maskormenace | [02] Video; Backdated to Friday May 1st

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[02] Video; Backdated to Friday May 1st

[ Hey, everyone. It's Walt. You may remember this guy from such videos as drunk posting in his underwear. But in case you don't (and hopefully you don't), Walt is fully clothed this time. He still looks every bit as weary as his video debut, but at least he isn't drunk. That's a plus. ]

I apologize in advance for any inconvenience. It seems as though the Heropa pharmacy was caught up in whatever chaos erupted in the city and suffered some damages. We will be closed until further notice, but I will be doing my best to ensure prescriptions still get out to everyone who used my pharmacy to have them filled. We have a sister pharmacy that has temporarily taken on accounts here in Heropa. Though if it's more convenient for imPorts, I can have things forwarded to the other imPort cities.

Repairs have already begun, so I don't anticipate us being closed for over a couple weeks. If anyone wants to offer their assistance in helping rebuild the damaged sections, it would be greatly appreciated. Otherwise, I hope everyone has been well and continues to be well now that the worst of this is all behind us.

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[ Walt didn't respond to Chilton's first statement. ....or the second one. What. Why would that even be a necessary retort? It's not like Walt got tortured by Crane. ]

The place we're going to is important to Jesse and me. It's our sanctuary, and as we get closer to it, I'm going to ask you to put on a blindfold.

[ Walt frowns, navigating the streets of Maurtia Falls. They're on the main roads for now. ]

It's just precautionary, Chilton. I understand if you have...reservations. But if you can't trust in anything else, please trust in my devotion to Jesse. He would be upset if he knew I let you in there in the first place. Defeats the purpose of a safehouse, he would say. He's the whole reason we got the cabin in the first place, he would say.

[ Walt seemed a little nervous and apprehensive -- not wanting Chilton to believe he was about to just blindfold him and murder him or something. His fingers closed tight around the steering wheel and loosened, only to repeat the process. It felt like walking on eggshells since the whole Crane thing went down. Damnit, Crane! ]

Reservations.

[Chilton repeated the word, somewhat acridly, while granting a slick sidelong glance to the driver.]

I've just been traumatized, and you want me to wear a blindfold for the sake of your thumping guilt? [And there was no reason to doubt the sincerity of that guilt; Walt clearly had a strong investment in Pinkman. This sort of curtailing of their terms and agreement, concerning this special place theirs, was a loophole. Walter could lie to himself, he could make Chilton wear a blindfold, but the psychiatrist still saw what was going on.]

I can't wait to see your other hosting techniques.

[He knew he wasn't going to win this battle. He'd have to concede to wear whatever Walter asked of him.]

Only for part of the ride! I knew you were gonna get defensive.

[ Walt was quick to protest before he narrowed his eyes with a grumble. ]

And it's not guilt, it's caution. Of the two of us, you're the one who did the most damage to me, remember? You have your phone on. You can call your FBI dog and have a conversation with him if that'll make you feel better. I won't interrupt.

[ Walt reached into the backseat and grabbed the light blue strip of cloth, dropping it onto Chilton's lap. The main roads were left behind as they turned onto a few less crowded ones, eventually reaching the back roads. ]

Once we hit the wooded area, that's when I want you to put it on. Please, Chilton. Just do me this favor. I promise it will be worth your while.

[Light blue. It was a similar color to his sedan, and some of the other hued accents in his aesthetic. Had Chilton known more about Skyler, had he any visuals of her, he would have verbally connected the blindfold to her color preference. What was Walt really keeping in the dark?

Instead, Chilton clenched the strip of cloth in his hand, resenting the command he would comply with -- once they hit the wooded area.]

I presume you're referring to Will. [As if Chilton had any other friends associated with the FBI.] He isn't much of a conversationalist when one isn't being driven to a secret hideaway. I imagine this would be worse.

[And he didn't want Will to be concerned. This was an important session, an essential one, and he didn't want interference. Moreover, the following day was Will's session -- there was no reason to muddle that ball of neuroses with concern.]

So Pinkman doesn't know that you're about to show me your mutual safehouse. What are you going to say, when he finds out?

He won't find out.

[ Yeah, he probably will. ]

But even if he does, it'll be easier to deal with if I can assure him you can't find our place without me.

[ Walt sighed. ]

I'm ruining him, Chilton.

[ It was an out of place confession, but one that had been on his mind for a while -- especially since the last time Walt and Jesse went to the cabin. ]

My power, it's...

[ Walt frowned and shook his head. ]

He had a problem with drugs, you see....

[ It was hard to put this into words, to make Chilton understand what it was they did sometimes -- what Walt did to Jesse. And it was hard to explain his conflicted feelings over it or how it was getting easier to do each and every time. ]

I don't know how to say this. I guess the closest thing I can say is that I've become his heroin.

