Author's Notes: Switching to M cause its more fun

Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, fuck off, I'm busy, beep.

"Fucker," Michael said as he hanged up his Ifruit and stepped out the elevator. Walking a few doors down the hallway he found his number and casually knocked.

"Who is it?"

"The dumb bastard keeping you alive,"

Click

A short cane bound man with an IQ higher than the other three opened up. "Ah, Michael come in," both walked into the penthouse that was being rented with his given share. Once Michael took a seat in the couch he began. "Listen Lester we've got a-," He looked around confused, "the kid's not here?"

Lester poured a cup of liquor in the kitchen counter "Franklin?" he took a quick sip and continued, "He called, said that he would get here late." Michael figured, but continued on, "Anyway, there's a problem,"

XXX

A mountain of smoke increased in size of in the distance of the Grand Senora Desert as a red faded Bodhi truck sped under the sun and above the dehydrated ground leaving behind a storm of sand and dirt. Once reaching the airfield near the town of Stab City, all Trevor could see was a hot, burning inferno of wood and metal scraps. One of the planes was missing and the other was toasted at this point and the office where all the money accounting took place was up in smoke.

As the fire trucks began showing up the infuriated gun loving meth head approached a frightfully concerned middle aged man who watched from a distance.

"Oh thank god you're here Tre-," Getting bitch slapped by Trevor knocked him down to the dirty airline.

"Ron, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!"

"I-I-I-I-I don't know Boss, I'm sorry!"

"Give me a different answer or I'll grind your ass with what's left of the propeller!"

Ron just sat there rocking back and forth with both hands squeezing on his paranoid mind. Trevor rolling his eyes turned around too looked at the raging fire that the firefighters were combating. 'Oscar' he quickly thought and looked down at a pretty shaken Ron.

"Where's Oscar, Ron, is he dead?"

Ron shook his head "N-no the paramedics took him to Paleto Bay since the clinic here-", "Sucks ass, I know," Trevor interrupted. Taking one last look at his blackened crispy hangar he entered his Bodhi and before hitting the road, he yelled out to Ron.

"Clean this place up Ronald!" and took off.

"Oh ho, ho, ho, whoever you are, I'm going to enjoy drowning you in a bathtub full of gasoline you hear me, you mentally idiotic fuck!" Trevor cursed at the sky as the Bodhi followed the Alamo Sea trail to Paleto Bay.

XXX

"Oh man dawg you sure fucked up this time," Lamar chuckled as he drove his black van out of Vinewood Hills.

"Nigga, shut the fuck up!"

"Just saying homie,"

Bark, bark

"That's right Chop, Mr. Incredible here thought it was all clear and smooth, but the dumbass never expected getting hard fucked up the ass!" Lamar continued chuckling like crazy while a frustrated Franklin kept boiling up with Chop in the back alongside all of Frank's personal items that they managed to salvage. As they entered the expressway Franklin silently kept to his thoughts on possible suspects. Who would burn down his crib and why?

'Retaliation, accidental, warning, or some loon just having fun?' He thought.

His eyes popped at the last option, "Fuck me if it was Trevor high on crack," Lamar spoke up, "Crazy dude, I don't see why not,"

Franklin's phone began ringing so he answered the call. "Hey, Mike, what's happening, you talked to Lester?"

"He can't do much without some sort of electronic data bullshit whatever, but he did say that your house was the third property this month to go up in flames,"

"So these assholes have hit before?"

"We're still checking if the other incidents are related somehow, in the meantime find a place to crash and we'll meet at said location,"

"What about Trevor?" Franklin asked.

"Can't get hold of him, that psycho's probably burying some dead bastard in the desert, but he'll eventually come by,"

"Alright man, thanks and tell Lester I'll buy him champagne for a month if he finds anything, bye,"

"Watch your back kid,"

Franklin lowered his phone and looked up ahead as they crossed the expressway bridge and entered Davis.

"Welcome back to the Hills homie,"

XXX

The Paleto Bay Medical Center was always calm and quiet except for the time when twenty plus deputies, N.O.O.S.E and Army Reserve ended up in the emergency rooms after the bank robbery turned war zone some eight months back. But now the building had being occupied by the Drug Observation Agency or DOA for short. A highly valuable person of interest was currently in the ER recovering from a bullet wound to the shoulder and the Agency desired a silent conversation with said individual.

