Walt pried open his tightly shut eyes and inhaled a deeply. Jack and a smattering of his men were concentrated on the other side of the room as they viewed the television, draped over seats smoking. Todd stood silently against the wall across from Walt seemingly uninterested in in the men's entertainment. Todd looked across to Walt with his familiar expression of stunted curiosity. Walt raised an eyebrow and began moving his head in a subdued ebb and flow in an attempt to beckon Todd closer without drawing the attention of the others. His uncle and his men still engrossed in something, Todd quietly drifted towards Walt and pretended to be racking up the pool table.
"Todd, Todd…" Walt began with a breathy voice.
"Shhh, Mr. White. What is it?" Todd started putting balls into the wooden triangle.
"Jesse…he's got the razor. He's in that room alone."
Todd's eyes went wide as he registered what Walt was telling him. His hands left the pool table and he quietly left the room without speaking another word, only raising a finger to his mouth to signal Walt to keep quiet. Walt settled back against the wall and contemplated what may come next. He knew he would need to make it to the key rack, but tied as he was the only practical way to get there would be to inch-worm across the room by his ass and feet. Minutes stretched into tens of minutes, and Walt relented, resting his head against the wall. Perhaps it was already too late for Jesse and if that were true, he could only hope the number of men in the room may peter out and give him a fighting chance to worm his way to his keys. If an opportunity didn't stretch out before him now, it could be days before another one presented itself. He would likely have to wait until Todd called upon him for one last cook. It would be one last cook before he could be sold to the highest bidder, and that was a fate he would not accept over death. There would be no time to lament over the events of the present concerning Jesse. A cold wave ran through him from top to tail, and he nearly shuddered trying to shrug it out. It felt like a final cruelty to the man, but Walt resigned himself to using this situation to his benefit at any cost.
As the minutes stretched past an hour, impatience began roiling him. There were no clamourings from the small concrete room and he had expected some sort of audible development to emanate rather quickly. Walt slid himself along the wall towards the door frame while keeping himself below the height of the pool table. He hoped he remained out of the direct eye line of the men present. As he moved up against the door frame he peeked his head around and stared at the door to the room. The hallway was dark and hazy from migrating smoke and only slivers of light draped the door, which remained shut. He scanned the light for signs of movement and saw none. His eyes fixated on a dark, murky amorphous body where the door met the floor. Soon he could see dampened light shining over a crimson wave. Walt jerked back against the door frame, swallowing hard against a lump forming in his throat. He's gone, Walt thought. An image of Jesse formed in his mind in that instant; it was him sitting atop his toilet draped in oversized clothing clutching a glass pipe. He had been trying to smoke a sample of the first batch of crystal they made together, and it was the first time Walt had forcibly stopped Jesse from getting high. Jesse had railed back it him, trying to kick him, but Walt managed to stop him from getting high. The image of him sitting there thinking nothing of smoking their product had always returned to Walt. It had informed him and cemented his perception of Jesse as an imbecilic junkie. A macabre chuckle nearly escaped Walt as he grinned a darkly wicked grin. He knew so little of the person dead in the other room, and the stupendous innocence he had exuded that day remained nestled inside of Walt as a impression unchanged despite the complications of their partnership, as Walt thought of them. The tortuous reality Jesse lived this past year would die with him now, and Walt conceded he would rather remember him from that day so long ago for whatever short life he had left.
Blood was flowing out of the room at an eerily slow pace, and Walt kept stealing glances of its path as he sat solemnly. Eventually, Jack stood up and stretched, lighting a cigarette as he walked toward the pool table. He narrowed his eyes on Walt with a menacing glimmer. "You make yourself comfortable over here, slave?" He said with laugh, amusing himself greatly.
"Very comfortable," Walt returned in a low growl. He looked up at Jack with intent. "Where's Todd?"
Jack glanced around the room for a moment slightly surprise that he hadn't noticed his nephew's departure. Dragging on his cigarette, "He's about, Walt. Frankie! Kenny! Find Todd and get the rat would ya."
Looking back to Walt he eyed him suspiciously, "What's yer problem?"
"No problem here," Walt returned with the tail-end of a smirk registering in the right corner of his mouth. Let there be chaos, he prayed to himself. Let Heisenberg's final act begin.
Frankie immediately shot up from his seat and hastily made his way out of the front door of the clubhouse in search of Todd. Kenny stood up and began to make his way across the room. Jack eyeballed him as he crossed the room toward the room that held Jesse. Walt sensed a hint of disapproval as Jack looked down his nose at Kenny. As Kenny made his way into the hallway, he stopped and swore, "What the shit is this?"
