CAMERON: «No, I didn’t mean it like you sitting in a cabarnet club’s VIP lounge, taking calls while some hunk sucks you off nice. I mean, actually getting close to motherfuckers, photographing them? Ergo, you putting in the work?»

KINKY: Phfff... «I mean I done it before, I know motherfuckers that do it better than me, though—URBEX types and red-room gremlins I know, are one group. Why, is it in relation to the bag popper?»

CAMERON: «Yeah, something like that.»

KINKY: Man, I don’t get it, bro. «The ass-munchers put you up to them, now that they have dropped you, you still want to do detective work, type shit?»

CAMERON: «Screw them for a second. With them or not, I’m stuck and can’t go ghost. My opps’ are city-wide, I allegedly got a bounty on my head, so why not know a thing or two about them?»

KINKY: «Side note, with that bullseye? I told Sriyani to let you know. I barely dip my toes in the revenge game—and furthermore, we could totally fake your death and claim that shit, provided I find out who set the bounty.»

CAMERON: «Would be risky, but then again Popstar’s cutout got convinced I actually dropped Lee Ting-seng myself.»

KINKY: «Lee Ting-seng?»

CAMERON: «Some drug mule I helped the pigs got into PC, faked his death—Polaroid and all that shit. That CID, ex-undercover detective knows his shit.»

KINKY: «Right...»

CAMERON: And like... «Popstar does it by design: that I’m not, or not yet, fully involved with their shit—they waste my time for an hour or two at best on dangerous gigs, of which I’m rubbing shoulders with motherfuckers and can’t do shit to identify them. OpenSniffer that Thai gave me I know is good, but I can’t risk touching fire, you know? Spies would be great, New Sun Yee On-style.»

KINKY: «Uh-huh...»

CAMERON: «What’s that supposed to mean now?»

KINKY: «...It’s simple. You can’t do shit anymore without a whole ass car mobbin’ with you, and you burned that car long ago; so it’s in your best interest to start from scratch and—oh boy, what a shit time you will have! Social media fucked everyone’s brains—»

CAMERON: «So help me get started. I have my ways to make money, if that’s what it boils down to.»

KINKY: «’Tell you what. When are you around?»

CAMERON: «I’m a 24-hour car wash at this point, anything goes. Ideally? Before Popstar calls.»

KINKY: Type shit. «I will call you.» disconnects

So all Cameron could do is wait. With nowhere to go and nothing for stimulation, and with no motivation to do anything, masturbation looked to be a promising feat.

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SECURITY ISSUE - The Transgressive Crime Novel extract

ACT 1B: UNPROVEN ANTIDOTE FOR DESTRUCTION

09-APR-2026

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ACT 0 RELEASING MARCH / APRIL 2026