[CLOSED] so stop me if you've heard this one before...

[kingpawn]

WHO: Walter White and Matthew Lin (Abduxel)
WHERE: Streets of Heropa
WHEN: Saturday evening, March 21st
WHAT: Walt has a chance run-in with a drug dealer and decides to set him up with a far more lucrative offer.
WARNINGS: Drug talk. Will update if anything else comes up.

It was clear like glass.

Walt couldn't describe how nostalgic, familiar, and therapeutic it was to make a batch of crystal after nearly a year away from it. This was the old product, the first product. But it was still his. And while he was still pissed off at Jesse, it did make him recall a few of their better memories and how it all began -- rolling RV meth lab and all.

This product marked the beginning. Just like it did back then. It was a new start. A fresh start. A chance to do it all over again without his wife and kids there to hate him for it. And Hank? Well, if Hank found out so be it. Hank deserved to take Walter down. It would have happened eventually anyway. And maybe in a way, this was Walter giving him the chance.

Walt crushed the methamphetamine and stuffed it all in a bag, tucking it away in his jacket as he left the lab and locked up the pharmacy. He intended just to get the product home. He could think about his next move there -- maybe getting back in touch with Mike and finding other people who were willing to take a stand against Jesse's force. But as he rounded a street corner, he caught sight of a very familiar scene. A group of younger guys in the middle of a transaction. Walt stopped a ways away, keeping to the shadows so he could watch it all go down.

Comments

[abduxel]

"Yes, that's right, it's imPorted. Brought right from my home world. Literally other universe high: you'll never experience anything like it."

His pitch is continuing even as the nearest boy, a teenager not older than fifteen, passes him crumpled bills, which he notes one-by-one and tucks into a pocket. The man wears a black peacoat, and fancy black business clothes beneath; these days, maybe he doesn't really look the part. It could be that he's good at blending in with people on the straight-and-narrow, but actually, he just hasn't adjusted to modern casual dress. The three teenagers converse amongst themselves in low voices, and then ultimately pass another bill over to his casually extended hand. He smiles wide but without teeth, and passes them something that he keeps mostly concealed in his hand, until it's theirs. Can you guess what?

He waves goodbye, cheerfully, as the teenagers scuttle off into the streets on their own. Selling weed wasn't the most lucrative, but so far he's managed to fetch a slightly higher rate by fibbing about its origin. It had taken no small amount of effort to figure out what the rate was these days, to begin with; the last time he was amongst humankind, establishments sold an effective dose for a quarter to patrons, who then enjoyed it indoors where they had bought it. Even back then, this practice was not legal, but it seemed that times had changed, and laws were taken so much more seriously in modern day. In any case, the marijuana he was selling was the very same stuff every other two-bit dealer on the block was selling in each of the four cities that he could easily hop to.

Turning away and beginning to stroll, the demon is unknowingly walking towards where Walt lurks. He feels the money in his pocket with a tucked hand, smirking to himself, adjusts his coat, and thinks about what a wonderful world he has returned to.

[kingpawn]

Walt watches the young man conduct his business, and he's fairly certain he's lying straight through that sales pitch. But then again, sales is all about lying and the ones who excel at it are usually the ones who tell the best lies. The dealer's target audience, although hesitant, eventually hands over their money for this 'other-worldly' product and the dealer is able to walk away with an extra bit of cash -- successful.

As the fellow imPort heads his way, Walter steps out of his hiding spot. He might be in clean clothing, but from his unkempt beard and careless hair to his haggard appearance, he could easily be mistaken as a homeless man. And Walt doesn't really care to do anything to change this first impression. As a matter of fact, he might get a better gauge of the stranger's character if he doesn't appear like the type who can offer him millions.

He stands in the path the young dealer is taking, obstructing him from getting any further. "How much?" Walt cocks his head toward the pocket where the money is, his eyes lingering there for a moment. "How much did you get?"

[abduxel]

Abduxel looks up at the haggard man in front of him. Clean-clothed or not, his own standards of "casual" dress are much more formal than what seems to be culturally appropriate, and so the unkempt beard is what dictates his reaction.

