucking did.
"I understand that you had to act tonight, Max."
"Then stop badgering me about it, Erin."
"Okay, honey. I'm slipping out. Don't wait up."
"Where are you going?"
His bravado was blown, and the mask slipped again as it had many times through the week. Everything that had happened, those moments when Max behaved oddly, the suspicion he cast on himself, suddenly made sense.
"Don't ask, Max; I won't have to lie to you."
I walked briskly, exiting the house, using my phone to message someone on the way.
Meet me near Max's house. I'll be walking eastbound.
I'm already outside.
I slipped out through Max's security side gate, looking back to see if there were people on the roof. It was clear up there, as was the security post. There were still no cars in the driveway, and I couldn't figure out why.
A pickup truck shaded by a row of trees started its engine with a V8 grunt. The lights were off when its driver, Rex, reached me. He leaned over, and the door swung open. I admired the black custom paint job.
"A Chevvy C10. The truck suits you well. You swapped cars, Rex. Why?"
"It's a 1972 model, previously owned by my father. I prefer to use my own vehicle when off the clock."
“You had it nearby?”
“Just in case this situation arose, Erin.”
"Are you going to tell me why you waited here after dropping me off already?"
"Yep."
"Go on then, explain yourself, darling Rex."
"Where am I taking you first?"
"To Diana's apartment."
"Above Underground Club?"
"Does she have another?"
"She isn't there, Erin."
"Where is she?"
"I'll take you to her."
Rex stared at me, smirking, and I knew that no answer about where we were going or why would be forthcoming if I asked. Rex seemed relaxed, and I thought somewhat contented, as though a great mystery was solved.
"Erin, Max's cars are sat in a layby about half a mile away."
"I knew he was curtailing my movements."
"Stupid bastard security guys are lighting up smokes, drinking soda, laughing, joking, and making a mess. It's so fucking obvious."
"That still doesn't explain why you waited outside Max's house or what you must have seen from the shadows."
He paused and looked thoughtful. A game of need-to-know was playing out, and Rex was being cautious. He drove slowly and carefully, making sure nobody followed and without drawing attention to us.
Rex pointed upward as though it meant something.
"There were snipers on the roof of that ice rink, Erin."
"I know."
"I spotted them as soon as I arrived. It made sense to believe they belonged to the cops, but after The Enforcer turned up, I saw those guys high in the steel structure tracking your enemy, not you. It could only be Max who set that up, so I waited here to make sure there were no problems."
"Problems?"
"Yeah, you know... with Max."
"You saw people arrive at Max's house with Simon, didn't you?"
"Yes. We'll discuss that with Diana. There's no point double handling the intelligence."
I was playing chess with a master, giving him the benefit of my doubt, what with Rex being an ally, perhaps even a friend. The man saved my life, putting his own in harm's way, so it was reasonable to assume he meant me no wrong.
"What do you know about Max and his problems, Rex?"
"Did your boyfriend ever tell you how we met?"
"Not exactly. Max mentioned that he knew you well."
"We were sectioned together in the same sanitorium. Two fucking years of hell, sitting across from him, both of us drugged for long periods of time, drooling from the corner of our mouths while sitting in pools of piss."
"Okay. You're saying Max was at the place where you were treated?"
"Yeah. Damn fucking right he was there. So was Red October."
"Oh fuck, c'mon!"
"Diana Von Rigg will explain everything. I've said enough."
"Everyone is fucking everyone else over, Rex. Why should I trust Diana?"
"She's on your side. Sissitrix is as well, so far as I can see."
"What about you?"
"I'm here, aren't I? I risked my life to take out seven bad cops that would have killed you."
It was a classic Sin Street conspiracy. Allegiances and their twisting nature had more hairpin bends than a road going over a pass in the Swiss Alps. I felt numb and vulnerable but kept it together because this was just the beginning, and I must prevail in the end.
The layers of intrigue on this onion were thick and many inches deep. I had to get closer to the top. Max wasn't the man in charge, but was the route to get there.
