|
Post by Walter White on Sept 3, 2013 22:18:51 GMT
He had not an iota of self-preservation left. No life was at stake but his own. He kept on melting in the sun of his endless cycles of bitter deconstruction and he knew it all too well; not a single human being would know to pull him out. He was on his own, and very much so.
He stared at the glaring oranges and pearly whites of the Albuquerque desert. He was at the foot of one strongly condescendent-looking hill which seemed all too high - he was a man that could no longer access this type of height and would barely ever be welcome again in the valleys. He scratched the back of his neck, his breath pushing out of his nostrils with great pains, his eyes reduced to slits. His gaze fell upon his shovel, which lay a few feet away from him as he'd thrown it off of him with all the rage he could muster at this very moment, his strength running out. He crouched for a moment, his eyes closed, gathering his bearings - at least in the metaphorical sense. He pushed his glasses off his eyes as the sting from his silent tears was about to make him howl in pain; he had been up for three nights in a row driving all the way to this hole in the ground to keep on carrying and burying as much money as possible. The self-storage he and Skyler had been using was a great deal of miles away, and he was starting to hallucinate oncoming and life-threatening traffic rushing from every corner. His vision was wildly unsteady, and he could barely move without getting constant electroshocks from the bottom of his stomach going up. When he wasn't in the midst of the lovely task of cracking his skull open over his disastrous incapacity to launder this much money through this car-wash business he'd always hated since he'd taken on a job at A1 some odd years ago, he was particularly absorbed into his wondrous plan to take over Grey Matter Industries. His ex-partner had died, and for a reason he could not fathom, Gretschen had called him up to announce the news.
Of course, Skyler knew nothing of it. He could no longer step foot at the local university or high school premises as a restraining order had been placed on him by a member of the personnel he had *very* personally harassed a few months back in order to get a tutoring opportunity in place. He had shrugged this off as simple bad luck as he knew all too well no one could possibly be aware of who he was - he had a way of being a really private individual who thrived on hiding behind his profession. He had always loved saying he had a purpose and that his identity was entirely defined by his awareness and thorough comprehension of the reason he'd been put into the series of contexts that characterized this life as his own. He had, indeed, taken all matters into his own hands very ruthlessly and with a style that made him grin whenever he was alone in the dark long enough to feel his own insanity claw upon the back of his brain.
Whenever too many respectable and clean people were around, all he could do was shrink back into the simple and devoted man he'd always been in terms of scientific research. He kept on working in a lab he'd built in a secret shed in the woods a few miles off of this rock where he lay sprawled. He intended on using it as his shelter from the noise of the world a few times a week at the very least.
Every fiber of his being was shaking; he hadn't realized he had fallen to the ground facefirst, too carried away by his own thoughts of winning back his credibility in such delusional and grand ways he himself felt he was practically made up of nothing but a lie. He had some reservations about why Gretschen even wanted to be in touch with him; he had heard in passing that she was now a drug addict since the death of his ex lab partner she had been married to for a few lifetimes. He could only suppose she knew he was dirty as an old rug and had only decay to spread forth - with an impressive knowledge of science at handreach, to boot. Only he trusted no one, and was now at the mercy of what he expected would be a brother in law that doesn't let up until he's pleased as cake about his findings.
"You'll find my ass whenever you climb into it, and nothin' else," he whispered on the wind, before choking on half a mouthful of sand and nervously dusting the front of his grey coat, attempting, not without a few cusswords, to push himself back into a sitting position.
It took a nanosecond before he heard it.
A car slamming on the brakes, and a gunshot.
It was only a matter of time before the bullet came to kiss him on the cheek. He hopped into the hole he had dug with a surprising ease he hadn't known he posessed before now, and waited.
