Dex Restaurant.
Dinner service ended.
Dexter acted completely normal as he left. He hailed a cab and headed to a neighborhood a bit further out to buy an electric scooter.
Tonight's operation didn't involve guns, so he didn't need a high-speed getaway vehicle.
All he had to do was wait until late, when everyone was asleep, cruise over to Patrick's place, and plant the bombs.
After that, he could go back to the hotel, wait an hour or so, and detonate them.
According to the manual, the range on the remote was insane.
So, no need for a motorcycle. A quiet little e-scooter was perfect. It was silent and less likely to draw attention.
Time ticked by.
It passed midnight.
Disguised and unrecognizable, Dexter rode the brand-new e-scooter out of the hotel parking lot, heading toward Patrick's house.
At this hour, the streets were dead silent. Looking around, only one house on the block still had a light on; the rest were swallowed by darkness.
Dexter avoided the main road, taking the alleyway that ran behind the row of houses.
There were no streetlights in the alley. It was pitch black and completely deserted.
Perfect.
It didn't take long.
He arrived near Patrick's place.
Dexter parked the scooter, looked around carefully to ensure the coast was clear, kept his helmet on, and walked toward the back door of Patrick's house.
A minute or two later.
He was at the back of the house. He pricked up his ears—still dead silence. No movement inside.
Showtime.
Dexter didn't hesitate. He ducked under the crawl space beneath the stairs. Following the layout he'd scouted that afternoon, he planted the first bomb. Then he moved quickly, placing the remaining three bombs in key structural weak points.
Done. Time to go.
Everything went smoothly. Dexter got back on his scooter and looked at the dilapidated house through his visor.
He knew enough about the structure. He was pretty sure that when those four bombs went off together, that rotting pile of wood and brick—which had been standing for way too many years—would collapse instantly.
Once the house collapsed in the middle of the night, Patrick's family, who were dead asleep, wouldn't have time to react.
Theoretically speaking, even if it didn't wipe out the entire bloodline, it should at least crush a few of them to death.
Though, to be honest...
This was his first time doing a controlled demolition. He couldn't guarantee the results.
But...
It didn't matter.
The main reason he chose this method was simply to experience what it felt like to blow up a house.
Whether Patrick died or not was secondary.
If he didn't die, Dexter would just find another way. No big deal.
Thinking this, Dexter smiled, looked away, and rode off into the night.
Back at the hotel room, he took a shower, lay down on the bed, and watched some TV.
Soon, it was nearing 3:00 AM.
Dexter was getting sleepy. He figured it was about time. He picked up the remote, pressed the button, and waited quietly for the result.
---
BOOM!
In the dead of night, a deafening explosion ripped through Patrick's street.
Instantly, dozens of neighbors were jolted from their sleep.
Lights flickered on in house after house.
"What the fuck?"
"Did a gas main blow?"
People rushed out of their homes, gathering on the street.
The sight of Patrick's house collapsing, billowing thick clouds of dust and smoke, greeted them.
"Holy shit!!"
"What happened?"
"Patrick's whole family is in there, right?"
"They're toast. No way the old man or the kids survived that."
"Haha, good riddance!"
"Fuck Patrick!"
"Goddamn Gallaghers!"
For a moment, the people who didn't have beef with Patrick looked worried. The ones who did have beef were laughing their asses off.
---
Inside Patrick's House
Patrick had just rushed out of the bedroom, screaming for his two sons to run.
A chunk of the ceiling came down and smashed right into his skull.
Patrick dropped instantly, blood gushing out. He didn't make another sound.
At that moment, Patrick's wife, whom Patrick had ruthlessly left behind in the bedroom, charged out. She saw Patrick lying on the floor.
"Pah!"
She actually spat on him. Then, without a second thought—and completely ignoring the safety of her two sons—she sprinted for the exit at full speed.
A split second later.
Patrick's two sons rushed out of their rooms.
"Dad!" The younger son saw Patrick and instinctively ran over to save him.
The older son didn't hesitate at all. He ran after his mom.
Crash!
Huge sections of the roof began to rain down.
Patrick's wife couldn't dodge in time. She was crushed, pinned to the floor. "Ahhh!!!"
Just then, the older son caught up.
"Help me!!" Patrick's wife screamed when she saw him.
The older son didn't even look at her. He just accelerated, desperate to get out.
Finally.
Just before the house completely collapsed, the older son reached the doorway. He was one second away from freedom.
But luck wasn't on his side. A support beam came down and smashed into the back of his head.
He was knocked forward, flying out of the house and landing on the porch stairs. But the impact had severed something; he lost all control of his limbs. He couldn't move his body, only his eyes.
"!!!!"
The older son went mad with panic, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.
Just a little more! I just had to run a little further and I would have lived!
Just that little bit!
Why??
He screamed silently in his head, tears streaming down his face.
One second, five seconds, ten seconds...
God knows how many bricks rained down on him.
He was literally buried alive, crushed to death.
Rumble.
Finally, Patrick's house collapsed completely.
A plume of dust shot into the sky.
The neighbors—or rather, the shamelessly chaotic residents of the South Side—watched it happen.
"Gas is scary stuff."
"Damn, I'm cutting my gas line tomorrow. Switching to propane tanks."
"You idiot. Do you see any fire? That clearly wasn't a gas explosion!"
"Who are you calling an idiot? You wanna die? I'll shoot your ass!"
"..."
Nobody mentioned calling for a rescue team.
It couldn't be helped.
Patrick Gallagher and his family were scum.
Someone calling 911 was already considered an act of extreme generosity.
And so, the neighborhood watched, even though it was freezing out.
Unknowingly, seven or eight minutes passed.
Whoop-whoop-whoop~~
Police cruisers and fire trucks arrived one after another and began the rescue operation.
It didn't take long.
The results were in.
Of the four members of the Patrick Gallagher family, three were dead. One was critically injured.
The survivor was the younger son.
When the police and firefighters found him, he was tucked underneath Patrick's body. It looked for all the world like Patrick had used his own body to shield his son from the collapse...
The cops and firefighters who saw this were deeply moved. They were touched by the father's sacrifice.
They had no idea that the truth was ugly as sin. It wasn't like that at all.
---
Hotel Room
[Karma Points: +7845, +5463, +2342, +874]
A massive haul.
"Looks like one of them made it."
Dexter muttered with a smile. He didn't care. The payout was already huge.
"Alright, bedtime."
He closed his eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.
---