There's a moment of quiet surprise as this stranger blocks the way. He frowns at Walt like he was a crazy man asking why aliens had abducted him, seeing no need to be honest to a grizzly, confrontational bum; the frown is placating, like he is simply confused, not intending to raise any sort of ruckus. But the hand that had been feeling his spoils is slowly removed from his pocket, while the opposite hand enters the other, reaching for his weapon. It's subtle in the sense that it's slow, "casual," but also easily noticed by anyone who happened to be looking. No need to be discreet about that, either, he figures, confident that he could get the better of any would-be assailant.

With that little concerned frown, he asks, "Sorry, I don't think we've met. How much of what? Is someone bringing you something? I'm not from around here."

[kingpawn]

Walt narrows his eyes when he sees the hand casually switch to a different pocket. A gun. It has to be a gun. His heart starts to beat a bit faster, and Walt feels a secret thrill at being this close to life or death. He lost his death sentence with the cancer, so this is the closest he can come. If he gets shot here, so be it. But if not, then this could turn out good for the both of them. Either way, he presses his luck and steps forward.

His opposite hand tugs down the sleeve of his wrist, revealing the glowing REGISTERED tattoo. "Neither am I." He drops both arms against his side with an audible slap, looking Abduxel up and down. "You shoot me now and the nanites will revive me. And then you have an even bigger problem on your hands when I come back for revenge. Or you can tell me how much money your deal brought you."

Walt wants to know just how good this guy is before he brings him on board -- just how much are his lies worth when it comes to the market, how much more than the regular rate is Abduxel's weed going for? Walt needs this innovation if he hopes to make a name for himself to rival Jesse. And from the looks of this guy, he was clean-cut and well-put-together. His very demeanor could go hand in hand with selling such high purity methamphetamine.

[abduxel]

Abduxel, dumb though he is to social cues, is still attuned to threat. His eyes widen ever so slightly more in the moment that Walt recognizes the shift of his hands. His hand is actually closing around the hilt of a small, sharp, ceremonial knife, not the butt of a gun, and so he decides not to draw it out; a gun seems much more threatening, and is something he has yet to acquire. Let him believe it, that seems like a better idea. Of course, unbeknownst to the demon, he has no idea what Walt is capable of, either.

Staring Walt in the eye, his gaze flicks down to the tattoo when it's revealed, and he sizes the old man up. He otherwise freezes Walter speaks. He doesn't understand Walt's motive, and can't determine it from his words, his body language. Some vigilante, busting him for petty crime? Someone mugging him for the cash? It doesn't quite fit, but not for a moment does he seriously consider that Walt wants to bring him into the fold.

He silently contemplates what Walt has said for a moment before he answers. His posture relaxes as he decides to look as unintimidated as he can.

"Hey, hey," he says, finally, showing one palm, and his own glowing tattoo peeking out from beneath the sleeve - the other hand remains tucked in his pocket, grasping something. "We're both imPorts, that makes us friends, right? Friends don't shoot friends."

He smiles a little, insincerely.

"One hundred bucks for four grams, that's the truth. Heard the going rate was fifteen a gram around here. Where I'm from, damn, fifteen bucks would get you - I don't know - two ounces or more." He laughs a little, but then drops the smile abruptly. Calmly, he finishes, "But if you think I wouldn't rather kill you than hand it over, then try me."

[kingpawn]

Walt seems a little offended that Abduxel thinks he's here to rob him of his lousy money. "I don't need your petty cash." He reaches into his jacket pocket too quickly to be drawing a gun. When he withdraws his hand, he's holding a single, sample size of his meth -- one gram of crystal all measured out and bagged up. He tosses it over in Abduxel's direction. The streets are empty right now and discretion isn't entirely necessary. Not on a road where deals seem to take place all the time.

"Crystal methamphetamine -- 97.925% pure. It's close enough to rival what is dominating the markets right now. Now, a bag that size could easily get you $150, give or take. A pound of this stuff could net you roughly $68,100 out of which $22,700 will go directly into your pocket." Walt studies Abduxel, watching him all the while to see if the gears are turning in his head and he's figuring out that Walt is proposing a business deal here.

"Of course, your innovation could be exactly what I need to make it sell for double its worth on the streets. People will pay for high quality. But they will also pay for charisma and lies." Walt smirks faintly. "I need someone who can make it move, who won't be thwarted by the competition. I need someone who can spin stories and create an infamy with this product. It needs to become known throughout the city of Heropa and even beyond that."

