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the almighty rise

Summary:

"You and me, Ethan."

ethan winters takes a chance on heisenberg to save his daughter, but becomes more involved than he could've ever fathomed.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: chance

Chapter Text

“Look,” Heisenberg says, exhaling smoke puffed from his cigar, “you’ve--you’ve got this all wrong.”

Ethan’s lip twitches. He has it wrong? He doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about?

He’s been through Hell and back. He’s spoken to everyone, shot the heads off of beasts and Lords, taken more abuse than he could ever even consider surviving...He knows what the fuck he’s talking about.

He is saving his daughter and putting an end to all of this.

He grips the strap of the bag on his shoulder.

We’re so close, Rosie.

The room is dimly lit, cluttered with chaos; all the furniture is metal, topped with metal tools. To his back is a long table below some sort of map; pictures of the three other Lords, their faces adorned with big red Xs, flank a large portrait of Mother Miranda he’s noted throughout the village already. Ethan’s own image is pinned to the wall beside the gruesome photo of his wife, Mia, riddled with bullet holes and dead on the floor. The same image that had taunted him in the Beneviento house.

A picture of little Rose is beneath theirs.

An engine revs from under the trapdoor in the floor. It sounds far, far away. 

How deep is that hole?

“Dammit, I’m talking here…” Heisenberg mumbles. He swings open the trapdoor; it clangs against the wall. “Shut your fucking hole!” he yells into the abyss.

The engine falls silent.

Ethan stares at him expectantly, both bewildered and confused.

Heisenberg clears his throat. “Sorry about that.”

He pulls over the metal chair in the corner and slams it down in front of the hole. “Take a seat.”

As he wanders to the other side of the room towards a small desk, Ethan stands hesitantly before the small metal chair. He looks behind it and down into the hole; it’s pitch black, nothingness spanning as far as the eye can see.

“Listen, Ethan. You’re being played.”

Ethan scoffs. “What, you think this is some kind of game?”

He snatches a knife from the table, chucking it at the picture wall. It lands between the eyes of the fair Lady Dimitrescu, who Ethan had slayed what felt like an eternity ago.

She was not at all as fair in her final moments, thrashing through the air in her mutated, tentacle-riddled dragon form.

Heisenberg shoves Ethan into the chair. “I said sit! ” he barks. Ethan’s bag drops to the floor with a few clink clink clinkclink s, mere inches away from falling down into the depths of the pit.

The chair tilts backwards for just a moment; his heart drops like he’s riding a rollercoaster, imagining the gristly fall from his position to the deep, metallic trenches below.

The chair thankfully rights itself. Ethan slowly inhales, hesitantly looking away from his bag and watching Heisenberg back up into the center of the room.

He adjusts his hat.

“...Lady Super-sized Bitch ,” he growls. He raises a gloved hand and the knife wedged between her immortalized eyes flies back into his hand.

“Ugly-ass psycho doll.” He shoots the knife into the picture of Donna and Angie; those freaks Ethan had ended with a rusty pair of scissors.

The knife retracts back into his grip for just a moment before it's sent soaring through the air again at an impossible speed.

“...and that moronic freak.”

He impales the image of the fish-monster Moreau.

“Don’t you get it?”

Ethan stares at him.

“It’s a test ,” Heisenberg says, like Ethan is the stupidest man in the world, “to see if you’re strong enough to be a part of Miranda’s family.”

Ethan Winters. The fifth Lord.

He can’t help but think What’s up with all this family shit?

First, Eveline and the Bakers with their demented image of a family, now this? 

“I don’t want to be a part of Miranda’s family,” Ethan replies.

He just wants to grab her by the hair and plunge a knife between her cold, evil eyes. He wants her dead.

“Neither did I!” Heisenberg sings. “But here we are! And I’m next in line, right? Kill me, move up the chain…?”

He sends the knife flying across the image of Miranda, slashing the portrait in a neat diagonal. The bottom peels and keels over.

“Well, fuck that!

“I don’t give a damn about your personal issues! I just want to fix my daughter!”

Heisenberg laughs. “So do I!”

What?

Ethan begins to open his mouth.

“Do you have any idea how powerful that kid is?” Heisenberg continues. He gestures to Miranda’s desecrated portrait. “Even Miranda’s scared of her.”

Why would Miranda be scared of my daughter?

The engine revs again from the hole; louder, almost impatiently.

She’s only a baby!

Heisenberg rears back--Ethan can only assume he’s rolling his eyes. He stomps to the hole and screams, “Last time, you freak, I swear to God!”

The engine cuts. Silence envelopes the room. 

Heisenberg eyes Ethan, his face unreadable under the protection of his sunglasses. Ethan glares at himself in his reflection.

He’s bloodied, beaten, and exhausted, and yet, no matter how many times he tries to tell himself otherwise, he still has so far to go.

He’s yet to even reunite the flasks in the Giant’s Challice.

Rose is still shattered to pieces.

Heisenberg smiles, ripping off his sunglasses. His light blue eyes are filled with manic joy.

“You and me, Ethan,” he grins. He gestures far off into the invisible distance. “Together, we go save Rose, and then we can use her--” he balls his hand into a tight fist-- “to grind Miranda into paste .”

“My daughter,” Ethan breathes, “is not a weapon. Fuck you!”

Heisenberg eyes him closely. Ethan’s eyes dart to the bag on the floor.

If he could only reach his fucking bag--

Heisenberg grunts and kicks his chair, tilting it over the edge above the hole; just before Ethan is sent cascading to his doom, Heisenberg grabs his arm, holding him and his chair up.

His gloved hands are boiling hot. Ethan reluctantly grabs onto his wrist; their grips are tight, as Ethan’s life quite literally depended on it.

This is the end.

“Last chance.” He isn’t smiling, although his voice carries a teasing lilt. He points behind Ethan. “...you don’t want to find out what’s in that hole.”

Ethan inhales. No. No, he really doesn’t.

The engine revs in the back of his mind. What the fuck could that thing be?

Ethan recalls the Duke mentioning Heisenberg’s experiments. Gruesome, powerful experiments.

Maybe Heisenberg created a weapon to kill Miranda. Maybe Rose is just the last piece of the puzzle to wear Miranda’s morale!

Ethan can only dream. Something still feels off--that’d almost be too good to be true, considering his awful luck.

But maybe Heisenberg really knows what he’s talking about. Why not just kill Ethan and gather Rose? Would a devoted follower of Miranda slash her portrait so freely?

Why would he bother going through the trouble?

Ethan purses his lips. 

He has to take a chance.

He utters a shuddered sigh, staring up at the expectant and rather impatient Heisenberg.

“Fine...Let’s save my daughter.”

Chapter 2: thrilled

Notes:

this story isn't dead! we're only just beginning...

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Heisenberg’s eyes light up like a child on Christmas. Pieces of metal begin to hover around the room; mechanical parts, tools--even the furniture levitates an inch or two off the ground. He gasps a little, giggling and throwing Ethan out of the chair. Ethan braces himself on the cold ground with his good arm, turning around just in time to watch the chair clang against the side of the hole and fall into the depths.

He’s alive.

After a long moment, there’s an enormous crash.

Ethan’s bag sits peering over the edge of the hole, watching the collision.

The metal parts swirl around the room like they were in a rusty snowglobe as Heisenberg turns to the long desk. He’s fiddling with a large sheet of paper, chuckling and nodding, already lost in thought.

“Wh--” Ethan shifts into a sitting position-- “what’s so funny?”

Heisenberg looks over his shoulder. “Why, I didn’t think you’d really say yes!”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you, Ethan.” A pen flies into his hand. He begins scribbling on the large piece of paper. “I’ve been observing you this whole time. You’re...very independent. To think that’d you’d like to work with me!”

Ethan scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself. What other choice do I have?”

Heisenberg snatches a smaller piece of paper from the other end of the table and nods. “Independence is a freeing thing, I understand. I consider myself a lone wolf, you know.”

“Then...why bother with me?”

“Well,” Heisenberg muses, “it just seems right. I’m not a greedy man. This way, both of us can get what we want and take down Miranda at the same time. Less risk, more reward.”

Ethan supposes he’s right. He remains situated on the ground, unaware if Heisenberg would permit him to intrude in his work.

Maybe he’d kick him into that pit.

Ethan glances around at the metal parts still hovering in the air. “So,” he mumbles, poking at a suspended gear. It floats away like they’re in space. “You wanna tell me what the hell all this is about?”

Heisenberg turns around. “Oh.”

All the objects drop to the floor with a deafening crash. Ethan winces, bracing himself for punishment.

“Sorry about that,” Heisenberg smiles. “Got a little excited. Miranda’s gift has a mind of its own, you know, and, why, I haven’t been this thrilled in years! You and I are gonna do great things, Ethan.” 

Ethan stares up at him.

“Why the long face?” Heisenberg asks.

“You impaled me earlier is all,” Ethan scoffs. “And I didn’t expect this coming down here. I was just gonna kill you and go.”

Heisenberg shrugs, turning back to his work. “I figured.”

“This is gonna take some getting used to.”

“We have nothing but time, my friend,” Heisenberg says. “My-- our plan needs a bit of refining before we can put it in motion. Have--have you got the flasks?”

“In my bag.” Ethan dives to his left and snatches his backpack from the dangerous ledge, setting it in front of him. Guess it was a good idea not to fill the chalice.

