The weather in Albuquerque was, as always, perfect.
Dexter leashed up Dai Jiu, and just like the past two days, they strolled over to buy a local newspaper. He flipped through it as he walked the dog.
The story about those two nutjobs, Betsy and Craig Kettleman, stealing over 1.6 million dollars was in there, but there were no new developments.
Aside from that, the only news worth mentioning was that the DEA had raided another meth lab in a residential basement yesterday, arrested a bunch of people, and seized a few million in cash.
The article was accompanied by a photo.
In the picture, Hank and Gomez wore smug grins that looked honestly kind of comical.
After flipping through the whole thing and confirming there was nothing else interesting, Dexter found a trash can, tossed the paper, took Dai Jiu back to the car, and drove off to see the vet.
The Veterinary Clinic.
The vet was a bit surprised to see Dexter again so soon. "Looks like you really need to make money."
"Of course," Dexter nodded with a smile.
"What can I do for you?"
"I need a P.I. Someone to get into a house, find something, bring it out, and give it to me," Dexter replied.
The vet was sharp. He immediately caught the implication. "You don't know where the item is inside the house?"
"No idea," Dexter answered simply.
"You need a specialist," the vet said. "It won't be cheap."
Dexter smiled. "Not a problem. In fact, I need a specific person for this job. I believe this person was treated here for a gunshot wound not too long ago."
The vet's brow twitched. He wasn't just surprised now; his expression turned serious. He fell silent for a few seconds. "Since you know who he is, why not go to him directly?"
"Because I don't want him to know how much I know about him," Dexter replied directly. "His guard is very high. If I approach him cold, the outcome probably won't be good."
"Understood," the vet gave a faint smile. "For me to broker this, the price is high. Five thousand dollars."
Dexter pulled out the cash immediately.
"I'm only responsible for contacting him. Whether he accepts or not isn't my problem," the vet added quickly upon seeing the money.
"Fair enough. He needs money. Tell him this job involves zero injuries, the pay is fifty grand, and the target isn't a good person," Dexter said.
The vet didn't know Mike personally, nor was he interested in getting to know him. He was just the messenger. He nodded.
Deal made.
Dexter took Dai Jiu and left, driving off to buy a burner phone.
About half an hour later.
The vet sent a text: [He wants to meet in person. Number: xxx-xxxx.]
Dexter didn't waste time. He dialed the number immediately.
"Yeah?" Mike answered, a man of few words.
"Half an hour. Top floor of the parking garage at [Location]. Does that work?" Dexter knew the old man's style and kept it brief.
"Yeah," Mike grunted and hung up.
Dexter smiled, lit a cigarette, and drove toward the parking garage.
The garage wasn't far from the courthouse.
Once he arrived.
Checking the time, Dexter left Dai Jiu in the car, walked to the perimeter wall, pulled up the system interface, and summoned the Crow he had won from a loot box.
The crow materialized, landing steadily on the wall.
Wait until I leave here, then watch if anyone follows me, Dexter commanded silently.
This crow was powerful; it could communicate telepathically.
The pitch-black bird blinked its eyes and took to the air.
About two minutes later.
Mike's beat-up Chrysler Fifth Avenue appeared in Dexter's peripheral vision.
Dexter didn't turn around.
He wanted to recruit Mike. To achieve that, it was crucial to let Mike know he was a serious player.
So, he had to present himself well—not flighty, not unreliable. He couldn't let a guy like Mike, who was stuck in his old-school ways, think he was a flake.
Of course, if it didn't work out, so be it.
Mike was a good helper, but that was all.
Soon.
Mike parked, got out, and walked toward Dexter.
The top level of the garage was desolate. Basically no cars, and definitely no other people.
Hearing footsteps, Dexter turned around, maintaining a faint smile, and looked at Mike without speaking.
Mike did the same.
When Mike stopped, Dexter pretended it was his first time seeing him. He deliberately looked him up and down before speaking. "The vet said you wanted to meet."
