Grand Theft Auto 115

The sun rose, and in a little old town called Sandy Shores, San Andreas, not a peep was stirring, not even a mouse.

*BRAMMM!*

That is, until Trevor got pissed off at someone.

"YOU FUCK, YOU DARE CALL ME A MOTHERFUCKER?!"

It was not that well known a fact, not as well known as the violent nature of said person, but Trevor Phillips hated nothing more than being called a motherfucker, being called Canadian (as much as that is a fact, as it is mind you), and being a hipster. Yet another hick realized this mistake too late, and got a grenade up the ass for his trouble.

"And the next time I see you, which won't happen again, I'll shove tear gas instead!"

"Umm, we have a... uhhh, assault with a lethal weapon."

"Shit! Cops!" Trevor growled. He decided the best way to leave was via the train, few people were stupid enough to not check 'em, unless they were actively fighting cops. He saw a train come his way and hopped into the boxcar and rode the way there.

While in the boxcar, he noticed something that was weird, well, weird for a normal Blaine County person, which was weird for a normal Los Santos person, which was weird for a normal person, but weird nonetheless overall. It was steel crate, with a symbol, a hand holding an atom, with the numbers 935 in the center, and next to it, was the number '115.'

Trevor, being Trevor, thought something like this would be high end, and therefore, have a lot of value. Trevor didn't care for money much, he was a multi-millionaire, but he was petty enough to dick around a bit, so he grabbed the box, and when he was in Strawberry, a ghetto in Los Santos, he jumped off, and ran towards his strip club, The Vanilla Unicorn.

Michael De Santa was relaxing by the pool of his high-end Rockford Hills mansion. He had it all now, a loving family, money, and good friends, or rather, a meth addicted cannibal and a black guy as a couple of friends, but friends nonetheless.

*Brrr... Brrr*

Michael picked up his phone and saw it was Trevor, so he answered.

"This better be good T."

"Yeah, pick up Lester and meet me at the Vanilla Unicorn, I just stole this thing in a metal box. I think this might be a lot of money Mikey!" Trevor said with gusto over the phone.

"You ain't serious, are you?"

"Michael, this is something that could set us further in life, the money from the Union Depository is gonna run out soon enough."

"Maybe for you, but I own three theaters, a bar and a marina, what do you own?"

"A strip club, a scrapyard, an airfield, two bars and a nuclear waste search center."

"Shit, really?"

"Yeah, really, you fuck, come over here before I kill your balls with a stun gun and a baton."

Michael tried to answer, but Trevor hung up. Michael just decided to do what Trevor said, and go to the strip club.

Trevor just sat down at his office at the Vanilla Unicorn, waiting, when he heard a knock. He walked and opened the door.

"Franklin, come in, my N-Word!"

"Yeah, whatever T. So, wassup?" Franklin sat down.

"Welp, there's this." Trevor took out the steel crate and put it on the table.

"Shit Trevor, where'd ya get this?"

"I got it from a boxcar I hitchhiked in."

"Alright, but where's your truck?"

"All the way back in Sandy... Oh you... FAAAAAAA... GRrrr..."

"...You o..."

Trevor stuck out a finger, and glared at Franklin. He got the message, and quieted up.

The door then opened to reveal Michael and Lester, who proceeded to sit down on the couch.

"Alright Trevor, what is it that you called us for?" Lester asked.

"Just a little box of something here." Trevor said through gritted teeth.

"Hmm, I don't recall something like this in the transport logs, Trevor, what's the label say?"

"It says, '935.'"

"Hmm... no no, I never heard of any organization wi... wait... any other symbols on it, markings, serial numbers, anything?"

"Well the 935's in a atom held by a hand, and then there's the number, 115."

"115, well then, what we have here, is an untraceable package. Congrats T, we'll never know what it is!" Michael yelled.

"Oh yeah, well if it's untraceable, then it must be dangerous, or illegal right?" Trevor reasoned.

"Trevor, what box would be made out of steel? It's dangerous, and if we try and open it, we might end up blowing up not only ourselves, but everything in a 3 mile radius." Lester countered.

"Shut up, Moe, we're opening this fucking box!" Trevor took out a crowbar and stuck it into one of the slots.

"Uh, T, I think I'm gonna have to go with Lester here, this thing might blow up." Franklin backed up.

Trevor ignored Franklin and opened the box. With a smile he looked inside.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Uh, Trevor?" Michael cautiously inched towards Trevor.

"A rock..."

"What?"

"It's..." Trevor got angry. "a..." He grabbed a chair and swung it against the wall. "FUCKING..." Trevor grabbed the contents and showed it to the three. "ROCK!"

"What? Are you shitting me? All this metal, and we got ourselves a damn rock?" Franklin may not have been a rocket scientist, but something like this was worthless.

"I've been deceived! When I find out who did this..." Trevor let out a growl. The trio took this a sign to leave, and left. Trevor, in a rage, grabbed the rock, went outside and threw it at a nearby Families OG. He let out a yell of anger and kicked his way back inside.

"Ugh, damn, the fuck that motherfucker hit me with?" The OG, grabbed the rock, and looked at it. And then...

"Whoa, what the fu... aahhhh... Ragh... RAAGH..."

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

*BANG*

"Shut the fuck up!" Trevor went back into the office, leaving a dead OG, and glowing rock. The ambulance came soon after.

They took the rock and the body.

-Meanwhile, in another universe-

"Zis und zat! Zis und zat!"

"Hey Dicktofen, you mind hurrying up? We're getting boned here!"

"Hold ze position Dempshey, I need to finish ze calculations!"

"Well hurry up, we're losing ammo!"

"And vodka!"

Richtofen sighed. With Dempsey's stupidity (despite the fact that that is only in relation to his own intelligence), Nikolai's drunkenness, and Takeo's... Vait, vhat is so annoying about Takeo? All he's done is gotten sick because of some rotten fish.

"They come, and we are low on ammo!" Takeo yelled over his comrades gunfire.

Zis vill do. "Everyone, get on ze teleporter, ve need to take a detour zhrough ze east!"

"The east? What are you babbling about now Richtofen?"

"Ve are going to America, dumpkoffe, now schnell!" Richtofen's order resonated in the room. Takeo and Nikolai took a few more potshots before running towards the teleporter.

"This better fucking work!" Nikolai moaned. "Nikolai's legs are tired."

"It vill only be... Oh no..."

"What is it?" Takeo prepared himself for an ambush, grabbing his katana.

"Zat." Richtofen pointed at a rogue enemy, who was thrashing at the console, putting in a new set of coordinates.

"Oh you got to be fu-"

At an instant, the four fighters disappeared, and zombies there soon stopped moving. Eventually, their heads blew up, displeasing their master.

And now, she couldn't sense them at all.

"DAMN! DAMN! DAMN! I WILL GET YOU EDWARD, IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!"

But of course, no one heard her, no knew she even existed, except Edward. Oh, how she hated him, and his face, and the fact that he could take hold of what she had.

She hated him, hate hate HATE!

"Oh well, I'll wait, just like last time."

"Just, like, last... Time!"