He doesn’t want to look at its contents. He doesn’t want to be reminded of the horrors of this situation.

Rose.

In four fucking jars.

Heisenberg beams. “You’re a saint! I could kiss you!”

He leans down to Ethan and grabs his face, planting a firm kiss to his lips. The metal in the room rises for a brief moment before crashing back to the ground.

Ethan squirms and pulls away, startled by both the unwarranted kiss and the deafening clang. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Sorry,” Heisenberg laughs, cupping Ethan’s face. “Never thought I’d be working with the real deal.”

Ethan scoffs.

Fucking creep.

Heisenberg gives a hearty chuckle and grabs the bag from Ethan’s lap, nearly throwing it onto the table.

“Hey--be careful! My daughter is in there!”

“What, you think I’ll break them?” Heisenberg smiles. “This isn’t my first rodeo with these vials, kiddo. I was there when they were created.”

Ethan almost forgot that Heisenberg is a Lord.

Heisenberg is among the ranks of Lady Dimitrescu, Donna, and Moreau. Their brother, apparently.

The thought is unsettling. Ethan shakes it away.

“So,” Ethan sighs, shifting on the floor. Everything aches. “What...what exactly is this plan?”

“We’ll get to it soon enough.”

“Soon enough? This is the only reason why I’m here, there’s no time for soon enough!”

Heisenberg sighs, turning around with the head flask in hand. 

Rose’s head. 

“Why do you think I asked if you had the flasks? We have ample time, Ethan, and thanks to you! So cool your jets.”

“You’re holding my daughter’s head! Forgive me for being impatient! I--I should just kill you now!”

Heisenberg’s knife shoots through the air, halting an inch before Ethan’s nose.

Ethan breathes, watching the steam from his breath fog the shiny weapon.

“Don’t play with me, pixie,” Heisenberg says. “Just because I spared your life doesn’t mean we’re buddy-buddy just yet.”

I mean, you kissed me.

The knife flew back onto the desk.

“I’m getting mixed signals here,” Ethan says.

“Just mind yourself and we won’t have any problems. Keep in mind that I’m doing you a massive favor. That favor just so happens to benefit me as well.”

Ethan sighs. There’s nothing he hates more than being condescended to, besides living with the knowledge that his daughter is currently crystalized and dismembered and he has no idea how to fix it.

The Duke can fix this, right? He’s helped Ethan this whole time, why would he stop now?

Is he stupid for teaming up with Heisenberg?

Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now. Heisenberg is already holding Rose’s head.

“Fine,” Ethan says, rubbing his forehead. “What do we need to do before we can start this...operation?”

“Well, first thing’s first, we need to fix that hand of yours.” 

Ethan lifts his left hand. He’s nearly forgotten about the sheer extent of the damage that he’s somehow recovered from.

Even reduced to just his middle, index, and thumb, his left hand has yet to fail him. He’s still alive, after all.

Bloody and pained, but alive.

“Fix it?” Ethan asks.

“Yes--and, lucky for you, I’ve betaed several designs in the past that I think could suit your condition. Isn’t this just fate?”  

The small paper Heisenberg had retrieved, suspended by metal clips, hovers in the air in front of Ethan’s face. There’s a slight woosh as it glides.

It’s a concept for some kind of robotic glove, complete with metal fingers and a sleek gauntlet that spans to the elbow.

“Of course, this is just a rough copy. The design will need to be modified, considering you’re currently three-fingered. We’ll need prosthetics.”

Ethan nods. “Yeah.”

“Well?” The paper retracts. “What do you think?”

“...I have no reason to hate it, I guess.”

Heisenberg turns around, slinging Ethan’s bag over his shoulder, reaching over to the side desk and grabbing his fat cigar. “Excellent! We’ll get to work as soon as possible. In the meantime--” he produces a zippo lighter from a pocket in his trenchcoat and lights the cigar--“I suppose, as my new partner, I owe you the grand tour. There’s no use in hanging around here.”

“Of the factory?”

“No, of the expanses of Lady Dimitrescu’s crystalized ass.” He grabs Ethan’s right hand and pulls him to his feet. “Yes, of the factory! My pride and joy, my will to live! I can assure you, Ethan, you’ll be impressed by my decades of hard work.”

Don’t get your hopes up, Ethan thinks, but outwardly nods.

Heisenberg leads the way, taking Ethan through the room he’d entered from. The door adjacent to the entrance, previously locked, swings open without Heisenberg even having to touch it.

“Right this way,” he smiles.

Ethan nods, glancing at his backpack as he strolls past and into a long, metal hallway.

What a freaky yet intriguing place already.

Despite its lifelessness, Ethan can’t help but marvel at what he’s seeing. Even the bland hallway fills him with a strange sense of childlike wonder; the whirs and clangs of machinery in the distance are almost magical.

He takes care not to display this embarrassing wonder to Heisenberg.

The latter wraps an arm over Ethan’s shoulder and chuckles, taking a long drag of his cigar and puffing smoke into the fluorescent lights above.

Notes:

hey y'all! sorry for the wait. unfortunately it'll be a little bit until another update--between my schedule and finishing complexities of her motherhood and shooting the messenger, this has been on the backburner. I want this story to get my undivided attention and effort, so I've only been working on bits and pieces so far. hope this can tide y'all over for a bit while I get my shit sorted out! thank you all very much for the comments and support and for sticking around. I promise this will be worth the wait <3<3<3

Chapter 3: living quarters

Summary:

ethan is introduced to his new home.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“And here we are!” Heisenberg grins, closing the door behind them.

Ethan looks around at the vast room; it’s smaller than the grand halls of the factory, but bigger than most of its side rooms--not to mention cluttered with all sorts of junk, arranged in an oddly neat manner. Ethan’s eyes land on the bed in the corner--oh, how he wishes he can lay down and rest.

It looks so unbelievably comfortable, and Ethan’s bones are undeniably oh so weary, despite how much he’s trying to hide it from present company.

Heisenberg outstretches an arm. “My quarters. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“I’m...staying here? With you?”

Heisenberg chuckles. “Unless you’d rather sleep with the Soldats. Don’t look so alarmed; the door stays locked for good reason, and any visitors don’t ever make it this far.”

Soldats. Those things Heisenberg makes out in the factory.

Ethan couldn’t believe his eyes when he first saw them--more so, how they were manufactured. Corpses suspended by their necks, dangling on tall conveyors that stretched across the grand trench of the factory, equipped with all kinds of metal weapons and helmets, and a glowing red button adorning their chests.

Heisenberg’s army.

“You...Are these corpses?” Ethan huffs, watching body after body pass overhead, backlit by faint fluorescent lights and red glass buttons. 

Heisenberg returns his arm to its position around Ethan’s stiff shoulders. Ethan inhales the musky scent of death, steam, and cigar smoke and stifles a gag.

“Most of them are,” Heisenberg smiles. He takes a long drag of his cigar; clangs and whirs of machines fill Ethan’s ears, dominated only by the other man’s hot breath nearby. “My army, years and years in the making! Isn’t it grand? Look at them!”

Ethan watches the faces as they pass on the belt. Emotionless. Blank. Rotted.

Heisenberg shakes his shoulder. “But they’re nothing without our leadership. Oh, Ethan...behold our palace! And to think that bitch Dimitrescu considered herself and that stuffy castle of hers magnificent...Just look at our kingdom!”

Ethan nods and purses his lips. It is grand, in a fucked up sort of way...Hell, it’s nearly beautiful.

We’re the kings of the castle.

For a moment, Ethan doesn’t see corpses drafted into an impossible war. He sees the decades of work gone into perfecting the facility, into creating the perfect sanctuary for harbingers of death. He sees willing soldiers ready to put Mother Miranda and all the freaks in this village into the ground. He sees metal and flesh working in tandem for the greater good of the village--for all of Europe, really. No--for the world. Working to serve a higher purpose than to just be metal and rot. He sees a rainbow of colors among the scale of depressing grays and bright red buttons.

Ethan sees a future. He sees Rose’s future outside of the confines of her flasks.

He blinks. Once more, the factory returns to its gloom. The conveyors transport corpses--bodies slain before their time. The slosh of water below beats the bases of machines as it rightfully should, feebly attempting to quell Frankenstein and his monster. Everything is bleak. Everything is cold, fueled only by the occasional burst of hot steam.

Everything is out of Ethan’s depth.

Heisenberg slowly turns him away from the sight. “Right this way, Winters. We’ve almost seen everything.”

“Cat got your tongue, Winters?” Heisenberg laughs, sauntering past him with a puff of his cigar. 

He moves to the desk in the back of the room and sets the bag of flasks upon it. His hammer, which Ethan remembers from the great hall and could scarcely forget, rests against the metal surface.

Ethan says nothing. He stands rooted to the ground like a century old oak tree.

“Huh. You’re awfully cold,” Heisenberg remarks without looking back.

He’s already busy with something. Ethan doesn’t care what.

“I don’t even know you,” Ethan mutters.

“You will in time. I can’t immediately spoil the mystery, can I?”

Ethan doesn’t laugh. Heisenberg turns to him.

“I’m not here to hurt you. I would’ve killed you by now if I was; I don’t like to play with my food, you see. I get straight to it. I want to help you, Winters. Would it kill you to make a friend?”