Mike had already sized up Dexter. He furrowed his brow slightly, thinking that while this guy was young, he wasn't simple. Consequently, he felt this job might invite unexpected trouble.
"The vet said you're a lawyer?" Mike narrowed his eyes slightly.
"I am."
"I've seen plenty of lawyers in Albuquerque. Never heard of you."
"I've only been here a few days."
"As far as I know, lawyers make good money. I want to ask: what's your reason for committing a crime?" Mike asked.
"In America, rich or poor, everyone needs a lawyer," Dexter smiled faintly. "Being a lawyer is my tool for making money. Committing crimes... that's for safety."
Mike didn't make a sound. He just stared at Dexter.
Dexter knew Mike was assessing whether the job was safe to take, so he said nothing more and waited quietly.
Ten seconds later.
Mike moved his mouth. "Fifty thousand dollars."
Dexter smiled. He knew the deal was done. "Fifty thousand dollars, plus one free legal defense for you in the future."
"Done," Mike agreed, then asked, "You're after the money Craig Kettleman stole?"
Was it strange that Mike deduced this?
Not at all.
Dexter nodded.
"When do you want it?" Mike asked.
"ASAP," Dexter replied.
"I need ten thousand dollars for tools," Mike said.
"Sure. I'll get it from the car. Wait a second." Dexter walked toward his vehicle.
When Mike had walked up earlier, he had already spotted and identified Dexter's car—after all, a Corolla with a conspicuous Husky inside was hard to miss.
Moments later.
"I'll be in touch." Mike took the cash, turned, and walked away.
Dexter didn't rush to leave. He waited until Mike drove off before leisurely getting into his own car.
---
Leaving the parking garage, Dexter headed toward the courthouse. He planned to check on the renovations of his storefront and handle the business permits while he was at it.
He drove for about two or three minutes.
The crow, soaring unnoticed in the sky, sent back feedback.
Sure enough, Mike was tailing him.
Receiving the intel, Dexter smiled.
I was waiting for you to try that, he thought. Dexter checked the rearview mirror, spotted Mike's old sedan, watched it for a moment, then ignored it and continued to his destination.
Arriving at the storefront, he parked, got out, lit a cigarette, took a drag, and then pulled out his phone to send Mike a text: [My firm won't be open for a few days. Feel free to come back then.]
Not too far away, Mike, who had just parked, saw the message. He instantly realized Dexter had spotted the tail long ago. His heart skipped a beat, and the expression on his aged face grew much more serious.
A second later.
Mike shook his head slightly, hit the gas, and left.
Dexter didn't look back. Cigarette dangling from his mouth, he chatted with the workers about the progress, and once done, drove to the relevant government offices to handle the paperwork.
In the blink of an eye, night fell.
After dinner at the hotel, Dexter left Dai Jiu behind and went to the underground garage. He took the black van he had bought earlier and headed toward Chuck's house.
It was still early, so he didn't drive directly onto Chuck's street. instead, he found a parking spot a little distance away and stopped. He then sent the crow over to keep watch and alert him when Jimmy arrived.
The reason was simple.
That street was a residential area, lined with decent houses.
In a place like that, the biggest problem for his operation wasn't cameras, but the residents.
People there—especially the elderly—loved to be nosy. If they spotted a strange vehicle parked for too long, they'd at the very least write down the plate number or take a photo. Worst case, they'd call the cops immediately.
It was called a Neighborhood Watch, something you wouldn't find in the slums of Chicago's South Side.
And here he was, in a sketchy van, carrying illegal firearms...
Heh.
If some old grandma called the cops, he'd be screwed. Straight to prison.
Dexter, bored while waiting, almost laughed imagining the scene.
Coming to this world, earning zero Merit Points, and getting thrown in jail to start a prison drama? What kind of plot was that? He wanted to roam the world with a sword, but got arrested for carrying the sword as soon as he stepped out the door?
Pretty comical.
---
Meanwhile.
