Chapter 6: A Favor for a Favor
The rain began to fall in a cold, steady drizzle, washing away the city's grime but not the tension that clung to the air. Tim was standing alone in a quiet, unassuming parking lot behind a strip mall, the kind of place where people went to do business they didn't want anyone to see. The air smelled of wet asphalt and diesel, a heavy, oppressive combination. He was waiting for a man he'd never met but knew everything about, a man who, according to the System's intel, was as cold and calculating as a machine.
A dark sedan, clean and unadorned, pulled into the lot. The driver's side window rolled down, revealing the face of Mike Ehrmantraut. He was direct, no frills, his gaze piercing, a silent probe into Tim's character. His face, a landscape of wrinkles and scars, was a testament to a lifetime of living on the edge.
"Saul gave me your number," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
Tim didn't reply. He just waited, his hands in his pockets, his posture loose but ready. He could almost feel Mike's assessment, the old man weighing his every move, every subtle micro-expression.
"I need a job done," Mike continued, his eyes never leaving Tim's. "An inside job. It's a clean operation, no blood, no fuss. Just information."
He laid out his offer with a quiet, confident authority. He needed Tim to find a mole inside a rival network, a person who was siphoning off a small but critical amount of information. The information Mike gave him was vague, cryptic, a puzzle for Tim to solve.
Tim's mind raced. He had a job with Nacho, an agreement based on a fragile, desperate loyalty. And now here was Mike, a man who represented a different kind of power, a cold pragmatism that promised a far more substantial reward. Mike didn't care about loyalty. He cared about results.
This is a trap, Tim thought, a cold wave of dread washing over him. I'm a cop. I'm not supposed to be in the middle of a war between two rival drug empires. I'm supposed to be on the other side.
"Why me?" Tim asked, his voice low and cautious. "Why not do it yourself?"
Mike's lips twitched, a shadow of a smile. "Because you're a phantom. You get in and out without a trace. I'm a man who leaves a wake."
The words hung in the air, a chilling confirmation of Tim's new identity. He had to choose between a powerful, calculating new ally and a loyal, desperate one. The System, his own personal devil on his shoulder, offered a data-driven analysis.
Conflict with who? Nacho? Or someone else? Tim's heart hammered against his ribs. The choice was a moral one, a choice between loyalty and survival. He knew Nacho was a desperate man, and that desperation could get him killed. He knew Mike was a methodical one, and that methodical approach could get Tim killed. He was a pawn in a game he didn't even know the rules of. The System's advice was no help, it was a cold, calculated bet on his survival. It was a choice, and it was his alone.
He thought of the debt, the looming ten million dollar figure that felt like a physical weight on his shoulders. He thought of the Salamanca shootout, the near miss with Hank. He had to be smarter. He had to play a different game.
"I'll do it," Tim said, his voice firm. "But on my terms."
Mike Ehrmantraut looked at him, his gaze a silent probe, a test. He saw something in Tim's eyes, a flicker of the old cop, the man who lived by a different code. He saw a man who was fighting a war on two fronts, with the world and with himself.
"Your terms?" Mike asked, his voice a low growl.
"I get paid, you get your information. Nothing more, nothing less. And I work alone."
Mike's lips curved into a small, humorless smile. He offered his hand. "A man who knows his value. I like that."
Tim accepted the handshake. The skin-on-skin contact felt like a silent, tense agreement passing between them. He had just made his choice, a step deeper into the abyss, a step closer to his goal, but also a step further away from the man he used to be. The rain fell harder, a cold, steady drizzle that washed away the city's grime but not the weight on his shoulders.
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