Heisenberg shakes his head and turns back to his desk.

“Get comfortable, why don’t you? The bed is yours--I hardly have time to rest, nor do I need it these days. You, on the other hand--with all due respect--look an inch from the grave. So take a seat. Lay down if you’d like. Rest those weary eyes while you can, pixie, for we’ve a long stretch ahead of us.”

The words slip from his mouth with a strange delicacy to them. Ethan would be lying if he said they weren’t addictively eloquent.

He shakes his head.

No, no. 

Despite Ethan’s less than warm feelings towards Heisenberg, he can’t resist the offer of a soft bed. He flops down onto it, groaning at the way the soft mattress curls around his body. He eyes Heisenberg, who dials a number on the rotary phone on the desk. Heisenberg catches his glance.

“I’ve...an important phone call to make before I have time to chit-chat with you,” he says, placing the phone to his ear. “You’ll keep quiet, yes?” 

He winks.

Ethan discards the gesture with a grimace and turns to face the ceiling, his eyes drifting closed. Can he sleep here? Is it even safe?

It has to be. Heisenberg wouldn’t go through all this just to kill Ethan with the snap of his fingers.

Or would he? Like hell if Ethan knows!

He’s startled from his thoughts by a sniffle from Heisenberg.

Ethan’s eyes pop open.

There’s a stifled sob.

Is...Is Heisenberg crying?

“Mother Miranda,” Heisenberg blubbers into the phone, choking back tears. “I have terrible, terrible news!”

Ethan holds his breath during the pause. What the fuck ?

“Yes, it’s about Winters! He’s escaped my factory! Oh, dear Mother...I forget myself! I--I request council with you first thing tomorrow morning. I will tell you everything!”

Tell her what?

“I--In the meantime? I must continue my search for Winters. He can’t have gone far, Mother! I will come to you tomorrow morning, in the great hall, with or without Winters...Then you shall decide my fate.”

He chokes back a sob.

“Oh, Mother! I tried! I--I won’t let him escape!”

Ethan can hear Miranda screech through the phone. “Don’t just stand there and sob, you wretched bastard! Find him! That fool has my Eva in his paws!”

“Yes, Mother! Right away, Mother!”

He slams the phone back into its base, scrambling for his lit cigar and taking a long drag. “Whew,” he sighs, exhaling, “I’ve--I’ve still got it! Channeled my inner Moreau.”

“What the fuck…?”

“All part of the plan,” Heisenberg grins. He wipes his eyes. “Buying us more time--No doubt she’ll be sending Lycans to scour the village. Fortunately, I lowered the bridge you crossed to get here before I showed you the factory. Those stupid mutts won’t be able to cross, and I doubt they’ll smell you over whatever fuckin’ sludge that moronic freak left bubbling everywhere.”

“Wow…” Ethan muses.

“Yes, yes, revel in my genius,” Heisenberg laughs. “Now, Winters, hold tight for a bit. I have an errand to run. I’ll be sure to fetch you in time for supper.”

“Supper?”

“Why, of course,” Heisenberg smiles. “The Duke will happily keep us well-fed. And I’ve a few items to procure from him while we’re there.”

Notes:

can't wait for this busy week to be over so I can spend more time writing!

Chapter 4: a great man

Summary:

a visit to the duke.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Lord Heisenberg!” the Duke grins, bowing his head as the familiar boots stomp to the elevator. 

“Greetings!”

The Duke raises his head. His eyes widen.

“And...Ethan Winters?”

Ethan gives a meek nod; Heisenberg wraps an arm over his shoulder and shakes him lovingly, “In the flesh.”

“Forgive me! I’m...shocked, is all.”

The two have already met a myriad of times. Despite his strangely high prices, Ethan could almost consider the Duke a friend. He wouldn't have been able to kill the rest of the Lords and their little entourages without his supplies and endless support. And, frankly, direction.

“As am I,” Heisenberg smiles up at the large man.

Ethan stays quiet. Frankly, he’s still groggy from his rest. He's done enough chatting with the Duke already in the number of places he's materialized that one quiet interaction couldn't have been too rude.

“But I’m not here to chat,” Heisenberg says with a wave. “I’ve come for my usual order, and a few other things.”

The Duke nods and points to the floor. “The brown bag has all the metal doohickies you requested.” 

He reaches behind himself with a grunt and fishes out a tall bottle of vodka, then another. Each is tiny in his large hands. He passes them to Heisenberg, who passes them onto Ethan; his gloved hands are far too slippery to carry the precious bottles.

Ethan furrows his brows. That’s a lot of alcohol.

Heisenberg tips his hat. He reaches for the large brown bag on the floor, holding the paper handles tightly. The bag sags holding some great weight. “Thank you, sir. Have you got any eye drops by chance?”

The Duke chortles. “Hiding an infection beneath those sunglasses, my Lord?”

Heisenberg shakes his head. “They’re a bit dry is all.”

“I’ve got contact solution.”

“That’ll be perfect.” 

“In the trunk beneath me.”

“Ethan, if you could?” Heisenberg says, attempting to hand the former the heavy paper bag.

Ethan looks at the vodka bottles, one in his good hand and the other wedged between his elbow and chest, to his three-fingered catastrophe that was once his left hand, then back up to Heisenberg.

Heisenberg nods. “Right.”

He sets the bag on the ground and crouches down at the trunk, swinging it open and fishing around in a pile of goods for what he desires. After a moment, he procures a white bottle.

“Here it is. What’s for dinner tonight, Duke?”

“Ciorba de Porc!” the Duke beams at the thought of such a meal. “I’ve already had my fill. Would you two like the remaining portions?”

“Yes. Two separate portions, please.”

“Coming right up.”

The Duke shifts himself sideways. Ethan can’t see what he’s doing, but he hears the familiar splash of a ladle in a pot.

After a moment, he returns with great effort to Ethan and Heisenberg, holding two tupperware containers of soupy meals, spoons resting on top of the cover. The plastic walls quickly fog up with condensation. 

“Here you are,” he says, handing the containers to Heisenberg. “Please tell me if it’s any good! I found it delightful.”

It smells heavenly. It smells like home.

It smells like something Mia would cook for her and Ethan for dinner.

Mia.

His recollection is interrupted by the Duke’s resounding voice.

“Now, have you my payment?” the Duke asks with a tilt of his head.

“Of course! I’m no thief, but a man of my word,” Heisenberg says with a smile. He reaches into one of the pockets of his trenchcoat and retrieves a small envelope. “This should fit the bill.”

He hands it to the Duke, who bows his head.

“I wish you the best in your...Whatever it is you do.”

Heisenberg laughs. “Thank you kindly. Alright, Winters. Back to camp.”

The Duke waves at Ethan as Heisenberg exits the large elevator. 

“You too, Mr. Winters. You truly are a man of mystery!”

Ethan nods. He’s feeling strangely silent--he has been since he’s arrived at this strange, massive factory. What can he say?

Is he still the protagonist of this story?



“What’s with the liquor?” Ethan asks, setting the bottles on the desk in the living quarters.

“You don’t drink?” Heisenberg asks, setting he and Ethan’s meals beside them and cracking the lids. Steam flows from the containers.

“I do,” Ethan says, he scoffs, “and probably too much. But what’s the occasion?”

Heisenberg removes his hat, ruffling his grayed-brown hair between gloved fingers. He straightens the hat in his hands. “Tomorrow morning, I go see Mother Miranda.”

Mirand er.

Ethan looks at him expectantly.

Heisenberg grins at him. “If she believes my little sob story, we drink in celebration. If she doesn’t and sends Lycans to raid the factory, we drink as if doctors are coming to saw our limbs off.”

Ethan looks to the ground. “Oh.”

“But I doubt the latter will happen. I’m a good actor, you know. Ain’t the first time I’ve told a lie.”

Ethan scoffs. “What else have you lied about?”

Silence hangs thick in the air. Heisenberg furrows his brows and gives a heavy sigh.

“You still think this is a trap, Winters?”

“This is all too good to be true.”

“Still on that , huh?” Heisenberg laughs, stroking his beard and looking into an invisible mirror. “Lighten up. I’ve already explained myself. You’re overthinking this is all.”

Ethan looks away, into the center of the room, where there’s absolutely nothing to distract himself with.

“Should I crack open a bottle early for you, pixie? You seem tense.”

What is with this pixie shit?

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, c’mon. Just one shot?”

“What? No.” Ethan flops down onto the bed, rubbing his temples. “I just...need to think on this.”

“Stop thinking, Winters!” Heisenberg says with sudden frustration. “You think too much, then you get fucked up! If you’d have just thought a little less and fought a little more, I’m sure that Lycan wouldn’t have bit the shit outta your hand down in that basement.”

“How do you even know about that?”

“Like I said, I have my ways--stop with the questions, Winters! Just...relax. For the love of God, you’re like a scared little puppy, then you open your mouth and it’s just blah blah blah. Just relax. Please.”

Ethan shakes his head. 

“Here.” Heisenberg looks at his cigar. Suddenly, his knife whirs through the air from the table and slices off the burnt end. He picks it up, lights it with the zippo on the table, and passes it to Ethan. “Take it.” He laughs. “Have a pensive smoke for your pensive monologuing.”

“I’m not monologuing,” Ethan says.