Outside the backyard wall of the Kettleman house, in a hidden corner.
Mike's bald head reflected a faint sheen under the moonlight.
Unaware of this, Mike held his binoculars, watching silently.
A short while ago, he had placed ten thousand dollars, marked with a colorless UV dye, into a toy car in the Kettlemans' backyard.
With his skills, getting in and out of a suburban home like the Kettlemans' was a piece of cake.
Now, he just had to wait for the happy couple to find the money.
Mike didn't say a word. He just waited.
---
After 10:00 PM.
The crow sent feedback: Jimmy's beat-up, turd-colored car had pulled up in front of Chuck's house.
Dexter, who had been dozing off, snapped awake. He started the van and drove straight toward Chuck's place while dialing the vet.
It was late, and the vet was just getting ready for bed, but he answered.
"I need a guy. In one hour, come help me move a car," Dexter said directly.
"Just move a car?" the vet asked.
"Yeah."
"Night service. Costs extra. Fifteen hundred."
"Fine," Dexter didn't care.
"Address?"
Dexter gave him Chuck's address. "There's a shitty yellow car on the side of the road. Next to the car is a mailbox. Keys are in the mailbox, along with a phone, watch, and stuff like that. Take everything, drive the car away, and destroy it."
The vet had been in this business a long time. He understood immediately. "Done."
The call ended.
Dexter put away his phone and focused on driving.
Approaching the target, Dexter killed the headlights. Slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, he pulled up in front of Jimmy's car and cut the engine. He put on a ski mask, gloves, a hat, and paper shoe covers. He scanned the area, confirming the surrounding houses were dark. He got out and walked softly toward the shadows near Chuck's front door.
Standing in the dark, Dexter waited in silence.
Jimmy usually only stayed for a little while before leaving.
Dexter planned to take Jimmy out the moment he opened the door, saving himself the trouble of picking the lock.
Of course, if Jimmy got drunk and crashed there tonight, he'd have to break in.
Luckily.
Only about ten minutes later, the sound of Jimmy saying goodbye to Chuck drifted from the house.
Dexter pulled out his suppressed pistol and inched toward the door, waiting.
Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds.
Jimmy reached the door and pulled it open.
Dexter seized the moment. He aimed at Jimmy's heart and, before Jimmy could react, pulled the trigger.
Pfft.
One shot. Hit in the heart. Jimmy collapsed, a look of pure horror on his face.
[Merit Points +6857]
Dexter stepped forward, entered the house, caught Jimmy before he hit the floor too hard, and pushed the door shut.
There were no running electronics in this house. It was dead silent.
So, even though the shot wasn't loud, Chuck, who was in the living room, heard it.
Chuck was confused. He didn't process what the sound was. "Jimmy?"
Dexter gently laid Jimmy on the floor, then leaned against the wall, waiting for Chuck to come to him.
He was confident that a neurotic like Chuck would come to check.
Sure enough.
"Jimmy?" Chuck, who never imagined anyone would come to kill him, lifted a kerosene lantern and asked again, walking toward the door.
Dexter gripped the gun, holding his breath. One second, two seconds, three seconds. He saw Chuck. He pulled the trigger.
Pfft. Pfft. Pfft.
Three shots.
Chuck didn't even have time to make a sound before he fell.
[Merit Points +6945]
Dexter holstered the gun and sprinted forward, catching the kerosene lantern before it hit the ground and shattered.
Chuck lay on the floor.
Phase one of tonight's operation: complete.
Dexter didn't idle. He had no time to waste. He set down the lantern, turned around, exited the house, kept his head down, and walked briskly to the van. He opened the door, took out two large plastic bins filled with supplies, and returned to the house.
Everything happened quickly, with almost no noise.
More importantly, the crow gave no feedback.
That meant no one noticed.
Good.
