"I have an offer that I feel may be of interest to you."

Walt opens the locker door. Stares inside.

The man gazed at him from across the table. He was thin and bespectacled, his pale mustard-colored shirt crisply ironed and spotless. The picture of cool professionalism...right down to the polite smile and dead eyes.

He pulls out the bright yellow protective suit, unfolds it, shakes it out.

"Three million dollars, for three months of your time."

He unzips it.

"Three months, then out."

He carefully inserts his left leg, working his shoe through the hole at the bottom, then goes on to the right. Gus's silent henchman watches him from across the room, seemingly without blinking.

Walt stared out the window, struggling with the decision. "Three million?" he repeated, turning back to Gus. The man's smile widened slightly.

"May I take that as a yes?"

He pulls his arms through the sleeves, flips up the hood.

"I'm sorry, but the answer is still no," Walt replied, watching the other man carefully. Gus stared at him for a moment, then nodded, smile never leaving his face. It gave him chills.

He bends down slightly to grasp the zipper, then pulls up, slowly. It sounds almost final, and in a way, it is.

"Enjoy your meal."

He closes his eyes.

"Thank you," he managed, and as they clasped hands their eyes met and Walt knew. He knew, in that moment, that no matter what he might say, he couldn't get out of this.

The zipper finally stops under his chin, the suit completely encasing him. He opens his eyes.

He belonged to Gus now.

...~...

Author's Note:

I have nothing to say here, other than to point out that these keep getting longer, don't they.