|
|
|
Post by Skyler White on Sept 8, 2013 4:54:45 GMT
They had everything under control. So careful they were. The money was well hidden, the car wash day to day business was improving which made laundering the money that much easier. No, they could not launder all the money that was in the storage unit. Not in this lifetime anyway, but it was getting easier. She and Walt had discussed obtaining another location to set up another car wash. She found another corner in which seemed just perfect for them. So more money could go through the system. This was going much better than she had planned or expected. In her office she sat contemplating the matter at hand. Her hand ran through her hair as she was going through the numbers, fingers punching the keys of the ten key calculator. The books were balancing. Why wouldn't they? After all, she was a bookkeeper and Skyler White knew all the ins and outs of the system. As long as they kept their noses clean.. "O.k. This is gonna work. Just like I told him it would. And he didn't want me involved. If I hadn't taken the helm, he would have listened to Saul." How many times had people not listened to her and things gone wrong? If she could count on her fingers, Sky would could count Marie and her kleptomania, Hank and not controlling his wife. Walt and his drug 'manufacturing' as he so well liked to put it.. "Oh and let's not forget Ted." That came out of nowhere. Thinking about that mess just aggravated her more. Though she was partially to blame for that. Had she not gotten involved in the first place, she and Walt wouldn't have ended up having to worry about Ted saying anything about this to anyone. Though when she saw him last, he didn't seem all too ready to mention any of this. He was damn lucky to even be alive right now. He tripped over a rug? All he had to do was accept the money and pay his IRS bill. But no, he wanted to start up the business again to 'help the employees so he could get in debt and in trouble with the IRS again. With her name all over the books. Sky was not about to let that happen with all that she and Walt were taking care of now. Closing up the books and turning the monitor off, Skyler was about to go up front and handle the register when her phone went off. "Hello? Oh hey, Hank. How's Marie?" Listening for a few moments, her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped. "What exactly are you telling me, Hank?" It was then that one of the employees came in to let her know that she had another phone call. Motioning to them that she was not going to take it, she continued listening to her brother-in-law. Walt had disappeared. By the time she had gotten home, she couldn't find hide nor hair of him. Though the pun was not intended regarding his hair. "Hank would have told me the Cancer was back." Or would he? Last she spoke about anything, she told him all she could do was wait for the Cancer to come back. He wasn't answering his phone, where the Hell could he be? Was someone after him? Could they have found him? Were they after her and the kids next? Taking a seat on the couch with Holly. While the slept, Sky waited for her husband.
|
|
|
Post by Walter White on Sept 10, 2013 23:11:29 GMT
He clenched his teeth, his cheeks and forehead getting sore from the effort of the sheer defensiveness of the movement; he was attempting desperately and vainly to brace against the next few waves of pain that were most definitely at the ready to devour his body. Cold sweats clawed against the skin of his back as he descended deeper into the grave he'd dug himself - he had to suppress a scoff at the memory of having Saul dig his own only a few meters away from here, in what now felt like an entirely different lifetime, one in which he had control, no matter how much of a dying man he had been born to parade as.
He crouched again in the rough earth, the chill of the night wind caressing his ears in a whisper of decadent promise. He didn't have the faintest idea who his visitor could possibly be; it was evident the D.E.A. wasn't on duty this time of night and they still didn't have any type of sufficient lead to fall into his hands just yet. They wouldn't come to this cradle of greed and extremely overblown stupidity to watch him burn until they had managed to find an incredibly intricate reason to turn Jesse into an ally, as he was the only one who knew of the significance of this desert in his heart of hearts - alongside Saul and his dearest bodyguard, of course, and neither of them would ever speak to the D.E.A. in honest terms, or to any other authority figure representing the well being of the human race, for that matter. They were not moral people, and thus, they seemed to comprehend the level of corruption he felt would engulf him until his very last pathetic excuse for a dying wish left his mouth along with his departing conscience when the cancer could finally win and leave him to rest easy. Most people would think his soul was entirely torn apart, only they knew little about how he longed for that theory to hold any actual water. At least, the physical pain would be all he'd have to worry about. The emotional strain of his own actions was taking its toll and distracting him in dangerously life-threatening ways that were sure to kill his entire family before he'd have a chance to even beg for death to tighten its grip on him for one final spectacular concerto of melodramatic consequences.
Skyler would be alone to face the nightmares he had crafted entirely on his own for the past year. Jesse wasn't even to blame for any of this.
A shiver ran down his spine as he closed his eyes and listened to the shuffling of footsteps in the sand. Whomever was walking toward him was nervous and eternally clumsy as a thud kept repeating, as if something heavy kept on dropping from their hold. He swallowed carefully, and in a moment of totally debilitated enlightenment, he stretched to peek outside the hole, confident that the idiot planted there wasn't gazing intently enough.
All he could see was a shadow running the other way, and it had the shape of a thin and extremely hyperactive woman. Her semi-long auburn hair was flying behind her like a banner, and she struggled not to twist her ankle as she hurried on her heels towards her car.
