Jessie Pinkman Walks into a bar

This entry is part 1 of 1 in the series Breaking Bad
  • Jessie Pinkman Walks into a bar

All characters from Breaking Bad are property of Vince Gilligan. All characters from the Buffyverse are Property of Joss Whedon. Everything else belongs to me.

Faith and Angel Breaking Bad

Jessie Pinkman walked into a bar.  The place was a dive. It was dark and smoky and smelled of stale beer and body odor and sadness.  This was just what he wanted.  It felt right here. The bar felt like a place where the hopeless came to wallow in their despair.  His face was puffy, an eyes held a haunted and hallowed look.  His clothing were dirty.  He looked like a shade that had just escaped from hell which was true.  Jessie has just spent the last few weeks locked in a dungeon being beaten by Cracker Nazis and a sweet brutal psychopath named Todd who had murdered a woman he loved right in front of his eyes.

Jessie sat at the bar. It was filthy. He didn’t care.  He was still in shock by his time in hell. His mind barely registered the movement of shapes in the darkness around him. His eyes came to rest to two men playing pool over in the corner.  It took a few minutes longer for his mind to register the fact that the men were not human.  Both had far too many fingers and bone ridges protruding from their brow.

“A demon bar.”  He thought to himself.  He had heard rumors about such places. Now he knew the rumors were true.  He didn’t care.  Nothing here could be worse that what he had been through.  Walter White, his old boss, was the devil.  Walter had started breaking bad when he found out he had cancer.  Walk had cut a path of destruction that devastated thousands of lives on at least two continents.  Walter White had seduced him with visions of easy money and turned him into a cold blooded murderer.  The man he used to look too had forced him to defile his soul then stood idly by while an innocent woman choked to death on her own vomit.  Jessie clinched his fist as a flash of anger shot through him.  He was angry because Walt had allowed a woman he loved to die and he was angry that someone he loved had betrayed him so badly.   That was over now.  Jessie had left Walt behind at a Nazi camp littered with bodies.  Walt had killed most of them.  Jessie had killed Todd with his own hands.

The bartender approached him.  He appeared to be a pudgy man in his late forties with a pot belly and a bald head.  Jessie noticed his eyes red as the color of blood with flecks of gold.  Jessie didn’t even flinch at the bartenders green skin and horns.

“What’s your poison?”  He asked.

“I want to kill the pain.” Jessie said.

The bartender gave him a pointed look as if he was making up his mind about something.  He reached behind him and pulled out a bottle of something light blue.

“I believe this will do the trick.”  The bartender set out two shot glasses.  He poured himself and Jessie a drink.  Jessie reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of hundred dollar bills at least an inch thick.  Walter had left him a going away present in the glove compartment of his old car.  Several demons had turned to look at him when he revealed the wad of money.

“I wouldn’t go flashing that around if I were you.” The bartender said.  “You could end up seriously dead.”  The bartender looked up.  Several of the larger demons had started walking towards Jessie.

“Living is overrated.”  Jessie said as he laid a couple of hundred dollar bills on the bar.  He took a shot and downed it quickly.  Something large with claws that could tear flesh from bone came to stand behind him.  It growled slightly.  It was raising its tail that held within it a stinger that was full of poison.  The bartender looked up and gave the monster a pointed stare.

“I’m a bad man.”  He said.  “I’m a murderer, a liar, a junkie.  I’m no good.  I have the blood of the innocent on my hands.”  He knew the hell that waited for him for all the evil he had done.  Jessie knew that choices had consequences.  They had to if they didn’t then nothing would matter.  Like he had said to a support group he joined for the purpose of selling meth. “So no matter what I do, hooray for me because I’m a great guy? It’s all good? No matter how many dogs I kill, I just do an inventory and accept?”  He learned the hard way, chained to a workbench churning out product for evil men, that the arc of the moral universe was long but tended towards justice.  He didn’t care if the demon behind him tore him apart.  He knew he deserved it.

“Not this one.”  The bartender said.  “We’ve got plans for him.”  Jessie looked up.

“Plans?”  He said.  “The last guy I knew with big plans killed everyone I ever loved.” His jaw clinched.  He tried to let the anger pass.  It did not.  It only made his heart race faster and made him surer than ever that the soul of Walter White should be burning in hell. “You know the business and I know the chemistry.” Walt had told him once a long time ago.  He never dreamed business would mean dealing with monsters.  While dealing Walter White’s famous blue meth, his friend Combo was shot to death by a kid.  The drug king pin  that was supposed to make them all rich, slit the throat of one his henchmen right in front of him and Walt just to show them how unimportant their lives were.   Jessie remembered riding around town throwing fat stacks of hundred dollar bills out the window of his shitty Toyota Tercel out of total contempt for how he had earned the money.  He threw away over three million dollars that night from the driver seat of a car that barely started half the time.   The situation was surreal.