The news of this all needs to get back to Jesse. It's Walt's whole purpose for going back to cooking in the first place.

[abduxel]

Abduxel startles when Walt moves suddenly, posture shifting to one ready for conflict, but he stops. The import isn't threatening him, he's... Giving him something?

With quick reflexes, he catches the bag. His hand is slowly removed from his pocket and he turns the product over, examining it. He's never actually seen meth in person, having died before it became popular with American civilians, but he was aware of it as a Japanese phenomenon, and had certainly heard of it while in hell.

He looks back up at Walt as the man finishes his pitch. Briefly, he considers asking for a larger cut, but privately decides he can just do that on the down-low. Besides, he's never seen that much money in his life to begin with.

His skeptical expression breaks into a small grin, which then widens further. Oh, he gets it.

"You should have said so in the first place, man. You don't exactly give off the best first impression, sorry to be saying so." He gestures to his face, noting the problem area. "I'm in - probably. I have some questions, first."

"You make this stuff? And some other guy has the market right now?.... I might have some useful skills besides just dealing, if that's the case."

[kingpawn]

Walt stares at Abduxel -- unamused by the general remark about his appearance. But he's used to it by now. It's something that gets a lot of comments from the peanut gallery. Walt just hasn't cared enough to do anything about it. And he still doesn't care enough, even now. He doesn't comment on that because it's not important. The real important questions are the ones that follow.

As Abduxel offers to deal with Jesse, Walt finds himself torn between telling him he can handle it and inquiring about his abilities. In the end, as angry as he is at Jesse, he shakes his head. "The other guy cornering the market right now isn't too much of a concern. I have him under control. I know him from home and what he's making right now is technically my product because I taught him everything he knows. He owes me."

Walt folds his arms across his chest and nods. "I did make what you're holding in your hands right now. I'm a chemist who has an awful lot of experience running a drug empire. But please -- tell me about your abilities. They may come in useful in the future."

[abduxel]

Abduxel looks almost disappointed when Walter tells him not to worry about the competition, but internally he expects it will come to that, one day. Doesn't it always? And he will look forward to it. "You let me know if he becomes a problem."

He shifts his weight, bringing a hand to his own chin; there's a couple of different ways to describe himself, and he's torn between a rather narcissist interest in saying it all out loud to someone he wants to impress, and a much more practical voice in his head that tells him subtlety and discretion are important, and that furthermore, he still doesn't at all know if he can trust this guy. He's been trying to keep his abilities, and indeed his nature, under wraps around here, lest anyone take issue with it. Moreover, vain though he is, he gets a sick pleasure out of being underestimated, and wouldn't it just ruin all the fun if Walt spilled the beans to everyone?

This little struggle happens quickly, because it's already happened before. In the end, he decides the risk of it spreading doesn't offer enough consequences to justify being dodgy with someone who has offered him a job out of nowhere.

"I'm a demon," he says dryly. "It comes with some perks. I can make people see things - their own memories, that I'm especially good at," and he smiles here, "they'll feel like they are reliving it, some horrible event, shamefulness, their own sins. It's amazing what an effect that can have on someone. I also get to see." He's clearly delighted by this experience, himself, although he tries to contain himself and behave calmly. "Of course, if I know what we need ahead of time, I can find ways to make them see other sorts of things; monsters coming for them, other distortions, other kinds of memories. Generally, I am good at subduing people without leaving a mark on them. And," he says, "I can... make myself very small, and fly. I can get myself in small places - scout around, block surveillance, know where tricky spots are. Escape from things. You know. In a situation."

He pauses a moment. "So, you let me know if you have problems with the other guy."

[kingpawn]

"He won't be. There won't be problems. He's not a problem." Walt says firmly. Jesse is off limits. Maybe. Abduxel's power set sounds very useful. Very, very useful. Still, Walt doesn't want to put it in this guy's head that it's okay to go after Jesse. "But his distributors may very well be a problem. I don't know who he has working for him or what they're like, but he's smart. He would only surround himself with highly intelligent individuals. Out of curiosity, can you create memories? Make up things that didn't happen and have them remember it?"

