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[[shortly following this thread, which also contains some spoilers for Breaking Bad]]
Jennifer leaves him in the care of another, more detached employee, who in turn leaves him with a phone, an ID, and a modest apartment within the ROMAC tower. The furnishings are relatively spartan, somewhere between the average American dorm room and a high-end Swedish prison cell: nice enough. Gus wonders about money, they tell him he'll be provided with a reasonable stipend. That will do until he secures employment, which will preferrably be as soon as possible.
Left alone, Gus investigates the apartment. The fridge has been stocked with enough groceries for the next couple days, and there's a toothbrush and other basics in the bathroom.
He takes off his shoes, then his jacket, which he hangs up in the closet. His tie and shirt he folds neatly, setting them on the desk. Down to trousers and undershirt, he sits on the edge of the bed and slowly lowers his head into his hands.
Walter White has killed him, he is not sure how, but it is done. Walter will be dismantling his empire now, burning destructively through everything like he does. Gus wishes, briefly, that he'd never spoken to the man -- that he'd never listened to Gale's recommendation.
Enough, now. That life is gone, thoroughly. It isn't his anymore. It would be best to move forward. He has been given a second chance, however peculiar. There are new opportunities and new connections to be forged.
Still. His fingers ghost over the phone he's been given. A high-end smartphone. Kind of the corporation to give these out. (ROMAC is an interesting beast. He'll have to find a way into it. He's a bit old now to be starting over from the bottom, but he's a fast and talented climber, practiced at it now.) He opens the internet app and brings up a search window. His thumbs tap out: Gustavo Fring.
Nothing. Stray Facebook profiles, geneology lists. He tries again: Los Pollos Hermanos.
No. Nothing at all.
He tries more keywords but there's no point now, and soon he gives up. He feels cold. He sets the phone down heavily and takes a moment to breathe, clutching at his chest. He isn't just dead; here, he never existed.
This is good, though. He is starting with a completely blank slate. He is unimpeachable. There is no history to be found, no criminal records to be tracked. No one can touch him now.
He lies back down on the bed and gazes up at the ceiling. He shuts his eyes and thinks about Max.
He's tired, he realizes. It's been a long time since he had the chance to really just rest.
He allows himself to drift into sleep. More will come tomorrow.
[[and this feeds directly into Topher's dream party, where he meets Cecil Palmer]]
Jennifer leaves him in the care of another, more detached employee, who in turn leaves him with a phone, an ID, and a modest apartment within the ROMAC tower. The furnishings are relatively spartan, somewhere between the average American dorm room and a high-end Swedish prison cell: nice enough. Gus wonders about money, they tell him he'll be provided with a reasonable stipend. That will do until he secures employment, which will preferrably be as soon as possible.
Left alone, Gus investigates the apartment. The fridge has been stocked with enough groceries for the next couple days, and there's a toothbrush and other basics in the bathroom.
He takes off his shoes, then his jacket, which he hangs up in the closet. His tie and shirt he folds neatly, setting them on the desk. Down to trousers and undershirt, he sits on the edge of the bed and slowly lowers his head into his hands.
Walter White has killed him, he is not sure how, but it is done. Walter will be dismantling his empire now, burning destructively through everything like he does. Gus wishes, briefly, that he'd never spoken to the man -- that he'd never listened to Gale's recommendation.
Enough, now. That life is gone, thoroughly. It isn't his anymore. It would be best to move forward. He has been given a second chance, however peculiar. There are new opportunities and new connections to be forged.
Still. His fingers ghost over the phone he's been given. A high-end smartphone. Kind of the corporation to give these out. (ROMAC is an interesting beast. He'll have to find a way into it. He's a bit old now to be starting over from the bottom, but he's a fast and talented climber, practiced at it now.) He opens the internet app and brings up a search window. His thumbs tap out: Gustavo Fring.
Nothing. Stray Facebook profiles, geneology lists. He tries again: Los Pollos Hermanos.
No. Nothing at all.
He tries more keywords but there's no point now, and soon he gives up. He feels cold. He sets the phone down heavily and takes a moment to breathe, clutching at his chest. He isn't just dead; here, he never existed.
This is good, though. He is starting with a completely blank slate. He is unimpeachable. There is no history to be found, no criminal records to be tracked. No one can touch him now.
He lies back down on the bed and gazes up at the ceiling. He shuts his eyes and thinks about Max.
He's tired, he realizes. It's been a long time since he had the chance to really just rest.
He allows himself to drift into sleep. More will come tomorrow.
[[and this feeds directly into Topher's dream party, where he meets Cecil Palmer]]