He was about to take a calculated risk as this woman had obviously no real intention to kill anyone tonight. She wasn't well-trained and she evidently couldn't carry a gun without getting terribly anxious. She could barely hold the weapon steady as she pointed in the opposite direction from the one where he currently stood, his muscles relaxing.
"Turn around," he commanded, his voice smooth, and firm all the same. "You don't have to be afraid. Whomever sent you obviously did not know I'm not a man of a few words and we can talk things out, whatever situation it is we could possibly have here. I know you might think I'm a liar if you feel so incredibly forced to follow me all the way here with such a heavy arsenal of weaponry," he continued, dully noting the number of guns in the car's trunk. He could vaguely recognize the car, but he would not get distracted from his speech until it finally made this woman look him in the eye. "Whomever you are, you are not here for the right reasons. You shouldn't answer to just about anybody, they may be more dangerous than me ---------
He threw himself back into the sand as the woman violently spun around to fire an impressive amount of shots. He let out a few strangled screams of complaint. He rolled onto his back, unmoving, careful not to alarm her further.
-"I answer to the well-being of my one and only Husband, Walt. You know, the one you never actually knew? You better be ready for whatever plan he has in mind because I may not be able to shoot you, but he could do much worse to you, and the law will let him," Marie Schrader's voice finally responded.
He thought he might've hallucinated. Or maybe he was already dead and this was only all he had left to witness. Some form of eternal torment he could never shake.
"M...Marie?," he mumbled, unable to voice anymore thoughts as it seemed a tremendous physical effort. His sanity was waning.
|
|
|
Post by Skyler White on Sept 28, 2013 1:39:10 GMT
Holly had woken up about an hour into waiting. She needed to be changed. "Walt, where are you. This is one of those times that I could definitely use you." Lifting up the messy diaper, Sky scrunched her nose, turned and dumped it into the garbage pail next to the crib. "Jr, you home yet?" Being a mother she was not, could not break out of her routine. "Y..Yes.. Mo..Mom. Where...Where's Dad?" It was a damn good thing that her son still did not know about Walt as of yet. Hank had no solid evidence so it didn't concern Jr knowing. Thank God. "Alright, after I'm done changing your sister, I'll make dinner. How do pork chops sound?"
Picking up Holly, she smiled at her and gave the little girl a big hug. "Soun..Sounds good, Mo..Mom." Good she had everything on the home front fixed up. As she stepped into the hallway with Holly, Jr. came out and asked her where Walt was again. Turning back to face him and then back around to face forward. As she placed the gorgeous little girl into the playpen she was already speaking so not to look at their son. "You know your father. He's probably off doing something for the car wash and didn't tell me he was going to be home late." In truth she was worried as Hell about him. Even though he had told her that he was the one knocking on the door, Skyler always felt as though they were in danger. It was obvious as to why. All the money they had. Somehow it always came back to bite you in the ass.
Calling Marie while she was cooking, she thought it would be a good guesture to invite them over to dinner since Walt wasn't home. Marie wasn't answering her phone. This was unusual. Trying again and again, Skyler was now worried about Marie and Walt. "Jr, can you start calling your Aunt Marie? I left her a message, but she's not picking up. I left your father a message awhile ago. I'm going to call your Uncle Hank. I'm trying to see if they will come over for dinner." Hanging up her phone, she dialed Hank. Thank God, he answered on the first ring. "Hank, it's Skyler. I was wondering if you know where Marie is? She's not answering the phone. I have Jr. calling her now. Would you like to come over for dinner? We're having pork chops?" Pausing for a few moments she listened. "No, no, Hank. He's not home. I don't expect him home for awhile. So are you coming for dinner or not?" Her voice elevated for the children.
|
|
|
Post by Marie Schrader on Sept 29, 2013 23:06:28 GMT
As the gun in her hand trembled, Marie was stuck with one realization in particular: she was really in over her head. It wasn’t just the fact that she was holding a weapon and actually intending to kill someone with it, though that didn’t help- it was that Marie didn’t know who she was anymore. Her very presence on that nearly deserted reservation was a betrayal of her husband, and that wasn’t even counting her sudden alliance with Mike. Add in the fact that the person she was aiming the gun at was her brother-in-law, well, Marie felt like she had been cast into a really bad primetime drama.
”M… Marie?”
