I think WN is a mixture of Noir and Bizarro fiction.

I pulled my network cable and put on my fedora, as I always do before I walk out. My blackberry (with a bit of finger skin glued to the screen) on my upper left pocket; my Sunny D on the upper right; smokes on the back pocket; CS knife strapped to the leg; tiny one-shot lady pistol under my hat; shurikens on a custom-made pocket (lesson learnt, still have the scars on my balls and ass cheeks); glock loaded and holstered; and a magnum hidden under the tiny lady pistol.
That's when I walked in on her. The day my week was ruined. Those legs. Those leggy lady legs. I curse those legs. I curse that day. I wish I could relive it eternally.
Anyway, I called the police and an ambulance. I f-ing warned the landlord multiples times about the elevator getting stuck between floors and how it would kill someone someday. Enjoy the lawsuit and prison time


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In Book 2, WN gets shot in the heart but the bullet gets stuck on his blackberry. The rest of the book is about browsing ebay and looking for a spare. Zero action.