Two days after that whole 'incident' at the car shop, Marcus and Michael were watching some old movie on Michael's couch. However, an argument by Tracy and Amanda quickly brought the silence to a stop.
"-you're such a fucking dictator!" Tracy shouted at her mother.
Michael and Marcus were really disappointed that the silence had to be brought to an end. It was nice while it lasted, actually. Two bitches and a pot-smoking son in the house made it rare for silence.
"Why the fuck not?!" Tracy demanded to know.
Tracy was pissed because she wanted her homeless boyfriend (the latest boyfriend in a very, VERY long line of boyfriends) to stay the night at their home. Amanda, however, saw the wisdom in not letting a homeless guy who's banging her daughter to sleep under her roof.
"He is NOT staying the night, he's a bum!" Amanda retorted.
"Oh my god! I don't give a shit!" Tracy screamed.
"I don't even know why you are with him! He's a bum! He is homeless!" Amanda exclaimed.
"He's got nowhere to go!" Tracy exclaimed.
Michael had enough. He set down a bowl of chips and went to put on his flip-flops. Marcus just walked outside as Michael got himself a nice glass of whiskey and a cigar, watching him come outside as he sat down in a chair next to a lounge chair. Unfortunately both of them could still hear the mother and daughter arguing even while outside and away.
As Marcus started to play a game on his cell phone, Michael put in some earbuds and began to listen to a Phil Collins song, thankful beyond all doubt that the song was drowning out the argument. He felt relaxed, content, and even a little happy as he stared at the sky. Marcus eventually looked up from his phone after he heard a noise, and he was surprised to see a person walking towards them... The person was Franklin. Marcus saw him flash a piece sign with two of his fingers, showing he meant peace and didn't want to fight over what happened at the car dealership. Michael wondered why Franklin was here at his home, and it was kinda amusing to him to see the kid here as he took off his sunglasses and took the earbuds out of his ears.
"What do you want?" Michael asked, curiously.
"Man, I come by for that drink you offered. That's all." Franklin replied.
Michael sighed and put his sunglasses back on, leaning back against his lounge chair and stared up at the sky. He did remember that, while pointing a gun at the back of Franklin's head and made him crash into Simeon's car dealership, that he offered to have a beer with him. He didn't think the kid would come back, though.
"I wasn't really serious about that." Michael commented.
"What?" Franklin asked with a little disbelief.
Michael scoffed a little and gestured for Franklin to sit in the other chair that was next to him. Marcus nodded at Franklin, also gesturing towards the chair.
"Look... you're already here, you lost your job because of us, you might as well have a seat." Marcus reasoned.
Franklin sat down on the lawn chair in between Michael and Marcus. He could see very clearly that both of these men had experience in crime, and that they were mostly doing pretty well for themselves. He wanted things like that.
"You're not gonna rob me again?" Michael asked, sarcastically.
"Man, I never robbed you. That was just a repossession." Franklin retorted.
Michael chuckled a little and leaned back on his chair, still staring at the sky. "Okay... you call it whatever you wanna call it. I really don't care. What can I do for ya?" he finally asked him.
"Shit, I just came by to see if there's somethin' I can help you with. I see you doin' well for yourself." Franklin replied.
"Look... I'm retired." Michael sighed, putting out his cigar in a nearby ashtray.
Franklin rose an eyebrow, curiously. How could this guy already be retired? He looked old, sure, but not THAT old.
"Ain't you a bit young for the pipe, slippers, and starin' at a fuckin' sunset?" Franklin asked.
"You know, I've been in this game for a lot of years, and I got out alive. That makes me the right age." Michael replied.
Michael then sat up and took off his sunglasses, looking Franklin in the eyes with a feeling of seriousness.
"You look like a good kid. If you want my advice, you give this shit up. You work hard, screw over everybody that you love, hurt, rob, kill indiscriminately and maybe... just maybe, if you're lucky, you become a three bit gangster. It's bullshit. Go to college. Then you can rip people off and get paid for it. It's called capitalism." Michael summarized, now kicking back and relaxing some more in his lounge chair.
With a roll of his eyes, Marcus sighed. Honestly, he liked Michael as a friend, but now he really needed to go and check on Trevor. He needed to get some cash so he can get his own place to live, maybe get a better vehicle as well. Plus there was the matter of Ivan Doborovsky to attend to... Hearing all of this crap about how being a criminal wasn't worth it was against Marcus's plans for the moment.
"Hmm... So, what I saw the other day, was like when a corpse briefly reanimates itself and terrorizes everyone, right?" Franklin guessed in jest.
"I saw my friend go on a Blitzkrieg through a car dealership window, then kick the ass of some Armenian guy. That's all I managed to tell." Marcus joked.
With a frown on his face now, Michael sighed and looked back at Franklin.
"What you two saw the other day... was a guy dealing with pests." Michael said, sternly.
"I guess I never saw myself as a fuckin' pest." Franklin replied, shrugging with doubt.
"Well, then the day's lesson is all about humility... Tomorrow we'll try a training montage." Michael said, laying back down on his lounge chair.
Honestly, Franklin had no idea what Michael was talking about. Truthfully he didn't. Michael De Santa seemed pretty strange when it came to having a decent conversation...
"A training what?" Franklin asked.
"Just ignore him on that, his mind is always stuck in some god-awful eighties movie fantasy. He does that often." Marcus suggested.
"Yeah, I can see he spends a lot of time in there." Franklin said, sarcastically.
"As much as I can, guys." Michael replied to them.
Marcus then heard his cell phone ring. He got up and walked a short distance away, checking the caller ID. It was Steve Haines again, probably calling for some more FIB bullshit. As Marcus answered his phone, Michael and Franklin kept talking.
