When the group of thugs got within two or three meters of the car...
Dexter didn't hesitate. He kicked the door open, stepped out, leveled the shotgun, and pulled the trigger!
BOOM!
The Dragon's Breath round roared out, slamming squarely into one thug's chest. The impact sent him flying backward, instantly engulfing him in flames.
Ecstasy!
What a rush!
His blood pumped, adrenaline surging through his veins. It felt absolutely fucking incredible!
Riding that high, Dexter didn't waste a split second. He shifted his aim slightly and pulled the trigger again.
At the same time.
The surviving thugs scrambled to draw their weapons, ready to return fire.
Dumb Nine was a blur of motion. The Husky darted out of the car. Silent, no barking, just a full-speed sprint straight at the gang.
BOOM!
Dexter wasted another thug, then immediately crouched behind the bulletproof car door for cover. He pulled a grenade, yanked the pin, and tossed it.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The thugs started shooting back. Bullets rained down like a storm, pinging harmlessly off the reinforced door in front of Dexter.
Meanwhile, Dumb Nine had reached one of the thugs. He lunged, snapping his jaws with surgical precision right onto the guy's crotch.
"AHHH!!!"
Having his junk turned into chew toy caused the thug to scream—a sound of pure, soul-tearing agony.
Seeing the grenade land, the other thugs couldn't care less about their buddy. They dove for cover.
Dumb Nine did the same. He took one vicious bite, didn't get greedy, released immediately, and bolted away like a streak of lightning.
KA-BOOM!
The explosion ripped through the air. The shockwave rolled over them.
Dexter waited two seconds.
He popped up, aimed, and fired.
Dumb Nine, completely unharmed, launched his second assault. Using Dexter's suppressive fire as cover, the dog hit maximum velocity, found another thug, and clamped his jaws onto another crotch.
"ARGH!!"
Everything happened fast.
In less than two minutes.
All seven thugs were on the ground. They were either on fire, dead, or wishing they were dead.
Seeing the carnage, Dexter was thrilled. He moved to get back in the car, ready to call his genuine War Dog back and leave.
But before he could get the words out...
Dexter watched in amazement as Dumb Nine sprinted to one of the burning corpses. Using his paws and mouth with practiced dexterity, the dog tore open the inner pocket of the corpse's jacket, fished out two gold coins, and dropped them on the ground.
It took the dog the blink of an eye.
"Holy shit!! Is this Husky for real?" Dexter was stunned.
Dumb Nine didn't stop. He dashed to another body and repeated the operation.
About a minute later.
Having scavenged a total of eight gold coins from three bodies—and having caught fire himself briefly before rolling on the ground to put it out—Dumb Nine trotted back to the car.
He hopped into the passenger seat, stuck his tongue out, and started panting heavily, returning to his default "derpy but handsome" state.
Dexter was dumbfounded.
That's a thing?
What kind of high-tech Husky is this? Not only can he find gold coins, but he can tell exactly who is carrying them?
It felt like this dog was some kind of bio-engineered loot goblin.
For a moment, Dexter was genuinely shook.
A few seconds later, he snapped out of it and gave Dumb Nine a thumbs up. "Badass!"
Dumb Nine gave him a side-eye glance—a look of pure, regal contempt.
"..." Dexter was speechless. He didn't argue. He got out, picked up the eight coins from the ground, and got back in.
Soon.
Vroom, vroom~~
The Mustang roared away from the crime scene.
[Karma Points +2000, +2000, +2000, +2000, +2000, +2000, +2000.]
Just then, the notifications popped up.
Dexter looked at them, confused.
Seven thugs, all worth exactly 2000 points?
Is it that uniform?
Or is everyone in this world just worth a flat rate of 2000 points?
Dexter thought about it and decided that was probably the case.
In this world, life was cheap. People died like flies. They were basically soulless NPCs in a murder machine.
Satisfied with that logic, Dexter stopped caring.
Besides, he didn't have to worry about cops. He could kill freely. And 2000 points a pop wasn't chump change!
"Dumb Nine, I think we're going to have a lot of fun in this world!" Dexter said with a grin, happy to have made an easy 14,000 points.
"Woof," Dumb Nine replied lazily. He lay down, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.
Seeing the dog asleep, Dexter didn't disturb him. He started thinking about his next move.
His Karma Points had rebounded to 27,425!
Should I splurge and open a Gold Chest???
Given the nature of this world, whatever came out of a Gold Chest would likely help him farm even more Karma Points...
It was a solid investment.
He hesitated for a moment.
Then, Dexter gritted his teeth and made the decision.
Open it! It's just 10,000 points. I can earn that back by killing five thugs!
[You opened a Gold Chest. Congratulations, you received: Two Death Soldiers. (These soldiers have no emotions and only obey orders. Any Karma Points earned by the Death Soldiers belong to you). Do you wish to retrieve them immediately?]
Dexter: "!!!"
Yes!
"Retrieve!"
As soon as he spoke, two men appeared in the back seat of the car. They looked to be in their thirties, dressed in matching black suits and black sunglasses. Their faces were completely devoid of expression.
"Hello, Boss!" The two men spoke in unison the moment they appeared, their voices flat and emotionless.
Dexter: "..."
Professional expendable hitmen. Reliable.
At this noise, Dumb Nine opened his eyes, stood up, and looked at the two Death Soldiers in the back.
Seeing the dog, the two soldiers spoke again, in perfect unison: "Hello, Dumb Nine!"
"Woof," Dumb Nine barked in acknowledgment, then flopped back down.
Well then.
Good lord.
The surprises just kept coming.
It turned out Dumb Nine and the Death Soldiers knew each other...
What did that imply?
That in some unknown dimension, the System was mass-producing Husky War Dogs and emotionless hitmen?
Dexter couldn't help but imagine the scene...
A massive warehouse.
Rows of Huskies sitting on a platform. Below them, an endless phalanx of men in black suits and sunglasses, standing in perfect formation...
Then, he opens a chest...
And the System grabs a Husky or a hitman, stuffs them in a box, and ships them over.
Surreal.
Dexter let his imagination run wild for a bit before coming back to reality.
So. He had Death Soldiers. He had a War Dog. He had two guns, eleven grenades, and a bulletproof sports car...
So, should he go back to the Continental and sleep?
Or... should he carve a bloody path from Brooklyn back to the hotel and harvest a wave of Karma?
Heh heh.
Latter, obviously.
Dexter grinned. No hesitation.
Open another chest.
[You opened a Silver Chest. Congratulations, you received: An Uzi Submachine Gun, equipped with 10 magazines. Do you wish to retrieve it immediately?]
"Retrieve!"
Gun in hand.
Dexter didn't waste words. He handed the Uzi and its magazines to one soldier, and the infinite-ammo Beretta 92F to the other.
The two Death Soldiers took the weapons. Their expressions didn't change.
They spoke in unison:
"Boss, who do we kill?"
---