"Killing Max won't achieve anything, Erin."
"Am I in danger from him?"
"No, but those around him are ruthless cunts, and it seems to me that you've pissed inside their tent from outside."
"I guess they won't invite me inside the canvas anytime soon."
"No."
I was surprised when Rex swung his truck into the old dock quarter where only derelict trawlers and wrecked cargo-carrying hulks resided. Security saw us coming and kicked the concrete barrel counterweight on a rusting barrier. My Knight gunned his big V8, snuck underneath, and the barrier slammed back down behind us.
"It's fucking rank."
"Fermented, discarded fish guts, scales, and leftovers that were not removed by pressure hose or shovel make for a lovely aroma, don't you think, Erin?"
"Why here? What is Diana playing at?"
"She understands the right people to talk to and how to get information. We were busy on the trail of Red October even before you asked for our help."
"That's so fucking cryptic, Max."
"I can't say more, Erin. Please, let's wait until we meet Diana."
He pulled up next to an enormous industrial trawler that listed heavily over onto one side. I got out of the truck and joined Rex, walking toward a hole in the bulkhead that was roughly cut open by an acetylene torch.
A vile stench gripped the back of my throat, prompting a gag response; only those familiar with this environment could last any reasonable amount of time in it. Rex retched, and I laughed.
"It seems deep-throating cock has given me an advantage, dear."
"You can keep it."
Before walking through the crude entry, I took stock and oriented myself, glancing everywhere in case I needed an escape route. Complete rusting boat hulks and damaged parts of others were stored in warehouse bays; some were overturned and undergoing repair.
The yard area closest to Rex's truck looked like a fisherman's graveyard. Damaged lobster pots, their metal cages crushed, and nets with twine shredded from battles with rocks and other seabed obstructions were strewn everywhere, abandoned by their owners.
The wind caught debris and blew it into every corner where it could proliferate. Fishing lines with remnants of cork trapped in them formed into balls and then rolled like tumbleweeds across the wide access road that split decrepit warehouses from the waterside.
"There are temporary lights inside rigged from a generator, but they're dim, so watch your step, Erin."
"Lead on, Rex. I can't fucking wait for this revelation."
It wasn't far along a narrow steel-walled corridor, slippery from diesel residue until we entered a large fish storage hold. It felt odd to be inside a rusty steel room that once stored hundreds of tonnes of fish.
I saw Diana. She wore a lightweight belted Burberry trench coat in gabardine with check lining. Her dark brown leather fuck me boots finished an ensemble that had me wanting style coaching lessons.
"Fucking stinks in here, Diana. You'll never get the fish guts whiff out of that beautiful coat."
"The subterfuge is necessary, darling. This coat is a mere rag I threw on to meet you and, therefore, a casualty of war."
"A three thousand dollar rag? I love your style, Diana. Why am I here, and who is fighting this war?"
She approached me, smoothing down the lapels on my much less expensive coat. She smiled like an angel, but I knew both heaven and hell reigned in equal measure inside her soul.
Oh, we are so alike. Except I'm batshit crazy.
"You asked to see me, Erin."
"Rex waited for me outside Max's house, and you were already here when I stepped out from the security gates. You wanted me to come here, so tell me why, unless we're playing silly games."
Diana strolled across to a wooden chair where someone was tied to its arms and legs. I hadn't noticed them because the hold was so poorly lit. The person was hooded and obviously of some great importance to our discussion.
"Rex and Max met in a sanatorium."
"Rex mentioned that already."
"He was mad as fuck because someone murdered his family."
"Max mentioned that."
"No, dear. Max told you that Rex was crazy. I'm saying he was mad as fuck, as in furious. My patient, who has permitted me to reveal all to you, is as sane as you and I."
"But he's angry?"
"Oh fuck, any words used to describe Rex's rage don't even come close to a realistic description of it. Think about his suffering, and it's easy to see why."
"So Rex was committed to the sanatorium for anger management?"
"No, Erin. He went inside to find the people who killed his family."
