The Alibi Room.
It was approaching ten o'clock at night when Frank, a man who loved booze more than life itself, finally showed his face, grinning like a fool.
Dexter saw him and cracked a smile, thinking to himself, Frank, my old pal, I've finally been waiting for you.
Another half hour passed in the blink of an eye. After confirming that Frank was still rambling on with his non-stop chatter and wouldn't be finished anytime soon, Dexter slipped away. He walked briskly back to the hotel's underground parking garage, drove his car near the Alibi, and waited patiently. While he waited, he chatted a bit with Bianca.
A little after eleven.
Just like countless nights in years past, Frank stumbled out of the Alibi, drunk and happy, swaying as he walked away alone.
Dexter waited quietly for a few minutes, started the van, and slowly tailed him.
At this time of night, the streets were practically empty.
Dexter wasn't in a rush. He followed for a good while until he was sure no one was around. He sped up slightly, drove a stretch ahead of Frank, parked, got out, and hid in the shadows to wait for Frank to approach. Then, to ensure the operation went silky smooth, he activated the Dexter Morgan Character Card.
Everything went perfectly.
As soon as Frank got close, aided by the natural, practiced proficiency provided by the character card, Dexter moved cleanly behind Frank and plunged a needle into his neck.
The sedative was incredibly potent.
Frank's eyes immediately rolled back, and he collapsed.
Dexter pulled out the syringe and hauled Frank into the van.
He got in, drove off—all in one fluid motion.
Since he needed to call an ambulance after the deed was done, Dexter didn't drive too far. He pulled into a dark corner under the L-train tracks, stopped the car, and got down to business.
In less than three minutes, the job was done.
Half of Frank's right arm was separated from his body.
[Merit Points +569]
The results were excellent. Dexter was very satisfied. He quickly placed the severed arm into a box for safekeeping, then—swish, swish, swish—wrapped a few layers of gauze around the wound on Frank's shoulder.
Done.
A few minutes later.
After dumping Frank and the box containing the arm on the side of the road, Dexter immediately drove toward a payphone he remembered nearby.
He found the booth, scanned the area—no people, no cameras. Dexter took out a prepared towel, wiped the blood off his clothes, got out, and made the call.
The call lasted only about twenty seconds.
Dexter got back in the car and took off, heading straight for an uninhabited wasteland on the outskirts of town.
Once he reached the vacant lot, he familiarly torched the car and his clothes, then left on foot.
---
The police arrived quickly, found Frank, and immediately radioed for an ambulance.
Still under the influence of the heavy sedative and completely oblivious to the world, Frank was loaded into the ambulance and wheeled into the ER in no time.
The surgeon on duty recognized Frank at a glance. Although it was inappropriate to laugh at a time like this, he couldn't help but let out a silent chuckle. "The hospital billing department is going to have an aneurysm."
The other staff in the operating room, who also knew Frank, heard this and shook their heads with knowing smiles.
Moments later.
The surgery began.
At the same time.
The two officers who found Frank followed protocol and snapped some photos of the scene.
And then... that was it.
Frank wasn't dead yet, so this was just an assault, not a homicide.
And this was the South Side of Chicago. There were way too many assaults year-round. How were they supposed to investigate?
Besides, there were no surveillance cameras nearby, and Frank hadn't woken up yet.
If they were really going to investigate, they'd have to wait until Frank either woke up or died.
So, whatever. It was the middle of the night. Time to move on.
The American police force—truly dedicated professionals.
---
The sun came up. A new day.
The Gallagher House.
No one knew something had happened to Frank.
Fiona, who had cried herself to sleep the night before, was woken by her alarm. She rubbed her eyes, quickly regained consciousness, and dragged herself out of bed, filled with guilt and self-loathing. She left her room, intending to make breakfast for Lip and the others.
But when she got downstairs, she found Lip already busy in the kitchen.
Seeing this, she hesitated.
"Lip..." Because of yesterday's events, Fiona was genuinely afraid of him. Her voice was weak. "Let me do it. You should sleep a bit more, or you won't have any energy for school."
Lip shot Fiona a cold glare. "Mind your own business. Until you do, this family doesn't need you."
Hearing this, Fiona, already drowning in guilt, swayed on her feet. Her face fell, and she looked ready to cry again. "Lip, I know I was wrong. I won't do it again..."
Lip didn't let her finish. He cut her off ruthlessly. "Don't make promises to me. Living in this house, you know damn well those promises don't mean anything!"
"Fix your shit, and don't say another meaningless word to me!"
Fiona's eyes welled up. Her mouth moved, instinctively wanting to defend herself, but after a few seconds, she stayed silent. She turned around quietly, intending to go upstairs to wake Ian and the others.