Inside the house, Dexter closed the door. He set down the plastic bins, opened them, and took out the hydrofluoric acid, towels, and ammonia-based cleaners specialized for blood. Then, he exerted himself to stuff Jimmy and Chuck into the bins one by one. Using the towels and cleaner, he scrubbed the floor and wiped away the blood spatter from the gunshots.
It took over half an hour to get it mostly clean.
"Mostly" was good enough.
Letting out a long breath, Dexter continued his work. He bagged up the bloody towels and cleaning supplies, placed them on top of the bodies, and then opened the hydrofluoric acid, pouring it into the bins.
Hydrofluoric acid was potent stuff; he didn't dare pour it too fast.
As he was pouring.
Suddenly, the crow signaled that someone was approaching outside.
Dexter checked the time. He guessed it was the guy the vet sent, but to be safe, he stopped what he was doing, stood up, and went to the window, peering through the crack.
He watched for about two or three minutes.
A Black man wearing a hat walked up to the mailbox, opened it, took everything out, then got into Jimmy's car, started the engine, and drove off.
Watching the yellow piece of junk disappear, Dexter smiled faintly and turned back to finish his work.
Before he knew it, it was past midnight.
Both plastic bins were sealed with lids. Dexter used industrial duct tape to wrap the seams tight.
Now, only the final step remained.
Dexter picked up the lantern, looked around, found a suitable spot, and carefully dragged the plastic bins, one by one, into a corner. He went upstairs, grabbed a quilt, threw it over the bins, then went to the back windows and cracked them open to let the place air out.
Finally.
By the dim light of the kerosene lantern, Dexter checked himself over, ensuring no skin was exposed and that he wouldn't leave any DNA or fingerprints. He mentally replayed the entire event to ensure nothing was overlooked.
Done.
Time to go.
He walked to the front door, extinguished the lantern, opened the door, closed it behind him, lowered his head, and walked quickly to the van. He got in and drove away at a calm, steady pace.
Naturally, leaving those two bins in the house was a huge risk.
But there was no choice.
Those things were too heavy; he definitely couldn't move them alone.
He'd have to wait until tomorrow to go through the vet again, hire some guys to pose as workers, and haul the bins out.
It shouldn't be a big issue.
Chuck was a recluse; he hadn't left the house in ages, so the neighbors wouldn't find it strange.
As for Jimmy...
Jimmy's disappearance wouldn't raise suspicion immediately.
He was living in the back of a nail salon and working all day. He and Kim were just friends right now... If he vanished for a while, no one would miss him too much.
---
Dexter drove the van to the salvage yard where he'd bought it.
The yard was long closed.
Dexter parked at the gate and called the owner.
It took several calls to wake the guy up.
The owner appeared, looked through the gate, recognized Dexter, unlocked it, and waved him in.
Dexter drove inside and stopped next to the owner. "I need this vehicle destroyed immediately."
The owner lit a cigarette and nodded. "This counts as overtime. It costs extra."
Dexter smiled. "No problem."
The owner pointed. "Drive it over there."
Dexter drove to the designated spot, killed the engine, grabbed the bag of spare clothes he'd prepared, and got out.
As soon as he stepped out, his phone vibrated.
It was Mike.
"I got the item. Where do we meet?" Mike asked concisely.
Perfect. Don't even need to call a cab, Dexter thought, amused. He gave Mike the salvage yard's address.
"There in thirty," Mike said, then hung up.
Dexter put away his phone, walked to the side, stripped off everything but his underwear, and changed into the new clothes. Then, he set the old clothes on fire.
The owner, already driving a forklift, glanced at Dexter but said nothing. He just worked quietly.
Changed and ready, Dexter lit a cigarette, found a place to sit, and quietly watched the salvage yard owner destroy the van.
Strange to say.
Watching something being destroyed like this put him in an incredibly good mood.
Mike arrived at the salvage yard a few minutes early. He didn't drive in; he parked at the gate and called Dexter.
The owner was basically done.
The van had been crushed into a rectangular cube and shoved into a stack of other scrap metal like trash.