Blood pooled around his boots and he lifted them one by one. Seemingly unperturbed, he proceeded into the room and the door slammed rapidly behind him. Jack walked forward taking in the sight of the blood. He chuckled to himself, "That pathetic asshole finally did it. Well I'll be!"
He paced back past Walt and grabbed a bottle of whiskey the men had sipped on earlier, and planted it firmly on the pool table. "We'll have to pour one out for that sad son of a bitch. Todd's gonna be pretty disappointed." Jack shook his head again and swigged from the bottle before passing it to Walt, who took it in both his hands. Scowling up at Jack, he drank in spite of himself.
Suddenly, Frankie returned in a huff to the clubhouse. "I can't find Todd any place. Where's he got to?" he exclaimed, out of breath.
"Whaddya mean you can't find Todd?" Jack returned, grasping the whiskey bottle tightly.
Todd opened the door and stepped inside the cell. As he shut the door and turned around, a black cord slammed against his throat and jerked him back against his attacker. Jesse was wild on adrenaline as he pulled the ends of the cord across one another. Todd dropped to his knees and Jesse followed, pulling tighter as Todd pawed at the cord in vain. An unending drive was pulsating through Jesse as he pulled the cord ever tighter. The gasps escaping from Todd's mouth only spurred him further as he fed off the other man's pain. Gracelessly, he grabbed both ends of the cord in one hand, yanking back violently to make up for the momentary loss of tension. With his free hand, he reached to his side to grab the razor blades beside him. He jerked Todd's head back to his shoulder and looked down into his bulging eyes. Raising the razors to his throat, Jesse said "I'll see you there," and dragged the razor into his flesh as deeply as he could. He watched as the blood spurted then slopped out, and his fingers felt his slippery, chicken-skin throat as he continued to open him up. As he reached the other side of his throat, he dug in further and sawed at everything he felt, feeling needy to ensure Todd had no chance of living. Dropping the razor to his side he held Todd against himself for a moment watching the blood continue to slip and pulse out. As he began to feel sated, he pushed Todd off his body to the floor and then kicked him towards the door with the blood pooling around the body quickly.
Jesse sat back and put a hand on the bunk beside him. His hands were both dripping red with Todd's blood, and his front was soaked through. Panting heavily, he revelled in what he just did. His synapses were firing like he pounded back copious lines and he felt almost orgasmic. He watched the growing amount of blood and it contented him as a constant affirmation that his host in Hell had finally been killed. As he continued to stare, he suddenly had the need to pose his body. He lowered himself to all fours and grabbed one of Todd's arms to drag him out of the opening radius of the door. He laid Todd on his back to the right of the door and scooted over to lift up his head. He twisted it unnaturally back and towards the door, lingering as he held his head. He dropped himself back to the other side of Todd's body and sat back on his knees. Jesse waved some of the ever growing blood pool under the door, hoping it would now naturally flow in that direction. Still and staring down, he took his left hand and placed it wholly in the pool of blood. The blood was warm, like the thickest, coziest bath water imaginable.
Eventually, Jesse's mind clicked into his next move: he needed to wait in a state of readiness for the next person to come through the door. He grabbed the cord and placed the razors beside himself near the wall behind the door. He sat against the wall with legs bent as his breaths dragged in and out. He was flying.
After an expanse of time, the door opened and Kenny entered. His eyes followed the ocean of blood leading him to Todd, who was staring directly back at Kenny in a macabre fashion. Horrified, he bent down to ensure Todd wasn't breathing, which allowed the door to close behind him. As Kenny raised himself, he slowly turned to see Jesse standing behind him covered in blood. Shocked at the sight, Kenny said, "What have you done?"
"You can't find Toddy anywhere? Not even in the lab? You know he just sits in there sometimes, on his lonesome," Jack was saying to Frankie, still dragging on his cigarette.
"No, boss. He ain't anywhere I saw," Frankie returned.
"Hell," Jack said, glancing to the room. "Where'd the boy had run off to this time? He best not be watching Kenny with that rat again. He's turning into an almighty loathsome creep, makes my blood boil." Frankie merely nodded. "You follow me now as I do a sweep, I best not be finding him out there." Jack said with some resignation as he dropped his cigarette. He left Walt where he was as he and Frankie left the building, the front door swinging to slam shut behind the two. Walt suddenly found himself in the clubhouse room with just one of Jack's henchmen, a nondescript gentleman in a hoodie sitting in a leather recliner facing away from where Walt sat. This moment would have to to be it, Walt thought to himself. He began to very quietly inch against the wall, ass following behind his feet, towards the key rack. He would need to follow the walls of the room without drawing attention to himself.
