Under the merciless sun of the Utah-Desert, he made his way over sticks and stones back to his home. Actually, not really his home but the place he spend a great amount of his life in. The place that changed him to what he was right here and now. A half-dead, sunburned, addicted to meth, up-to-no-good SOB. Overalls hanging around his hip, broad shoulders and torso covered by a dirty and bloody wife-beater, he cursed under his breath, lips chapped. Overall, he was a mess and it was a miracle he was still alive. With an evil smirk, he thought how much like a movie this was. The bad guys never really died. Especially if no one made sure they're gone for good. And his little brother surely had not checked. No, had been busy with his toy. Fucking prick.

Knowing his way around the desert like no one else, he managed to get to the cave. Stumbleing inside, he braced himself on the cold stone-walls. Time to get what he needed. And that wasn't just simply water. Sitting down on a dirty matress, he downed a bottle of the stuff anyway and added some meth right after it. Time to gather some strength and mull this bitch over. Daddy-dearest hadn't come looking for him. Big fucking shock. Probably too busy watching Devon and the Luna Mesa. Then again, no need to come back to the cave for him, all the meth had been taken out the police station and who the fuck knew where Walter had stored it. So until the stash was done, the cave was uninteresting. And even after that, who'd been taking over the job? No-fucking-one! Daddy needed him. But without a little payback, he wouldn't get his first-born back. And golden boy would get what he deserved.

Eyes roaming around the cave, he thought about all the shit had started and how it all had been boiled down to this. Yeah, fucking A. Fuck what Walter says, Devon's gonna pay. Trouble was, with all 'em kids gone, there'd be a shitload of cops all over the place soon. And real cops, not some stuttering, cow-fucking idiots.

That's what you get for doing what's right. Helping your fucking family. Hell, how the fuck did he even know how to spell that shit? Hadn't been worth a damn. Yet. That was something he had to change, now, hadn't he?!

Opening a bottle of Jack, Mac made himself comfortable and enjoyed the high as well as the booze. In his mind, a plan started to form.

Absently polishing a glass, Walter stood behind the counter, his eyes focused on the outside and view behind the window. In one of this rooms, there he was. His youngest son. And the girl. Oh, how their mother would scream. He still dreamt about her every night. She had been the one for him. Probably turning in her grave now. Poor woman. Mac's mother on the other hand…fine woman too, yeah, but nowhere near…ah damn. But there was only so much to do about the whole situation and whatever would make his youngest happy would make him happy as well. Being very well aware about the fact that the fuck-up seemed to be in the genes he passed on, Walter thought of his other son. Mac. According to Devon, he was dead. Gone. No more. And didn't that make Walter's old heart hurt. Because Devon was wrong. Walter didn't have a favorite son. He felt bad for not being there for Devon. He wanted to give him all he wished for. But Mac… He had been the one being there for the past years. The business Walter was rolling only did so because of him. The road into hell Mac had stepped on was one persons fault and one persons alone. In the aftermath, Walter questioned how cruel he had been sending is son into that cave. Truth was, Mac had been up for it. Even before the meth he hadn't been 'normal', so to speak.

The meth surely had changed him but his cunning and cruel ways had only intensified. And he always held his word. A rare thing these days. Profen by his actions taken to sort out Devon's mess. And now he was gone. Putting the extremly shiny glass on the counter, Walter told himself to get a fucking grip. Things were they way they were. No changing that. No going back. Time to move on. If only he could make Devon see. Sure, he helped out in the bar but about every 30 minutes, he went over to the room, checking on Reggie. The girl was beyond broken. Apathic, out of tears. She ate, she was breathing. Didn't try to run anymore. Did as she was told. And Devon treated her like a little doll.

Grunting, Walter made his way outside when he saw a car arriving. To early for the daily fuckers to come around. Must be guests. But they just gased up and went on. Great, more fucking time to think about how stop his business from falling apart. The stash only would hold for so long. Mac had been the one knowing all the shit. It had been a long time since Walter had even been inside that god forsaken cave. Maybe he could train Devon. Looking over to the rooms again, he corrected himself. Nope. Son-dearest was way to much occupied for that. Shit.

Turning to get back inside the bar, he witnessed two things happening at the same time. Two big black cars screaming government or somekind of bullshit entered the large parking space while a person came around the corner of the wooden bar-front. Both was a surprise. Only one was a nice one.