Because if Abduxel could, then there may come a time when Walt needs to use him on Jesse or Hank or anyone from his world who holds the threat of knowledge about what Walter had done. Maybe there aren't even limits to it. If Abduxel can make them relive memories, can he also make memories nonexistant so they can never relive them? Walt puzzles over the possibilities and what they could accomplish as a team. The shapeshifting abilities are also very useful, too.

This is a very fortuitous meeting. And once again, Walt's good luck has come through.

[abduxel]

"Why go after the distributors, and not the source?" He asks the question flatly, plainly; the finality of Walt's tone doesn't seem to deter his questions, probably in large part because he has, in the past, worked mostly alone, or in extremely unorganized groups. In any case, it doesn't make sense to him, so he pries, probably unwisely. "But, if finding out who the distributors are interests you, maybe we can do that, too. I'd need some leads, or even to know who he is, and where he lives, so that I might follow him. Stalking is not beneath me." Cheerfully, "We could steal from him."

Walt asks him if he can create memories, and he frowns a bit, looking down to think. "I've never tried," he admits. "I think probably. It might take practice - I would need someone to practice on, who could respond to me honestly about it. I mean," he gestures vaguely, talking with his hands, "when I pull up their memories, I'm just asking a question, if you understand what I mean. To write a memory, that takes a lot of elements. It might be too obviously false, and seem like a dream, because it's... Missing data." He's thinking aloud, and finishes with, "Yes, I could do it, if I took the time to learn."

There's a moment of silence before he carefully suggests, "Do you want to see? My abilities, I mean. I could show you." He means, demonstrate on you - your memories.

He already got one person to agree, before. That was fantastic. His heart glimmers with hope.

[kingpawn]

"I told you already..." Walt says with very, very strained patience. "I can handle the source. Your job isn't to worry about him just yet. Your job is simply to make that product move. I need him and whoever he's working for to know we're homing in on his market. I want his distributor to feel the threat of competition. There is no taking care of anyone just yet. We're just rising up to challenge his empire."

He raises a brow when Abduxel offers to show him his abilities. Walter White is no gullible man. He knows if he allows this demon in to his head, he's giving up his power and control. It could just be a ploy to rob him blind and run. "No. But if you need a test subject, I can find one for you. There are a few who come to mind as we speak."

There's a momentary pause as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cheap-looking cell phone. "Do you have a burner? You'll need one if we're going to keep in contact. I just bought this one, but I can give it to you. I have another at home."

[abduxel]

He raises his hands. "Okay, all right. Got it: make product move. I'm good at that."

He's disappointed, but not surprised, when Walt refuses him. He says nothing, not wanting to reveal his feelings. Ah, but: "A test subject would be excellent. Especially if you'd like me to work on creating memories."

"A 'burner'?" He doesn't know this slang, but extends his hand to receive it. "I should be honest with you, since we'll be working together. My human life ended in the twenties. I'm not... Up to date on everything yet."

[kingpawn]

Well, of all the problems Walt thought he would have, he never expected teaching someone about modern times to be one of them. However, Walt was once a teacher, so he doesn't necessarily mind. "It's a phone without a plan. One that can't be tracked by technopaths or the police. The official communicator they gave you is too easy for people to see what you're doing. It can't be trusted. A few people have already listened in on some of my conversations, so this is your best bet to contact people without the fear of someone eavesdropping."

Walt doesn't give the phone to Abduxel just yet, taking a moment to plug his number into it under a pseudonym before he hands it over. "My number is in there if you need to reach me. You know how to use it, right?" He's not being mocking when he asks. It's a genuine question with a gentle willingness to help. Bah. Young people. They're Walt's weakness sometimes.

[abduxel]

Abduxel finds this friendly shift in Walt's demeanour extremely interesting. What a bizarre man to have happened upon him here, while he drifted around looking for some situation to sink his dirty claws into. He listens more raptly, appearing more attentive than when Walt was warning him off pursuing Jesse. He comes forward, closer to Walt, to see what he's doing with the little brick-object. Phone without a plan? It doesn't mean anything to him.

"No," he admits, after a pause where he debates with his pride. "In my day, a telephone had a cord to the wall and connected you to an operator. I can use the communicator, but someone taught me. Is it really - people can see the things you say privately?"

