2020-06-04 Smile Bitch: Dirty videos for dirty souls

Doing the dirty

Participants: Karner

Storyteller: Nakisisa

Location: Karner's Home

Date and Time: June 03, 2020- 4:00 am

Summary: Anything for a buck

Mood Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rC2Blnxe6sQ

Karner can online find the number to a phone repair place. The phone in question is a very smashed-up iPhone brand new, basically out of the box. The front is smashed into a million bits, and the digitizer behind the screen is also gone. He gets a quote for 500 bucks.

"Four hundred!" Karner has plenty of money, but that doesn't mean he's not going to haggle! Hmph. The Malkavian lives up in the Hollywood Hills, in a rented mansion where he frequently holds lavish and crazy parties. It's not the biggest nor the most expensive crib on the block, but it is an ultramodern slab of luxury, dark blue on the outside and mostly monochrome within. Not a lot of furniture. Not a lot of plants. Lots of glass, metal, concrete. Cold and dead, that's the way Karner likes it.

In a large room that passes for his office, he lays the phone out on the black stone workspace and stares at it. This is where he will permit this man to take a look at it, and he /will/ be paying $400, not $500. Karner is certain of that.

"Fine, I'll do 400. I'll be there in an hour."

The voice on the phone is a young surfer sounding. 55 minutes exactly, there is a van pulling into the home and a knock on the door. A kid standing there in a red and black uniform with the words PHONE BLASTER, in bright green letters on the back of the leather jacket. Also, the exact words on the truck, this kid most think he is so clever, as he waits.

Karner gets Rochelle, his harried assistant, to show the kid in. Karner stands at the doorway to his office, dressed in a gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black suspenders, black trousers, and no shoes -- this is dressed down for him, actually. He takes one look at the kid and wrinkles his nose in disgust. "What are you wearing? Do you want business, or do you want to star in a cartoon? Come in, come in." Karner will all but shove him inside. "Do you want something to drink? Well, fix that first. It's just there." He points at the phone, laid out on the blank desk as it is.

The kid comes in as he walks over stunned as a mother fucker, his eyes blood shot. "Yeah, it's like dad's business and like his fucking name and like uniform. What the fuck ever." He truly hates working these hours, get the word fuckers like this dude. As he walks over, placing down his tools, he removes the screen, then removes something, replaces it, and then the screen, sealing it quickly. It takes about 20 minutes, but then the screen is on. "Ok, man, pay me and so I can like get the fuck out."

"Yes, if I weren't so busy, whether or not you get to walk out of here would be negotiable." Karner gives the kid along predator's stare, and a stack of cash. "Now, get out of here and don't come back without an invitation, or at least some /decent/ drugs." He slams the office door in the kid's face, muttering to himself. "Amateurs." But there's the phone, the phone. He's extremely curious to see what's on the thing. Rochelle can deal with the rabble; Karner will sit behind his desk and start fiddling around with the now-working mobile.

The van is gone. There is a lock screen on it with a picture of the man's own face. Handsome perfect, that Hollywood smile. Its asked for his thumb print.

"Shit." Maybe Karner sent him away too soon...well. He can always call him back, or someone like it. For now, he does his best to try to get into the damn thing, but to absolutely no avail. It takes all he has not to just throw it against the wall -- but then he'd be back at square one, wouldn't he be?

The phone beeps at you. But it the number of tries is now reduced to 2 on the lock screen. As he tries it again, there is a beep as it blinks at him, as he tries it again, guessing the password. It is a common second guess. This one is 1972, the year of the first American big-budget porn flick.

Karner snorts. "How ridiculous." But not surprising, given the absurdity of Los Angeles, and all the absurd little kine living in it. Now that he's in, though, Karner begins scrolling through things freely. He needs to collect as much information as possible. Most of all, he wants to understand why /this/ was the man who ended up a corpse on that beach.

He is a wannabe star of the adult film world. So many auditions were set up, and each of them rejecting him due to not being filmable in the spot that matters. It seems this is a failed porn actor. There are even home movies showing his lack of skill and well stamina for such work. He is gross in action. He sweats, he cries, he ends too early. It is not a pretty sight, but there is nothing else on the phone to show a reason for him being targeted. It seems he has been trying to work as an escort through Craiglist and bangman.com. A few other such sites, but he seems to be very rarely booked. This man is, just in the end, pathetic.

Oh, and Karner watches them all, too, just in case there's anything interesting...but of course, there isn't. It's simply disgusting. "So, it seems you met the wrong person at the wrong time, hmm?" That's Karner's guess. He'll go through all his email and other messages, just in case there are any of note, although he's beginning to get frustrated that there's so few leads here.

An invite is found to a club called the Future Winners of LA. It is private club invite-only, the date is three days before the beach party. It seems it often moves, never in the same place twice. He was just invited. The symbol is a smiling face, matching what you found on the body.

Another snort from Karner at the name of the club. "Any mortal going to such a place expecting anything good deserves what he gets, clearly." But this is obviously a good lead. Good enough, in fact, that he will temporarily put the phone aside, take out his laptop, open an incognito browser, and start searching for this club and any info he can possibly glean about it.

As he searches he finds fuck all, and then he thinks for a moment. He quickly starts to look in weird spots, auditions as he finds one it is for next week. The name has changed, for fuck sake of course it changes but it matches the email. <Star are coming tonight!!!!> It is another audition, that last one was too using a secret production name, now all he has to do is try to pass the test.

Hilarious. That just makes Karner laugh, and laugh...and laugh. He's /still/ laughing as he goes through his vault, selecting a private film he did awhile back of him wearing a mask covered in black and white cubes. It's a sex tape, nominally, though it didn't /end/ that way. He encodes the selection so it's for "their" eyes only -- whomever they may be -- and sends it into them.

Still laughing, by the way. Laughing so hard he cries blood-red tears, because the whole thing is just so -- fucking -- funny!

<Thank you for your video. Attached is the payment. This is all we need. Send more.> Attached are bitcoins for his retrieval from a throwaway email account. The email comes precisely two hours later. He did not get an audition, but he did sell a porn tape.