“Yeah, but I know you wanna.”

“And I don’t smoke.”

“Humor me.”

Ethan sits up on his elbows. Fine. Whatever. So long as Heisenberg gets off his ass.

He takes a drag of the cigar, coughing up smoke.

“You ever smoked before?” Heisenberg asks.

“Yes--” Ethan chokes, coughing into his arm-- “only cigarettes, though.”

“You’ll get accustomed to it.” Heisenberg grabs the cigar from him and takes an elegant hit, curling the smoke from his mouth up into his nostrils then out his mouth again. “God, aren’t you warm, Winters? I’m sweating like a pig in this coat, and here you are, in a sweatshirt and coat--about to eat hot soup, no less!”

“I’m fine,” Ethan lies. He’s burning up, really; until now, he’s just been too overwhelmed to notice the sweat dripping from his stubble. 

Hot soup sounds like torture. Nutritional lava.

“Let me at least take your coat, Mr. Fine.”

Heisenberg reaches for his sleeve. Ethan shoots into a sitting position, holding the clothing tight in his grip over his chest.

“I said I’m fine ! Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

Heisenberg steps back. The metal in the room thumps and vibrates for a moment, but are silenced with a deep breath from their master.

Ethan licks his lips and relaxes. Slowly, he lays back down on the bed. The tension is just as thick as when Heisenberg attempted to kick him into that hole.

Ethan never did discover what was down there, did he?

Quickly, Heisenberg nods. 

“Okay.” 

Venom drips from his voice between gritted teeth.

He snatches his container of food from the table and stomps to the door, his head uncharacteristically low.

“Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

He uses his magnetism powers to swing open the door, slamming it behind him after he exits. The booming thud echoes in the hollow depths of the factory outside.

Ethan stares at the door, feeling neither famished nor full. Feeling neither relief nor regret. 

Notes:

things are cookin now (and not just the duke!) also, would anybody wanna beta this? giving the same offer for all my fics lol I could always use a second pair of eyes. and, yknow, a second pair of thoughts.

Chapter 5: morning

Summary:

ethan and heisenberg have very different mornings.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Ethan wakes up alone, and, even weirder, on his own accord. Not a Heisenberg in sight.

It’s unsettling.

Without his rough, regal voice booming through the halls--that’s all they were. Just halls. Clanks and whirs resounding from behind the door to Heisenberg’s quarters. Just metal parts jolting in tandem to power another metal part to power another part and so on. Just emptiness. Everything is hollow. 

Dead.

Ethan sits up, rubbing his eyes. At least he knows he’s gotten a good sleep. Heisenberg gone means it’s probably morning and he’s gone to see Mother Miranda.

Good luck, buddy.

He’s not angry at him anymore. Well, he most certainly is, but the rage isn’t bubbling in the deepest pits of his soul. It’s settled to a gentle thrum of pissed off. 

Heisenberg was kinda right, after all. 

Ethan’s made his choice. There’s no use in being a dick to Heisenberg about his anxieties so late in the game.

Ethan glances to the desk, where his empty carton of food sits. It was good. Great, even. But it reminded him too much of Mia’s cooking, which only made him feel worse, and his stomach cavernous.

Mia. 

God, I’m sorry, Mia.

There’s no time to dwell on that. Not when he’s this close to saving Rose.

It’s what she would’ve wanted.

He looks back up at the desk. Beside his empty carton of food sits his bag--sits Rose. He almost wants to retrieve it and stare at the amber jars, even with the knowledge that it would be entirely too painful. 

No. Bad idea.

He needs to stay focused. He can’t be flying off into hysterics so close to endgame, especially here by himself.

All alone.

With the whirs and the creaks and the thumps and the clanks. With the zombies shambling about outside. With the corpses.

Ethan looks around the room.

There’s gotta be more to this place than that. How has Heisenberg been able to keep it together for all these years?

If only the answer was more obvious.

Ethan sighs, lays back down, and closes his eyes.

“Mother Miranda,” Heisenberg mumbles as he reaches the throne. His voice is meek and wrought with desperate sorrow.

He drops to his knees with a grunt. Fat tears drip down his cheeks from under the rim of his sunglasses, pooling between the hairs of his scruffy beard. 

He pulls his hat off of his head and holds it in his lap.

“Did I give you permission to speak to me, dog?” Mother Miranda hisses from atop her metal throne.

She’s flanked by snarling Lycans. More scale the walls of the great hall, perched atop the broken balconies, hanging on with sharp claws. Their silver hairs glow in the morning light offered by the glass roof.

Mother Miranda turns up the golden point of her nose.

Heisenberg shivers, shrinking into a puddle of grief--another stain on the once-marvelous carpet.

“I gave you a single job,” Mother Miranda says. “Just one job! Make sure that Winters doesn’t leave your factory intact. And what have you done?”

“I--”

“Silence!”

Mother Miranda springs up from the throne. Six great wings sprout from her sides, black as midnight, shrouding Heisenberg in their darkness. 

The Lycans leap in place and bat their mighty paws.

“You are a disappointment, child! I thought more highly of you than your siblings--and look what you’ve done! You are just like the rest of them! A failure. And there’s nobody to blame but myself. It was foolish of me to have entrusted you.

Heisenberg sobs, staring at his knees.

“That Winters is nothing compared to your power, and look what’s become of him! He’s out there, free! The only reason he’s still alive is because of your incompetence! He’s only a man--if not, less. You were supposed to be more. He got lucky over in America--I know you heard about that. We all did. And we saved him. My biological brood brought him back from the abyss and gave him life. Can we not also take him down? And that wife of his has proven to be no help. Another failure. Do I only produce failures?” she scoffs. “Maybe so. But Winters’s Rose will be different. She is the perfect vessel for my Eva. Have you gathered the four flasks?”

“He,” Heisenberg raises his voice, “he has them, Mother.”

Mother Miranda gives an unholy screech that silences even the Lycans. Heisenberg ducks his head.

“You filthy mutt ! You managed to screw even that up?”

“I’m sorry! I--”

“You’re lucky I don’t tear my gift right out of your worthless body!”

“I’m...I’m sorry, Mother.”

“...You are a fool. A damn fool.”

She sits back down in her throne, taking a long breath. Her body relaxes against the cold metal.

After a long pause, she speaks.

“Speak,” she orders. “Beg for forgiveness. Tell me why I shouldn’t feed you to the pack. Perhaps the dogs are more competent than my bastard son.”

“I tried, Mother. I tried--I did! Winters is incredible. He slipped right through my fingers, you have to believe me! I scoured the factory, outside the factory--I even sent out Lycans from the stronghold, we just couldn’t find him! He’ll have to turn up eventually! What will he do with the flasks without us? He doesn’t know how to put her back together!”

“Assuming that’s true...Why should I forgive you ? You failed me, just as you did when I gave you my gift. Why should I let you live? The others are all dead, anyways. And once I have my Eva I will have no use for this village. So tell me.”

“I--”

“--Look at me when I speak to you, child!”

Heisenberg jolts his head upwards.

“And take off those foolish sunglasses.”

He sighs and reaches up to his face, taking the arms of the glasses in his fingers and slowly removing his cover. He whimpers, but offers bright blue eyes to Mother Miranda nonetheless. His tears glisten in the light.

“Look at you.”

Heisenberg squeezes his eyes shut.

“Mother…”

“Look at me , you ungrateful bastard! Show me your tears!”

He chokes back a sob as he meets her eyes. She stands up and slowly closes the space between them, eyeing him like a hawk behind her golden beak. 

She takes his bearded-chin in her elegantly boney hands and angles his head upwards--just far enough to hurt.

“And to think I once enjoyed calling you my son,” she whispers.

They stare at each other for a long moment. The Lycans remain silent, with wide, puppy-like eyes watching the scene.

Mother Miranda grunts and shoves Heisenberg to the floor. His jaw pops, but quickly rights itself. He whimpers like a dog and remains helpless on the ground. All the metal in the world couldn’t save him now; not from Mother’s wrath.

“You are lucky,” she says, stepping back. “Very lucky. For today I spare you--and for no reason other than I’ve no desire to make your death a spectacle. I’ll let Winters finish you off the same as he did your siblings. I want all the sorry creatures in this village centered on Winters and securing my Eva, not anything to do with the likes of you. Do you understand? I spare you but the smallest ounce of pity! You live thanks to my generosity and your luck.”

“Oh, thank you, Mother!” Heisenberg cries with surplus joy. “Thank you, thank you!”

He bounds forward and pounces at her feet, pushing her gown to the side and kissing her boots. Mother Miranda grunts and kicks him back.

“I’ve had enough of you. You are to search for Ethan Winters from now on and that is all. You will not rest until he and my Eva are with me. I do not care if Winters lives.”

“Yes, Mother,” Heisenberg huffs.

“Do not call me. I do not wish to speak to you unless you’ve good news. If need be, and Lord knows why I would, I will contact you myself. And do not step foot in this hall or any of my other dwellings unless you’ve the four flasks in your miserable hands. I do not wish to see you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother! Thank you for your boundless generosity!”

“Good. Now out of my sight.”

Heisenberg fits his sunglasses back over his eyes and snatches his hat from the floor, chanting endless “thank you”s as he clamors to his feet and hurries to the doorway. The Lycans growl as he passes. What were once pets, even friends, despised him as much as Mother.