"And met Max while doing that?"
"Yes."
"Oh fuck, no... not Max, surely?"
"Not directly. Max doesn't kill for himself because he has no stomach for it, as you undoubtedly saw tonight."
"He got extremely agitated when Simon swung from a rope."
"Exactly."
Diana strolled across to her victim and placed a hand on either shoulder, patting them gently. She untied both wrists and ankles, letting the person go free. They sat for a while, wringing and rubbing joints where sisal rope had burned and rubbed harshly.
Diana pointed at the person recently bound, now released, and then stared at me.
"We've agreed on a course of action."
"Why have you set them free, Diana?"
"Oh, sweetheart, they weren't being restrained by my insistence. This is a long-term client who loves rope bindings. They are very relevant to our problem. We were just passing the time while waiting for you."
"Where does all of this converge on a rational explanation, Diana?"
"Max went to the sanitorium to conduct a recruiting campaign. Rex discovered that and reported the matter to me."
"Who was he recruiting for?"
"Not who, darling... what."
"What then?"
"Max recruits maniacs for Red October."
"What a fucking cunt! Bastard, whore, cunt fucker... wanker... Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
"Red October is an organization, not a distinct person, Erin."
"Fucking Jesus. Does Max run Red October?"
"No.... he's as much in its enthrall as the person I've just been treating was before I released her."
"Who is this?"
"A Red October acolyte and my double agent."
My knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor like a stone when the hood came off. My head swam, and I felt sick, retching bile mixed with the bourbon of earlier in the evening into my mouth, swallowing some, and spitting out the rest.
"Bliss fucking Paradox."
"Hi, Erin."
She looked afraid while I felt so many emotions that I couldn't discern one from the other.
Rex ran across the gap between us and gripped my waist, helping me stand up. Bliss got there seconds later, looking concerned. I threw her arms off me in disgust, and she recoiled tearfully.
“Get the fuck off me. Jesus, we made love for Christ's sake. You’re a fucking serial killer.”
“I killed one man, Erin, and he was a horrible cunt. Max’s head of security was also Red October and meant to kill Steve Pincer, denying you the chance to discover the trail that led to Max.”
“You’ve killed before. Outside Sin Street, perhaps, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re a fucking serial killer.”
“I was very young when Max recruited m-.”
“Fuck… I didn’t see that coming. Or you, for that matter.”
Rex guided me to the chair Bliss had been tied to, and I sat heavily. I felt angry that I’d been so thoroughly duped. Bliss kneeled in front of me, placed her palms on my knees, and I saw tears well in her eyes.
“I did it to help you, Erin. I believed all this shit was behind me when I became a reporter, but then Max activated me.”
“Why?”
“I can answer that question, Erin.”
“Please do, Diana.”
“Max saw an opportunity in your near demise. The attempt to kill you was caused by an internal feud between him and another.”
“But Max was working for Red October.”
“Yes. They planned for him to infiltrate the Sin Street crime syndicates and cause mayhem. You were the perfect avenging angel. A serial killer wasn't Max's idea, which pissed him off because it disrupted his plans.”
“I get rid of Sin Street chief criminals, and Red October moves in?”
“Exactly.”
“And what happens to me?”
“Who knows, Erin? Max is in love with you, and I’m sure he wouldn’t kill you.”
“But he has two Mistresses.”
“Yes.”
“Both of whom will gladly kill him.”
“Maybe, but you are furious right now. Would that provoke you to murder Max?”
I don't fucking know.
“What’s next, Diana?”
“That’s up to you, Erin. We’ve made more progress uncovering Red October’s plans in one week than in the last year.”
“There are two sides to this battle royale. Both are equally unpalatable to me.”
“Will you pick one, Erin?”
“Yeah, the one in the middle, facing both.”
“Like Janus?”
“Yes, exactly like Janus. Two faces, both disloyal.”
“What’s the first step?”
“Can Bliss be trusted?”
Diana looked at my former friend and lover, who smiled and strolled across to me.