[ They reached the wooded area and Walt glanced over at Chilton expectantly -- hoping that he'll put on the blindfold while they have this conversation. ]

Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission?

[Not like Walt was presumed to have done much begging in his life, if the material henceforth was anything to illuminate. And as Walt continued to talk, about his concern, his relationship with Jesse, Chilton quieted his own speculation to listen. Such confessions deserved observant, attentive compatriots.

And there it was. Walt acknowledging the control he had over Pinkman.]

You feel guilty about the consequences of that, don't you? Guilty, yet unwilling to relinquish your hold. You won't submit him to detox --

[Chilton glanced out the window, taking a sharp breath at the oncoming sight of trees. Walt expected him to obey. The psychiatrist closed his eyes and tied the light blue fabric over them, knotting the ends.]

You like the control.

[ Walt released the breath he had been holding, having expected Chilton to put up a fight. So the fact that he complied was a great relief and one that meant a certain level of trust.

Walt quietly guided them through the trails, winding through the darkened forest. ]

I like that he needs me for something. There will come a time where he won't anymore. If he finds out this one thing that I did...

[ That Walt refused to say because giving Chilton that knowledge would be giving him extreme power over him. ]

...if he finds that out, he's going to hate me. But maybe if I do this for him, maybe even in spite of him finding out, he would need me.

[ He furrowed his brows. ]

But it doesn't make it feel any less wrong.

[ At that point, the car came to a stop. ]

We're here. Well, I have to open the gate, but you can take off the blindfold.

[Not a moment too soon. Chilton, eager to resume his sight, hurriedly untied the knot behind his head and let the fabric fall unto his lap. There was plenty more on the subject of Pinkman that he was determined to pursue, but this moment of transition from vehicle to secret cabin wasn't quite the moment.]

So what, do you share an agreed upon schedule? What if he's here, now, surreptitiously? With a girlfriend?

[Pinkman seemed the type to have a girlfriend, or two. Chilton wondered how Walt might take that situation.]

This is... Quite a property, Walt. [Indeed, something to impress even the image-conscious Chilton.] This is your little fiefdom from Pinkman's enterprise?

He wouldn't bring anyone here, Chilton. This is our place. He knows better than to bring someone from the outside into our world.

[ Unlike Walt who brought the very man who inspired the purchase of this safe house. He flashed a glance over at the psychiatrist before nodding. ]

Yes. He picked it out and purchased it. He knows exactly what's needed and he does it. I can trust him with that.

[ And Walt got out of the car, pulling the gate open manually before getting back in and driving through. He got out again to close it behind himself, and finally returned so they could park closer to the cabin. ]

I have to get the generator started. It'll only take a moment.

[ He got out and went to the side of the house, filling the tank with gasoline before pulling the ripcord. The motor revved and the generator kicked on seconds later, powering up the place. Walt returned to Chilton, nodding for him to follow as he went up to the door and unlocked it.

Walt's attention immediately landed on the patch of dried blood that discolored the wood floor near the entrance. His suicide attempt where Jesse took on the injury. They both bled a great deal and neither of them rushed to clean it right away, thus leaving behind its mark even after they took care of the worst of it.

Walt looked away, hoping not to draw attention to it. ]

Welcome to my place. Make yourself at home. Do you want a cup of tea? Or do you want me to cut straight to it and give you your presents first?

[He was glad that he had refrained from pointing out the hypocrisy of bringing himself to this apparently sacred place that Walt and Pinkman shared -- glad, because the reference to bequeathing something (something, plural) caught his immediate curiosity. The items, their meaning, what Walt intended -- giving and receiving were such raw psychological experiences.

So sharp was the inquisitive need, that Chilton kept his gaze focused on Walt. No drifting glances caught the ironed bloodstains -- not yet, anyway.]

What sort of presents might Heisenberg give his psychiatrist? Oh, I would like to know that indeed.

The reason Crane was able to attack you is because you had no defense, Chilton. I'm just giving you the defense. A little sample of the things I cooked up in my lab while the pharmacy was out of commission. Number one. And your first line of defense in the event of an immediate threat.

[ Walt reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looked like a small perfume bottle -- a little spray bottle full of a clear liquid. ]

Tabun. Do I need to explain to you what it does?

I'm familiar with the chemical. [But only in the abstract, only in passing. Just because Chilton didn't create compounds and pharmaceuticals didn't mean he did not know what the vast majority did. He committed himself to creating mind, and identities, and that dedication had drawn him away from the more surgical or the more mathematical arts.]

Who exactly do you anticipate me using this on? Crane isn't interested in repeat experiments, Walt.

[He reached out, cautiously, hesitantly, to take the petite perfume bottle.]

Are you anticipating more danger?

