Chapter 1

It was business as usual. The meth would be cooked outside of the DEA's sight, in the middle of the desert, then sold on the street. Between drug addicts, the "blue meth" had become famous, and thus could be sold for more, yet it was never a simple task to sell it. Some were willing to demand it at gunpoint, there were times when dealers of the product had to escape cops who had been watching the whole thing, and dealers were killed every now and then. But, there was money in it too, so it made the dangers worthwhile. At least, that's what Walter thought; he never had to risk selling it himself, as people like Jessie and Badger were doing it.

There were shadows cast in the RV as the sun slowly lowered into the depths of the sky outside. He had spent the whole day cooking what he knew could be stolen or lost. If he was not careful, he could screw up and waste half of the ingredients. It was a mundane task for him, though, and after this batch he was going to go home.

He was was finishing up said batch and smashing it into pieces as Jesse walked in. It was clear that Jesse wanted to talk to Mr. White, but he seemed uneasy. Walt noticed Jesse's presence and stopped, turning to face him.

"Yo, uh, Mr White, I gotta, like, take a few days off, man." Jesse stuttered.

Walter looked at him in disapproval. Walking up to Jesse, he asked, "And why ever would you have to do that?"

"Well, y'know, like, with all the money, I wanna, like, treat myself."

"If that is so, Jesse, why are you so uneasy?" Walt was suspicious. Usually, it was simple; he would cook it, Jesse would sell it, they would get the money as well as paying Skinny Pete and the rest their share for selling it. But now, Jesse suddenly wanted time off.

Jesse paused, and nervously scratched the back of his head. "It's, nothing, uh, it's just like, uh, and I, y'know, need to borrow some cash to afford it." The ending of his sentence faded due to the realization Walt would not respond positively to that.

Walt squinted his eyes. After a moment, he replied with, "You get enough money. Whenever we sell our product, we get tens of thousands of dollars, sometimes even hundreds of thousands. And usually, we don't even sell all of it. If we did sell all of it, we would be rolling in millions of dollars right now. Every year, we make over a million. If you would just save your earnings, you could afford a lot of things. But instead, you've come crawling to me, begging for my money. No. I need my money to support myself and my family. What do you want me to do? Smash open my son's piggy bank? Borrow from my wife and prey that she doesn't ask questions? Sell my own stuff? I don't dislike you, but I will not spend my own money on you. Look at yourself, begging a man with cancer for his money. Have standards!" he was frustrated at Jesse now.

"Hey, alright, it's not that much, okay? It's just, like, I dunno, one thousand dollars. No big deal for someone like you."

"Someone like me? I am an overqualified meth cook making a large profit from simple chemistry, yes, but I don't have money to burn. And you think a thousand dollars is not big deal? If it's not that big of a deal, then you won't need my help."

"Fine! Okay! Sorry for asking. You make too much as it is for what you call "simple chemistry". If it's so simple, how come I can't make it? I've watched you every single time. Simple? Stop talking out your ass. You make it and it's not hard for you to do so, but I have to go slave away for you, risking my own damn life to sell it, just to keep you off my back and buy some food so I don't starve to death, alright?"

"Simple for me, Jesse. Not for someone like you. And I guess selling it is terrible for you, so terrible you haven't complained up until now."

Jesse was breathing heavily. "Do not refer to me as a different person, OK? I haven't complained up until now, but I regret it, now that I realise you sit on your ass whilst I put up with psycho druggies who shove knives in my face or pull out a damn gun and demand my money and all the meth I have. Screw you. I'm going."

With that, Jesse stormed out of the RV, slamming the door hard behind him. The sounds of his car's engine roaring to life as he drove off was audible. Walter sighed and sat down. Jesse was a good person, but it was wrong of him to ask for what he had earned. Sure, Jesse had to do the harder part of the cycle, but he still had to cook it, which could result in his face being blown off or him catching on fire. Yeah, he was used to it, but that didn't get rid of the dangers. After he calmed down, Walt took off his apron, hung it up on the RV, put his clothes back on an attached the RV to his car. He reached Jesse's house about an hour later, and knocked on the door. Jesse opened the door to reveal loud music playing and a bong on the living room table, it clear that he had used it since he got home.

"Yeah?" Jesse answered tiredly.

"The RV. Put it in your garage." Walt said. He walked off to his car, detached it, and drove away. He didn't stop to help Jesse like he usually would.

Jesse was still standing in the doorway. "Yeah, thanks, I'll just do it myself, don't bother helping or saying bye, asshole!" Jesse yelled as the car disappeared into the horizon. Once he put it in the garage, he went back inside and went to bed. Just as he was about to drift into slumber, he heard his phone vibrating. It was a call from Skinny Pete.

"Hello?" Skinny Pete blurted out.

"Yo, what is it?" Jesse asked.

"I'm in some deep shit here, bro. I hid some of the meth in my car's boot because I didn't want to carry a whole bunch around whilst I was selling it to, like, reduce the risk of being mugged for it all, but I just got back, and the boot's open with the meth all gone."

Jesse quickly sat up. "What?!" Jesse hissed.

"You heard me, man, some douchebag ran off with it, and I've barely sold a quarter of what you gave me."

"Well, you gotta get it back, man, because Walt's pretty mad at me right now and I do not need this."

"Jesse, bro, you know I can't get it back, man. It's gone."

"Well then find a way, because if Walt finds out I'm the one who's gonna have to put up with his bitching, alright?"

Jesse hung up before Pete could respond. He sighed in frustration and then turned off the lamp he had kept on by accident before falling asleep. Everything was going wrong for him right now, and deep down, he knew sleeping on it wasn't going to fix it.