He rounds the corner and exhales the breath pent up in his lungs, quickly wiping the contact solution from his face and smearing it on his coat.

It’s done.

He feels neither relief nor regret about what he’s solidified. 

Notes:

i like this chapter :D
leave ur thoughts creatures, comments keep me motivated!!

Chapter 6: odd celebration

Summary:

heisenberg returns.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Ethan jolts as the door slams open. It's a miracle those hinges are still intact, really.

Heisenberg quietly walks in, flanked by the echo of his own boots thumping against the hard floor. He moves straight to the desk and removes his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes with the sleek leather of his gloves.

"How'd it go?" Ethan asks expectantly. 

"Fine," Heisenberg replies. He puts the glasses back on and sighs; somehow, the scars slashed across his face seem more prominent.

"Just fine? The hell does that mean?"

"No, no, it went well," Heisenberg says with a wave. "It was just...worse than I thought it'd be."

"Couldn't have been that bad...I mean, you're here, right?"

"You don't know how this feels," Heisenberg says. Venom drips from his voice; Ethan, realizing what a dick thing that was to say, backs off. "She may be a tyrant but...She raised me, you know? And my siblings, though they're all dead now. Not that I have time to miss them, but...Mother was different. She liked me once, you know. Once."

"Sorry...I just thought you hated her and all."

"I do. Just...Less than I thought. Not like that will do me any good now."

He gropes for one of the vodka bottles and pops it open.

"Who needs her when I've got a man like you at my side?"

Ethan smiles.

"Aw, shit," Heisenberg groans. "Shot glasses! That's what I forgot to order from the Duke!"

"I'm sure he has, like...a cup lying around."

"No, no. We drink from the bottle like men."

Heisenberg laughs, holding the bottle high. "To killing that bitch Miranda. And, erm, good health or something."

Ethan raises an eyebrow. "To saving my daughter."

"Yeah, that too."

Heisenberg takes the first mighty swig. "God, I needed that. And for you, pixie."

"Thanks."

Ethan drinks from the bottle, stifling a gag from the bitter taste. “Ugh, God. Remind me why I drink this shit?”

Heisenberg shrugs. He sits beside Ethan and grabs the bottle again, taking another drink.

“Beats me.”

“Uh--isn’t it still morning?”

“Something like that. But, it’s five ‘o’ clock somewhere! Heard that in a movie once...That’s the saying, right?”

“...Yeah,” Ethan says. “But...What are we gonna do all day if we’re plastered?”

Despite his concerns, he takes another drink. The vodka numbs the throbbing ache in his muscles.

“I say it’s best we lay low, anyways. One day of unabashed drunkenness before we plummet into the depths of hell.”

“...That’s surprisingly reasonable.”

“I’m full of wonderful ideas, aren’t I?” Heisenberg snickers.

Notes:

im back! leave me some comments i miss u guys (next chapter shouldn't be as long a wait)

Chapter 7: consummation

Summary:

Two drunk men share a bed (oh yeah ;D)

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe we’ve spent this entire day,” Heisenberg giggles, “sooooo drunk. I didn’t think we could do it!”

“Mhm.” 

Ethan nods, staring up at the ceiling--not at Heisenberg, who’s laying flat beside him on the bed. 

Ethan is very much a quiet drunk, and he’s very much drunk on vodka, as is Heisenberg. 

But his quietness can’t entirely be attributed to the drink. This entire situation is strikingly unprofessional, and nerve-wracking at that. A day of unabashed drunkenness? Here? As much as Ethan loves not being present, there has to be some unforeseen consequence on the horizon, right?

Well, if there is, he's definitely too drunk to figure it out now; they drank almost all of the vodka. 

An incredible, surplus amount of vodka. 

Ethan had maybe one measly sip of water to wash it all down.

Mia would be super pissed.

But, you know what? Mia isn’t here. And she’ll never be here again. So why worry about it? There’s no spouse around to nag him about drinking like a teen this time. 

Ethan scoffs to himself. He tunes back into reality--Heisenberg has launched into a heated rant about why daylight savings and spendings is idiodic and nobody should be forced to adhere to it while Ethan was away.

Similar fits of rage-and vodka-fueled ranting have plagued his day, it seems.

Ethan rubs his temples as Heisenberg raves.

“--like...Who’s in charge of that shit, anyways? What the hell’s it matter? Who decided it’d be a good idea to change shit like that, huh? It’s fuckin’ time , motherfucker. Leave that shit alone. Damn.”

“Mhm.”

“God, it’s hot in here.”

Heisenberg pulls his sunglasses off his face and sets them aside. “Forgot I had those things on,” he snickers, glancing at Ethan with drunken eyes.

Ethan glances back. He says nothing, but gives a little smile.

“You’re very quiet,” Heisenberg notes. It’s no huge revelation to Ethan--Heisenberg's said it several times today. “Very quiet. God, it’s so fuckin’ hot!”

He puts his arms in the air and reaches for the lining of his gloves. Slowly, with great effort, he peels the leather from his sweaty skin and slides each glove off each hand. 

It’s surprisingly off-putting. Gloveless Heisenberg. Ethan had almost forgotten that he actually has human hands, not just leather appendages.

His hands are covered in white scars and little brown burn-spots that glisten in the warm light. Ethan forces himself to look away.

God, why did Ethan say that shit about Mia?

Well, think that shit about Mia. He isn’t saying anything.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

Heisenberg sets the gloves to the side near his sunglasses.

“I’d take off my coat, but I don’t wanna sit up,” Heisenberg sighs. “Are you hot, Ethan?”

Ethan shrugs. “Just tired.”

Ethan really is an asshole, isn’t he?

“Tired? Really?”

“Yeah. I’m...gonna sleep soon. You should probably go.”

“Oh, Ethan…”

“I’m just not feeling great,” Ethan says.

It’s partly a lie. His head is swirling and his stomach his churning, but that’s easily just the feeling of drunkenness taken to a level he hasn’t experienced since high school. He feels fine, all things considered...but his brain is starting to pulse in his skull. 

Ethan squirms.

Why would you think that about Mia? Seriously?

Stupid drunk man.

Man-thing.

Heisenberg flips on his side to face Ethan. The latter can feel his bright blue eyes burning into him like lasers.

“Pixie, please,” he mumbles.

“I’m not your pixie.”

The ceiling bubbles and moves in waves.

Ugh, God.

“Don’t make me sleep out there. One of those damn creatures I’ve made will...will....I dunno, stab me in my sleep!”

“Then you shouldn’t have made them.”

“What’s done is done.”

“Go sleep by the Duke.”

Silence.

Ethan turns to face Heisenberg. The silver hairs of the latter’s raised brows shimmer in the dim, warm light--messy caterpillars severed by slashes of scars decorating his face.

How had Ethan not noticed them before?

There’s even a scar jutting into his upper lip.

Heisenberg inches closer. Ethan feels his clammy, rugged hand brush over his own, but says nothing.

With a drunken grunt, Heisenberg sits up on his elbow. He runs his hand through Ethan’s blond hair and laughs. Ethan freezes, but not out of fear.

“Only blonde I ever really met was my sister’s girl, Bela,” he muses.

Oh, yeah. The one Ethan murdered.

Truthfully, it was self defense.

“But you’re a...hm...a rougher blond than she was. It’s nice. Like...like a wet chunk of wood that didn’t quite burn in the fire, so it comes out charred and covered in ash.”

“Thank you?”

“I--I mean that as a compliment. That’s what I think of when I see you.”

Heisenberg slides his hand down and cups Ethan’s face.

Ethan feels his skin glow red hot, like electricity is shooting through his cheek in dull zaps.

He doesn’t pull away. The touch has him in a trance.

“And I like what I think of when I see you. So...I guess I like you, too. Oh, oh--and I like your snore. It’s funny.”

“What’s funny about my snore?”

“It’s all soft, ‘n’ cute. But you act all tough when you’re awake. You’re like...a little puppy. A golden retriever boy. I just wanna wrap you up and hold you.”

“I am not,” Ethan mumbles.

“You are.” Heisenberg takes his hand away from Ethan’s face and rests it on the latter’s chest. The electric pulse follows, dancing around his heart in a frantic rhythm. “And I like that. That's weird, isn't it?”

“Where’s this coming from, Heisenberg?”

"You know, I do have a first name. It's Karl, but I doubt half of the fucks in this village ever knew it. Isn't that funny? They know Heisenberg, not Karl. You think you know somebody, then you…" he laughs and trails off into drunken bliss.

“Alright, Karl--

“--Nope. Changed my mind. Just call me Heisenberg.”

“...Okay, Heisenberg. You didn’t answer my question.”

Heisenberg shrugs. “Maybe I don’t have an answer.”

Ethan furrows his brows. Even a shitty answer would be better than nothing .

“I already feel like a dick tonight,” Ethan says. “At least tell me why you care.”

Heisenberg shrugs again.

Ethan huffs.

“Fine then. Just...Just leave and let me sleep.”

"Oh, please," Heisenberg groans, pulling Ethan closer on the bed.

Ethan remains still but stiff. He doesn't want to be rude, after all--not after everything Heisenberg's done for him.

That would just be cruel.

"Won't you let me stay here with you? It's freezing out there, and I'd rather not listen to Duke prattle on all night long…There are other things I'd rather be doing."

