If you're enjoying these stories, consider leaving a comment, review, or vote.
You can also visit the Pat** on at: belamy20
"Business trip."
Back in the hotel room, Dexter stuffed his cigarettes, lighter, pistol, ammo, phone, cash, and ID into his pockets. He grabbed the head of his goofy dog, Daijiu, and grinned. "Let's roll."
The moment the words left his mouth, the scene before him shifted.
Dexter opened his eyes. He looked around. Daijiu was right there beside him. Man and dog were standing in front of a rather imposing office building.
He looked closer.
The logo on the building read HHM.
"Better Call Saul," Dexter chuckled, grinning.
Right on cue, the system notifications popped up.
[Welcome to the world of "Better Call Saul" + "Breaking Bad".]
[Establishing Identity...]
[Identity Established. You are currently a mailroom clerk at Hamlin, Hamlin & McGill (HHM). You have worked here for five years.]
[Current Timeline: The beginning of the series.]
[Mission: Earn $50 million. (Money earned through standard means is usable and counts toward the mission. Money obtained from Loot Boxes does not count.)]
[Mission Reward: 500,000 Karma Points.]
[Friendly Reminder: Loot Box contents have been adapted to fit this world. Additionally, skills and items obtained in the "Shameless" world are compatible and can still be used.]
[Have fun.]
Dexter read through it quietly.
He was even more amused. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, took a drag, and looked down at Daijiu. "Daijiu, looks like we've got a playground."
"Woof." Daijiu seemed happy too.
"Let's go. First, we need a place to crash." Dexter turned around, leash in hand, and walked away from HHM.
He sat down on the curb by the road, pulled out his phone, and started searching for hotels while he smoked.
He found a few, called around to ask about long-term rates and pet policies.
After some hassle, he found a decent hotel that allowed dogs. He looked up a cab company, called them, and booked a ride.
Done. He put away his phone and started mulling over the mission.
Earn fifty million dollars in this world...
It wasn't impossible, but it wasn't exactly a walk in the park either.
Doing it the honest way? Yeah, that wasn't going to happen.
There seemed to be only two real paths.
Option one: become a drug lord. It pays fast and pays well. It's practically a local tradition—this is Albuquerque, New Mexico, after all. The city is swimming in blue meth.
Option two: become a criminal lawyer. There are plenty of criminals here, and they need representation. They have money, and they're willing to spend it to stay out of jail.
Both paths were solid. Before long, either road would reasonably lead him to cross paths with Mr. Walter White.
So...
Dexter thought about it hard.
Dealing drugs was exciting and profitable, but the risk was too high. You never knew when you'd get gunned down by a rival, or quietly disposed of by Gus Fring—the Chicken Man—who thought he owned the town.
That wouldn't be pretty.
Plus, being a drug dealer... it draws too much heat. One slip up and you're erased.
So, lawyer it is. It's prestigious, the embodiment of the law, and safe enough. Plus, if he played his cards right, he could indirectly manipulate the entire Albuquerque underworld...
Hell, dream big... maybe he could become the Godfather of the Southwest.
Dexter smiled, his mind drifting to the movie The Godfather and Marlon Brando.
Tsk, tsk. That path sounds way more fun.
Decision made. Dexter didn't waste time. He pulled up the System interface to check his current Karma Points.
He had a little over 67,000 points. Not a fortune, but enough to get started.
This world was practically populated entirely by villains. He'd earn more Karma soon enough.
He just needed a starter kit.
"Open the boxes."
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, you received $100,000.]
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, you received Skill: Thievery (Novice).]
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, you received a New Mexico State Bar License. Your identity has been registered in the database.]
Boom. Simple as that.
Dexter grinned and kept drawing.
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, you received Skill: Con Artistry (Novice).]
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, you received a Mercedes S60.]
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, you received a Surveillance Crow (Novice).]
?????
What the hell?
A surveillance crow?
Is it that high-tech?
Dexter paused, then quickly mentally connected with the crow to understand its stats.
A moment later, he got it.
Holy crap.
Dexter was ecstatic.
This crow could take orders. It could fly to a destination, watch and listen, and feed the info back to him. Plus, even without specific orders, it would automatically alert him if his life was in danger.
The downside was the low level. As a novice, its stamina was garbage. It could only work 12 hours a day; the rest of the time it needed to sleep.
If he leveled it up to Intermediate, it could work 18 hours.
At Advanced—max level—it could work 24/7, finding its own micro-breaks and deploying immediately when needed.
Well, with a helper this good, he'd have to max it out as soon as possible.
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, you received Mastery: Elder Law.]
