All Aboard

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/34472278.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: Gen, M/M
Fandom: Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul (TV)
Relationship: Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca & Ignacio "Nacho" Varga, slight, Eduardo
"Lalo" Salamanca/Ignacio "Nacho" Varga
Character: Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca, Ignacio "Nacho" Varga
Additional Tags: Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Drunkenness, Drunk Driving, Car
Accidents, Graphic Description of Corpses, Animal Death, Sociopathic
Lalo, Pansexual Lalo, Immortality, Nacho is SO DONE, Late Night
Conversations, Pyromania, Burning Bodies, Implied/Referenced
Torture, Psychological Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms,
Childhood Trauma, Wetting, vehicular manslaughter, Surreal,
Flashbacks, Goretober, Character Study, Lacho Undertones
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of Salamanca Study, Part 3 of Feed the Psychos
Stats: Published: 2021-10-19 Words: 3404

All Aboard
by DeadBeat666

Summary

He could’ve called Nacho for a ride or just stayed home and drank alone. But instead Lalo
was going 60 in a 20 mph residential zone, rolling wasted in his Monte Carlo with the
brights off.

“The dumb bitch didn’t look both ways, Nachito.”

--

A character study of Lalo Salamanca

Notes

Alt Title: Who the Hell's Under My Monte Carlo?

Inspired by Sweet Face by 100 Monkeys
--
Please read all tags and warnings to make sure you're on board with this, it's been written
unapologetically graphic.
Enjoy Lalo in all of his gruesome glory :)
See the end of the work for more notes

(Note: All dialogue is spoken in Spanish)

Lalo noticed there was something different about America; the supposed land of the free. It
certainly wasn’t free in the way they tried to convey it, but it was still liberating to him in some sort
of way. It was like a fresh start maybe- a clear road ahead. In fact, that’s exactly what he was
looking at now, or at least trying to.

Those pesky yellow lines were swaying left and right as they disappeared underneath the hood of
Lalo's Monte Carlo, the man soon starting to question which side he should be on. He vaguely
wondered if the night was darker because he could barely see past his front bumper, lighting dim
and his judgement clouded. He didn’t realize that his brights weren’t on, too busy cracking open
another beer as he listened to the radio. He was usually upbeat, even while by himself, so the
festive channel felt like the natural choice to him. The satisfied little smile on his lips never left as
he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and sang along, at least the best he could with his fuzzy
memory. It didn’t take long for Lalo’s concern over the road to become nothing but background
noise, like staring at a television but not paying attention to what’s playing.

Lalo could get used to America. Some of it’s clubs really knew how to party, which he had learned
tonight after several drinks and sniffs of coke that he snuck in the bathroom. After a while it
became nothing but a blur of moving figures and colorful flashing lights, Lalo getting endless
entertainment from the drunk and desperate women- and a few men. He couldn’t help but laugh
whenever one would try to go home with him, because the only way he could picture them leaving
with him was in the trunk of his car. One of the women even tried to stop him from going home,
playfully reaching for his keys.

‘Come on, you’re drunk! You should ride with us.’

Lalo had brushed it off and kept his hand from bruising such a delicate face, reminding himself
that she had no idea who he was. A part of him liked it, how she didn’t beg for forgiveness when
he pried her hand from his wrist and declined. She instead showed her true colors, scoffing at him
before heading back to the dance floor to find a new potential partner. Lalo didn’t spare a second
glance as he left to climb into his car and cruise around.

He could’ve called Nacho for a ride or just stayed home and drank alone. But instead Lalo was
going 60 in a 20 mph residential zone, rolling wasted in his Monte Carlo with the brights off.

By now it was one in the morning, the starless sky blending in with the horizon ahead of Lalo. The
road melted with the pitch of night and it seemed like he was driving through a void. Lalo felt it
calling for him as his eyes started to involuntarily close, a heavy exhaustion setting in. He was
reaching the outside of residency as he headed towards the bleak desert. His singing faltered before
slowly disappearing into mumbles, loosening his grip on the steering wheel. The slip of
consciousness only seemed to last a minute, the Salamanca's head dipping down before he forced it
back up.

He lifted his head just in time to see a burr of purple approaching his windshield, which soon
morphed into a human form- it looked to be a young woman. Lalo didn't slam on his breaks as she
came into sight, he didn't even let up on the gas. Not that it mattered, it was far too late.

Thump, splat.