Ethan gives in and nods. Heisenberg maintains his stare; God, he looks so different without those sunglasses. Ethan throws him a few momentary glances but stays focused on the ceiling. 

The attention is flattering yet overwhelming. 

"There are other people I'd rather be doing."

Wait.

Ethan’s eyes widen. He turns to Heisenberg, whose focus has changed to Ethan's lips. 

An undeniable tension thickens between them; like mixing a slew of ingredients with hard force until it turns into cookie dough.

Just like that, Heisenberg leans in and kisses Ethan, who doesn't entirely refuse. Heisenberg’s lips are rough but warm, just like his fat cigar, and taste just like tobacco and oil residue. 

Heisenberg giggles as he pulls away.

Ethan is dumbfounded, hanging in place, sunken into the mattress. "You…"

"Ethan. How about we...I dunno, consummate our new partnership? A little thank you gesture. A little I do you, you do me."

"...You are so drunk."

"So are you! Look at you, red as a tomato. Or is that 'cause of me?"

Heisenberg cups Ethan’s hot face.

What the fuck is happening right now?

 "You're all stiff 'n' nervous. Fuck, you turn me on."

Holy shit.

Is this a dream?

A shiver dances along Ethan’s spine like an electric eel has replaced the bone. He shifts on the bed.

"Don't be so shy now!” Heisenberg chuckles. “You always got somethin' to say...Maybe you don't need to talk, huh? Maybe you just need to lay there and look pretty. I'll make you feel great , Ethan. I'll make you feel fuckin' fantastic."

The next moments are so surreal that Ethan can hardly process them. 

Heisenberg locks their lips and climbs on top of Ethan, wedging his knee between Ethan’s thighs. One hand rests on Ethan’s hip, while the other cups Ethan’s face. 

Ethan’s arms are splayed out to their respective sides.

But, against all of his better judgement, he finally kisses Heisenberg back.

A brief flash of Mia pops in his mind. He thinks about her smile, her soft lips, her bubbly laugh...But he doesn’t stop kissing Heisenberg. Some stupid switch in his brain has been flipped. All he can do is apologize.

I am so sorry, Mia.

“Fuck, Winters,” Heisenberg huffs, pulling away for a breath. He holds his forehead against Ethan’s so that their noses brush together. “I just wanna make like my sister and eat you right up.”

He dives into the crook of Ethan’s neck, sucking on the flesh above his collarbone. Ethan groans at the unreal sensation. He bucks his hips up into Heisenberg’s thigh to relish in the sweet friction.

Heisenberg pulls away, panting, and starts stripping from his coat, humping Ethan’s leg as he does so.

“You taste wonderful,” he smiles, throwing his coat to the side. He starts to unbutton the white button-up hiding beneath that huge coat this entire time--it’s streaked with sweat. 

The fish scale and dog tag necklaces stay on.

“Sit up,” Heisenberg says. “I want to get behind you.”

Ethan complies, even though his body feels like it’s floating. Heisenberg slips between Ethan and the wall, pulling Ethan against his chest and tugging at his coat. Before Ethan could say anything, he was shirtless, laying his naked back against Heisenberg’s chest.

The latter’s hand moved lower, and lower, and lower, until he found what he was looking for.

Heisenberg bites Ethan’s earlobe.

Ethan stifles a gasp as Heisenberg unzips his fly, delving between layers of khaki and fleece to find what he wants. When he does, he pulls it out, brushing it’s tip with his thumb.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Heisenberg mutters. “That’s okay. It has been for me, too.”

Ethan writhes as Heisenberg begins to stroke.

“Your body fascinates me. To be able to feel you with my own two hands…”

He runs his hand up and down Ethan’s chest and abdomen as he strokes, gently bucking his hips against Ethan’s back.

“...my siblings are turning in their ashy graves.”

Ethan mumbles an mhm , although he can barely register what he’s agreeing with.

“Sit on my lap.”

Heisenberg guides Ethan to his knees so that he’s straddling the former’s hips, wordlessly grinding down on him as he’s jerked off.

“Oh, you’re good, Winters,” Heisenberg breathes. “Lean back for me.”

Ethan mindlessly bends back against Heisenberg, who buries his face in the crook of his neck and bites at the pale skin. Ethan’s adam’s apple pushes against taut skin. He grinds his hips into Heisenberg, ignoring the uncomfortable stretch in his thighs.

“That’s it,” Heisenberg says. His voice is a rich song swirling through Ethan’s drunken head. “Just like that!”

Ethan doesn’t remember what comes next. He remembers a hot white light and his whole body trembling with orgasmic electricity. 

He remembers curling up next to Heisenberg, both of them undressed and sweaty and riddled with drunken exhaustion.

Then, he falls asleep.

Notes:

ethan whimpers is showing his true colors now lol

whore behavior ngl but do we blame him? no. if i was ever in touching distance of heisenberg i would be on my knees SO fast.

Chapter 8: ethan's nightmare

Summary:

ethan has an awful, awful dream.

Notes:

tw for exteme dubcon in this chapter lmao shit is about to get weird

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Ethan wakes up in a dark room, slumped in a sitting position on the floor.

His whole body feels fuzzy yet numb; he can feel every bone to a painful extent, but he can’t move a single one. 

There’s a familiar, stuffy smell hanging in the air that Ethan can instantly pinpoint. 

Fear tingles down his spine, among other things.

He knows exactly where he is; he feels exactly where he is, in a dark room that he knows, by some weird miracle, like the back of his hand. That’s how he knows he’s having a nightmare.

His body tenses as his brain realizes what’s going on here.

He isn’t leaning against the wall.

He’s leaning against another body.

A living, breathing body.

Ethan groans. The body has hands, too; rough calloused hands. One of them is wrapped around Ethan’s middle, holding him close. 

The other is touching him, just like Heisenberg had last night.

So explains the fuzziness.

It feels disgustingly good--maybe this was just a memory of their drunken fling? Their slightly shameful fling. Their affair more like.

You threw your marriage to Mia to the dogs.

Ethan shivers.

Yes, it was stupid. No, he never should have done that with Heisenberg. What’s done is done.

So what is this fucking dream about?

It’s hard to focus on his regret with something--no, someone touching his dick.

Then, it speaks.

“Why so stiff, darlin’?” the voice coos in his ear.

Ethan’s heart stops beating in his chest, while the hand on his dick continues its meticulous work.

Oh, God.

Oh no.

Anything but this.

Ethan’s eyes pop open wide.

“L--Lucas?” he stammers in an exhausted groan.

Lucas giggles, bucking his hips against Ethan’s back. Just like Heisenberg did. “Sure is, buddy. Dunno who you were expectin’. Been waitin’ to get my hands on you fer ages…”

His hot breath lands on Ethan’s ear; the latter can hear a grin creep across his lips. Ethan can hardly focus; just hearing Lucas’s voice slipping through his ear is enough to make him go tunnel vision.

But at the same time, being touched feels really, really great.

What are you, Ethan? Some greedy whore? Snap out of it!

“You know how painful these last three years have been?” Lucas says, hugging Ethan a little closer. “Bein’ stuck in yer brain? Do you know how boring it gets? At first, I was pissed at ya. I wanted to grab you and make you feel the worst pain you will ever know. But then I remembered, this ain’t really yer fault. You don’t want me here, either. And then I got reeeeaal lonely, and I started thinkin’ o’ all the fun we could have once I found you. So, here we are! You couldn’t ever think think me up some bitches to fuck? Guess you’ll have to do. I think this is overdue, anyways.”

Ethan feels sick to his stomach, but he can’t move. Even worse, he still doesn’t know if he wants to.

Lucas’s hand feels so good jerking him off, almost better than Heisenberg did; he had the perfect rhythm, the perfect grip, an incredible sense of confidence that would otherwise be annoying as all hell…

He reeks of death and evil, but Ethan’s lost the sense to care. How could he?

How was this worse than Heisenberg?

No! Lucas was a monster. Heisenberg just wants to save us. He wants to save my daughter!

Heisenberg has killed so, so many people.

“You got a kiddo now, huh?” Lucas laughs, kissing the side of Ethan’s face. “Crazy that Mia let ya hit it considerin’ the shit she gave me. Though, I suppose yer her husband and all…”

“Don’t talk about Rose,” Ethan hisses through gritted teeth, ignoring the undeniable pleasure. He grips his thigh. “Don’t talk about my wife.”

“What’s the big deal? Mia ain’t here to bother us.”

Ethan moans a little, craning his neck onto Lucas’s shoulder. He really knows how to make a man weak, doesn’t he?

“D--don’t talk about Mia!”

“What? She’s only yer wife. Well, was , as far as yer concerned.”

Ethan whimpers.

“Stop it, stop…”

“Aw, ain’t that a good thing? This way, it wasn’t cheatin’ when you let Heisenberg touch all up on ya!”

Ethan feels his breath begin to shallow. Lucas’s grip around his middle tightens more in response; he slowly pulses his hips against Ethan, no doubt getting his greedy self off as well.

He whispers in Ethan’s ear, “And it ain’t cheatin’ when I’m touchin’ you now.”