Dexter paid the man, cigarette dangling from his lips, said goodbye, and walked out.
"Mind giving me a lift?" Dexter asked with a smile as he approached Mike's car.
Mike glanced at him, didn't say a word, and just nodded once.
Seeing this, Dexter tossed his cigarette, opened the door, sat in the passenger seat, and bent down to open the duffel bag at his feet.
The bag was filled with stacks of cash. It looked quite impressive.
"Where to?" Mike asked.
"The [Name] Hotel," Dexter replied. Then, he pulled ten stacks of bills—fifty thousand dollars—out of the bag and handed them to Mike.
Mike took the money, didn't count it, shoved it under his seat, and started the car.
In the darkness of the late night.
Inside the car, neither of them spoke for a while.
Dexter turned to look out the window.
Albuquerque at this hour possessed a rare sense of tranquility.
After a long time.
Even though he knew the answer, Dexter pretended ignorance and spoke up. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Yeah," Mike answered, eyes on the road, not looking at him.
"Why didn't you take the money?" Dexter asked.
Mike kept a straight face, his expression unchanging. "I took payment for a job. I did the job. I don't take what isn't mine."
Look at that. What an interesting old man.
Even if he wasn't exactly a saint...
Actually, what was interesting to Dexter was that Mike, at this stage, really didn't have many major flaws... It was only after getting involved with Gus Fring—threatened, manipulated with twisted logic—that he really started to compromise.
Gus Fring, that ruthless bastard, Dexter thought. He smiled. "My law firm needs an investigator. Interested?"
Mike turned his head, gave Dexter a single glance, then looked back at the road. "Not interested."
Dexter wasn't surprised by the answer. He continued calmly. "I don't need you to kill anyone. I don't need you to go after good people or civilians."
"Besides that, I'm a lawyer. I can ensure your income is completely legitimate, legal, and verifiable."
"I assume, at your age, you're not making money for yourself."
Mike fell silent. He didn't speak.
Dexter didn't push it.
Recruiting Mike wasn't something that would happen overnight. Rushing it was useless.
The old man was stubborn; he had to be worked on slowly.
The car fell silent again.
They arrived at the hotel.
"Thanks." Dexter grabbed his bag of money, got out, and walked toward the entrance.
---
Mike watched the hotel for a moment, then drove off, heading back to his small house.
Since he was used to working the night shift, even though it was past 3 AM, Mike wasn't sleepy. He went home, grabbed a bite from the fridge, sat on the sofa, turned on the TV, and started thinking about Dexter showing up at that salvage yard.
When he first saw Dexter outside the yard, he noticed the gun on him immediately.
Carrying a gun.
At a salvage yard at that hour.
With no car to get home.
Combine those three points, and it wasn't hard for Mike to deduce what Dexter had done tonight.
He was sure Dexter had likely killed someone.
The question was: Who did he kill? A good person, a civilian, or a bad guy?
To him, that distinction mattered.
He wanted to figure it out. He filed the thought away, deciding to ask around tomorrow.
As for the job offer...
For now, he was slightly interested. Just slightly.
Whether or not to accept depended on what kind of man Dexter turned out to be.
---
Hotel Room.
[Mission Progress: 1.56 Million / 50 Million]
After a shower, Dexter pulled up the system interface.
That was roughly one-thirtieth of the way there. Next, once he got his hands on the nursing home fraud case (Sandpiper Crossing) and secured a quick settlement, the progress would jump significantly.
Dexter smiled, looked at Dai Jiu sleeping on the sofa and the crow sleeping on top of the dog, turned off the lights, and went to sleep.
A New Day.
After waking up.
Dexter sent the crow to Chuck's house to monitor activity. Then, he drove the Corolla, with Dai Jiu in tow, to the vet's place.
"You're a little too busy," the vet couldn't help but say, seeing Dexter constantly over the last few days.
"After today, I can rest for a while," Dexter smiled.
The vet shook his head noncommittally. "How can I help you today?"
