Breaking bad fan fiction
Breaking Even: part I
The man with the box knife
Carl let the man go as blood sprayed the old wall like a crazed paint gun. His body twist then fell onto the pox scared flooring grasping for life. "See yah in Hell mate" Carl mocked. Undressing out the yellow suit that was freshly decorated with sanguine. Slipping a cigarette between his lips. The cigarette lit up from a match book that read: Better call Saul.
"Goddamn him!' Carl said. Staring at the drained out man on the floor. Taking a quick swig of the beer in his hand. Carl thought about a conversation he had with Mike a week before Gus was killed by Walter White. A real simple conversation.
What do you do with Walter White? No one seemed to have the balls to do anything about this Heisenberg. The big question. Why was Gus keeping this man alive after he was fired? That should have been it. Mike should of did what he did best and there would be no cause for unnecessary bloodshed but in Carl's case there was always time for blood shed.
"That blood really matches your shirt, you should wear it more often" Carl smiled jokingly at the dead man with his crocodile smile.
Then his thoughts went back to Mike. Damn you Mike for putting me in this, damn you.
Carl wiped off the bloody box knife then sliding it gently back into his pocket. He found himself staring at the pool of blood that was running under his client's body, eying some sugar ants that had gotten caught in the sticky mess. Drowning. It was no longer a pool of blood but an ocean and this was the start he thought and then he whispered, maybe to ghosts or a demon on his shoulder "It always starts out as a trickle, but soon your up to your knees in 'bloody' a surge"
Carl's maroon car dug into the dirt like a screaming demon fishtailing gaining speeds into forties heading to clearing and the highway sign that read Albuquerque nineteen miles ahead.
Surprisingly Carl found himself yelling at the desert "damn you Heisenberg, damn you Jesse Pinkman. Don't worry you little bastards I will find you and when I do we will see who will have the last say". He had one loose end he needed to tie up before going after Walter White and Jesse Pinkman. Her name rang with botch jobs sounds of DEA officers smashing down doors arresting her own men. In the past few hours her own men were ratting her out. She had information on Gus, Mike and Carl, even the little scared mouse known as Lydia. It was what she knew about Carl and his connections to Gus that troubled Carl if she would flip Carl could be tried and receive more death sentences then he could count even in prison Cop killers where looked down on. Not even Saul Goodman could get him a good deal. In his mind it was settled, Kim Richardson had to fall before he did. If anyone knew where that six foot redhead with dark purple glasses would be, it would be Saul Goodman. "Better call soul" he whispered as the New Mexico sun bared down upon his dark sunglasses. "Better call Saul"