Not that Abduxel has been saying anything bad on there... or has he? He thinks back to a few conversations with new perspective.

[kingpawn]

"Yes. I've had someone admit to listening in on the things I've said on the network. That is why this..." He gestures at the phone. "Is the ideal method of communication. The further away from the government's system you can be here, the less of a chance they're going to be on your trail right away." He steps a little closer to Abduxel and takes out his own phone -- similar to Abduxel's but not identical.

"To use it, you simply open it up like this..." He demonstrates. "You go to your list of contacts here, and press the button to make the call." Walt doesn't realize he needs to show Abduxel how a phone works for talking, though. So he leaves the demonstration at just the digital use, not the technical. "It'll put you right in touch with the person you're calling. It's that simple. Once you get used to it, you'll find that our technology is much easier than what you're used to. Have you had the chance to wield modern weapons yet? You'll need a gun."

Though Walt assumes he has one already. That was what he was grabbing during their initial stand-off, wasn't it?

[abduxel]

He listens, rapt. "I'm glad you told me this. I need to be more careful on the network than I have been. I didn't know that was possible."

Watching the demonstration, he reaches out for the little technology brick. "This should come in handy. Thank you."

"I've fired a pistol, but it's been... decades," he admits, reluctantly. "Have they changed much? Since 1925?" He hates looking so uninformed, it truly makes his skin crawl, but this is just the learning curve, he decides, and he needs to trust this man.

On that note, he adds, "My name is Abduxel, by the way, although please call me Matthew Lin in public." He smirks. "I try to pass for human where I can. It... arouses less suspicion."

[kingpawn]

"Yes. They have. They've changed drastically." Walt could show him right now, but he doesn't really want to go grabbing out his gun in the middle of public so that will have to be saved for another time. He looks up at the introduction, not sure whether he should give Abduxel his true name. He mulls over this and decides he doesn't want to run the risk of public communication and Abduxel calling Walt Heisenberg. Since Abduxel's sharing his true name and alias -- Walt will do the same. It shows a certain level of trust.

"Noted. I'll remember the difference." It's unlikely Walt will be contacting him in public. But if he does, he won't forget the alias. "My name is Walter White. But the name attached to this product and the business we conduct is Heisenberg."

[abduxel]

Abduxel notes the display of trust, and appreciates it. He's really going on a limb, here, perhaps overconfident in his own escapist abilities; it's nice to know this other man is willing to do the same.

"Thanks, Heisenberg." He reaches a hand out to shake. "So, we're in business, then?"

[kingpawn]

"Yes. I do believe we are..." Walt remarks with a small smile. It's been some time since he's done this, but the exciting familiarity hasn't left him. He knows how it can turn out -- but he also knows it's different now. Things are different here. He has a demon to help him for crying out loud. If that doesn't raise the stakes in his favor, Walt doesn't know what would.

He reaches out, shaking Abduxel's hand firmly. "It will be very lucrative. You won't regret this decision, I assure you."

[abduxel]

He grins wide.

"I won't disappoint. I uphold my deals. It's a demon thing." Dealing with demons. It's almost ironic, Abduxel thinks to himself, that he's on the other side of that now. "It's been a pleasure meeting you."

Speaking of demon things, he considers adding that if Walt does share his name with anyone, he'll know; he hears it no matter where he is. Actually, it's a useful feature for some sneaky activities, too, as it barely needs to be whispered, and so works as an effective signal. But he decides against sharing this information, for now, as maybe it will be more telling of Walter's honesty if he finds out the hard way.

[kingpawn]

He was once called the devil by Jesse, so it might be fitting that he's teaming up with a demon. "Yes. There are stories about deals with demons." Walt raises his brows. "It's fortunate I'm not terribly concerned about going to hell."

In Walt's mind, he's already there. His own private torture where he has a total loss of control -- and two men who should hate him are from a time period where they don't remember hating them, so Walt can only live on in fear of the day they inevitably turn on him. Maybe having a demon would put him at some kind of advantage here.

[abduxel]

"Don't worry," he reassures, cheerfully. "I could only send your soul to Hell if that was an explicit part of our deal. But if you're headed that way anyway, well, that's a different story."

He steps back, ready to part. "I'll be in touch."