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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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)

And you believed him.

[Chilton's own skepticism steamed, its cynical vapors clouding their atmosphere. It was more likely, thought Chilton, that Pinkman understood the darker depths Walt's personality composed. It was more likely that Pinkman took particular pains to obscure his other social circle, to make it appear as if Walt was the most relevant being in his life.

And perhaps that was true, about Walt. Perhaps he was the crucial figure in Pinkman's existence. The purest catalyst. Given the degree of control displayed by Walt, Chilton was somewhat surprised that Pinkman still suffered the chemist in his life here -- perhaps Jesse thought he owed Walt. Perhaps it was a touch of Stockholm Syndrome.]

Wouldn't hurt to make sure, would it? To verify his claims. You have your brother-in-law, and all his connections. You have other human resources, I'm sure. An intelligent man like you, Walt? I have little doubt. No stone should be left unturned.

[ Walt remained silent for a long moment, staring at the cup in his hand. His jaw clenched and unclenched before he snapped his gaze toward Chilton -- harsh and cold. ]

What are you playing at right now? Are you trying to turn me against Jesse? I trust him because he would have told me. We're partners. And if you're trying to make me paranoid or question my relationship with Jesse, if you try to come between me and him --

That's what you're doing, isn't it? Everyone told me you were trying to manipulate me. And like hell you're gonna set things back with Jesse and myself. I worked too hard to get things good again!

[ Walt got up and wandered toward the blood stains on the floor. ]

It took two bullets. Right here where I stand. To make sure he would never walk away again. You are NOT going to come between us!

[Chilton gaped, mouth parted in a hybrid display of shock and delight. That confession. The swagger that Walt wore, when he pointed to the blood stains. The authority in his voice, the triumph. It took took bullets.

Walt had played the gambit of suicide to ensure that Pinkman would never again walk away.

It was remarkably manipulative. It was erratic and dangerous and exhilarating. It was everything that Chilton had wanted to hear, from Walter White.]

He saved your life without a second thought. He didn't question your motivations. He didn't question at all.

Heisenberg -- it's fairly evident that nothing could come between you and Mr. Pinkman. [Not unless Walt acted to ensure otherwise.] If he was in the process of walking, if that's what you had feared, then whatever had happened to provoke that potential rift was eliminated by the measure of your attempted sacrifice.

[ Walt studied Chilton after his words, falling into a stunned silence. It was one part guilt-ridden and the other part disgusted. This wasn't really a thing to be proud of. It was a moment of lonely desperation, the only thing he could think to do to keep Jesse in his life or to end everything, if he couldn't have Jesse. ]

We had just gotten the cabin, too. And it was so stupid. We were both....stupid.

[ But it was behind him, and now Chilton knew there was no separating him and Jesse. The point had been made. Walt looked down at the stained floor with the briefest hint of regret. ]

That's not true, Chilton. [ He headed back over to the chair, settling down and collecting his tea again. ] I lose him. Back home. In the future. In his future. There is one thing I did. One move I made that changes things between us entirely. And once he finds out about it, that's it. It's over.

Saul was the only other person who knew. And I took measures to ensure he would never open his mouth and tell Jesse.

What sort of measures? [It seemed important to ask, given that Walt's tendency towards combustion was inevitable, and Chilton figured he would do well to examine the sampled data of prior behavior.] And how did you know what would work on Mr. Goodman?

[Chilton crossed one leg over the other, and leaned back into the chair. It was a lovely cabin -- modern, sleek, with a beautiful interior design. Were Chilton that sort of intimate psychiatrist, he'd probably consider this as a remodeling design.]

You must have trained Saul well.

Saul is a coward. You met him. You must know.

[ Walt shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't sure what kind of relationship the two had, but if Saul was apparently dating one of Chilton's colleagues from home, they had to at least have run in the same circles. It was funny in some ironic way -- thinking that Chilton had interactions with the people closest to Walt well before Walt himself had arrived. It was as though they were paving the path to his and Chilton's inevitable partnership.