Marie licked her lips and nodded, staring at the bald headed man nearly twenty feet in front of her. She strengthened her grip on the gun, willing her hands to stop shaking. Though her previous bullets had been practically wasted in her anxiety, Marie was a good enough shot that, should Walt remain still, she could easily off him. And wasn’t that what she wanted, to end Heisenberg- and her involvement with Mike- once and for all? Wouldn’t that be what everyone wanted, in the end- Skyler, Mike, Hank? And why shouldn't Marie be the one to bring him down? She had been just as affected by his manipulative lies as anyone else. She had nearly lost her husband because of Walt’s stupidity, and her sister had been through hell and back. If Skyler wasn’t going to stand up for herself and end the problem, and Hank couldn’t because of the D.E.A. red tape, Marie was more than happy to finally take a starring role: Heisenberg would be ended, here and now.
“Marie.” She agreed, her voice taking on a steely tone. She wanted him to beg, to plead with her- at the very least, to give her answers- but she knew he wouldn’t. The monster that is Walter White would rather die than do any such human thing. “Surprised to see me, Walt?”
As he made a sudden movement, she fired off another shot, sending a spray of dust and dirt over him. “No!” She snapped, aiming the gun again. “Don’t move, Walt- I have you right where I want you. I’m going to finish this.” Despite her anger, her last words quivered. Marie might have been angry and might have even been justified- but she wasn’t at heart a killer, not like Walt. Her hesitation spoke volumes, though she wished it wouldn’t. She needed to get it done, she needed to end this now, for all of them- but she couldn’t.
No matter what Mike wanted her to be, she wasn’t a killer.
Angry at herself, Marie took another step forward, pushing the thought out of her head. There had been a time when Walt wasn’t a killer, either- and yet here he was, Heisenberg in the flesh, responsible for more murders than Marie probably even knew about. If he could do it, Marie could, and it wasn’t like she wouldn’t be thanked for it, at days end. Heisenberg had been a black hole, eating everything around it alive for years. By shooting him in the head and watching him die, Marie would be saving them all. Mike would be happy, Skyler and the kids would be free, and she could move on, the biggest problem in her life once again whether or not the new rug was too pink to go in her mostly purple house. It would be a happy ending for everyone.
Everyone but Hank, if he found out.
If. It was such a strong, important word. If Marie had her way, Hank would never know of her involvement at all- Heisenberg’s dead body, if it were found, would be blamed on someone else that had beef with him. No one would ever expect the hyper radiological technician with the sticky fingers. The secret would die with her and Walt, as she knew Mike would never talk.
Which was all the more reason she had to shoot him, here and now- she was too far in to go back. If he walked away tonight, he would have the upper hand. One quick phone call to her husband would end Marie for good- at the very least, ruining her marriage, and the worst, landing her in jail as well. Things were coming to a head, and Marie was left deciding on which side the chips would fall.
She just wished it was so much easier.
“I’m going to ask you a question, Walt,” she snapped, edging closer to the hole. She stumbled as her heels caught on a rock, but she caught herself, leveling out the gun once more. “And I want you to think real long and hard about it.” She was ten feet away now, the gun pointed right between his eyes. She forced her breathing to remain even, and swallowed the knot building in her throat. She felt ill.
“Why, Walt? Why, after everything we’ve done for you, did you have to do it?”
|
|
|
Post by Walter White on Oct 3, 2013 21:02:16 GMT
He watched her move closer to him in a deadpan silence he knew was all she'd be willing to hear for at least ten more full minutes. She had absolutely no intention to listen, as she was the one holding the weapon, being apparently at the ready to jump at his throat with claws out if he dared even hint at the slightest form of movement. He grimaced as he lay sprawled in the sand, listening to his breathing, and feasting on the headache that now clawed at the back of his head, his heart thumping in his ears loudly enough he knew she had the delight of hearing and tasting his uneasiness on the night air. He may have felt vulnerable, albeit that did not prevent him from fully realizing he would still get to be the smart ass. He had the upper hand since she was being controlled by impulsive and less than rational thinking. She could've been the one lying down underneath his gun, for all he cared - she was mentally as fragile this very moment, and he would call the shots. After all, she badly needed someone to father her like the horrendous child she had agreed to turn into. Suddenly recalling he had pocketed his phone back at the house set on his Recording App to make sure he had an ear on all suspicious noises surrounding him while he placed the money in its temporary resting place, he beamed on the inside, and pressed against his left pocket in one swift movement he knew Marie would not notice in the dead of night. She was now on speaker for the D.E.A. if Hank Schrader needed an update about his lovey dovey in the middle of whatever dead end he was chasing on the other side of Nowhere this very minute, he'd be all too happy to tweak up a very useful file for his benefit and his entire team's. Now seemed a very good time to play the Trade Game. He sure felt like one jolly little gambler.