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, you received Mastery: Criminal Law.]
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, you received Mastery: Corporate Law.]
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, War Dog Daijiu (Common) -> Upgraded -> War Dog Daijiu (Professional).]
????
The dumb dog leveled up?
Dexter immediately turned to look at him.
Daijiu was still panting, tongue lolling out, looking as stupid as ever. He didn't seem different.
Then, Daijiu turned his head, looked at Dexter, and gave a wicked, almost human smirk.
Dexter: "..."
Okay, definitely an upgrade.
Whatever. Keep opening.
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, you received $99,000.]
[You opened...]
He opened five more boxes in a row. Mostly cash or more legal mastery.
Dexter hesitated. Just then, a taxi pulled up toward him.
Last box.
He thought as the cab approached.
[You opened a Silver Loot Box. Congratulations, you received Skill: Bedroom Mastery (Novice).]
??????
Huh?
That sounds... unique.
Is that the kind of skill I think it is?
Dexter's heart started thumping like a drum.
The taxi stopped, and the driver called out, "Hey, you call for a ride?"
"Yeah." Dexter suppressed his excitement and got in with Daijiu. "To the [Hotel Name]."
Once he gave the address, Dexter quickly checked the skill description.
Ten seconds later, the verdict was in. It was exactly what he thought it was.
This is going to be interesting.
Why does this world have a skill like that?
Who am I supposed to sleep with?
Dexter mused silently. Names flashed through his mind: Kim, Jesse's girlfriend, Walt's wife, Hank's wife...
Yikes.
No, Kim is good. Kim is great.
But, you know, keep the options open.
Dexter chuckled to himself.
---
He arrived at the hotel, negotiated a discount for a long-term stay with the manager, paid a month in advance, and got his key card. Dexter immediately headed back out to pick up the Mercedes S60. He drove around with Daijiu, getting a feel for the city while shopping for essentials—clothes, a laptop... and ski masks, gloves, and shoe covers. You know, crime stuff.
Shopping complete.
It was noon. Dexter thought about it but decided against grabbing lunch at Los Pollos Hermanos. He picked a random restaurant instead.
He really wanted to meet Gus Fring.
But Gus... that guy was smart, paranoid, and completely stripped of his humanity ever since his partner was killed. He was purely driven by revenge.
Dexter knew that if he walked into that chicken joint, saw Gus, and stared at him for even a second too long... Gus would have his goons tailing him and digging into his background immediately.
That wouldn't benefit him right now as a newcomer.
Better to be cautious. He'd mess with Gus once he had enough power.
After lunch.
Dexter drove straight to HHM.
He left Daijiu in the car in the parking lot and walked into the building. Following the information provided by the System, he went straight to Kim Wexler's office and knocked.
Knock knock knock.
"Come in," Kim Wexler's voice called out.
Dexter pushed the door open.
Seeing the living, breathing Kim Wexler made Dexter genuinely happy. He had always liked her character when watching the show. "Kim."
"Dexter? What's up?" Kim put down her work and looked at him, a bit puzzled.
Dexter gave a bright smile. "Nothing much. Just came to say goodbye. I'm quitting."
"Huh?" Kim was startled. "Why so sudden? Did something happen?"
Dexter nodded. "Sort of. I just got my law license. I'm planning to go solo."
Kim was floored. "What? You passed the bar? You never even mentioned you were studying for it."
After the shock wore off...
"Congratulations," Kim said, gesturing for him to take a seat. "Don't just stand there. Sit. Let's talk."
Dexter sat across from her.
Kim wanted to convince him to stay at HHM as an associate.
Of course, staying was out of the question.
They talked for a while. Seeing that Dexter's mind was made up, Kim didn't push it. she offered her congratulations and well wishes.
The conversation came to an end.
Dexter made up an excuse about losing his old phone and exchanged numbers with Kim.
"Keep in touch, Kim," Dexter said.
"I will."
He left Kim's office. Because he planned on sleeping with her eventually, he played the part of the good guy. He went to the mailroom, said goodbye to the "colleagues" he'd supposedly known for five years, and went through the resignation process.
While he was signing papers with the department head, Howard Hamlin—the handsome face of the firm and currently the only active partner—showed up.
Howard immediately congratulated Dexter with his usual charm and tried to persuade him to stay.
Dexter played along, chatting with Howard before politely declining the offer.
He was polite because, in a universe filled with monsters, Howard Hamlin was actually a decent guy.
Throughout the series, aside from being a bit stiff and corporate, Howard didn't really do anything wrong.
His eventual fate—getting his brains blown out by Lalo Salamanca—was a tragedy.
