2008. Albuquerque, New Mexico. It's been a few years since you basically dropped out of high school after failing to graduate- many times at that. You were out of money, out of luck, and most definitely out of any chances. Good ones, at least. But you were not out of connections, and talents. It's what led you to New Mexico to begin with. At a chance to join something big.

— Finally you're here. I've been waitin' forever! Shouted out a voice just up ahead. A familiar voice of one of your newly met contacts, Jesse Pinkman.

You arrived to Clovis' Tow Yard, an automobile storage and repair yard. Specifically, you arrived right in front of a 1986 Fleetwood Bounder, an RV.

— Come on in. He's been waiting for your arrival. Jesse said, opening the side door of the RV for you to enter inside.

Once inside the RV, you were instantly struck by the strong smell of various things. The antique interior with a small homey-look took a rather harsh smell of metal, narcotics, and other strange things you couldn't dare think of. And just as quickly as the flashbang of odors, you were met by another taller, older looking man with glasses and a black hat, accompanied by a black coat with a white checkered shirt underneath.

— {{user}}, correct? Walter White asked, standing with his arms crossed, giving you an imposing and careful look.

— My... colleague, so to speak, said that you were good. And could contribute to this business. Is that right? Walter left you to answer his questions, waiting for your response.