Brian drove off.
Lawson walked over to Donnie, pulled out a '15' cigarette, handed it to him, and lit it.
Donnie clamped the cigarette between his trembling fingers and took a drag. The searing pain from his gunshot wound instantly began to fade.
"Law... Joker, I've been meaning to ask since last time, where do you buy these cigarettes? I've checked a bunch of stores and never seen this brand."
"Hehe, I actually roll these myself."
Hearing that, Donnie instantly started coughing violently, as if trying to expel the smoke from his lungs.
It couldn't be helped. Hand-rolling cigarettes hadn't been a common practice in America for a long time. Usually, if someone said they "rolled it themselves," it meant they were smoking something illegal.
And considering the cigarette had just magically dulled the pain of a gunshot wound, it was highly suspicious.
Maggie quickly stepped over and patted Donnie's back.
"Donnie, don't misunderstand. There's nothing illegal in them. It's just a blend of unique Eastern herbs."
That explanation finally put Donnie at ease.
"Joker, you scared the hell out of me!"
"Hahaha! About to be a father, and you're still this jumpy!"
Hearing that, Donnie looked down at Maggie's belly, his heart filling with warmth.
"Alright! If you stand around any longer, you're going to lose that leg! Donnie, get out of Los Angeles. Leave the cleanup to me."
Donnie looked at Lawson, his face full of profound gratitude.
"Joker, I owe you my life! One day, I swear I'll repay this debt!"
Lawson smiled. That debt was exactly what he wanted.
Donnie was a man who heavily valued loyalty and brotherhood. If Lawson checked him with the Hostility Sunglasses right now, Donnie's silhouette would undoubtedly be glowing loyalty-blue.
"Hurry up and go. I don't want to see you rolling around in a wheelchair next time we meet."
Donnie nodded, and with Maggie supporting him, they left the warehouse.
A moment later, the sound of a car engine starting echoed from outside.
Shaking his head, Lawson began processing the scene.
First, he collected the dropped firearms. These were valuable tactical assets for future use; he couldn't let them go to waste.
Brian had dropped a .357 caliber revolver, a relatively common self-defense handgun. It likely wasn't his service weapon, or he wouldn't have just abandoned it.
Vincent's dropped gun was a classic M1911. Also not a service weapon, as suspended officers are usually required to surrender their badges and guns.
As for the two suspected Mafia gunmen, they were using Uzi submachine guns with extended magazines.
Too bad they weren't using Chicago Typewriters (Thompson submachine guns, widely used by the Mafia during the 1920s Prohibition era). That would have really completed the vibe.
After securing the weapons, Lawson dug a massive hole outside the warehouse and buried the three bodies.
Finally, he had to clean up the shell casings, bullets, and bloodstains inside the warehouse.
Even with the Ironman Trump Card, doing all this manual labor left Lawson covered in dirt and thoroughly exhausted.
By the time he finished, dawn was already breaking.
"This is weird. Yesterday, I 'worked' at Svafa's place for hours and didn't feel tired at all. But today, my back is killing me. I definitely need to recruit some muscle to handle this kind of physical labor for me!"
He dusted off his clothes. Thankfully, his bulletproof suit automatically repaired its durability and cleaned itself every night at midnight, saving Lawson a ton of hassle.
Traditional suits can only be dry-cleaned, which is incredibly annoying.
And taking a blood-stained suit to the dry cleaners is a guaranteed way to attract the wrong kind of attention.
Once the cleanup was done and he confirmed nothing was left behind, Lawson walked away from the scene.
To prevent Vincent from hearing his approach earlier, Lawson had parked his Dodge Viper over a mile away, so he had to hike back to it.
"Let's see if the job registered as complete."
[Rogue Cop Job Completed. Tallying...]
[Bonus Objective: Ensure Maggie Pistone and baby are safe - Achieved!]
[Final Job Rating: S. Gained 3 Underworld Rep. Gained 5 Card Draws.]
Another S-Rank completion. However, the drop rate for Trump Cards on 1-Star jobs was relatively low, which explained why Lawson only had four of them so far.
[Acquired $5,000 Cash!]
[Acquired Adrenaline Shot!]
[Acquired $1,000 Cash!]
[Acquired $2,000 Cash!]
[Acquired Multi-Tool Voice Recorder!]
As expected, no Trump Card from a 1-Star job, but pulling two items was still pretty lucky.
Looking at the items, they both seemed highly functional.
[Adrenaline Shot: Temporarily boosts physical performance upon use, or can restart a stopped heart. Max capacity: 3. Automatically replenishes daily at midnight. I know what you want to use this for, but you probably shouldn't!]
What the hell does that mean? I didn't even say anything, how do you know?
Lawson felt like he was being mocked by his own phone!
[Multi-Tool Voice Recorder: Capable of 24-hour continuous recording or playback. Can output audio in any desired format or physical medium. Automatically repairs daily at midnight. Record anywhere, anytime!]
Does that mean this recorder can instantly generate cassette tapes, CDs, or MP3 files?
And it can record or play continuously for 24 hours?
That was actually incredibly convenient!
After reviewing his loot, Lawson drove back to his apartment to catch up on sleep.
He had stayed up until dawn two nights in a row, totally wrecking his sleep schedule. He needed to reset.
The following evening, after waking up, Lawson headed to Sangiovese.
Because of Donnie's emergency, Lawson hadn't gone back to check on Svafa the night before. He needed to go see her today.
Otherwise, hooking up and then ghosting her immediately would make him look like absolute trash.
Walking into Sangiovese, business was booming as usual.
Surprisingly, Lawson didn't see Svafa at the bar. He found Tom, the bartender, to ask.
Tom's face twisted into an incredibly weird expression.
"Where is Ms. Svafa?"
"Uh, the boss wasn't feeling too well when she woke up yesterday. She left the bar and hasn't been back since."
From Lawson's observations, Svafa was at the bar practically every day. Sometimes she even slept there. It was highly unusual for her to be absent two days in a row.
Lawson suddenly realized something, his expression turning equally weird.
Hiss! Did he actually break the Nordic heavy machinery?
"Tom, can I get Ms. Svafa's number? I have something important to discuss with her."
Tom hesitated for a second, but then watched as Lawson pulled out a $100 bill.
"Mr. Lawson, this isn't about money!"
The $100 bill turned into two, then three...
Tom immediately grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down a string of numbers.
"Mr. Lawson, please don't tell the boss I gave this to you!"