Disclaimer: I do not own the Grand Theft Auto franchise, any individual games, or its characters.
Sorry if the first two chapters are slow. It's just exposition. The real plot kicks in around chapter 3. Enjoy.
Chapter 1: Badlands
CJ rubbed his raw, aching wrists while shooting Frank Tenpenny a resentful glare capable of melting steel. "Just remember, Carl: We'll be watching," the older police officer warned. Tenpenny did not break his gaze on CJ until he had settled in the front passenger seat of the squad car. Eddie Pulaski revved up the engine, laughed at an inaudible joke of Tenpenny's, and sped down the dirt path. Dirt clods pelted CJ from the back tires and he flinched instinctively under the assault. As he watched the black and white cruiser disappear in a cloud of dust among the trees, CJ spotted Jimmy Hernandez studying him from the rear window of the car.
'Fuckin' pigs!' the muscular black gangsta raged futilely. He hurled a dirt clod after the car, which landed only a few yards down the dirt road. Thunder rumbled ominously overhead and CJ examined his surroundings with a slight shiver. The police car had deposited him in a dense stretch of forest interrupted by a few large boulders and sheer rock walls erupting from the ground around him. The husky black never had ventured been outside a city in his life, but now he was surrounded by trees and rocks, and the temperature in the forest was dropping along with the sun over the steep hills. A deep, throaty clap of thunder shook the very earth from the opaque blanket of clouds overhead. 'Shit, gotta find somewhere to warm up, quick,' he thought and headed down the path in the same direction as the squad car.
As he walked, CJ's rage warmed him from within like a furnace. With his two-faced, manipulative dealings, Tenpenny reminded CJ of the innumerable police officers he had encountered in his youth on the streets of Los Santos. Crooked and abusive, they used gangbangers like him to further their careers in one way or another and had no real desire to end the gang wars unless there was a direct benefit to themselves. 'Gotta take his ass out last, after I fuck up Pulaski and Hernandez. That motherfucker is why Moms is dead.'
Pulaski was no better but he clearly was a man of limited imagination. All violence, but no cunning: While CJ could not like a man like Frank Tenpenny Eddie Pulaski was a short-sighted criminal with a badge who needed a Frank Tenpenny to lead him. 'What's that cat Hernandez' deal? Dude ain't really into the game like Pulaski or Tenpenny. He just ain't got no killer in him.' Except for one mildly threatening phone call Hernandez had made three days after CJ arrived in Los Santos, CJ never saw any aggression in the Hispanic officer. 'He might not be as bad as the other two, but that just means death's gonna come quick for him.'
Another thunderclap and the rain poured torrentially. 'When I get out this situation and start taking motherfuckers out, C.R.A.S.H. ain't even gettin' the worst of it,' CJ thought as the wind relentlessly pounded chilling rain onto his chocolate skin. He was clad only in a black tank top, black track pants, and a pair of green sneakers. The elements were merciless in their assault on his husky frame and they were taking a toll on him, despite how tough he looked. Ryder and Smoke—that's who would pay the most. '"You know how it is. Some people say they got love for you, then shoot you in the back." Wasn't that what you said, Smoke? "Some people say they saw a green Sabre doing the work." Couldn't keep your mouth shut, huh, Ryder? Just wanted to brag to everybody about how hard you were, didn't you? We'll see who's bragging when you got a slug between your fuckin' eyes, sherm head asshole.'
Carl was determined to have his revenge on them all. His motive for revenge drove him up the sloping dirt road despite the wind lashing his face with raindrops that felt more like hail. The young gangsta wanted to make each of the betrayers pay and imagined gloating over each of their bodies as they took a last breath. 'Why, Ryder? Why, Smoke? Why'd you sell out on the Grove? We grew up together on the same street! You used to eat dinner with me, Moms, Sweet, Kendl, Brian. Fuck, you two were there at Brian's funeral even when I wasn't! We were family!' His chiseled body shivered involuntarily from the icy rain gliding along the contours of his muscular body, as lightning lanced the heavy clouds in the sky. 'Can't afford to get sick now. The first place warm I see, I'm going in there.'
The burly black gangsta stopped at the top of a crest of road. He was near a well-crafted one-story wooden cabin, and although a four-wheel bike was parked outside the door, there were no signs of anyone at home. A few hundred yards away, he saw a freighter trucks parked beside stacks of logs like the ones he used to see traveling down the highway near Santa Maria Beach. The dirt road continued beyond the logs and freighter trucks, but CJ couldn't make out anything that far down the road.
Taking a calculated risk, the young gangsta strolled to the front door of the cabin and pounded on the door. "Hello?" Knock, knock, knock. "Is anyone in here?" Knock, knock, knock. "Hello?" 'Shit, if you ain't gonna answer, I guess I gotta teach you a lesson about being polite to people.' CJ hopped off the porch and within a minute of tinkering under the quadbike's console, had hotwired the vehicle and sped down the dirt road. He afforded one final glance back at the cabin but still no one had emerged from the house. 'Oh, well.'