It seemed to happen in slow motion as the Monte Carlo struck her, sending her flying onto the
hood. Lalo saw her expression as she hit the windshield; the reaction she had to her own face
breaking against the glass. It buckled under the force, a thick sound ringing out as the glass
cracked. Blood instantly splattered on impact, her face becoming embedded and causing her to
stick to the windshield like a bug. The front of her purple shirt glistened with blood, clinging to her
ragdoll of a body.

Lalo heard a yelp at the same moment, but he knew it wasn't from the pedestrian. Not only was it
too pitched, but it seemed to have come from under the car. He noticed a thick blue rope in her
hand, which was also tied loosely around her wrist. Lalo realized it was a leash as its grip tightened
and jerked her arm in a gruesome angle, yanking her off the hood. She didn't have time to scream
as it pulled her down under the car, face ripping from the glass before she became a sickening
thump beneath the Monte Carlo. Then and only then, did Lalo press on the breaks.

As he halted to a stop, he looked into the rearview mirror and spotted the limp body laying on the
side of the road, along with a small mass of mangled blood and fur. He hit his steering lightly out
of frustration, knowing this could complicate things. Not to mention the fact that his ride was
covered in head slop.

There were little bits and chunks of face meat stuck in the glass of his windshield now, blood
slipping through the cracks and dripping down the inside. Lalo stared at it for a moment, listening
to the pitter patter of it hitting his dashboard as he collected his thoughts.

Right, he should call Nacho.

They needed to get this body off the road and take his car to the shop, preferably before anyone
came across the crime scene. He was determined not to let this ruin his night, searching for his
phone. Lalo didn't think about the woman as he called Nacho, hearing it ring 4 times before he
finally answered. Nacho sounded tired as usual, though Lalo could tell he was trying to mask it.

"What's up?" Nacho asked, voice a bit quiet.

He was probably in bed with Amber and Jo, Lalo remembering just how late it was.

"I need you to come help me with something… Bring a tarp and shovel." Lalo said, making it
obvious they'd be hiding evidence.

There was a moment of silence before Nacho answered, "Yeah ok… Where are you?"

Lalo's eyes never left the rearview mirror as he told Nacho his location, noticing that the crumpled
body was twitching lightly. He hung up and threw his door open, stepping out to get some fresh air.
Now that he was left to wait for Nacho's arrival, he allowed himself to think about what he just
saw. The sight of her head spitting open kept replaying in Lalo's mind, hearing the thump she made
with every beat of his heart.

Thump, splat.

It happened too quickly though, the Salamanca trying to slow down the memory and pay attention
to every detail. He'd never done something like this before and so it stuck to him a bit more than
his usual acts of violence, but there wasn't a trace of guilt to be found. It felt more like an
achievement, something he just happened to be lucky enough to experience. Sure this wouldn't be
the first time he used his car for destruction, but those were planned. He recalled the time he raced
around a dirt track while dragging a man by the ankle, having been caught stealing both product
and money. Lalo could hear the screams over the roar of his engie as he was drug through the dust
and rocks, body turning like a roasting pig until he was raw flesh on all sides. The fabric of his shirt
was ripped and torn for the most part, turning into nothing but bloody threads. But unlike that man,
the woman lying on the road was still clinging to life after Lalo hit the brakes.

He lit one of his hand-rolled cigarettes as he stared at her shaking form, wondering if she could
hear the muffled music and lack of panic. He wondered if she knew he didn't care, idly waiting for
help in disposing of her body. He wasn't thinking about her stolen life or the family that would be
left without answers, he was only thinking about one thing.

Thump, splat.

When Nacho finally showed up at the scene, he was wearing his usual look of indifference. He had
no idea what he was walking into, but it soon became evident when he spotted the bloody
windshield with a body in the background. Lalo was surprisingly calm for a man who just
committed vehicular manslaughter, leaning against the side of his car and smoking a cigarette. As
Nacho parked, he noticed Lalo was shifting something around with his shoe, at first presuming it
was a pebble. But as he got closer, he recognized it was a bloody tooth.

"You bring the tarp?" Lalo asked, looking up at him.

Nacho slowly nodded and pulled it from the back of his car. It was sturdy and blue, taken from his
father's shop and sure to never be used again. Nacho didn't need to ask what happened, he could tell
that Lalo was drunk but it was a strange form of intoxication. He acted like a man who thought he
was sober, or a stoner pretending they weren't high. Who knew what the man was and wasn't
capable of right now, so Nacho tried to get him to sit down. He looked Lalo in the eyes as he spoke
a bit slower, a hand going to his arm.

