Broken Promise: A Breaking Bad fan sequel

Blue Leak

Jay Walker, who'd adopted his colorful nickname years before, usually sat on a street corner in Albuquerque, New Mexico. He was known for passing the days traversing ABQ on foot, staying in shape while distributing contraband, and that was the proper word for it. Typically, he had the usual stuff, drugs and weapons, but he kept them hidden in strategic locations, where he wasn't far from his stashes but where he wouldn't have enough on him to get busted for much. This is assuming he did get caught, which in his fifteen years of operating had never happened. His disguise as a homeless man helped him fit in with the destitute in ABQ.

On this particular day, Jay happened to be walking down Ninth Street when he bumped into a young woman walking the other way. She looked the part of an addict. When she saw him, she stopped.

"Hey, you Jay?" she asked.

"Who's asking?" Jay responded back, cautiously. He always vetted potential new customers, to see what their interest was, and try to gauge their commitment to getting drugs or whatever else they wanted.

"I, uh...hear you have access to whatever people are looking for."

Jay smiled. "What's this about?" Still cautious, as ever.

"Um...look, I, uh, heard you got some of that blue stuff? You know, Blue Sky? Richie D gave me a taste of what you sold him, and I gotta have some more, man." As she said this, she started to shake in the way that Jay had seen a hundred addicts shake over the years. Her teeth were also showing the signs of decay which would traditionally come with meth use.

"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about." He started to walk away, but then she grabbed him.

"Look, Mr. Walker, I need this. I've never had something like it before. You gotta give me some, please! I need it. All I gotta have is ten grams." She started shaking even more, and began to cry. She was attracting attention.

"Get over here, and be quiet," he said, dragging her down a nearby alley.

"Listen, lady, I don't know who you are, and I don't talk to cops."

"I'm not a cop!" she stammered. "Look, look," she lifted up her shirt, showing there was no wire. This wasn't good enough for Jay, though. He started feeling in her pockets, to see if she had anything. Nothing, not even so much as a phone. He even felt down by her legs; nothing in her shoes, either. "Happy now?"

Jay got up and laughed. "Okay, you're not a cop. I get it. Here's the thing you don't get, though. Supply and demand. It's been ten years since Walter White died and took down the guys making Blue Sky. Nothing coming anywhere close has been made since. The only one not six feet under who could make it is Jesse Pinkman, and nobody's heard from him since White's death. That makes whatever Blue Sky is left extremely valuable, and I was the only one smart enough to buy up before he died. That means I only sell to high-end buyers, like Richie D. That dude can afford it, cuz he's got rich parents. That's why we call him Richie D. No way a junkie's gonna be able to afford Blue Sky."

The woman grabbed an envelope out of her purse and handed it to him. He looked inside and there was easily more in there than he'd charge for ten grams. He wanted to ask her where she got this, but he figured it didn't matter.

"Wait here," he said, and began to head off.

"How do I know you're not gonna stiff me?" she asked.

"You don't, but I got ties to the community. I stiff you, you'd know where to take your complaint." With that, he continued to walk away.

———

Jay walked several blocks to a junkyard, making sure he wasn't followed. Even so, he weaved in and out of the maze of cars, to be doubly sure. When he was sure enough, he went and found the seemingly-abandoned black van, where he hid his stash of Blue Sky.

He jimmied the door handle in the way that he knew would unlock it, because it always did, and inside saw his stash, which in the current market was worth about $1 million. He opened one of his bags and removed the ten grams requested. He took one last look at his treasure trove, the last look of his life. He didn't even hear the bullet, but he wouldn't have had time even if the shot weren't silenced.

The junkie walked over, sporting a much more confident pose than she'd had during their meeting, a silenced gun in her hand. As she approached the body, she kept a careful watch for anyone there, but there wasn't. Once she got to the body, she reached into his jacket and removed a small GPS tracker, the size of an SD card, and put it in her pocket. She then looked into the meth-filled van, and allowed herself the briefest of smiles.

"It's a start," she said.

———

The decomposed body of James Walker Delban (his ID verified it), would be found months later, sitting inside a truck. He was a man with no criminal record but an unexplained amount of cash at his home. When they tried to examine the truck, it was clear that the decomposition had destroyed any evidence in the van itself.