Just then, Lip spoke again. "I dropped out. That's my decision."
Thud.
Fiona felt like she'd been punched. She stumbled, barely keeping her balance, and spun around to face Lip, her face full of horror and disbelief. "Why?"
"I need to make money to support my kid," Lip replied, simple and clear.
Another bolt from the blue!
Fiona instantly panicked. She screamed, "You can't drop out!! You're so smart! You can go to college, you can have a great future..."
Lip turned his head and gave Fiona a cold, mocking smile. "Right, I should get into college, get a job making money, just so you can keep screwing around, is that it?"
Screwing around...
Hearing that, the wind went right out of Fiona's sails.
Yet, even so, she instinctively tried to push back. "What are you talking about..."
Before long, the Gallagher house erupted into a chaotic argument.
Ian, Carl, and Debbie were all woken by the noise. They came downstairs and realized what was happening.
Carl shook his head helplessly. He couldn't help but feel that this crap was never-ending. It was a headache.
Ian and Debbie felt the same way.
The argument lasted for over half an hour. Fiona didn't win; Lip was resolute.
Before they knew it, it was time for school.
Lip took Liam, along with Ian and the other two, and walked decisively out of the house, leaving Fiona behind amidst her desperate pleas.
Fiona felt like her entire world had collapsed. Her legs gave out, and she slumped to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
Outside the house.
Debbie was worried about Fiona. She walked a few steps, then stopped. "Lip, we can't just leave Fiona like that. She's gonna fall apart."
Hearing this, Lip walked back to Debbie and spoke with certainty. "Debbie, trust me. We have to treat her this way. She needs to realize her own problems, otherwise, things are only going to get worse."
Debbie was young; she couldn't quite understand. Her heart ached for Fiona. "She just made a small mistake..."
"It wasn't a small mistake," Lip emphasized immediately. "Ever since she got back from jail, she's been screwing up constantly. Debbie, trust me, this has to be done. Otherwise, it won't be long before she likely ends up back in prison!"
"Do you want that?"
Debbie shook her head frantically, terrified. "No..."
"Then leave it be. Don't worry about her for the next few days. Let her deal with it herself. She'll fix it, don't worry," Lip said.
Debbie nodded sadly.
The four of them started walking again.
At an intersection, Lip said goodbye to Ian and the others, taking Liam and heading in a different direction.
Ian hesitated. To be honest, he really didn't want to get involved in the mess between Lip and Karen. But now, Lip—that idiot—had actually dropped out of school and thrown away his future for that skank, Karen...
"You two go to school. I'm gonna go talk to Lip," Ian said, dropping the sentence before sprinting to catch up with his brother.
Seeing Ian walk up beside him, Lip, who had just lit a cigarette, guessed what Ian wanted to say. "I've made up my mind. I'm not changing it, so save your breath."
Heh, teenage arrogance. What a moron.
Since Ian had decided to follow him, he naturally wasn't going to give up that easily. He gave a faint smile and asked, "So, what's your plan?"
"Scamming and hustling every day to make a little cash, feed Karen and the kid, and live here for the rest of your life?"
"Sounds like a solid plan," Lip said arrogantly.
Ian actually found it laughable. "How long do you think you can make money like that? You don't have a diploma, you're not even an adult. You can't get any legit job that pays decent wages."
"And how much money is there to scam in a slum like this?"
"Chicago is big. Who said I'm only making money here?" Lip smiled confidently.
"Fine. So you keep scamming. How does that end?" Ian asked again. "You think a skank like Karen is going to sit at home waiting for you like a good girl? While you're out scamming, getting caught or beaten half to death, she'll be at home fucking other guys. Is that what you want?"
Lip couldn't stand anyone badmouthing Karen. He snapped, stopping abruptly and glaring ferociously at Ian with a threat. "Shut your mouth!!"
"Heh," Ian laughed, not the least bit intimidated. He continued, "A slut like Karen isn't going to stay loyal to you. In the future, you'll make money, she'll spend your money, and behind your back, she'll be fucking guy after guy. What a beautiful life..."
Ian didn't get to finish his sentence.
Lip punched Ian right in the stomach.
It was a heavy hit.
Ian instantly doubled over in pain.
"Fuck off!" Lip roared viciously, then lifted his foot and stormed forward.
Ian curled up, not chasing after him, but his mouth didn't stop. "You fucking moron! You're gonna regret this!!"
Lip heard him, but he didn't look back.
---
The Gallagher House.
Slumped on the floor, crying hysterically until she nearly passed out, Fiona finally summoned a tiny bit of strength and gritted her teeth to stand up.
She swayed unsteadily toward the refrigerator.
She wanted a drink. She craved alcohol desperately.
She wanted this nightmare, which felt like it would never end, to be over.