"So that's why you're here in Vinewood then, right?" Franklin guessed.
"Maybe I'm here because I'm just an idiot who thinks that imported palm trees are a good substitute for not really knowing what the fuck you're doing on this earth." Michael sighed.
Shaking his head and chuckling a little, Franklin couldn't believe the stuff Michael was saying, and a lot of it was surprising him.
"Jesus, man... You a good time, you know that?" Franklin said, being totally truthful.
Michael then sat up in his chair, getting his sunglasses and cell phone as he began to stand up.
"Tell you what... least I can do is buy you that beer." Michael smiled. "There's a little bar I like, it's not too far from here. Let's go." he added.
"Alright, I'm following you." Franklin said as he also got up from his chair.
Michael approached Marcus and saw he hung up his phone and was done with the call. Marcus turned to look at him and Franklin, curiously.
"What?" Marcus asked.
"Me and Frank are gonna go get a drink, wanna come with?" Michael offered.
"Nah, no thanks. Something came up and I gotta go. I'll stop by later, though." Marcus replied.
With a nod, Michael and Franklin turned and went inside of the mansion, intent of going out the front door. Marcus stayed where he was for a few short minutes, reminiscing on what Haines told him on the phone.
Now, thanks to the fucking FIB, he had a new target that had to be killed...
Later that day, Marcus drove his Hexer down the Western Highway, intent on getting back up to Sandy Shores. The target was a man named "Angus Martin", a crippled Lost MC senior leader from back in Alderney. This time, the full reasons behind the assassination order were actually given to Marcus. He was told that Angus helped conspire in the murder of Billy Grey, a former Lost MC chapter leader who would testify against the club.
Without Billy Grey's testimony, the FIB were unable to apprehend many of the Lost MC's Alderney leaders, including Johnny Klebitz, and as a result the FIB wanted some revenge. Now, Marcus wasn't much for helping the FIB, but he was all for killing some Lost bikers. This was going to be one mission for the Bureau that Marcus would actually enjoy.
However, as he drove, he was forced to stop on the highway. There was a lot of crashed cars and even some dead bodies all over the road. Marcus slowly rode through all of it, totally confused. What happened here? He wanted to find out...
Marcus followed the devastation until he turned off from the highway and headed towards the airport, wanting to see if there was more destruction in other areas. He went wide eyed as he saw Michael, Jimmy and Franklin in Amanda's convertible, which was smoking from the engine.
"Guys! What the fuck?" Marcus asked as he rode up to them.
"Mark! Hey, there you are! What're you doing here?" Michael asked.
"I followed the trail of breadcrumbs... and by breadcrumbs, I mean a bunch of dead people and crushed cars! What the fuck happened?!" Marcus asked.
Michael got out of the convertible and Franklin scooted over into the driver's seat. Jimmy also climbed out from the backseat and went for the passenger seat, causing annoyance to Franklin as he only got a facefull of ass as a result, and not in a good way.
"That little shitbag I call a 'son' decided to sell my yacht, WITHOUT me knowing about it." Michael frowned. "Jacqueline's gone but we got Jimmy out of there intact, I guess." he added.
"Who's 'Jacqueline'?" Marcus asked.
"Don't bring that up, he's still missin' his yacht!" Franklin joked.
Michael brushed him off as he saw his taxi finally arrive. He sighed, mourning the loss of his yacht as he walked towards the taxi.
"I'll see you guys later." Michael told them before he got in the backseat. He then told the driver he wanted to go back to Rockford Hills, and pretty soon they were off and out of sight.
Marcus approached Franklin and Jimmy, crossing his arms.
"Look, you're not dead, and if you helped try to get that yacht back then you're probably capable. Here's my number, we should hang out sometime." Marcus offered.
"Sure, dawg. That could work out." Franklin replied.
"Okay, cool. Give me your phone, I'll add my number in it." Marcus said.
Franklin did as Marcus asked and handed Marcus his phone. Marcus added in his number in Franklin's contacts, and then proceeded to hand the phone back to him. With a nod, Franklin drove into a nearby Los Santos Customs garage, intent on fixing the convertible with some money Michael gave him. Marcus got back on his Hexer and drove off, leaving the scene...
After a few hours Marcus made it to the outskirts of Sandy Shores. He parked his bike near the railroad tracks, trying to remember the important details about Angus Martin, and also trying to think of how to kill him...
He knew Angus Martin usually hung out at some bar on the outskirts of the town, and that he sometimes had Johnny Klebitz with him, or one of the other lieutenants. Even with a lot of firepower, Marcus knew that it would be pretty difficult without help...
He knew exactly who to call for this one... even though he'd probably regret it.
Marcus sighed and dialed Trevor Philips's number on his phone and waited through the rings. There was a lot of ringing on the other end before it was finally answered.
"Kid! There you are! I was beginning to wonder where you are! Los Santos treat your sexual needs okay? How's the boyfriend?" Trevor joked.
"Trevor, enough. I've got something you might be interested in: Fucking up the Lost some more. I'm out by the railroad tracks if you wanna meet up, you're gonna have to bring some weapons. You interested?" Marcus offered.
"Oh, you kidding me?! I'd love to! Just let me get Wade out of his cage and then I'll join ya!" Trevor replied.
"Wait, what?!" Marcus asked, shocked at what he heard.
Before Marcus could give Trevor an earful of how shocked he was, the meth dealer hung up on him. Marcus sighed, just repressing any memory of it. He REALLY didn't want to imagine anything like THAT...
In any event, Marcus went back to his bike and sat down on it, waiting for Trevor to show up with everything they needed. He knew it was going to be a long day again...