He scooted his ass along at a quick pace and neared the first corner. As long as Jack didn't come back too quickly, it could work. As he crossed it, cigarette butts and other detritus collected under his ass, but he could only wiggle a bit away in haste. He cleared the corner and kept going. He clanged into a small shelf causing some change and papers to fall off. Walt lifted his head to see the henchman in the recliner. The man stirred for a moment and Walt lowered himself to the floor trying to look as small and unnoticeable as possible. As the man sat back and reclined further in his chair, Walt exhaled with relief. He steadied himself to inch farther forward. As he came upon the entrance, he contemplated how he would get the keys off the rack without the full use of his hands.
Jesse stared into Kenny with wide eyes. He had become almost animalistic as his rage and need for ultimate vengeance consumed him. He ached to end Kenny's life as brutally as he possibly could. Razors in his hand, he stepped forward and penetrated Kenny's stomach with great force then wriggled the double razor shiv around to cause excruciating pain. Shocked at Jesse's actions and suddenly engulfed in pain, Kenny swore and threw Jesse away and into the wall. Thwarted only momentarily, he dived back to Kenny grabbing his throat as his right hand worked its way under Kenny's shirt for better access to his stomach. As adrenaline fuelled Jesse's surprising strength, Kenny's eyes bulged with shock as he gasped for air. Before Kenny had a chance to rip his hand off his neck, Jesse dug his razors half an inch deep into the top of Kenny's stomach and began slowly dragging them across his flesh. A high-pitched scream emanated from within Kenny and Jesse immediately moved his hand from his neck to cover his mouth. When he reached the middle of Kenny's stomach, he stopped and pressed into him hard, looking directly into his eyes. Jesse leaned his face into Kenny's, his lips hovering close.
"Death looks incredible on you..." And with that Jesse closed his eyes and dug down into Kenny, ripping his stomach open. He dropped the razors and pushed Kenny backwards and the man fell, unceremoniously toppling onto Todd's body.
Jesse stood back from the bodies lying in front of him. His hands were now drenched in blood. He raised a hand and began to rub his forehead leaving a smear of blood across it. His eyes were dry and as clear as ice. Panting, euphoria was returning to his body making him feel invincible. Todd, the guide to his misery, was dead before him and atop him laid the slain monster. The man who had taken the last precious thing he held within himself after everything Walt took, after Jack's violent pillage. He was elated and flying high on all manner of bodily responses. He needed a gun, he thought, and then he could kill the rest.
His invincibility led him to calmly consider venturing out of the room in search of a firearm. Quietly, he opened the door a few inches in order to slip through. He gingerly shut it behind himself as he began to slink down the hallway, traipsing in the swaths of pooled blood. Walking down the hall his eyes fixated on the last room on the left. He opened the door inaudibly and flicked on the light. The image of the room stirred an abysmal feeling deep inside him, but he propelled himself forward to the dresser on his reserves of euphoria. He quickly rifled and pawed through each drawer to no avail.
Jesse sat down on the edge of the bed, and reassured himself that he knew at some point he had seen a gun in this room. His memory remained fuzzy, a symptom of repressing the events from the room and while the rush of energy still carried him forward, the euphoria was slipping away and replacing itself with a deep dread. He had to remember to solve this puzzle, but remembering was a dangerous game. He couldn't trust his perceptions once he started remembering. Like what had happened in front of Walt in the cell, he was prone to losing touch with reality and being transported to live in the events of the past. He felt he had to risk it, and so he journeyed to a feeling residing in him that gave way to a memory. He was suddenly strapped to the bed and a man was dressing himself opposite him. His pillow was wet from tears and sweat and he was exhausted. As the man left, Kenny appeared before him. The room seemed darker than before and he could only see Kenny's eyes and the outlines of his body as he moved. His hands were on him and it felt good, but inside Jesse was screaming. At some point Kenny stuck a hand between the mattresses and pulled out a gun. Trying to leave his memory, Jesse sunk to the ground and started routing around in between the mattresses. Just as his hand clasped a handgun, a hail of bullets rang out over top of him. Hitting the floor, Jesse held the gun tight to his chest while bullets rained over him.