Once the last four drunks finally stumbled out and he did a quick cleanup, Kevin was at last able to clock out.
By then, it was already well past midnight, and there was basically nothing nearby still open to eat.
So the two of them went back to Kevin's place.
After bouncing around a bit, they ate, drank, and finally felt full.
Kevin checked the time—it was already after 2:00 a.m.
"Dexter, don't bother leaving. Just crash here."
Dexter was thinking the same thing.
"Works for me. Your couch is actually pretty comfortable—I'll sleep here."
Kevin was a simple guy, no complicated thoughts. He laughed and said,
"Only the couch, though. Place is tiny—just one bedroom."
"Kevin," Veronica shook her head with a smile. "You could at least pretend to be polite. You're saying that way too casually."
"It's fine, Dexter won't mind," Kevin grinned dumbly.
"I really don't mind," Dexter agreed.
"Still, sorry about that," Veronica said. "I'll grab you a blanket."
Time passed quickly.
Kevin's place went quiet.
Dexter lay on the couch, not sleepy yet. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
It had already been several hours since he'd taken out Terry Milkovich.
After eating and drinking with Kevin and Veronica, he'd calmed down a lot. The restlessness was gone.
And once things were calm—
It was time to think about what came next.
First question: would he get caught?
Theoretically—no.
He was certain no one saw him before the job.
During the escape, maybe a few people caught glimpses of him, but he never exposed a single inch of skin. Fully covered, head to toe. Anyone who saw him wouldn't be able to identify him.
The clothes were burned to ashes—nothing to trace.
The motorcycle couldn't be completely burned, since it was mostly metal, but burning it beyond recognition was easy enough.
Even if the cops found it, they shouldn't be able to get anything useful from it.
The bike was generic, bought far away, and he'd even taken the time yesterday to grind off the frame number.
On top of that, the spot where he destroyed it was extremely remote—finding it alone would be a pain.
Unless Tony's crew suddenly becomes criminal masterminds,
there's no way they track this back to me.
As he thought about it, Dexter couldn't help recalling the famously "impressive" clearance rate of American police departments.
He silently scoffed.
After a while, he stopped thinking about that and turned his attention to something else—
Merit points.
This haul was huge.
Last time, shooting Frank in the left leg three times earned him some merit, leaving him with 33 points. Add this time's 3,865 points, and the total came to 3,898.
That was a lot.
If he pulled basic chests, he could do thirty-eight pulls.
If he went with bronze chests, about three pulls.
So… how to spend them?
Terry getting killed would definitely cause waves. For a while, Dexter needed to lay low and behave himself—which meant he wouldn't be earning any merit in the short term.
I'm low on cash. I should pull some money.
Once the restaurant opens, I can't keep selling just fried rice—I need more dishes.
I'm down to one bullet. That's a problem too.
After running the numbers, Dexter decided silver chests were too risky for now.
After some thought, he chose to take things step by step.
First—open a bunch of basic chests and secure some cash.
[You opened a basic chest. Congratulations—you received $200.]
[You opened a basic chest. Congratulations—you received a full magazine (compatible with a Glock 17).]
[...]
[You opened a basic chest. Congratulations—you received $500.]
[...]
[You opened a basic chest. Congratulations—you received a stylish outfit and shoes.]
Just a few minutes later—
Forty pulls.
One full magazine.
Over $16,000 in cash.
One full outfit.
Dexter grinned. Very satisfied with the results.
Alright then—
Let's open nine bronze chests.
[You opened a bronze chest. Congratulations—you received $10,000.]
[You opened a bronze chest. Congratulations—you received cuisine skill: Top-Tier Shredded Pork Fried Rice (includes ingredients for ten servings). Claim now?]
[You opened a bronze chest. Congratulations—you received cuisine skill: Top-Tier Pickled Mustard Greens & Pork Noodles (includes ingredients for ten servings). Claim now?]
[You opened a bronze chest. Congratulations—you received Handgun Accuracy Upgrade (70% → 80%).]
[You opened a bronze chest. Congratulations—you received an Uzi submachine gun and ten full magazines. Claim now?]
[You opened a bronze chest. Congratulations—you received a bulletproof suit (from the movie John Wick, same model). Claim now?]
[You opened a bronze chest. Congratulations—you received Bajiquan martial arts skill (Beginner).]
[You opened a bronze chest. Congratulations—you received $50,000.]
[You opened a bronze chest. Congratulations—you received a custom-built kitchen (tailored and installed). Claim now?]
Holy hell.
That was insane.
With prizes like that popping up one after another, there was no way Dexter could sleep now. He was fired up.
Excited, he smoothly lit another cigarette.
Then—
He felt the urge to push his luck just a little more.
At least one silver chest.
He had 2,598 merit points left.
One silver chest cost 1,000.
Pull one, and he'd still have 1,598 left for emergencies.
No problem. Let's do it.
At this point, he had money, a kitchen for the restaurant, ammo, an extra SMG, even a John Wick–style bulletproof suit.
He wasn't really missing anything.
Pull it.
[You opened a silver chest. Congratulations—you received a Ferrari sports car (all paperwork included; claim in an open area—no need to worry about being seen).]
Hell yeah.
A sports car.
Perfect.
He'd actually been planning to buy a car anyway—now he didn't need to.
That 1,000 merit points was well spent.
Dexter was extremely satisfied.
Alright. That's enough. The rest of the merit points—save them.
After enjoying the moment, finishing his cigarette, and closing his eyes, he tried to fall asleep—despite not feeling sleepy at all.
One minute.
Two minutes…
Suddenly—
Thump.
Dexter's eyes snapped open.
Damn it… the sports car…
Almost forgot about Jimmy.
After being here for so many days, Dexter had actually thought about Jimmy before. He figured that because of his own interference—especially everything he did involving Frank, Lip, and Ian—Fiona never went out drinking like she did in the original story, never met Jimmy at the bar.
Which meant Jimmy hadn't shown up yet.
But just because he hadn't appeared didn't mean he didn't exist.
Jimmy was definitely still out there.
And definitely still stealing cars.
I need to be careful, Dexter reminded himself seriously.
I can't let that kid steal my ride.
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