-“Why, Walt? Why, after everything we’ve done for you, did you have to do it?”
Her voice was shaky and tremendously uneven, which only confirmed his suspicions. She'd never been quite together, and tonight was no particularly dull "exception". He let out a sharp sigh, and, not without great pains and a series of deep coughs, he cautiously sat up, his eyes drilling holes into hers. He carefully folded his legs in front of him, and kept his cold gaze pinned on her.
"If you had the intention of getting me to talk, Marie, you would've simply tossed me in that car over there and driven me to the nearest precinct. You know full well that if there were any bases to cover, I would not be doing it under pressure from my sister in law thanks to her frivolous and despicably nonsensical suppositions based on a lead weaker than anything the D.E.A. has ever spewed about this Heisenberg case before. I do follow this whole story closely as, believe or not, I do have a family to protect, and that includes your lousy and hypocritical ass," he spat, allowing anger and hurt to shine through his hard-as-steel eyes. He drew in a long and acidic breath, and closed his eyes, meditating on the pain in a manner that made him feel beyond dangerous, and he enjoyed every second of it. Gathering himself, he rose to his feet slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, not for one damn nanosecond.
"Believe it or not, I'm not responsible for the demise of all. I'm also dying, and in no shape to be working on a superbly intricate concerto of conspiracies. I'm not sure who told you where to find me tonight, but whatever theory you make about anything you could've possibly seen will go against you because of how incorrectly formulated it is. Whomever's feeding you what they call valuable information is a threat on your life more than I could ever be. In fact, I couldn't hurt a fly, if we're gonna get into the splendid ballgame of comparing one mess to another and think of the man sitting in your car at the moment."
He closed in on her, his breathing getting more and more sharp, his glare looking as vulnerable and defenseless as he felt as he knew he was holding onto the very last thread of strength he had left, perhaps only to die more soundly in a few minutes, should she choose to end her own life alongside his thanks to the ridiculous inferiority she showed in the act of exploding his brains this very minute for her own sheer enjoyment more than anyone else's.
He made eye contact with Mike as the man stood beside the car, arms crossed. Walt noticed his gaze dodging his, and couldn't suppress a sarcastic grin. He rolled his eyes, and refocused his attention on Marie.
"You're easy to manipulate. And THAT is exactly why your extremely respectable and hard-working husband wants you to butt out of this case. Don't you see? He knows you'd get killed quicker than he could say howdy. He, himself, almost died whenever he got too close to the enemy and you're willing to spend your nights out in the desert with a complete stranger spoonfeeding you what he calls hard facts about a case he's not even a part of? Hank will tell you himself - Mike is not even a POLICE OFFICER. He's not D.E.A. - he's NOTHING. He was the most suspicious crime lawyer's bitch for longer than he could possibly even recall. You don't wanna mess with him. The only choice you have left is simple: shoot me, and lose yourself, your marriage, and all credibility you could possibly have left in front of a court of law," he bellowed, his face now centimeters away from hers. She could probably feel the warmth of his every breath on her cheek.
"...or I take you back to your house in MY car over there, and you pester me with whatever number of stupid questions you might have about this whole ordeal all the way back to your place. This is the only way Hank will know nothing about this. My cellphone is recording everything. You may think I'm every bit of a sitting duck, but while I was laying over there, it escaped your attention that I pressed a small button in my pocket. If you're gonna make yourself believe you're a free agent, my dear, you may want to know how to get all details jotted down," he muttered, before turning towards his car and shooting her a mockful glance over his shoulder. "You coming, or you guys decided to take me to the police department with this twat's reputation surely not sealing any kind of deal with the pitiful amount of street cred he's got left with his buds at the PD?," he scoffed. With a sharp sigh, he dragged ass towards his car, opened the door with some impatience, and got in, slamming it. He waited, still as stone, staring out his windshield at the stars, knowing full well he'd get the benefit of driving back home intact after the upcoming overblown conversation would safely end with Marie going back to her house with her tail between her teeth, like the terrorized squirrell that she was. He gazed at her with much regret, albeit the eyecontact had to quickly drop.
He did realize he was genuinely upset with her. Only now was no time to act human. It would end him in a JIFFY.
|
|