After confirming Dexter was set on leaving, Howard didn't drag it out. He let him go with grace. "Well then, Dexter, I wish you all the best."
"Thanks," Dexter smiled.
Howard left.
A bit later, the paperwork was done. Dexter walked out.
He got in his car.
"What should we do next?" Dexter lit a cigarette and muttered to himself. "Let's rent an office near the courthouse."
If he was going to make money off criminals, there was no better real estate than right next to the courthouse.
---
Time flew.
By evening, Dexter had rented a storefront of about 750 square feet. He found a local renovation crew online, negotiated a price, signed the contract, paid the deposit, and left to handle the next item on his list.
The next item was simple.
Find Chuck McGill's house, case the joint, check the surroundings, and then—when the time was right—kill the McGill brothers.
Chuck was a psycho. He had to die... simply because Dexter hated him.
As for Jimmy... strictly speaking, he didn't have to die.
But Dexter was here now. Albuquerque was going to be his. Kim was going to be his...
So, Jimmy had to go.
Dexter smiled and started driving, hunting for the address.
It took a few hours, but he found it.
He parked across the street. He didn't get out, didn't turn off the engine. He just watched.
Chuck's house was almost completely dark, save for the faint flicker of candlelight.
Jimmy's beat-up, piss-yellow car was parked out front. Jimmy was inside.
After watching for a few minutes, Dexter drove forward, analyzing the escape routes.
No cameras on this street. Only at the intersection.
Not a big problem.
Dexter cruised around until past midnight, memorizing the layout of the neighborhood. Feeling sleepy, he headed back to the hotel, showered, and crashed.
---
He slept until noon.
Dexter got up, washed up, walked the dog, ate lunch, and then drove Daijiu around again.
Since he was going to be in Albuquerque for a while, he needed to know the city like the back of his hand.
He planned to spend time mastering the traffic patterns.
Around 3:00 PM.
Dexter parked, lit a cigarette, and looked at J.P. Wynne High School across the street. He chuckled.
At this moment, Walter White was inside, living his repressed life as a chemistry teacher. He had absolutely no idea that soon he would transform into the infamous Heisenberg.
Fate is funny like that.
"Walt..."
None of them were good people.
After watching for a bit, Dexter drove off.
Around 5:00 PM.
Dexter found the A1A Car Wash where Walter White moonlighted.
It was a big place, business looked good.
Dexter checked his watch, grinned, and decided to get a wash. His car was brand new, but this was Albuquerque—it was dusty. A wash couldn't hurt.
He got out, leash in hand, and walked into the office. He looked around.
Heh.
Sure enough, there was Walter, standing behind the register. He looked every bit the beaten-down, middle-aged man.
Dexter walked up to him with Daijiu.
Walter saw him and forced a weak, professional smile. "Hello, which package would you like?"
"Just a wash," Dexter replied.
"Okay. Would you like the polish and wax?" Walter asked, following the script.
"No need."
"Alright, that'll be..." Walter gave him the price.
Dexter reached into his pocket. He had small bills, but he pulled out a fifty. He smiled faintly. "I don't have change. Keep the rest as a tip."
Walter's expression shifted. Genuine surprise broke through his mask.
Then, he smiled. "Thank you."
Dexter took his receipt and didn't linger. He turned and walked out.
Spending a few bucks to make Walter White remember him? A bargain.
Car washed.
Dexter kept cruising. He drove past one of the Los Pollos Hermanos locations.
He didn't go in. Just watched from the road.
He really wanted to try the chicken, but safety first. Later.
Around 7:00 PM.
Dexter arrived at Jesse Pinkman's house.
Coincidentally, Jesse—dressed like a total burnout in clothes five sizes too big—was just pulling into the driveway in his hydraulic-bouncing Monte Carlo.
Jesse hopped out, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and swaggered toward the house.
"Guy really does look like Steve from Shameless," Dexter muttered with a laugh. Once Jesse went inside, he moved on.
An hour later.
He stopped by Walter White's house for a few minutes, then drove another hour to check out Hank Schrader's place.
It was getting late.
Last stop.
Using info he found online, Dexter drove to the address of the Kettlemans—Betsy and Craig.
This couple was hilarious. They stole $1.6 million from the county treasury but genuinely believed they weren't criminals and that they deserved the money.
To put it bluntly, they were delusional.
But that didn't matter.
What mattered was that the crazy couple had over $1.5 million sitting in their house.
He needed to get his hands on that cash.
As for how...
He had a plan.
Plan A: Hire Mike Ehrmantraut, who should be working the booth at the courthouse parking lot right about now, to steal it.
