A/N: This is my first attempt at fan fiction and I had quite a bit of fun. I am a 17 year old high school student and I have been distraught by the absence of the show. I'd like to keep it alive to myself personally by writing some different plot lines from my own imagination, and I think you guys may find it entertaining. I'd like to thank you for reading and the next chapters should be up soon. All reviews are welcome as I'd love to see how I did and what I can improve on. Now enough blabbing and on to the story!

I do not own Breaking Bad or any characters from Breaking Bad.

Walter walked out to his car gingerly trying to take in what he was about to do. He was going to have to do something he'd never done before: kill a very innocent man. Sure he was a producer of the same product that Walt had made and that was highly illegal, but he was positive Gale had never killed anyone or even come close to it. Gale was the sweetest, nicest, slightly nerdy soul Walter had come to know in this business, and now he was going to have to kill him.

He hopped into his trusty 2004 Pontiac Aztec and sat in the driver's seat with a sad look on his face. It was astonishing to him that it had come to this, and he really didn't want to do it, but he had to. What other choice did he have? It was either him or Gale, and in that decision he knew that the victor would be he, Heisenberg. Walt reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun, Jesse's gun, that was given to him for the occasion. He opened the chamber of the gun and saw that it was fully loaded, but he knew he'd only need one bullet. Maybe Jesse was right, maybe this wasn't the right way. Maybe he should go to the police.

No. They were in too deep and Walter would be in too much trouble, and they would take all his money – his family's money. Walt knew this was the only way even though it was definitely not the right way. He tried to rationalize in his head what he was about to do and somehow manage to make what he was about to do seem … less not-okay. Walt figured that he'd already killed Krazy-8 with a bike lock and his own two hands, and Krazy-8 was a nice guy just as much as Gale is, Gale is just… stranger. Walt looked down at the firearm and a single tear streaked down his cold blooded face. How could he do something like this… again?

Walt knew he couldn't let emotion control this. This was business. His life was at stake here. His family was at stake. Everything he'd been working for the past better half of a year was at stake, and Walt knew this couldn't all be for nothing. Mr. White's frown of sorrow and sobbing turned into a demonic and dangerous frown as he wiped away the tear and its streak from his cheek. He closed the gun up and got it ready and then stood up in his seat as he shoved the gun into the back of his khakis. The former chemistry teacher put his key into the ignition and started the car. He then put his hands on the wheel and drummed his hands lightly on the wheel as he tried to "pump himself up" for the occasion. With his game face on, Walter was ready. He put the car in reverse, and backed out of the driveway.

As the chemistry genius drove down the streets of Albuquerque he couldn't stop thinking about how horrible what he was about to do was. He figured he'd turn on some tunes to ease his mind or distract him from what was about to take place. Walt wasn't in the mood to listen to the radio; it wasn't a radio type of night. He reached between the two front seats and found a CD that must have been Junior's. It was an Ozzy Osbourne album, one of his newer ones. Walter hadn't heard it and was in the mood for something to pump him up, so he slid it in and turned it on pretty loud. The beginning was fast and long with a pretty good rhythm, Walt liked it. It wasn't his usual taste, but he found it enticing.

"I don't know what they're talkin' about
I'm making my own decisions
This thing that I found ain't gonna bring me down
I'm like a junkie without an addiction.

Mama don't cry I just wanna stay highLike playin' with danger and fear
Everybodies walkin' but nobody's talkin'
It looks a lot better from here."

This was something Walter had never liked before but today he found it appropriate, maybe heavy metal was getting better, or maybe Walter was changing. He kept driving and driving trying to ease his mind but nothing was working, how could he possibly ease his mind about this? Walt wanted to forget about it but he knew he had to think about how he was going to execute, so to speak, his plan.

Walk up to the door, knock, pull the gun out and just do it. Don't talk, don't acknowledge him. That'll just make it harder. Just shoot. Just pull out the gun and shoot. Walter kept thinking to himself how he wanted to do this but he just didn't know. Does Gale deserve to blindly know why he's dying? I'm sure Gus didn't bring him up to speed on how he's going to kill me. Gus probably told him that I was leaving or quitting or something. Maybe I should give him an explanation about Gus, about everything that's happened and why he has to go. It's the right thing to do.

"Why don't they ever listen to me?
Is this a one way conversation?
Nothing they say is gonna set me free
Don't need no mental masturbation.

Too many religions for only one god
I don't need another savior
Don't try to change my mind, you know I'm one of a kind
Ain't gonna change my bad behavior!"

Walter was now coming up on the neighborhood where Gale resided. It didn't make much sense to him that Gale lived in such a small place given that he was now a meth cook, granted not for very long. He had a great resume and all, extensive education and extremely impressive qualifications. Perhaps Gus wasn't paying Gale as much as Walt because he was unaware of the potential pay being so high. Oh well. Thinking about it now Gale reminded Walt of himself 15 to 20 years ago, which made him even sadder.

He had to snap out of it. He had now pulled up to the apartment complex where his true testament of devotion to the life of crime Walter was. Walter knew he was going to do it now. He was sure. He knew he was already on the highway to hell, and this was but another speed bump. Actually, it was more like the opposite of a speed bump. It was like he was now speeding faster and faster on this highway into the fiery pits of the devil's playground.

The music kept playing as Walt sat in the car, which was now parked in a close parking spot to the building. He was breathing quickly, his heart nearly pounding out of his chest. He still couldn't believe it. It had come to this, and he was going to go through with it. Walt took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes with both hands on the wheel still and bowed his head. Upon looking up he had the same begrudging look on his face. He wore a face of dead serious cold blooded viciousness.

Mr. White opened the door of the Aztec and was about to get out, but then he glanced over at the passenger seat and saw his pork pie hat – which had now been known as "The Heisenberg Hat", and picked it up off the seat. He held it in his hands for a minute, just looking at it, marveling at it.

"All my life I've been over the top
I don't know what I'm doing
All I know is I don't wanna stop.
All fired up, I'm gonna go till I drop
You're either in or in the way
Don't make me, I don't wanna stop!"

Walter put on the hat slowly, making sure that it fit correctly and perfectly. He slid his finger across the brim and looked up at himself in the rear view mirror. Walter then lowered his eyebrows and a slow smile began to trickle onto his face – he was once again Heisenberg. This was it.