Up in the trees near the saw mill a pair of dirty hands held on to a binocular as the town reflected from its lenses. As they were lowered the cold, dead eyes of Trevor Philips continued scanning the streets up ahead before retreating to his truck. In the back he unhooked a crate carrying some killer metal toys which he smiled at with pride. Grabbing a combat pistol and a knife, he placed them in his waistline while the ammo clips where stuffed in his jean jacket's inner pockets. He knew that the place was going to be packing armed security, but for Trevor there was no such thing as an insanely psychotic unprepared plan, that's just the way he enjoys riding the train of life. Checking his phone for the heck of it, he noticed a missed call from Michael.

"Probably about the score, that woman must have taken some to fix her plastic tits," He amused himself to Michael's priceless expression.

"Okey dokey time to slaughter some dumbass porkies,"

Driving into town he found a perfect spot behind the clinic and shut down the engine. Jumping the brick wall he checked for any surveillance cameras then preceded towards the back door. Grabbing the knob the door didn't budge from the pulling or pushing. 'Fuck,' he then headed for the main entrance where a few deputies and pedestrians stood around. He could care less about gunning everyone down, but interestingly though he wanted to be sneaky on this one. Looking on the upcoming traffic he saw something that put his brain to work on and began searching the floor.

Picking up an empty dirty canteen near the dumpster he jogged back to his previous spot just in time to see a motorcyclist come into approximate range. 'Here goes nothing,' as he aimed and threw the object at the speeding bike. Striking the rims of the front wheel, the motorcycle front flipped ejecting the rider into mid-air as he crashed into an upcoming jeep. The smashing of the body into the large window pane caught the attention of everybody nearby. As everybody gathered around, a surprised Trevor looked at the accident he had successfully caused.

"Well fuck that, my shitty plan worked," He looked at the deputies who rushed to the scene, "Yep it fucking worked all righty,"

Casually entering the main lobby he noticed some DOAs looking out the window, then he caught the sight of their weapon holsters. One of them was aggressively holding on to his pistol while continuing to look at the vehicle collision. 'Jumpy bastards,' Trevor insulted the pair as he turned his back on them and walked to the front desk.

"Good afternoon how may I help you?"

"Yeah, um, where's your VIP guest located at?"

The nurse looked a bit confused, but soon picked up his words, "Sorry sir, but that is police information only,"

"I'm a journalist and I was hoping for a quick interview that's all,"

"Again I'm sorry, but if you don't have a badge then there's no way of entering that hallway."

"Fine, fine, but he is okay and all right?" Trevor spoke with traces of frustration.

"I believe that the operating doctor said that the bullet was successfully removed and that he's in stable condition," the nurse replied.

Trevor peaked into the corridor where another DOA agent stood by, "He'll live good, good, in fact that's excellent thank you,"

Walking away and standing in the middle of the place he shrugged and thought, 'Well, time for plan: Fuck This Place Up,'

*Whistle*

One of the agents in the lobby turned around and was introduced to hot lead in his chest while the other shuddered before a bullet entered his cranium. The agent in the corridor took out his pistol, but three shots in the neck area halted the trigger from being pulled. Trevor marched down the corridor as the nurses and patients screamed and ran from the building. Taking a corner Trevor almost took two bullets that hit the wall instead. Covering behind the wall he blind fired back as the agent did the exact while hiding in one of the examination rooms.

"Just take one for the team!"

Bang, bang, bang, bang

The agent crouched as the bullets struck against his protective wall, "Need immediate back up, multiple officers down!"

Trevor had enough and jumped out of cover sliding down the hallway until he reached the open door. Seeing the agent, he pulled one in-between his eyes. Dusting himself of the floor Trevor casually walked loosely swinging his pistol and placing his other hand inside his underwear searching for his valuable asset. Finding a door that read Emergency Room he nodded and entered.

"Hey Oscar, why you-," a strong grip overtook Trevor by the neck as a handcuffed Oscar sat in his bed watching the agent holding Trevor in a choke hold and dropping his pistol. Both struggled for dominance as the agent applied more pressure to tame the wild animal he desperately locked on his arms. Trevor on the other hand used all his strength and anger to insanely crash around the room until he backed up against the wall and reversed head butted the agent in the mouth. That brought some pain to the man so; Trevor did it again only adding an extra kick to it.

"Ahh!" the man loosened up his grip and Trevor pushed the arms away with ease.

"Orale Trevor!"

Turning around he began to strike the man in his mid-section, but the agent returned him a left hook to the jaw. Staggering backwards the Canadian got punched for a second time, but avoided a third by catching the swinging arm and used his available one to give out a straight pop to the mouth. The agent cursed in pain as blood trickled down his busted lower lip with Trevor regaining his focus. "Oye vato, you dead now!" Oscar, exclaimed as, Trevor, tackled the man to the ground and angrily pounded his face with both clenched fists.