“When I said I’d be loyal, I meant it, Erin.”
“Does Max know anything about you three and that you’re hunting him?”
“No.”
Rex coughed and decided to join our conversation. I stood and paced the hold, listening to my heels clicking on a steel floor.
“In the sanatorium, Max tried recruiting me. I played along, but only so far. We became friends. Bliss was his recruitment target.”
“Why recruit in a Sanatorium?”
“Because that’s where you can influence people's minds when they are most vulnerable.”
“Did Max know recruits would kill people in such awful ways?”
“Yes. He turned Bliss into a killer capable of eviscerating someone. When I got out of the sanatorium, I found her and tried to help.”
“Where was she?”
“Bound and gagged in a dungeon.”
“With Diana?”
“Yes. It took weeks to fix her, and that’s still not completely done.”
I stared at Bliss, who seemed as normal as I’d ever known her to be.
“Call Max.”
“Why?”
"You are still working for him as far as he's concerned, right?"
"Yes."
"Then he’d expect you to report in?"
“If anything significant happens, yes.”
“Tell him we’re fucking each other at the Mansion House. Will that appease him as to where I am?”
“Yes. He loves the idea of you and me being together, Erin.”
“I’m fucking sure he does.”
“I’ll call him now. Where are we really going?”
“To the Mansion House.”
Dive deeper into Sin Street on Sissitrix.com, where violence lurks in every alley and sex is a weapon. Brutal characters, tangled plots, and dark places in a corrupt neo-noir city that will drag you into its chaos. Written by Kate Granger, illustrated by Sissitrix.
I feel Sin Street is given life. The artworks are so perfectly consistent week after week that they build a picture of life in our noir universe. Anyone like noir style jazz... maybe try this on YouTube! Intrigue and Moral Ambiguity - What a great name for a Wine Bar!
https://youtu.be/PEI2zet48Uc?si=_Wx5II9PU5BECt_H
A few thoughts on the tech did cross my mind as I read. Allen and its cohorts have reached some level of AGI--artificial general intelligence--the "god-like" version which we've all been warned of. The self-aware, planet-enslaving, SkyNet version. Though I'm the farthest thing from a tech enthusiast (if anything, I volunteer to lead the first guerrilla attack in the War Against the Machines--where's John Connor's HQ?), I've read some books about it, pro and con, and have seen the standard film and TV "nightmare" portrayals of AI. The different scenes and settings you've both presented over the saga have been very detailed and intriguing--from a tech billionaire's mansion, the horrid hole-in-the-wall where Erin was raped and tortured, the cyberpunk/biomechanical aesthetic of the pod lab, all the way to the seedy BDSM/burlesque of the Underground Club and the gritty Elmore Leonard-style of the wharf scene from this Episode.
What struck me about these was how unique they were, almost personalized. The concept of simulation theory leapt to mind. It's actually a serious issue of current philosophical discourse--the notion that our entire reality--every aspect of human existence down to the smallest detail--is simply an infinitely complex simulation run by an unknown intelligence for an unknown reason. Now if you were to take the techie-sounding terms out and make this sound less clinical, you basically get a bare-bones statement of rudimentary theistic metaphysics. In short, this is a "Matrix" scenario, but given the storyline, I got the vibe of a sort of theme park totally devoted to moral depravity and hedonism, but minus the genteel veneer you have in the HBO version of "Westworld," for instance. More like a hybrid of the hedonistic debauchery of "Westworld" and the violence and high-tech intrigue and paranoia of "Mad Max," "Blade Runner," and the first "Matrix" film--the sequels were total trash, cash grabs, and wastes of time. And as I mentioned in my general review and comments on Red October as being a possible revolutionary organization with the big-picture agenda such groups usually have--those movements often seek to impose a "simulated" version of objective reality upon a world in procrustean fashion--an imposition which often results in the deaths of millions and untold pain, suffering, and sorrow.
So, some random post-script thoughts on this pretty-damn-near-the-Autumnal-Equinoctial Sunday evening.