New story idea, new fandom.

Anyway, I'm not too sure when I am setting this. Though, I'll probably sort that out within the next chapter or so. I'm also not sure if this will be a Trevor/OC pairing, I'm not exactly the most romantic of writers. Then again, Trevor isn't exactly the most romantic of characters. Heh. Still, nonetheless, he'll be the main Canon character in this story anyway.

Feedback, as always, is greatly welcomed.

Please Note: This story will contain strong language, drug use, and sexual situations. Other warnings will be tagged at the beginning of individual chapters.

Breaking Wings

...

Chapter One

What in the blue fuck am I even doing?

The woman let out a deep sigh at the thought, arms crossed tightly across her chest as she leaned against the side of her car. It was the same thought that crossed her mind maybe a hundred times since she set out for the...welcoming and scenic airfield of Sandy Shores. All she could really hope for was that the planes were in much better condition than the hangar, which made her more than a little anxious when looking at the rusted building. Then again, she really should have expected it.

She allowed her head to roll up towards the sky, starting to feel her self disgust more than the heat at the moment.

My grandpap is rolling in his grave knowing what I am doing with everything he taught me about flying...

Drumming her fingers against the warm metal of her car's driver side door, she looked back down at the area around her. There was no doubt about it, she had hit rock bottom. Hell, if she had the figure and dancing skills, she would pick being a stripper over flying for some 'company' that she'd never even heard of. At least you couldn't touch the strippers, she doubted the union would be able to cover her while smuggling drugs and other items. It all came down to what drove the majority of society these days.

Money.

Plus, being able to fly once again was a rather nice bonus.

Still, she could have just been a simple store clerk or something. Instead she just threw her name, number, and skills out into some newspaper, hoping for some form of employment. It was shortly after that she started getting messages from someone named Ron, who was looking for someone to fly for the enterprise he was part of. No phone calls, which was insisted upon, and, like an absolute idiot, she agreed after seeing what she would be getting paid.

She just needed to get through it, maybe keep at it for a few months or so, then maybe she could get out of it. It was going to be rather simple. All she had to do was meet this Ron guy, show him that she could indeed fly a plane, and hope that she doesn't mess it up. It was like any other job interview.

Yeah, right, she thought to herself with a chuckle, I've never had a job interview where I had to stand out in a desert for an hour. I've never had a job interview for a company that specialized in fucking drug dealing. Maybe I can pretend that it's a legit business, with legit pay and benefits.

What the fuck was she doing?

It was at that moment of 'fuck this' that she almost fell over at the sudden appearance of a beat up red truck as it pulled into the airfield, nearly missing her car by only a few inches. The woman watched, eyes wide and arms hanging limply at her sides, as the vehicle pulled to a stop. A thin, balding, middle-aged man stepped out of the truck and shut the door with a slam. It suddenly felt like a million alarm bells were going off in her head, telling her to get into her car and get the hell out of there. Yet, she just remained planted to the spot.

The man turned to face her, striding towards her in a way that made the woman want to back away.

"You're Susan?" he demanded, pointing towards her slightly.

"It's, uh, Sam," she corrected, much more timidly than she had wanted. She couldn't help it, she felt like a deer in headlights and the man in front of her was quickly starting to make her regret the whole thing.

"Yeah, right. I don't have the time for idle fuckin' chit chat, alright? The hangar's this way."

He turned and headed towards the warn down hangar, Sam quickly walking after him, though making sure to keep some distance from him. Her heart was in her throat and the rational part of her brain was beating her senseless for getting herself into this.

"So, you're Ron, then?"

"No, I'm Trevor Philips, Ron is my CEO. You'd better not make the damn mistake of confusing the two of us again, understand?"

Sam just nodded her head, pausing as she watched him climb up onto the wing of the plane. Trevor paused, looking down at her as he opened the door to the cockpit.

"Fuck, do I have to direct everything you do? Get in the plane!"

She didn't have to be told twice.

