Chapter 202 – Return to Chicago
Frank and Pinkman were hauling twelve pounds of product. Technically, they weren't smuggling—just transporting it from New Mexico to Chicago.
At a wholesale price of $40,000 per pound, that shipment was worth a staggering $480,000—nearly half a million dollars. A fortune.
If anything happened to the goods, Frank, Walter, and Pinkman would all be utterly ruined. It would be a total loss.
Frank had it relatively easy—his money had always been cobbled together from here and there. When he first got out of the NYPD, he didn't even have a dime to his name. If they lost the shipment, he'd be pissed, sure, but he'd survive.
Pinkman wasn't too invested either. He mostly ran errands and did grunt work. At worst, the whole trip would be a waste of time and effort. Not much to lose.
Walter, on the other hand, was the one who'd be truly screwed. He was counting on this shipment to pay for his treatment, to keep himself alive, and to leave something behind for his wife and kids. If anything happened to this haul… well, Walter might not survive the stress alone.
So, whether it was to protect Walter's life or his own cut, Frank had to make sure this shipment reached Chicago safely.
Frank wasn't new to transportation work.
The "Frank" from before—he'd done all sorts of shady stuff for money. Scamming, hustling, stealing… hell, he'd even sold himself. No wonder he ended up with Sheila.
That was also why Frank preferred not to think about those memories—they were too disgusting to relive. Too hard to stomach. Most of the time, he only remembered bits and pieces when a situation jogged his memory.
After crossing over into this world, Frank had done a few sketchy side hustles to pay off credit card debt—smuggling and transporting included.
But those jobs had always been local. Frank rarely left Chicago, maybe venturing out to nearby small towns. A long-haul run like this—from New Mexico all the way up north to Chicago? That was uncharted territory for him.
To Pinkman, Frank looked cool and confident—like a seasoned veteran who had everything under control. But inside, Frank was nervous as hell. Still, fortune favors the bold.
Fortunately, Frank wasn't flying blind. He believed in giving professional work to professionals.
There were people whose whole gig was long-distance transport—guys who operated off the grid.
And for that, Frank had to thank Jimmy.
Before Frank crossed over, Jimmy had been dating Fiona. Once he realized just how unreliable Frank was, Jimmy smuggled the guy out of the country behind everyone's back—straight into Canada.
Of course, that plan didn't last. Jimmy got found out. Fiona dragged Frank back from Canada herself, and that whole mess led to Jimmy and Fiona breaking up. That's when Officer Tony slid in and took Jimmy's place—becoming Fiona's new guy.
The important part? Through that chaotic episode, "Frank" had met the driver who helped smuggle him in and out of the country.
This guy was a real pro. He could sneak across the US–Canada border like it was his backyard. Smuggling people back and forth like it was nothing. That wasn't something just anyone could do.
So getting from New Mexico to Chicago? Child's play for a guy like that.
Honestly, Jimmy himself was no ordinary dude either. He got into Harvard Med—yeah, that Harvard—but dropped out halfway through because he didn't vibe with the campus culture. Then he transferred to the University of Michigan.
Midway through that, he dropped out again. Picked up a fake ID and started stealing cars for fun. Stole enough to afford a house. Knew people from every walk of life. That's no average person.
Frank had been on the streets for years and still hadn't met a cross-border expert like this guy until Jimmy introduced them.
So, Frank got in touch. It had been a long time since they talked, but they'd had some history. The guy knew Frank wasn't a cop and could be trusted.
Frank and Pinkman loaded the product into the guy's vehicle, hidden away, and hit the road—from New Mexico to Chicago.
The whole way, Frank made small talk, trying to build a connection. With a guy like this, there's no downside to being friends.
Pinkman was hyped. This was the first time he'd ever left New Mexico.
New Mexico was all desert and dust. Nothing but sand and sky. The buildings were rundown, the towns half-empty. Compared to that, the rest of the country felt like a whole new world.
It was a long trip. New Mexico sat in the southwest; Chicago, in the midwest. On a map, New Mexico was far to the left, Chicago to the right. That's thousands of kilometers apart—even by plane, it would take hours.
Frank and Pinkman sat in that car for what felt like ages—dozens of hours—before finally rolling into Chicago. Pinkman, who started out all excited, was practically dead by the time they arrived.
But in the end, they made it. No cops. No complications. The goods were intact.
"Thanks, brother." Frank handed the driver a thick envelope of cash, then hoisted the heavy backpack full of product and got out of the car with Pinkman.
"I'm back," Frank muttered, standing on familiar South Side soil. He looked around and took a deep breath.
They didn't go straight to any buyers. First, they found a motel and crashed. Anyone who's ever been on a road trip or business run like this would understand—it was exhausting.
They stayed there for two full days, barely moving, just recovering.
Before heading out, Frank told Pinkman, "Watch the goods. Don't open the door for anyone but me."
No way Frank was walking around with nearly $500K worth of product on him. If he got mugged, that'd be game over. He only took a few samples and left Pinkman behind to guard the rest.
He didn't head straight to any big-time dealers either. First stop: a residential home.
Knock knock.
The door was opened by a dirty-looking boy. Greasy face, unshaven stubble, wearing a stained tank top and shorts. His socks had holes, toes peeking through. Black and grey splotches from god-knows-what.
Only one house in the whole South Side had white boys this filthy—the Milkoviches.
The boy was Mickey, Ian's secret boyfriend. Of course, Frank didn't know that part yet.
Yes—Frank was here, samples in hand, at the Milkovich house. But he wasn't here for Mickey.
"Frank?!" Mickey's eyes widened in shock.
Everyone, including Fiona and the gang, thought Frank was dead. Mickey had heard the rumors—being with Ian and all—so seeing Frank, alive and standing at his doorstep, was a complete surprise.
(End of Chapter)
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