"Look, sit in the car and I can take care of it." Nacho said, sure this would earn him more trust.

Nacho was talking to Lalo the same way he spoke to Tuco when he was using again and needed to
calm down. He opened the car door as if to usher Lalo to sit, making the other man chuckle.

"I'm not leaving all the fun to you." Lalo said, "Come on, let's check it out."

Lalo brushed Nacho off with ease, acting as if he'd been waiting to share the experience with him.
It amazed Nacho that even while so intoxicated, Lalo was still in control of the situation. He wasn't
like Tuco, who Nacho could influence in some ways to coax the irrationally out of him. Nacho felt
that things weren't in his favor as he followed Lalo to the bodies.

The woman's blood was spread and smeared around like modern art, mingling with the blood of her
poodle that was practically busted open. Its thick white fur was soaking in its own guts, lungs and
ribs crushed flat by the Monte Carlo's tires. A few ribs had punctured through the flesh, skewering
intestines to be exposed to the moonlight.

The woman was on her side, head laying in a pillow of blood as her body twitched and stirred with
each weak and gurgled breath. She was still holding on somehow, even with her face mangled and
her skull cracked. Her arm was brutally dislocated as well, the leash winding so tight that her wrist
snapped and left her hand completely purple.

Lalo had this look on his face, like he thought Nacho might be impressed or amused just like
himself. But Nacho was trying to keep his stomach from tightening in revolt at the sight.

"The dumb bitch didn't look both ways, Nachito."

Nacho didn't know what to say to that, instead laying the tarp in Lalo's trunk. He hooked his hands
under her arms while Lalo took her ankles, feeling her body vaguely tense at the disruption. They
laid her on top of the blue tarp, both staring in silence.

"... Shouldn't we put her out of her misery?" Nacho asked.

"How? Wanna shoot her with houses just down the road?" Lalo asked with amusement.

Nacho gave up on the idea, instead turning to look at the dog once more. He thought of trying to
scrape it off the road, but it seemed impossible to get it in the trunk without a mess. Lalo was still
looking at the woman though, taking the dwindling cigarette from his lips and dropping it in her
gaping mouth. He heard the brief hiss of it going out, but the victim didn't react to the burn. It was
a bit disappointing to know that there probably wasn't any consciousness rattling around in that
busted head of hers.

"I tell you what, you're free to beat her head in with a shovel, if that's what you want." Lalo offered,
though his actions betrayed whatever kind of morbid mercy he was trying to convey.

"Let's just get her in the ground." Nacho finally said, unable to look at her anymore, "I don't think
we can take the dog with us."

"That's fine, leave it." Lalo said with indifference, loosely wrapping the tarp over the top of the
body, "We need to get the blood off my car."

He headed over to inspect the damage to his windshield, whistling lightly at the sight. Nacho had
no idea what they could use to clean up such a mess, but Lalo nonchalantly opened a hand to him.

"Give me your shirt." Lalo said, as if asking for a quarter.

Nacho knew where this was going but he did as asked, Lalo watching as he pulled it off and set it
in his waiting hand. Of course the Salamanca knew Nacho would give the shirt off his back if
ordered to. He crossed his arms over his exposed chest, exhaling as Lalo began to wipe the blood
up. It wasn't his best work, but at least he wouldn't be driving around with gore on his car.

"What if you get pulled over?" Nacho couldn't help but ask.

Sure the body would be gone, but a cracked and red-stained windshield was definitely suspicious.
On top of that, Lalo was drunk and shouldn't be behind the wheel in the first place. Ditching the
Monte Carlo would be the safest option but he knew that was out of the question.

Lalo glanced at Nacho, "What do you think I pay that lawyer for?"

Lalo needed someone to keep him out of legal trouble while in Albuquerque, and he had been lucky
enough to find a pathetic and greedy man to take the role. Not to mention the fact that he
practically reeked of desperation, the lawyer obviously stuck in troubling times. Lalo should really
thank Nacho for the recommendation, but now certainly wasn't the time. He threw the blood
soaked shirt in his trunk before taking out his keys.

"Stay behind me just in case." Nacho said, still trying for an ounce of control.

Lalo only grinned as he opened his door, "We'll see who gets there first."

With that, Lalo sat in the driver's seat and brought his Monte Carlo back to life. He revved the
engine as a warning, prompting Nacho to get behind his own steering wheel. As soon as Nacho
turned his engine over, Lalo was stepping on the gas and speeding past him, heading towards the
desert. Nacho cursed under his breath as he thought about the woman in his trunk, trying to keep
up with his boss' erratic driving. Soon they were both speeding out towards the wastelands of New
Mexico, Nacho's heart thumping in his chest the entire time.

Lalo's drive was a different story, the exact opposite of tense as he watched the speedometer more
than the road. He strayed into the left lane every so often, the unused seat belt rattling at his side.
The only thing Nacho and him had in common right now was that he too was thinking of the body
in his trunk, but not out of concern. In the end, she didn't look much different than all the other
mangled frames he'd seen in his life. They were becoming a blur but Lalo wanted to remember in
some way; remember them like it was the very first time.

He couldn't recall how young he was back then- maybe 5 or 6- when he was awakened by crying
and screaming from outside his bedroom window. Lalo had crept towards the back door, his little
feet bare as he peeked to see where the noise was coming from. His uncle was standing in the dark,
cigar burning orange as smoke coiled up towards the stars. He was watching his goons beat a man
to death, screams muffled by the cloth so tight over his mouth. He was hog tied and receiving sharp
kicks to the chest and head, Lalo seeing and hearing the blows from his hiding spot. He stood there
until the men left to get something to wrap the corpse in, taking the chance to edge closer.

Lalo didn't understand it at the time, looking down at someone who wasn't breathing and
wondering where they had gone. He had yet to grasp the concept of death as he hesitantly shook
the pale man, frightened by his dead eyes and lolling tongue. Hector and his men came back to
find Lalo numbly staring and standing over the corpse, having wet himself without realizing it.

It felt like Lalo was always aware of his family's business, but that night was when he truly
understood what it meant to be a Salamanca. They couldn't be intimadating without following
through with punishments, their muscle is what kept everyone else in line. But for a man who saw
so much, Lalo was blind to the fact that this wasn't exactly natural enjoyment- this was coping. It
was an unhealthy and morbid mechanism though, almost to the point of fetishizing death. He
forced himself to watch as a child, but he liked to watch as an adult; it made him feel in control.

Lalo rolled to a stop somewhere deep in the desert now, undisturbed as he got out and waited for
Nacho. They could hear the final notes of the woman's death rattle as they circled to the trunk,
Lalo throwing it open to gaze at the warm body. He tilted his head lightly as he pulled the tarp
back from her face, stringy blood clinging to blue as he confirmed she was no longer breathing.

Nacho took out the shovel and got to work, at this point losing track of how many shallow graves
he'd dug. Meanwhile Lalo was reaching around the corpse to get his gas can, the sloshing of liquid
grabbing Nacho's attention. It seemed Lalo wanted to burn her first.

The body was unceremoniously drug towards the hole, and lucky for them the trunk wasn't stained
with blood. The corpse laid motionlessly on the tarp with Nacho's tainted shirt, her eyes slightly
open but with no life in them. Lalo wasn't sure which was more fun to look at, a fresh body or
Nacho sweaty and shirtless. He glanced at the other man expectantly but Nacho was preoccupied
by his newest discovery, how the grill of the Monte Carlo had cut lines into her legs when she was
hit. Something told him that Lalo didn't even try to stop...

"Want to give her a moment of silence, Nachito?" Lalo teased, which snapped him out of his daze.

He kept stone-faced as he began to douse her in gasoline, catching Lalo taking a bump of coke off
the back of his hand at one point. The man had many demons but addiction wasn't one of them, he
just considered it a way to let loose every so often after-hours. It almost felt ceremonious; the way
Lalo struck a match and tossed it on the corpse to watch it burn. Nacho could feel the skin on his
face and exposed torso tighten from the heat, watching the fire grow and begin to melt flesh.

They heard the fizzling of hair and popping of meat as Lalo took two more beers from his car. He
 handed one to Nacho, leaning back against his hood. Nacho didn't want to drink it but he cracked it
open anyways, knowing he'd need something much stronger to forget this night. The two stood in
silence as they watched the corpse burn to ash, drinking cheap beer and waiting for the fire to die
out.

End Notes

Damn son, you got some problems ._.

--
Felt like writing something surreal and bloody for the sake of Lalo's dark side. Been a while
since I've written gore so it was fun lol
Kudos, comments, and feedback is always appreciated :)

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!