UVT2/ The Gender War Racket

Us Verses Us Verses Them, a Noir Novella 

 

Part One : A Scream In The Dark

Part Two : The Gender War Racket

Part Two : The Gender War Racket

The rain pounded against the window, the rhythmic drumming echoing Jack Carter’s thoughts. He stared at the city, slick with grime and neon, and took a slow drag of his cigarette. The smoke curled around him, mingling with the stale bourbon in his glass. The weight of the city pressed down on him tonight, as if the buildings themselves were collapsing under secrets too heavy to hold. 

A soft knock at the door broke the quiet. Carter didn’t bother looking up. He knew what was coming. "Come in."

Maggie, his secretary, stepped in with her usual grim expression. She handed him a thin envelope, yellowed at the edges. "It’s from Johnny."

Carter tore it open, his fingers trembling. The note inside was scrawled in messy, uneven lines. “They got me, Jack. The system... it’s all a racket. They’re not protecting anyone. They’re using us.” He stared at the words, but it was Johnny’s face, pale and cold, hanging from that rope in his head. He could still hear the creak of the beam. 

Maggie’s voice was a soft rasp. "I’m sorry, Jack. Johnny was a good guy."

Carter crumpled the letter, tossing it onto his desk. "Yeah. He was." The rain outside blurred the city lights. Carter knew, whatever this was, it was bigger than Johnny. Bigger than him. The Gender War. A thing people whispered about like it was the latest gossip. It wasn’t just a war. It was a machine, and Johnny was just another broken cog.

 

Carter hit the streets the next morning, the rain still coming down in sheets. His first stop was the courthouse. A towering monument to justice, though these days it felt more like a slaughterhouse for truth. He leaned on the counter, watching the clerk, a tired woman with gray streaks in her hair, rifle through case files.

"You got anything on Mullins?" Carter asked, voice low.

The clerk barely glanced at him, sliding a thick folder across the counter. "Plenty. Arrested last year for assault. He swore he didn’t touch her, but..." She trailed off, shrugging. "The evidence said otherwise."

"Whose evidence?" Carter snapped, flipping through the papers. Johnny’s face stared back at him, beaten down, his eyes hollow. He saw it in the files. Johnny had been set up. The case was filled with inconsistencies, witnesses who changed their stories, and yet, Johnny was sentenced. The judge’s name popped up. A name Carter had seen before. 

"What about her?" Carter asked, pointing to the woman Johnny supposedly assaulted.

The clerk sighed. "Walked free. Same day."

Carter’s blood boiled. He pushed away from the counter, the clerk’s words swirling in his head. Men like Johnny didn’t stand a chance, not in this city, not in this war. 

Later, in a dingy bar where the neon light flickered like a dying heart, Carter nursed a drink while a man with sunken eyes leaned in close. "You think it’s an accident?" the man asked, his breath sour with whiskey. "That men get the short end of the stick? It’s not just the judges, man. It’s the whole damn system."

Carter stared at his drink, his thoughts heavy. "So what’s the play?"

The man’s voice dropped to a whisper. "They want us at each other’s throats. Women against men, men against women. It’s easier to keep control that way. The real power’s in keeping us divided."

Carter’s fingers tightened around the glass. He’d seen it in the cases, the suicides, the shattered families. It wasn’t just a conflict anymore. It was a full-blown operation.

 

Two nights later, Carter found himself in the basement of a decrepit warehouse, where the stink of old cigars and cheap whiskey clung to the walls. The anonymous tip had led him here, and now he was lurking in the shadows, listening.

A group of well-dressed men sat around a long table, speaking in low, conspiratorial tones. One of them, a politician Carter recognized from the papers, leaned forward, a smirk tugging at his lips. "It’s a perfect scheme," he said, swirling a glass of scotch. "We let them believe they’re fighting each other. Women get their justice, men get their punishment, and the system profits. The law firms, the courts, the media. It’s all part of the game."

Another man chimed in, chuckling. "Keep them fighting, and they won’t ever realize who’s really pulling the strings."

Carter’s heart pounded in his chest. This was it. The proof he’d been searching for. The gender war wasn’t about justice. It was a business, a well-oiled machine that fed on division and thrived on the destruction of lives like Johnny’s. And the men sitting here were the ones getting rich off it.

"Control the narrative, control the people," the politician added, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "They’ll never see us coming."

  

The warehouse door slammed behind Carter as he stumbled into the rain. His stomach churned with rage and disgust, the taste of their lies bitter in his mouth. The city stretched out before him, dark and silent, but the storm inside him raged louder than the one pounding the pavement.

He lit a cigarette, the flame flickering against the cold wind. He’d found the truth, but it wasn’t the victory he thought it would be. How could he expose this racket when the very system designed to protect the people was the one pulling the strings?

The next morning, Carter stood before Johnny’s grave, the damp earth still fresh. He stared down at the name carved in stone, a reminder of the friend he couldn’t save. His hand trembled as he placed a crumpled piece of paper, the note Johnny left, at the foot of the gravestone.

"I’m sorry, Johnny," Carter muttered, his voice cracking. "They played us all."

 

The city felt smaller as Carter walked through it, his shoulders hunched against the cold. The world kept turning, the rain kept falling, and the game carried on. He’d keep digging, keep fighting, but he knew the war was rigged. 

As he rounded the corner, the neon sign of his office flickered to life, casting long shadows across the wet pavement. Carter took one last drag of his cigarette and tossed it into the gutter. The city hummed around him, full of lies, deceit, and shattered lives.

But Carter wouldn’t stop. Because that’s what you do when you know the truth. Even when the war is a racket, you keep fighting, because sometimes, that’s all you’ve got left.