It felt somewhat soothing to be doing something familiar, like she was a handful of years younger, listening to her grandfather talk about aviation and the planes he owned. The feeling of being airborne, the roar of the propellers, headset sitting snugly around her head, it was...nice. Then again, she really couldn't get into it all that much, what with the man sitting beside her, who was telling her where to fly, sprouting verbal abuses when she didn't do what he wanted or did something wrong. It made her grip the controls tightly and only seemed to build on the frustration that she had been carrying around for quite some time.

Though, she doubted that Trevor was the right person to take it out on.

They were gliding through a rather narrow space between two mountains when Trevor said something that wasn't a direction or warning that he would take the controls, which was usually followed by the threat of only one of them making it back.

"So, Sam," he said, almost overemphasizing her name, Sam not too pleased with him mocking her, "tell me how you learned to fly like a drunk."

"I don't fly like a drunk," Sam snapped, jarred slightly by a patch of turbulence that shook the plane rather harshly before it smoothed out again, "I've just never had to fly between mountains or had to deal with verbal abuse from a passenger."

"I'm not just some passenger," Trevor snapped back, "I am your future employer, and I'll damn well speak to my employees anyway I want to!"

"Yeah, well it doesn't exactly help my-"

Trevor interrupted her with a string of noises, shutting her up before he continued, "Just answer my question."

"My grandfather taught me," Sam answered, gritting her teeth as she worked on avoiding the rocky sides of the mountains.

"How endearing," he mocked her once again, "though, that does explain your flying."

"Hey! My grandfather was a great pilot!" Sam snapped back at him, "he remained as sharp as he always was, right up until his deathbed. What he taught me was solid and he had the mental clarity to keep it legit."

"Doesn't exactly make him the greatest pilot this country has ever seen, does it, Sammy?"

Sam tilted the plane to the left so that she could exit the narrow space, the mountains passing by into ocean as she let out an angry sigh.

"I wasn't saying that he was the best pilot to ever bless the skies, alright? I'm saying that my flying ability doesn't reflect his. Now, can you please tell me where to go? You know, unless you want me to continue flying off into the ocean so you can continue to irritate me enough to drop us both into the fucking ocean!"

Sam ended up raising her voice to a yell by the end, not really having control over what she was saying. She had expected Trevor to raise his, make use of some of his threats, yet she was rather surprised when a somewhat excited expression crossed his scarred face.

"Fuck yeah! That is what I was waiting for, I knew there was more to you than that 'Yes, sir' bullshit!"

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" Sam muttered, shaking her head, "can you just tell me where we are going next?"

"That way," Trevor said, pointing off towards the left, "the airfield should be over in that direction, though you'll be crossing pretty close to a military base, so you'll have to keep us low."

"Military base?" Sam repeated, as if she was testing out the words, "are we in a fucking no fly zone!?"

"Not right now," Trevor said, sounding like he was starting to grow irritated with her once again, "only if we pass over the base. Though, if you want to take on the military, I am certain this plane can take on a few missiles and bullets. It would be the most noteworthy event of today, aside from huffing some gasoline this morning."

"Are you high right now?"

"Yes, though you're not exactly contributing to the buzz."

"For fuck's sake..." Sam whispered to herself, getting ready to get the hell out of the plane. Maybe if she hits enough objects Trevor will tell her to walk.

Or kill her.

That was certainly a plausible outcome.

The landing was sloppy, but she got the job done without hitting anything or destroying the plane. Once she taxied the plane into the hangar, she pulled the headset off and tossed it down onto the seat. Sliding down the wing and landing back onto the solid ground, she actually found herself glad to be on the ground again. She stuffed her hands inside the pockets of her jacket, glancing at Trevor as he walked out from the other side of the plane.

"You'll need some more work, but I would think of getting a place in Sandy Shores," Trevor said, "might be able to get you on your first outing by the end of the week."

"Wait, you're hiring me?" Sam asked, genuinely confused. I thought he said I flew like a drunk...

"No, I'm just going to give you a mission in hopes that you will fuck up my industry," Trevor said, turning to look at her, "yeah, I'm fucking hiring you. Now get out of my airfield, I'll contact if I need you."

Sam frowned, watching him walk off for a few moments before she started to walk back towards her own car. She scratched the back of her neck, muttering a few curses under her breath.

Well, she got what she came there for.

Welcome to Trevor Fuckin' Philips Enterprises.