Chapter 336: The Original Plan
As Blue Angel's reputation exploded, everyone in the underworld had heard the name Heisenberg. They all knew Blue Angel was exclusively his product.
But beyond that?
Nothing.
No background.
No faces.
Not a single verified detail.
It was as if Heisenberg had appeared out of thin air one day—arriving with Blue Angel in hand and instantly shaking the entire market.
People were curious. Desperate to know more.
Yet no matter how deeply they dug, they found nothing.
No leads.
No history.
No connections.
Absolute silence.
So over time, one phrase became standard:
"The mysterious Heisenberg."
Because what is unknown becomes mysterious.
And mystery breeds speculation—rumors, exaggerations, wild theories.
In the streets, stories about Heisenberg grew more outrageous by the day. Some said he commanded a massive international syndicate. Others claimed he had government protection. A few even insisted he was backed by foreign intelligence agencies.
The more people guessed, the more mythic he became.
No matter how absurd the rumors grew, one fact remained universally accepted:
Heisenberg was powerful.
And the proof was simple—
Blue Angel.
Many major organizations had multiple research teams working behind the scenes—some even backed by fully equipped, large-scale laboratories.
And yet, none of them could crack Blue Angel's composition. No one could reverse-engineer it. No one could reconstruct the formula.
The more powerful groups that failed, the more "mysterious Heisenberg" grew in reputation. Every failed attempt only reinforced the myth.
And because Blue Angel was monopolized by Heisenberg—impossible to imitate—the hotter it sold, the richer people assumed Heisenberg must be.
What no one knew was this:
The astronomical street prices had nothing to do with Frank.
The price inflation came from the agents competing with one another, bidding up territory and supply. Frank's wholesale price had never changed from the very beginning. Not once.
Even when Blue Angel was selling for ten times—sometimes dozens of times—its original wholesale cost, Frank never raised his price.
All that extra profit?
It went straight into the agents' pockets.
They were the ones making obscene money—rolling in cash, expanding territories, doubling and tripling their influence.
Take New York's Cottonmouth, for example.
Before Blue Angel, his power base was limited to a slice of Harlem. In the grand scheme of New York's underworld, he barely registered—a minor player at best.
Back then, he made a little money running black-market firearms. Total gang assets? Maybe a couple million dollars at most.
Now?
As Blue Angel's top distributor in New York, Cottonmouth had become a major name. Mention New York's underworld, and his name surfaced immediately.
His daily cash flow now ran into the tens of millions. Casinos, nightclubs, shell businesses—an entire network dedicated to laundering money.
And it wasn't just first-tier distributors like him. Their second-tier distributors were growing just as fast.
But the public didn't understand any of that.
They assumed the sky-high street price meant the money flowed directly to Heisenberg.
They had no idea the real fortune was being made by the distributors.
And precisely because of that, those top-tier agents were fiercely united in protecting Heisenberg's secrecy and interests.
No one wanted their golden goose disturbed.
No one wanted new competitors.
The sheer scale of profit had created a shared interest alliance. They protected Heisenberg not out of loyalty—but because protecting him meant protecting themselves.
As for Heisenberg's mystery?
People didn't even know the basics. Let alone how to join.
If Heisenberg ever openly recruited, countless people would claw each other bloody for a spot. They'd bribe, flatter, grovel—do whatever it took to get in.
In Jimmy's eyes, Frank must have stumbled into the luckiest break of his life to join Heisenberg—let alone earn enough trust to choose his own successor.
And if you were allowed to choose a successor in an organization that powerful?
Naturally, you'd pick family.
It was like having the power to bring someone into a state-owned enterprise job with lifetime tenure. You'd choose your own child, your closest relatives—not some outsider.
Yet Frank hadn't chosen his children.
He had mentioned Jimmy.
That made Jimmy pay attention.
From what he could tell, no one in the house even knew Frank worked for Heisenberg.
Using his own logic, Jimmy thought he had figured it out.
No matter how powerful or mysterious Heisenberg was, it was still an illegal organization. Sooner or later, something could go wrong. Maybe in ten years. Maybe twenty. Maybe thirty.
But when disaster struck, no one inside would be spared.
And given how airtight Heisenberg's secrecy was, internal control must be strict. Once you joined, you probably couldn't leave for life.
That must be why Frank hadn't involved his kids.
But he also didn't want to hand such an opportunity to a random outsider.
So because of Fiona, he had given Jimmy that hint.
The fact that nothing followed afterward?
Jimmy guessed Frank must have discussed it with his superiors in Heisenberg and failed to reach an agreement.
Maybe because of Nando.
In Jimmy's mind, he had seen through everything.
He was practically one pair of reflective glasses away from declaring, "There is only one truth."
But what Jimmy would never imagine was this:
Heisenberg was Frank.
The legendary, sprawling, mysterious empire everyone whispered about?
It consisted of exactly three people.
Letting someone join wasn't some board decision.
It was simply Frank's choice.
And yes—at first, Frank really had considered bringing Jimmy in.
Back then, Frank still had plans for Heisenberg's future. Disbanding wasn't even on the table.
After all, Heisenberg was something he had built from scratch.
In Frank's original blueprint, Jimmy would replace him—protecting Frank's stake in the organization after he was gone.
Jimmy was clever. Experienced. Street-smart. He could handle operations and prevent Walter and Pinkman from running the whole thing into the ground.
Meanwhile, Fiona would establish an accounting firm—coordinate shell companies, set up laundering channels, keep the money clean.
The structure would be simple:
Jimmy earns.
Fiona controls the money.
Like a married couple—husband earns outside, hands his paycheck to the wife.
In Frank's design, Jimmy was essentially a money-making tool.
Fiona would just sit back and count the cash.
And if something ever went wrong?
Jimmy would take the fall.
As long as the paperwork stayed clean and no loose ends were left behind, Fiona would remain untouched.
That had been the plan.
But plans, as Frank had learned too many times—
Rarely survive reality.