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you!" He yelled in rage as blood spattered on all direction

Silently standing up with bloody knuckles and heavy breathing, Trevor looked at Oscar, and spoke in a calm manner, "The things I do for fun huh?"

"I've seen worse," Oscar replied as he was tossed the keys, "Yeah, your people have a strange thing for heads," Trevor answered as he popped his knuckle bones.

"So, can you walk, or do I have to fucking carry you?"

"Uh no,"

"Which answer is that?"

"I can walk man, it's my shoulder that's fucked up," He got up from his bed and grabbed a plastic bag containing his clothes. Trevor nodded in agreement and spoke up.

"Can you mind explaining to me why I shot up DOA agents guarding you?"

"Sepa Madre, They just came in and said that I was under arrest for drug smuggling," Oscar turned around and added, "They said that a reliable source led them us."

Trevor thought to himself about that last remark not noticing the agent he had beaten up slowly regained conscious and reached for his holster. A soft grunt was all Trevor needed to become aware as the agent sat up and slowly pulled out his gun, but Trevor was faster.

"Up yours!" He threw his knife and it pierced the man's chest, followed by a yelp full of pain and the pistol firing into the opposite direction.

"Mierda!"

Approaching the dying man Trevor looked at him with disgust, "From the back?" and stomped his boot into the knife burying it deeper, "Real men do it from the front,"

Once changing clothes they both ran through the back exit as the sheriff's department stormed the front. Reaching the brick wall Trevor boosted Oscar up then following next. Injecting the ignition key and turning it Trevor found frustration as the truck took its sweet time.

"You piece of shit, start!" Trevor barked at the abused vehicle.

Ring, ring, ring, ring

'For fuck's sake,', "Hello?" he shouted at the phone.

"Oye que haces?" Oscar frantically asked.

"Shut up let me answer this,"

"Hey Trevor what are doing?"

The engine roared and he hit the gas in reverse, "What the fuck Wade?" Trevor dodged traffic and speeded out of town, "The hell you want?"

"Your friend the one that was dead, but wasn't, he's looking for you."

"The fuck does he want?"

"Just asking for help or something I don't know the girls here won't let me leave still,"

"I'll call him later, I'm busy!" almost missing a semi-truck carrying logs.

"Um Trevor?"

"WHAT!"

"When is Cousin Floyd coming by?"

"HE'S ON VACATION!"

Hanging up the phone they took the off route through Mt. Chiliad making easier to avoid check points. "So what happened back at the hangar?" Oscar began to explain, "I don't know only that some guy wearing a flaming hockey mask busted down the door and capped me,"

"We'll find them and rape them up the ass with red hot burning steel poles, mark my words!"

XXX

Michael talked on the phone while he drank hot coffee, "Yeah something like that, but minus the killer sharks,"

"Okay, I'll see you next week at the studio Solomon, goodbye,"

Michael drove out around town wanting any sort of distraction from work, his other work and dysfunctional yet operational family. Stopping at a gas station he entered looking for cheap junk food to buy. As he scanned the alcohol fridges his phone beeped at a received text message. Checking the caller id, it belonged to Jimmy saying 'Yo pops did frank's crib burned done? It's on the tv! BTW how's my problem going?' Michael sighed; he still needed to clear up Jimmy's name from the hit list and help out Franklin and get approval for his new movie's production date plus make sure that Trevor didn't ruin other people's businesses causing them to target him and anybody associated with that lunatic.

As he kept annoyingly adding up his problems two Hispanics entered the station and aimed their pistols at the clerk.

"This is a stick up puto, open the cash register!"

"Ah fuck," Michael whispered to himself as he silently crouched down.

As the clerk filled up the bag handed to him the second thug walked towards the aisles. Michael moved around the corner, but stepped on a potato chip bag. 'Fuck!'

"Hey quien ta!"

Not carrying a weapon with him, Michael had three options: Fight back, Surrender and get mugged/shot, make a run for it. He quickly weighted in his options.

"What's that word that Jimmy and Trace use?" he softly spoke as he grabbed a beer can, "Cholo, solo, polo?"

"Ah fuck it!" He stood up and threw the beer can at the robber's face which got smashed firing off his gun. Michael ran and sucker punched him to the floor, rolling to the ground and grabbing the gun along the roll he took cover as the other robber started shooting at his direction. The clerk reached over and choked hold the man with one arm as he fought for the pistol with the other. Michael peeked and seeing the commotion he aimed and capped both kneecaps to the Latino.

"Thanks pal,"

"Can you handle it from here?" as police sirens approached. The cashier thanked him and Michael walked away. Reaching his car and driving off he his phone ranged and it was unknown caller.

"Who's this?"

"The man who's going to execute your boy if I don't get my promised money in time,"