“Heisenberg was different! I was drunk and so was he, a--and--”

“--aw, boo. This is a dream, ain’t it? What’s the difference? What’s there to feel guilty about, boy? I ain’t real. I’m just a friendly ol’ dream! So what’s the matter, buddy? Don’t be so down.”

Ethan struggles to think.

I am a terrible human.

Lucas sighs, flexing his wrist and taking the pause to love on Ethan’s tip.

“You just don’t like me, is that it?”

Ethan doesn’t respond. He tenses, focusing on not jizzing all over Lucas’s hand. 

That would be heinously embarrassing and...wrong.

...Just like all of this is.

“C’mon, Ethan. What’s Heisenberg got that I don’t, huh? Huh? He got money? Is he hotter? He got nicer hands? Is it that he calls ya Winters all sexy-like? Is it the magnetic power thing? That’s gotta be it. Ya know, I almost had magnetic powers once. Swallowed a magnet and was promptly struck by lightning outside--real crazy stuff, coulda sworn I could vibrate metal. 2013 sure was fun.”

Ethan’s head is spinning. 

“Heisenberg...Heisenberg wants to help me,” he mumbles. His leg twitches.

“I just wanna help you too, pal!” He tightens his grip on Ethan’s dick. “If ya catch my drift. C’mon, humor me.”

Oh God. Oh God, I gotta get outta this.

But it's so nice.

Lucas huffs. “You--you gotta finish sometime, Ethan.”

Ethan grunts, squeezing his eyes closed.

“C’mon, now. Imagine I’m that Heisenberg fella!”

“Shut up…!”

Lucas lets go of his waist and grabs his jaw, angling his head up towards him. Ethan can just make out the icy blue of his eyes in the faint white light. Lucas grinds against him. Their noses brush together.

“Yer so uptight, Ethan,” Lucas growls. “Shoulda gotten ya drunk first after all.”

Ethan holds on, although it feels impossible.

Don’t. Don’t give Lucas the satisfaction. 

“Quit bein’ stubborn!” Lucas seethes. “I know what’ll get ya.”

Lucas leans down and kisses Ethan on the lips. Ethan trembles.

It’s too much.

Lucas pulls away, breathing on his lips, his voice hushed to a breathy whisper. “That’s it, boy. Cum for me. Cum all over my hand!”

Ethan’s legs twitch and his back flies into an arch.

Everything goes white.

 

Ethan shoots up in bed with a short scream, sweating and panting like a dog.

Heisenberg glances over, raising his brows over his dark, round sunglasses that have resumed their rightful position over his eyes.

“Welcome back,” he laughs. “Some nightmare, huh?”

Ethan looks around. He’s in bed. Heisenberg’s bed, shirtless and with his fly unzipped.

Heisenberg is tinkering away on something at the desk, an arsenal of power tools surrounding his work. 

The room smells of oil and sweat, touched with the old meat and saccharine filth of dead bodies outside.

Much better than the sickening aroma of the Baker house, even if it’s not exactly pleasant itself.

Ethan nods, wiping his forehead. “Y--yeah. Some nightmare.”

“Figured.” Heisenberg retrieves a glass of water from the desk and passes it to him. “My apologies, it’s warm. You were asleep for quite a while. And your clothes are at the foot of the bed.”

Ethan nods, accepting the small glass. He looks in front of him; his shirt is sitting where Heisenberg said it would be, neatly folded, next to his coat and his jacket. “Thanks.”

“You were out so long, I was able to get tons of work done,” Heisenberg smiles. He sighs, turning back to his work. “...So, what was all that about, anyway?”

“Huh?”

“Your nightmare. You were laying there twitching like a madman. Had me worried you were having a seizure.”

“Oh, uh--” Ethan itches the back of his neck-- “Guy named Lucas.”

He shivers.

“Baker?”

“...Yeah?”

“Ain’t that the fella whose family got infected with the mold?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I know lots of things.” Heisenberg says, shaking his head. “Anyone who’s anyone around here knows who you are, and the Bakers by extension. Sad case.”

“But how do you know about the mold? Umbrella covered the whole thing up.” Ethan asks.

Heisenberg shrugs. “Not important.”

“Yeah, I think it is!”

“What did Lucas do in your dream, Winters?”

Ethan blinks.

“You,” he says, surprisingly irritated, “can’t just ignore my question--I had no idea you knew about that!”

Heisenberg silently continues his work. They don’t talk for a long moment.

Ethan inhales slowly. “Lucas... Lucas was fighting me.”

Heisenberg scoffs. “You didn’t sound like you were fighting.”

“Hey--What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Ethan blushes bright red.

“Nothing, I’m just teasing you. I believe you, Winters. You believe me?”

“...Sure.”

“Great. Now I have some great news for you, my lovely accomplice.”

Heisenberg holds up a huge robotic arm; Ethan’s prosthetic, in its huge glory! The prosthetic clearly attaches around the shoulder and spans down to the hand. Metal pinky and ring fingers attach from the top of the hand. The dark gray metal shines in the light, and a red button encased in glass of the same shade flanks the shoulder attachment.

“She’s nearly done! Should be able to finish her up today.”

Ethan grins. “Wow. Th--thank you, Heisenberg.”

“You can thank me on the battlefield, friend.”

“Okay. Um...Are we...not gonna talk about last night?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Heisenberg says nonchalantly. 

A hunk of metal flies across the room and onto Heisenberg’s workspace.

“All that stuff you said about me, and, uh, did to me. Did you really mean that, or was that just us being drunk? Did...Did I just imagine it?”

“No, it was definitely real,” Heisenberg laughs. “I guess I meant it. I’m not sure why it came out painting me in such a... promiscuous light, but I had a good time. Hope you did too, pixie.”

Ethan sips his lukewarm water.

“I mean, I don’t wanna come to conclusions or anything, but...It sounded like you, like, liked me.”

“I’d be lying if I said you didn’t fascinate me. But, to be honest, I’d prefer this to not interfere with our task at hand. Can’t get too attached in case you decide to die on me.”

“Thanks for your optimism.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just being honest. And, to answer your previous remark, I’m not interested in romantics...In general. It isn’t you. My apologies if I should’ve told you.”

“That’s...fine,” Ethan says, rubbing his chin. “I--I mean, I’m still married, so...Probably for the best.”

“Chin up, pixie. I’m happy to touch you every now and again until you find someone else.”

“I’m not looking,” Ethan says. His voice is stern, much firmer than before. “I’m married. God, I’m awful. What the hell was I thinking?”

“You aren’t awful, Winters,” Heisenberg says, setting down a tool with a particularly forceful slam. “You’re just...desperate.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, so am I. No judgement here, friend. On the bright side, last night was fantastic stress-relief. I don’t think I’ve ever worked faster! This arm is going to be magnificent.”

Ethan swirls the water in his glass.

You are a dick.

Man, fuck you.

Well, this is officially a real-life nightmare, worse than whatever Lucas Baker had just done to him in his dreams. He got off with Heisenberg in real life. Mia may be gone, but...So soon and he’s already screwing other people?

He’s disrespecting her memory. Their relationship.

And he doesn’t even have the decency to ask Heisenberg if he finished. 

“Oh, by the way,” Heisenberg says, “after you fell asleep, I got myself off. I know you’ve got this ‘I’m a douchebag’ complex festering right now, so I, uh...Wanted to let you know that you did the trick.”

“...I was just thinking about that.”

“Huh. Strange. Welp, this arm isn’t going to finish itself. I don’t really have much for you to do right now.”

“You have a bathroom here?”

“Nope, I’ve never whizzed in my life. Yes, Ethan. First door down the hall on the right.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, Winters.”

Notes:

with all the in game similarities between heisenberg and lucas, I couldn't help making the connection. I also couldn't help using it as the perfect vessel for ethan's guilt.

oh also, the sequel to complexities of her motherhood is in the works. and possibly a third installment. and possibly a prequel. so, even if you're a mia basher, pls pls pls come see my page and check it out!! it spans post re7 to *hopefully* re8, and i promise you it isnt a kiss ass fic lol. come check it out! I promise it'll be nice 'n' spooky, and the first book is already out!

leave a comment if you'd like, tell me your favorite part so far! yalls comments keep me motivated :D

Chapter 9: metal armor

Summary:

it's finally ready.

Chapter Text

Ethan watches Heisenberg work on that arm for hours. It wasn’t supposed to take as long as it is, but Ethan notices something strange about it right before Heisenberg is ready to put it on him, and production halts.

“Heisenberg,” Ethan asks, furrowing his brows, “what is that?”

He points at the red button.

“The reactor core,” Heisenberg says. “Keeps the whole thing running.”

Ethan stares at him.

“...So you put it on the shoulder?”

Heisenberg stares back.

“Sorry, it just seems...exposed. I’m no expert, but if this is going on me…”

“No,” Heisenberg sighs, “no, you’re right. I...I’ll put another plate over it. It’ll be a little bulky, though.”

“So long as I’m safe.” Ethan sits back down on the bed.

“You will be.”

After hours of tinkering and awkward silence, the arm is finally complete. Heisenberg wipes the sweat from his brow and holds it up, along with a small black switch panel. He hands the latter to Ethan.

“Put this in your shoe,” he says. 

Ethan questions it, but complies. He slips off his shoe and slips the little device into the toe; it’s a perfect fit.

“Now press the switch with your toes.”

Ethan stares at him.