Do you honestly think just because Crane has exhausted his use on you, that you're in the clear? I know for a fact, you're a man who makes enemies. Why be unprepared? I'm not going to stand by and let anything happen to you again. Not on my watch.

[ Not before he gets his OWN revenge. Walt relinquishes his hold on the bottle. ]

Humor me at least and keep it with you. And if it comes down to using it, make absolutely sure you can hold your breath and get a safe distance. It's also water soluble and can be used as a poisoning agent -- if you have to go more preemptive. Which also leads me to gift number two.

[ He pulls out the tiniest vial full of white powder and sealed tightly with a cork. ]

Ricin. Just this tiny bit is all you'll need to deliver a fatal dose. I'm not sure how to counteract the impermanence of death in this world, but that particular formula is guaranteed to be a slow, painful death. It will put your enemy out of commission for some time. Of that, I'm certain.

[Chilton pulled back his fingers, softly wrapping them into his outstretched palm. He turned his head at the ricin offered, his eyes glued to the vial as his head moved by degree.]

Do you consider me to be a murderer?

[In fact, he was -- but Chilton could muster enough ambiguity to deny himself that truth. It was easier to claim innocence when you killed through people, or when you killed them accidentally. But he wasn't a hands-on breed of assassin. Indirect, distant methods, where someone else could take the fall -- that was preferable. And while poison maintained that discretion, it would still be Chilton's hand that tipped the vial.]

I know we've had our... Disagreements, Walt. But even during the worst of them, I had never intended to murder you. Even if that was a permanent solution.

[And thus was the moral nuance of Frederick Chilton: unethical, abusive, dehumanizing, but unwilling to outright murder if it meant weighing on him. He wasn't Hannibal Lecter, after all, or any of Lecter's little monstrosities.]

[ Was he joking? Walt gives Chilton a look of disbelief. And then he gets mildly offended. Here he went to all this effort to make these things, thinking they would help Chilton and Chilton's going to go play the morals card? What did Walt blow up his pharmacy for? Apart from keeping Crane out of it. ]

Fine. [ His hands close around the vial and he puts it back where it was. ] If you want to roll over and die, then that's your choice. Because someone will try to kill you again.

[ He turns away, opening the wood stove and jamming a log into it. Pennsylvania was still a bit chilly in the deep woods at night this time of year. Walt gets the fire started and without turning around, he says: ]

I thought you were better than that. I thought you were a survivor.

[He was losing Walter White. Chilton could tell from the curtain in Walt's voice that this wouldn't be a temporary fire on the bridge, that all of which Chilton had worked for and all the opportunities he had slithered his way into, all of that would be for naught; his sliver of moral hestitence had committed the most acute sin. Narcissistic injury.

Chilton calculated that he had seconds to make amends, or lose his most promising project.]

Walter -- wait.

[Chilton, pacing over, reached out his hand to gently touch Walt's shoulder.]

You're right. I -- should take precaution, regardless of the means inherent. They are, indeed, ultimately justified. I was simply -- I'm still a bit shaken up. The past weekend was not... Pleasant.

[He took a deep breath, his eyes focused on the back of Walt's head. Already Chilton resented the next two words to slip between his barely moving lips:]

I'm sorry.

[ He tenses at the hand on his shoulder -- remembering the last time he was caught unaware by Chilton's touch. Walt's shoulder rips away as though it's been burned by the very fire he was stoking. ]

Which you would think would be all the more reason to latch on to any means of protection possible.

[ He looks at Chilton, his gaze hard before he sighs and the tension finally leaves his shoulders after the apology. ]

I did this for you. I blew up my pharmacy to buy time for you.

[ He reaches in his pocket again, brandishing the ricin. ]

The least you can do is have it on hand. You never know when it will be necessary. The whole point of this partnership is to make sure we're the ones who come out on top. We're not the side that loses, Chilton.

[Chilton couldn't shake the distinct feeling of being lectured to, when Walt spoke in this moment. The stern paternal gaze, the beleaguered sigh and hint of indulgent forgiveness -- it was all very familial. The psychiatrist didn't bite back with a remark about subtle guilt tripping, and nor did he offer any sneering; Chilton nodded, passively, and took the ricin from his patient.]

I appreciate it, Walt. I do.

[It was possible for Chilton to get so wrapped in his own manipulative mechanisms, to focus so ardently on the effects he inspires, that he missed the evidence of someone manipulating him right back. Chilton pocketed the ricin without complaint.]

Have you thought about Crane's composition? In his toxin.

[ The appreciation, that does wonders for Walt's ego. And any anger or bitterness or resentment he had is instantly forgotten. ]

That was actually the third and final thing I had with me.