"I need two strong guys to help me move some stuff from a house to the desert, dig a hole, and bury it," Dexter said.
The vet instantly knew what Dexter wanted to bury. He raised an eyebrow. "That kind of work costs extra."
"How much?"
"Twenty grand a person. My fee is twenty grand too. Sixty total."
"Done," Dexter agreed instantly.
It was just money. Didn't matter.
"Good," the vet smiled. "Give me the details."
Dexter reached into his pocket, pulled out the key to Chuck's house, and handed it to the vet. "Tonight, at the address I gave you over the phone. Have them go into the living room, east corner. There's a quilt. Under the quilt are two very large plastic bins."
"The bins are dark blue and sealed. Inside is a liquid mixture—acid. Highly corrosive. So, they must keep them steady during transport. Do not tilt them."
"Also, these two guys need to change their clothes. Movers' uniforms would be best... anyway, nothing that raises suspicion."
The vet understood. "Got it."
Meeting over.
Dexter paid and left with Dai Jiu.
---
Around 9:00 AM.
The Kettleman House.
Betsy Kettleman, unstable as she was, discovered the money was gone. She screamed at the top of her lungs.
The sound was ear-splitting.
Craig Kettleman heard it and ran over.
"The money's gone! The money was stolen!!" Betsy cried when she saw Craig.
Craig, looking weak and spineless, panicked too. "Who stole it? Did you put it somewhere else?"
"I didn't!! I checked before bed last night, it was right here!!" Betsy's face was a mix of despair and rage. "Someone came in while we were sleeping and stole it!! That was our money!"
"What do we do?" Craig had no idea.
"Call the police! We have to call the police!! We have to get our money back!" Being unhinged and brainless, with nothing in her head but greed for that cash, Betsy screamed.
Fortunately, Craig was slightly calmer. Hearing this, he hurriedly said, "We can't call the police. If we call the police, we're done..."
Reminded of this, Betsy realized the situation. Her body trembled, and then tears streamed down her face. "Then what do we do? That was our money... so much money..."
Moments later.
The two neurotic spouses held each other, collapsed on the floor, weeping and wailing uncontrollably.
---
Around 10:30 AM.
Two burly men, one Black and one White, driving a truck with a moving company logo, arrived at Chuck's house. They got out, grabbed a dolly, and headed straight for the door.
At the entrance.
The White guy pretended to knock, while the Black guy used the key to open the door.
The two large men entered the house smoothly and quickly found the two plastic bins.
"Damn! These are huge," the White guy exclaimed.
The Black guy was curious. "What do you think is inside?"
The White guy twitched his brow. "Doc said it's acid. I'm guessing there are bodies marinating in there."
The Black guy nodded. "Will the bodies dissolve completely?"
"They should," the White guy replied. "My chemistry isn't great."
"Mine neither," the Black guy laughed.
"Alright, let's work," the White guy signaled.
One on the left, one on the right, they carefully loaded the two plastic bins onto the dolly one by one.
Ten minutes later.
They drove straight for the desert.
---
11:00 AM.
Because he had worked the night before, Mike had swapped shifts with a colleague and was currently manning the booth at the courthouse parking lot. He looked up and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Neither today's newspaper nor the radio had any news about a murder occurring last night.
This gave Mike a headache, but it also made him rate Dexter higher.
Mike was basically certain Dexter had killed someone last night.
But now, the police had no word of it.
That meant Dexter had disposed of the body.
That was no simple task.
In Mike's view, if this was true, it meant Dexter, this lawyer who had just arrived in Albuquerque, wasn't killing for the first time. He was likely a serial killer, or at least someone who had killed many times before.
Mike was becoming interested in Dexter.
---
Noon.
HHM Law Firm, Underground Parking Garage.
Leaning against the wall, Kim took a drag of her cigarette. She pulled out her phone and called Jimmy.
"The subscriber you have dialed is currently outside of the coverage area. Please try your call again later."