At least that was what Walt arrogantly told himself. ]

So I threatened him. And tortured him. Just a little bit of torture. Just enough to get my point across. And then he took off -- he left the city and didn't tell Jesse where. And he hasn't been back ever since.

I never knew him well. We weren't social beyond Freddie.

[Which also meant that he had no reason to dislike the fellow -- Saul had seemed good at his interests, and knew how to keep his head down. In this fragile sociopolitical environment, making yourself useful and unobtrusive was generally a good idea. Chilton sought to clarify this only in the hopes that Walt might expound upon his relationship with Goodman -- but even if Walt circumvented that prying, Chilton had what they had already discussed about the lawyer. That was promising in of itself.]

-- Tortured? You tortured him? You. [Murder seemed right up Walt's alley, but torture was... Certainly interesting in the context of Walter White. An acceleration point. Torture implied long term planning -- or sadism.]

Describe it to me.

[ Walt raised his brows after Chilton seemed fixated on the torture. He held up his hand, waving it frantically because somehow Chilton's fixation made it sound like Walt had Saul strapped to a table while he stuck needles under his nails or something. ]

It wasn't -- I don't know what you're thinking, but I can almost guarantee it wasn't that. I just...lured him into shaking my hand and then fired every single pain nerve in his body. It wasn't a prolonged thing. Only a few seconds max. And that's simply because I didn't anticipate that he was able to teleport.

[ Walt was hasty to brush it under the rug...because he realized how it made him sound. Torture. That was levels beyond simple murder. Murder was quick and solved the problem. Torture was another thing entirely. ]

But it got my point across. He left, didn't he? I'm not some kind of sadistic asshole that goes around torturing people, Chilton. I'm not -- I'm not Crane for crying outloud.

[ Walt was still a good person. He wanted to be a good person. Tell him he was a good person, Chilton. Walt frowned, looking at the psychiatrist. ]

Every single pain nerve? Even seconds would feel significantly longer. Even if he did have the presence of mind to escape.

[Chilton liked that detail, of course. That Walt's torment of Saul only ceased because Saul could teleport away -- it was highly revealing. While Walt wasn't a sadist in the literal sense of the definition (Chilton certainly did not believe that Mr. White inflicted suffering for the sake of enjoying someone else's suffering), it was clearly that brutality was seen as a sort of power. Walt could exert his will through agony and death.

Walter White was nevertheless Heisenberg.]

Not Crane? That's a low bar.

[Chilton met Walt's frown with one of his own. The man whose image was conjured by that name was still a touchy subject for Chilton.]

But one I can agree to, you're certainly not Jonathan Crane.

[Walter seemed more ambitious.]

[ Walt seemed appeased by that -- by not being likened to Jonathan Crane. Not that that confirmed he was still a good man, but at least there were worse. Jack and his gang. Jonathan Crane. ]

Are you ever going to tell me what happened that night?

[ He finished off his tea, setting the empty cup on the table. ]

It's highly unlikely.

[Chilton hadn't missed a beat to that question; he wiped the syllables away, as if they were but rain droplets.]

This is not my session, Walter. This is about you. And I would much rather that you did not deflect back to me.

[ Walt became frustrated. This was the second goddamn time in the course of the evening that Chilton just didn't get it. ]

I'm not trying to deflect back to you. I'm trying to be your...

[ Friend. ]

Forget it. You're the psychiatrist. I'm the patient. Those are the roles you determined and far be it for me to step out of my boundaries.

[ He swept his hand out flippantly, sarcastic and biting. ]

Because you're such a moral, upstanding man who can lock a guy away in his basement and drug him to get information out of him but when it comes to accepting poisons, that's taboo. Or accepting a cup of tea. Or even accepting someone to listen to your problems. What do you think I'm going to do to you, Chilton? Do you think I'm going to run back to Crane with everything I learned here? I made my choice. I chose you.

And I'm really starting to question that decision.

[02] Video; Backdated to Friday May 1st

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