“I know, it isn’t perfect...But it’ll have to do. I know there isn’t a rush, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t impatient.”

“...But it’s safe, right?”

“Yes. Now try it.” He watches expectantly.

Ethan presses the button with a flex of his foot; the two metal fingers on the arm clamp into a fist and then back. All the metal in the room jumps; Heisenberg stumbles and catches the arm.

“I--It works!” he yells, bursting into laughter. “Oh, thank God! It works! O--Okay, let’s put it on.”

He rushes to Ethan’s side, pressing two small buttons on the arm. It’s skeletal underside swings open, as do the undersides of the fingers; it almost resembles a ribcage. Heisenberg fits it over Ethan’s arm, while Ethan wedges his fingers into the cages. 

“Let me know if this hurts,” Heisenberg says.

“Okay.”

With a sharp inhale, Heisenberg presses the buttons again. The device slowly clamps over Ethan’s arm and fingers--the fit is a little snug, but it doesn’t pinch. Ethan steps on the button in his shoe gently, watching the fingers slowly curl into a fist.

It’s really here. His own robotic arm!

Heisenberg is just as shocked. Ethan can see his wide eyes beneath his sunglasses.

“Now move your arm,” he breathes.

The metal in the room vibrates in anticipation. The arm buzzes gently.

Ethan extends his arm to the side, then above his head, then in front of him. The arm follows him effortlessly, cleanly swiveling on a joint to match any direction. Heisenberg can hardly contain himself.

He fumbles to the desk and grabs a wrench, holding it out to Ethan. “Grab this!”

It takes a few tries, but Ethan grabs it with his mechanical fingers, holding it in the air.

“Yes! Now throw it!”

Ethan stands up, rearing back this new, powerful arm. With all his might, he swings and throws the wrench into the wall with a loud bang . The concrete wall now bears a scratch.

Heisenberg and Ethan stare at each other for a long moment, before Heisenberg’s surprised expression gives way for a devilish smirk.

This is going to be fun.

Chapter 10: a change of plans

Summary:

heisenberg finishes ethan's arm

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

There’s a strange intimacy as Heisenberg fine-tunes the robotic arm’s fit to better suit Ethan. 

There’s certainly nerves, too. Ethan can feel them emanating from Heisenberg, just like the metal around vibrates when he’s excited.

“I’m nervous, too,” Ethan says.

“What? I’m not nervous.” Heisenberg doesn’t look up from his work.

“I know you are, and I don’t blame you. I’m only doing this to get my Rose back.”

Heisenberg pauses. Ethan doesn’t notice.

He continues, “I can’t believe any of this has happened. And Mia...I just--I just want my baby back. That’s all I care about.”

Slowly, he feels the tip of Heisenberg’s screwdriver start to twist again.

“How are we gonna use her, anyways? What did you say about her...power?”

Heisenberg sits back. “I...I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“What?”

Ethan’s world crashes down around him.

Changed his mind? Changed his mind how ? They’ve come so far!

Heisenberg stays silent.

“Heisenberg, what the fuck ?”

“Not about helping you! Just...I don’t want to use Rose anymore.”

“What? Why?”

“We don’t need her. We--We can do it without her.”

Ethan is dumbfounded.

“Are...Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I...I guess that soothes my nerves a bit. Um, thanks.”

Heisenberg stands up, patting the robotic arm. “Does that feel any better?”

Something feels off in the room. Something about Heisenberg, something putting Ethan on edge; maybe it’s his strange quietness. Maybe it’s the rash change of plans.

Ethan stares at the four flasks on the desk. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Grab your guns,” Heisenberg says, moving to the other side of the room. He slips his dagger into his pocket and grabs his hammer. “We’ve got an errand to run.”

Notes:

i havent been super motivated to work on this lately LOL but we're nearing the end

Chapter 11: dog park

Summary:

heisenberg and ethan run an errand.

Chapter Text

“So...Where are we going, exactly?

Heisenberg hurries ahead of him, up the large flight of stairs. 

Ethan doesn’t understand how he can carry that big ass hammer so easily.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Heisenberg says. “It’s...hard to explain.”

“Okay?”

And Heisenberg was right; Ethan wasn’t at all expecting what he sees at the top of the stairs. Huge stone formations stretch up around them.

Lycans, the very same that bit off his fingers, perch atop every surface.

Howls bellow into the air at the sight of the two men that sound more like wails and screams than anything animalistic. The lycans start to jump down, creating a semi circle around them.

“Wait!” Heisenberg yells, holding his hammer out. “Stand back, we don’t mean any harm!”

The lycans continue to close in, snarling and flicking drool onto Heisenberg’s weapon. Ethan backs himself against the staircase. 

Heisenberg better have a fucking plan.

“I said back !” Heisenberg yells, pushing one with his hammer. It howls and leaps, charging right back to its place in front of Heisenberg.

It has a machete in one of its mighty paws.

“Dammit, Miranda!” 

“Heisenberg, what the fuck do we do?” Ethan huffs.

“Run! Go, Ethan!”

“And leave you here?”

“I know what I’m doing!”

“No! I--You didn’t give me this arm for nothing!”

Ethan charges at one of the circling lycans, ramming his metal fist into its face. It snarls, falling onto its back.

“Holy shit.”

Another one rushes Ethan, and gets the same treatment. Meanwhile, Heisenberg’s hammer is getting well adjusted to lycan faces; he grunts with each mighty swing, and more and more lycan bodies start to litter the ground.

One of the lycans comes around and grabs Heisenberg by the shoulder with its sharp teeth. He cries out and shoves the creature back. It stumbles back, flailing clumsy, furry arms. Before it can right itself, Heisenberg smashes its skull in with the unforgiving head of his hammer.

“Good God,” he breathes, bracing himself for another attack, “these guys have never given me trouble before!”

“Sounds like it!”

But the beasts can’t get the best of Ethan and Heisenberg; not with all that metal working against them. After a few minutes of battle, most of the lycans have fallen, and those who haven’t have run away.

Except for a handful, who crouch, watching with flattened ears.

Heisenberg adjusts his hat as he catches his breath, eyeing the stragglers. Ethan steps forward, ready to punch them into oblivion, but Heisenberg stops him with a hand to his chest.

“Don’t,” he says.

He steps forward.

The fuck is he doing?

“Hey!” he calls. “Come.”

The lycans raise their ears.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you! Friendly?”

One of the lycans steps forward.

“We’re looking for companions.”

Are we?????

“Come with us,” Heisenberg says, beckoning them forward with a gloved hand. “Come on, now. I’ve got food for you back home!”

The lycans whimper like puppies as they approach. Only three remain now; the other two stragglers bolted once Heisenberg spoke again.

Slowly, they come closer and closer. No doubt they’re spooked by the battle that just played out in front of them in which all of their friends were bludgeoned to death.

“That’s it. C’mere, guys. Don’t you remember me?”

The closest lycan finally nears close enough to be touched, but as soon as Heisenberg reaches out to it, it collapses to the ground. Ethan’s eyes widen.

However, the creature isn’t hurt. Not at all, in fact; it kicks its legs in the air and curls its wrists, wiggling as Heisenberg crouches down and scratches its belly.

Ethan furrows his brows.

“That’s a good boy! Or...Girl? Neither? Ethan, come here.”

Ethan reluctantly steps forward and crouches beside Heisenberg.

“They can be friendly,” Heisenberg says, gesturing for Ethan to pet the lycan. “They all were like this once.”

Ethan scratches the coarse fur. The lycan pants, sticking it’s blackish tongue out as it accepts all of their affection.

“Good lycan,” Ethan says, although he isn’t entirely confident in that sentiment. 

Soon enough, the other two lycans work up the courage to step forward, too. Ethan now pets two demanding lycan bellies, while Heisenberg scratches the smallest one behind the ears.

“You gonna help us take down that bitch Miranda? Yeah? Huh?” Heisenberg coos to the freaky looking dog. “Yeah? Of course you are! ‘Cause you’re a good lycan. Yes you are!”

Ethan had no idea Heisenberg loves these things so much. It almost makes him feel bad about all the ones he killed before they turned on Heisenberg.

And, you know, his siblings. Maybe they just needed some belly rubs and they’d come around too. Now they’ll never know.

“Well,” Heisenberg grunted, standing up, “we’ve got three, at least. I was hoping for the whole lot of them.”

They stare at all the lycan bodies littering the site.

“Three is better than none,” Ethan says.

“Yeah.” He looks at the trio of lycans. “You guys go recruit some buddies, okay? We’ll be back tomorrow.”

But as Ethan and Heisenberg start to leave, the lycans stay put. They even start whining.

“What?” Ethan asks.

Heisenberg sighs. “No. You need to stay here and bring more lycans back!”

The lycans tilt their heads.

“Ugh, god,” Heisenberg says. He rubs his temple before adjusting his hat. “Fine, whatever, tag along. Dumb mutts.”

The lycans keep staring.

Heisenberg gestures to the stairs. “Come.”

The lycans bound forward with little howls, tagging closely behind Ethan and Heisenberg as they start the trek back to the factory. 

Ethan is definitely off-put by the smelly beasts, but it does feel nice to have some company going into what he knows will be the first real fight of his life since Louisiana.

Notes:

never written anything like this so its gonna be a wild ride for all of us

its about damn time i started a heisenberg fic anyways