[ Walt answers, digging into his jacket of tricks and producing a single syringe full of clear liquid. ]

It's a mock up. Enhanced lysergic acid diethylamide. It's not necessarily a gift for you in that I don't expect you to use it as a defense, but more that you know people. You can test it easier than I can. I'm not sure what result we're after. [ because you didn't tell me ] But I took my best guess and tried to tailor it so it would be akin to taking a bad trip so to speak.

On non-imPorts. I certainly don't want to engage a dormant healing factor, after all.

[Said Chilton as he eyed the syringe.]

I imagine that our phantom copycat will target the local population, don't you agree? Crane's interest appears to be without discrimination, but obviously imPorts have a particular accessibility.

[It was convenient reasoning -- but in truth, he sensed that if Walt were to consider the imPort populace as the desired targets, then he'd ask for Chilton's patients as carriers. And the psychiatrist, for all his depth of flaws, was nevertheless possessive of his patients. Walt knew that, of course; the chemist topped the list.]

On non-imPorts.

[ Walt agreed. He didn't really care who was the recipient as long as he knew whether the results were what they desired or not. He handed the syringe in Chilton's direction and thus concluded the offerings. ]

It would probably pose less of a problem being caught immediately -- were our mastermind to attack the non-imPort populace. How have you been progressing with him, by the way?

[ Walt breezed past Chilton in order to head into the kitchen and fill a tea kettle with water before putting it on the stove. ]

Edited 2015-05-12 01:58 (UTC)

Well, he certainly hates imPorts. [Chilton said, as Walt busied himself. He watched his patient, observing even in this jaunt of conversational air, continuously taking mental notes on Walt's movements, his speech pattern, his verbal topics.] He specifically hates you. The man's mental state revolves around fear and fury.

[What Chilton didn't mention, however, was the vital ingredient of inflicted trauma. That would have to come, and Walt would have to be the administrator. But after Chilton's own flinching hesitance, he knew now wasn't the moment to breach the idea.]

Should I take a seat anywhere? I don't want to leave hair fibers, in case Mr. Pinkman takes note.

[The syringe, properly capped, sat in his pocket.]

Good. That's what we want.

[ The more this guy hated Walt, the better it would be when Hank caught him.

But as Chilton went on, Walt looked back at him, making a face. ]

Stop making fun of this. You don't understand what Jesse and I have gone through together. You don't know the types of things we had to do when outside parties became involved.

[ A pause. Well. Maybe he knew a little bit. ]

You only know about Gus.

[ Not EVERYTHING about Gus. At least, not the fact that Walt poisoned Brock to get Jesse on his side. But Gus was one of Walt's biggest stories of triumph. Like hell he wouldn't gloat about taking him down to Chilton in one of their sessions. ]

But my point is, Jesse has every right to be paranoid, especially where you're concerned. [ Walt tensed, his hand on the handle of the tea kettle as he recalled Jesse's words. He's profiling you and you're letting him. And this also made him recall Abduxel's words. I hope to protect you from someone who you say is this dangerous. Who has been violent with you before, and is manipulating you now. Manipulating. Chilton wasn't a friend. There was a strain in his voice. A tension as he tried to remain friendly in spite of his bitter thoughts. ]

Do you want some tea? Oh, and yeah. You can sit wherever you'd like.

[Chilton looked at the heated kettle. He gripped at the poisons in his pocket, those bloodcurdling agonies born from Walt's chemist mind, and looked directly at that tea kettle.]

I think I'm fine, as is. Thank you.

[It was difficult to divorce such connotations from his mind, and Chilton thought perhaps Walt would be sympathetic. Hell -- perhaps it would even flatter him, given the implicit fear that Walt's poisonous capability can inspire. And Chilton, having come just off of Crane's fearful toxicity, considered himself in the embrace of an immunity period.

Well. Perhaps not when a writhing fatality was possible.

Chilton took a deep breath, his chin leaning into his chest, before he walked over and took a seat in a comfortable, stylish chair.]

I want to discuss your relationship with Pinkman's -- ah, Jesse's friends.

[ Walt glanced over his shoulder at Chilton after his refusal. And Walt immediately knew it was borne out of a concern that Walt himself would bring him harm. Chilton didn't trust him either. Not that he should, but it still bothered him a little. First the refusal to take the poisons and then the refusal to take the tea. It wasn't a partnership. Chilton would only ever see him in the lowered status of patient. A threat. Not the true asset he could be.

He said nothing and then poured his own cup, letting the tea bag stew in the boiling water. ]

I don't have a relationship with Jesse's friends. I don't even know any of them. There's nothing to talk about.

[ He prepped his tea appropriately before joining Chilton in the living room. ]

I don't even think he has any other friends. He told me the ones he had got ported out.

[ Walt eyed the steaming beverage. He seemed a little more subdued, a little down and quietly withdrawn. ]

Edited 2015-05-16 18:30 (UTC)

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