Disclaimer: This story is solely for the purpose of entertainment, I do not own the Grand Theft Auto franchise.

July 1967. The Summer of Lust. At least that's what everyone's been calling it. I'm finally outside of Darkwoods Penitentiary, America's worst madhouse, and it feels great.

I can't stand Carcer City anymore. I just hate it. It's bleak, dark and overrun with criminals. I have more bad memories then good in this town. During my stay at Darkwoods, I've come to appreciate the beauty in life. Isolation can have weird effects on the human psyche. Photos of flowers and creeks and prairies were what inspired me to keep on going. I need to see something else then skyscrapers, ghettos and subways.

So I've decided to leave Carcer... for good. I stand in a phonebooth outside a gas station, on a lone stretch of highway 17 miles southwest of The Flaming River, a river so polluted you'd think it's an open sewer. And yes, it has been known to catch fire.

I hold the phone against my right ear as I watch the sun dissappear in a sea of red, orange and pink. It's hard to believe that pollution can make such a nice sunset.

''Forget it Owen! You already ruined my reputation during your last visit, I'm not gonna just let you come back, and pretend like it never happened. Besides, I already told you – I'm clean. I haven't done anythin' illegal since Joe was executed. And I never will... ever again.''

''First of all, Joe was caught because he was stupid and impatient. Second, last time was before my stay at Darkwoods, now I'm less like Joe. Third, that's complete bullshit and ya know it! You son of a bitch! You just don't wanna put your boring, suburban ''new life'' in jeopardy. How the fuck can you live like that? You must be brain dead! So forget I ever asked, and FUCK YOU!''.

Before he had the time to reply, I abruptly hang up the phone, almost breaking it. I can't believe he would reject me like that. Matt. My brother. My own flesh and blood. We had lived together on the family farm for years. We had moved to Carcer City together. There we had been partners in crime, doing dirty jobs for a man named Johnathan Muldoon. Meanwhile, our eldest brother Joe was in Vice City doing hits for various mobsters. He had always done things straight-up and dirty, which meant that he always made a scene. Eventually, he was caught red-handed and put to the chair.

After Joe's death, Matt and I went our seperate ways. He moved to Liberty City while I stayed in Carcer.

While I was in the fucking loonie bin, he went to college, married a girl, had a couple of kids and became a lawyer.

Fuck him. I don't need him anyway. I need to find someplace to go. I have cousins in Vice City and Rockden but one's too hot, the other's too cold. I'll just keep driving I guess.

I get back on my brand new '67 Freeway. It's a real man's motorbike. I felt that if I had to travel across the entire country, it had to be on one of these things. All I have now is this bike, the contents of my backpack and the Colt .45 under the seat.

I make my way west and ride into the sunset... I feel like I'm home.

It's now dark, the sun is gone, and I'm getting tired. I come across a motel and stop there. I get off the bike and notice what looks life a flame in a nearby field. I hear a melody being played and words being sung and I wonder what's going. I step into the motel and ask for a room.

''Nice night isn't it?'' says the man across the counter.

''Yeah, cool breeze and everything,'' I reply, ''You know there's some people in the field outside. They're singin' and have a fire goin' and-'' before I could finish my sentence, the man interrupts, '' It's those goddamn hippies! They come 'round here and make themselves at home on private property like it's no big deal! I'd call the sherriff but then they'd just start protestin' and sayin' it's the Mother Earth and that they're allowed and full of bullshit like that! So I've decided to just let them be and if they make too much noise... I take out the shotgun!'' he yells and starts laughing, ''Ya know... come to think of it, they're gettin' pretty damn rowdy. You look like a big man, do ya think you could scare'em away? I'll pay ya.''

I agree. I need the money. He hands me a shotgun from across the counter, ''Make me proud boy.'' he says.

I walk outside, the cool night air embraces my face. I hear the sounds of cars racing by. I smell the campfire that the ''hippies'' have made. And I still don't know what the hell a ''hippy'' is. I guess I missed more than the fresh night air.

I make my way to the field and walk up to one of the hippies. Now I smell more than just the campfire. Marijuana. I know that smell.

''Hey man.'' he says. I notice the way they're dressed and they're long hair. I guess that in the dark I must look like one too. The wind blows my long, dark hair into my face, along with the fumes that I haven't smelled in years. I stare at him and his friends for a few seconds until one of them says something, ''Dude, you goin' to the Free Lust festival?''

I guess none of them have noticed the shotgun yet so I hide it behind my back. ''What's that?'' I ask. ''Dude! Everyone's gonna be there! They've got like, uh, free food, free shelter, free drugs, ya know, free everything dude!''

You know all those old cartoons where someone gets an idea and a light bulb appears over their head? I think I had one of those moments. Right when he said ''free drugs'' the criminal machine inside of me started working again.

''Sounds pretty cool... I guess I'll be there. Where is it?'' I ask. ''Hashbury, San Fierro, San Andreas man. I'll see you there.'' he told me.

Since I haven't payed for the room yet, I decide to keep the shotgun, let the hippies be, and leave. I'll spend the night somewhere else.

Jackson. Skip Jackson. I haven't seen him in years, but I know he hasn't gone soft like Matt. He moved to San Andreas a few years back. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear about such an easy job.

The sun rises gracefully, making me feel so happy to be free. I stand in a phone booth outside a gas station... it feels all too familiar to yesterday, but now I know that I'm making progress. I dial Skip's number and wait for an answer.

''Hello?''

''Hey Skip.''

''Who... holy shit... Owen?! Owen Greyson? Oh my god! I haven't heard from you in so long! How are you?''

''Good, good. Look, we could make small talk all day or we could make money. Have you heard about the Free Lust festival in San Fierro?''

''Uh, yeah. Just like everyone with ears. Some hippy bullshit... what about it?''

''Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but if people from all over the country are goin', it must be big.''

''Got that right''

''Apparently they're givin' out free drugs. So if there's lots of people, there's gotta be lots of drugs.''

''Free drugs? Really? So...''

''So if they're all stoned, it must be pretty damn easy to just walk in there and take everything. Like taking candy from a baby.''

''I see where you're goin' here. Well I just been robbin' places all over the state for the past few years. I guess this would be easy and profitable. I'm in.''

''Good. Where do you live?''

''Down near Angel Pine. It's a small cabin right next to Mount Chiliad. Take the long way up an' you can't miss it. See you soon.''

''I'll be there in a day or two. Bye.''

''Bye.''

I hang up the phone and make my way towards San Andreas.