The desert. A spiky lizard mounts a rock to observe skeptically as a makeshift spike strip is dragged across some isolated blacktop. A pair of black boots stalks over to a grey Chevelle, reverses it, throws it in drive, and floors it. It's a little hard to tell who's driving or why this is happening at this juncture, so let me save you the suspense -- the boots belong to Victor, and the Chevelle's doomed affair with the spike strip……belongs to Gus Fring, as it were, in the service of selling an alternate version of Arturo's demise that will allow Gus to manipulate Los Salamanca into destroying themselves while not implicating him. The explosion that ends that plan is, in this universe, years in the future; the explosion that ends the Chevelle's tires will have to do for now, and it's properly epic, with sparks flying and hubcaps jouncing away into the desert. The car comes to a stop on its rims on the shoulder, and Victor and his fingerprint-avoidant gloves get out as, in a black SUV, a similarly gloved hand reaches out the passenger-side window to scatter handfuls of shattered auto glass every few feet. Victor is smoking as the SUV approaches the Chevelle, and we're pointedly shown his stubbing out his butt and kicking it away, like, if you're taking such pains with every other aspect of this diorama, maybe pack out the piece that has DNA on it?Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices