(Disclaimer: I own nothing, they are the property of their respective owners).


Chapter Ten - Death Wish

At his home in the Vinewood Hills, Franklin is on the couch in the living room, he's on the phone.

Frank - Hey, man, thanks for your help, that shit was crazy.

Lamar (on phone) - Yeah, hope we get paid this time.

Frank - We are.

Lamar (on phone) - We better, otherwise I'm gonna go look for cripple dude, and kick his ass.

Frank - Man, shut up.

There's a knock at the front door.

Frank - Hey, man, someone's at the door, ima call you back.

Lamar (on phone) - Aight, see ya.

He hangs up, and heads to the front door, answers it, a familiar face is standing at the entrance, Devon Weston, two bodyguards are next to him.

Devon - Hey, Slick, it's me!

Frank - What the fuck do you want! You got my money, punk?

Devon - Hey, you got some coconut water or something like that? I need some electrolytes.

He smells his armpit.

Devon - Damn, it's kinda warm, isn't it?

Frank - Man, you got a death wish or something, am I supposed to kill you now?

Devon - Oh, no, bro. Not me.

Frank - Nah.

Devon - Oh, yeah!

He follows Frank into the house, and turns to his bodyguards.

Devon - You two, stay here, and keep an eye out!

Frank - But that's my boy.

Devon - Yeah, but that's my boy. He has betrayed everyone he's ever known.

He slams the door.

Devon - He's got you involved with the Federal government, and he's messed up several business ventures of mine, he has got to go. And you know what? I'd like to say that this isn't personal, but it is personal.

Frank - But the Feds man, the feds have already told me to kill Trevor, and I obviously can't kill 'em both.

Devon - The Feds, Steve Haines, Dave Norton, I own shopping malls I would not employ those two clowns in, and I make one phone call, their careers? They are over. So are you gonna, A. Listen to some fifty grand a year pension hunter, or B. A billionaire? Who even the president let's finger his wife and mistress, or C. Try and be really stupid and save those two idiot mentors of yours, and have everybody in the Goddamn state crawling up your ass. A, B, or C? Time's ticking pal, beep, beep, beep, and your answer is?

Now getting frustrated, Frank really wants to hit this guy right now.

Frank - Man. You know what?

He opens the front door.

Frank - Fuck you.

Weston exits the house.

Devon - Genius answer, pal. Total genius.

He turns around.

Devon - But time is running, you think about it. Me? I got a triathlon coming up, and I am in deep training. Buh-bye!

Weston runs off with his body guards

Frank - Man, fuck you!

He slams the door.

Frank - Man, this is fucked up, I gotta do something.

He gets his cell phone, and dials a number, the line rings.

Lester (on phone) - Franklin.

Frank - Lester, dog, Man, we all need to talk, we got a problem and need your help.

Lester (on phone) - Calm down, alright? Call the other two, and come to my house

Frank - Aight, aight, I'm coming.

He hangs up, and exits his house, he dials another number. The line rings.

Michael (on phone) - Franklin.

Frank - Hey, man, I need you and Trevor to meet me at Lester's house. We got a problem.

Michael (on phone) - Alright, I'll see you there.

Frank hangs up his phone, gets on his motorcycle, and rides away.


At a neighborhood in El Burro Heights, Trevor pulls up at the same time as Frank, Michael's car drives up, the trio meet up.

Trevor - This better be important!

Frank - Man, shut the fuck up.

Trevor - What!?

Michael - You heard him, T. Must be important if we're all here at Lester's.

Trevor - It better be.

Michael - Come on, let's go inside.

They head to the front door, Frank knocks, a moment or two passes, the door opens, it's Paige, she's wearing only a t-shirt.

Trevor - Well, hello, beautiful.

Lester (off screen) - Come in!


The trio enter the house, and head to Lester's small office, Paige heads off to another room.

Trevor - I see you were a little busy, "entertaining", maybe I'll ask her to stop by my trailer sometime.

Lester - Never mind that, what's your situation?

Frank - Some motherfucker wants me to kill Michael, and this other motherfucker wants me to kill Trevor.

Michael - What!?

Trevor - Who?! I'll kill that son of a bitch!

Lester - Calm down, everyone, who wants to kill who?

Frank - Steve Haines.

Lester - That angry motherfucker from the FIB? Figures, since he knows what we did. Who's the other one?

Frank - Devon Weston.

Lester - Oh, that angry rich fucker from whatever hole he hibernates in.

Frank - Exactly.

Lester - Alright, I say.

Trevor (interrupting) - Kill Michael, and we kill them, it's the perfect crime.

Michael - Fuck you, Trevor.

Trevor - No, Fuck you! It's payback for Brad!

Michael - Again with Brad, get over it, he's dead, we're not.

Trevor - It should've been your ass in the grave instead of him! You fat motherfucker!

Lester - Alright, alright, enough, both of you.

Frank - Jeez, y'all argue like your related or something.

A second or two passes, then Lester resumes.

Lester - Even if one of y'all is killed, they will still kill the rest of us to keep their bullshit off weazel news. God knows the backlash that'll occur if anything got out about their incompetence in recent weeks.

Frank - Every single one of us is fucked.

Lester - Okay, Steve Haines was under a lot of heat because of the shootings at Kortz center, and because of his knowledge of our attack on the U.D., he could take advantage of that, and continue having us do his dirty work for all eternity.

Lester turns to his computer.

Lester - And Devon Weston is, A. Known to be a major asshole. B. Known to be friendly with Don Perceval, who runs Merryweather, which I think Weston owns a piece of, eleven percent to be precise. Pretty good for a pseudo-liberal, owning a private army.

Frank - Don't forget His lawyer got accidentally butchered by a plane engine.

Lester - Yeah, I saw that chase, not to mention his attempt at turning Solomon Richards's studio into shitty overpriced condos that no one can afford got thwarted due to the aforementioned lawyer dying.

Lester turns around.

Lester - So, both him and Steve Haines would love to be involved in capturing the bullion that we just lifted, if I tell them both that you boys are at the foundry in Murrieta Heights, melting it down, then maybe both of them will pay you a visit and bam! We turn it into a…..a bust!

Frank - I ain't got no better ideas.

Lester - What do you suggest, Michael?

Michael - I say kill em' all.

Frank - What!?

Trevor - For once I agree with Mikey, those fuckers aren't getting their hands on what now belongs to us!

Frank - Man, y'all two are crazy.

Lester - I was afraid you would say that.

Michael - But the foundry idea is perfect, we could lure them out there, and get them.

Lester - Okay, so, you wanna take them out all at once?

Michael - All of them.

Lester - Okay, but you're gonna have to get some of the team to help out.

Michael - We can do that.

Lester - Very well, I'll get everything set up, and get the locations on our targets, you guys go round up whoever wants to take part in this.

Michael - Got it.

They leave the room, and exit his house.

End of Chapter Ten


(Author's Note: Stay tuned for the next chapter).