The nice thing about a city like Vegas was that when a man walked into a drug store covered in blood and reeking of sweaty dog, it was business as usual. I stepped up to the counter and threw down the bandages, handi-wipes, some sports drinks, and three pounds of beef jerky. Some girl with green hair and a pierced head was behind me chatting on her cell phone about flying out to Amsterdam to catch a P show at the end of the month. It took all I had not to turn around and strangle the life out of the waifish little nit. "--means Power. Fargo18 said it's a reference to Damon's first girlfriend, but he's full of shit. Paula was his sister, not his girlfriend. Hey, did you know their guitar player is related to a serial killer? That's so hot. I hear--" I leaned in close toward the cashier. "Can you ring this shit up a little faster?" As I walked out to the Jeep with my booty in hand, Cerberus sat in the passenger seat and casually watched me approach. In the few hours I've been with the dog, it never once threatened me. But its mindless stare made my skin crawl. And I was going to have to put the top up soon. This dog was far from predictable and the last thing I needed was him jumping out and running off with someone's kid. I would probably have to put the chain back on him. I threw the beef jerky at Cerberus' feet then spent the next fifteen minutes doctoring myself. I was going to have a nasty scar over my left eye to match the one on my right temple. After I put on a clean t-shirt I threw back the sports drink and waited a few minutes for the electrolytes to kick in. While I waited, I punched Mr. Benoit's address into my GPS system. A little dot began to flash on the screen. After the little dot begins to flash, the main character: - Continues doctoring himself - Puts the chain back on Cerberus - Drives to Mr. Benoit's home - not enough information
A:
Drives to Mr. Benoit's home