Plan B: Do it himself.
No rush. He had time.
Around 10:00 PM.
After observing the Kettleman house for a bit, Dexter headed back to the hotel to call it a night.
---
New day.
Today was busy.
The Mercedes S60 he got from the loot box was too flashy. It wasn't suitable for "unofficial business."
He needed to buy a nondescript car. And, considering what was coming up, he needed to visit a junkyard to buy a beater van with cash—something unregistered that he could crush later.
Also.
The Albuquerque police weren't like the cops in the Chicago slums.
They were actually competent.
So, disposing of bodies couldn't be as sloppy as it was in the Shameless world.
He needed supplies.
Dexter decided to go with the Heisenberg classic: large high-density polyethylene bins and hydrofluoric acid. Melt them down.
Oh, right. He also needed to find "The Vet"—Dr. Caldera—so he could get an introduction to the gun dealer who pops up in the show.
Lots to do.
Dexter didn't waste time. He went out early and hailed a cab.
The driver looked a bit sketchy. Perfect.
"Hey man, you know this town well?" Dexter asked.
"Yeah, sure do," the driver replied casually.
"You know a specific kind of vet?" Dexter asked.
The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror. He held the gaze for a few seconds. "Maybe."
Dexter smiled. He pulled out two hundred dollars and passed it forward. "Address?"
The driver paused, took the cash, and gave him the address.
"Thanks."
Dexter went to a used car lot first and bought a completely average Toyota Corolla. He drove back to the hotel, picked up Daijiu, and headed to Dr. Caldera's clinic.
The vet was busy.
Dexter waited half an hour before getting face time with the doctor.
"What's wrong with the husky?" Dr. Caldera asked.
"Don't know. Just give him a checkup. Make sure he's healthy," Dexter smiled.
"Alright," the vet replied and started the exam.
"Doc," Dexter said. "I'm new in town. I need some things. Heard you can help."
The vet looked up, eyeing Dexter. "You don't look like the type who needs my help."
"I need to make a lot of money," Dexter said.
"Oh? How much is a lot?"
"A lot."
The vet went quiet for a moment. "What do you need?"
"Iron. And a reliable junkyard that sells vans." Dexter kept it simple.
"Okay." The vet nodded and went back to checking the dog.
Exam over.
The vet took off his gloves, patted Daijiu's head, and smirked at Dexter. "Your dog is very healthy. Very strong. The checkup fee is one thousand dollars."
Dexter nodded and paid.
"Pleasure doing business." The vet took the cash and slid a notepad across the desk. "Leave your number. For follow-ups."
Dexter wrote it down.
"If you don't mind me asking, what do you do?" the vet asked casually.
"I'm a lawyer," Dexter grinned.
The vet looked surprised, then chuckled. "Good profession. Maybe we'll have more business in the future."
"I look forward to it."
Dexter left the clinic with Daijiu.
About ten minutes later.
A text came in from an unknown number.
Just a phone number and an address.
As a fan of the show, Dexter knew the drill. The address was the junkyard (probably Old Joe's), and the number was for Lawson, the gun dealer.
He drove toward the junkyard while dialing the number.
It was answered quickly.
"Hello," a calm, flat voice said.
"A vet gave me your number," Dexter said.
"Mmhmm." The voice didn't waver. "What do you need?"
"Two handguns. Threaded barrels. Suppressors."
"Location?"
Dexter didn't know the city well enough yet, and he wasn't stupid enough to invite an arms dealer to his hotel. "You pick. I'm new here."
"Alright. [Address]." Lawson gave him a location.
Dexter checked the time. "See you at 1:00 PM."
"Done."
Click.
Dexter lit a cigarette and drove to the junkyard.
It went smoothly.
The owner didn't ask questions. Dexter picked out a black cargo van, paid cash, got the owner's number, and left. He drove his Corolla back to the hotel, dropped it off, and took a cab back to pick up the van.
He drove the van to meet the arms dealer.
Dexter didn't ask for names.
Neither did the dealer.
Lawson professionally displayed his wares.
Dexter listened, picked two classic models, paid, and headed back to the hotel.
He dropped off Daijiu, then took the van to a hardware store and a chemical supply shop. He bought the polyethylene bins and the hydrofluoric acid.
Done.
It was dark by the time he parked the van in the hotel's underground garage. He went up to his room and collapsed on the bed.
He rested for two hours.
Then, he grabbed Daijiu and went back out to memorize more streets.
Time passed.
Two days flashed by.
On the morning of the third day.
After breakfast, Dexter lit a cigarette and looked up at the sky.
It was a beautiful day.
"Time to move."