After that, he didn't care about their causes of death anymore. 
                          
In the meantime, there had been a progression in his own made terrorist case. After researching a dozen of people, he found a possible way to mangle their economic system. It turned out that the deeds and money transferred were dealt with by one heavily protected person; Castiel Novak. It had been something Dean hadn't suspected from an innocent accountant, but that was beside the point. After doing more research (following him around, monitoring his transactions and stalking his social media and dating apps) he found out that this accountant was as straight as a rainbow. That started the base if his plan.
                          
At this moment, he was doing two things at once. Much to his satisfaction, there had been a high check for the murder of Fergus McLoud. The gambler had cheated on many games, calling himself the not worthy 'King of Hell'. Apparently, he had pissed too many people off and that was a gain for Dean. He felt the cold metal of his light tinted Beretta 92 FS press against the bare skin on his back, creating goosebumps on his neck. Whether it was the cold metal against his warm skin or his excitement, he didn't know. 
                          
He eyed the casino in front of him cautiously, making sure that he was hiding in the shadows and was avoiding camera's. Tonight was the night where he would kill the king of hell and hopefully catch Castiel Novak's attention. It was a weekly tradition for the man to come to this pathetic casino, and he should be arriving any time soon. 
                          
A smirk made its way on his face when he noticed a familiar car roll up before the casino. The trenchcoat-wearing accountant stepped out, two bodyguards following him. Bingo. Dean didn't follow them to the entrance but followed a path that he knew was clear of cameras. He had walked different paths the last couple of weeks and knew exactly where to walk or to climb. At exactly ten at night, he knew a guard would go to the roof of the building to smoke on the job. It had been his weekly routine, and Dean figured out soon that the guard's shifts were on Saturdays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays.
                          
He skilfully climbed up a hidden emergency ladder, which led to the roof. It was two minutes before ten, which gave him just enough time to hide. He chuckled to himself because the building security was dramatic. There literally was a dark patch next to the door, which made it easy for him to hide and slip through the door. There was no CCTV on the roof and if things went smoothly, he had nothing to worry about.
                          
He took a step back when he heard the door open, his face swallowed by darkness. All that remained were his vibrant, shining green eyes. The security guard put a brick between the door and the doorframe, before walking towards the edge of the roof, fumbling with a package of cigarettes. Dean waited until the man concentrated on lighting the death stick, before swiftly running through the door and closing it quietly and carefully. The door made no sound as it reconnected with the brick. Dean smirked and started walking down the stairs confidently. 
                          
He quickly turned his jacket inside out, his leather jacket turning into a neat one. He was wearing a dark green button-up shirt that hugged his abs perfectly, he was dangerously aware of this, and it wasn't really comfortable, but he had to draw attention somehow. He swiftly pulled the jacket on, concealing his gun easily. 
                          
"Excuse me, sir. You're not supposed to be here." 
                          
Dean turned around quickly to see a man his age, wearing the same suit as the security guard. He frowned, turning around as if he was confused, pointing in the direction that he came from. In the meantime, the guard came closer to him with a hand on his belt. Dean glanced at his hand for a second before smiling sheepishly. 
                          
"Yeah, that's what I thought. That woman pointed me up here, saying that there was an extra restroom. I haven't eaten very much, you see, so my stomach couldn't really handle those five beers, if you know what I mean," he rambled, wiping his mouth to exaggerate the story. The guard chuckled.