After Franklin had phoned Michael and arranged for them to meet at the car park near Dr. Friedlander's old house, Michael finally arrived in his car to meet Franklin.

"Hey, man!" Michael greeted as he got out of his car.

"Hey, whassup!" Franklin greeted.

"You seem kinda agitated." Michael noted curiously.

"Man, shit ain't good right now." Franklin admitted vaguely.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Michael's phone then rang in his pocket. "Oh shit, hold on." He told Franklin.

"Hey, baby, what's up?... Really?... Tracey?... College? Our Tracey? R-Real college? You gotta be kiddin' me... That's great!... Alright, well, hey, listen - let me talk to you a little later, all right?... Yeah, I just gotta wrap up some business here... All right. Bye." Michael then hung up the phone. "Ah, Amanda. Say she wants me to bring you 'round the house sometime for dinner... One of these nights, huh?... Fuck... I mean, I don't know what I did to deserve this motherfuckin' luck. I got my kids back. My wife... and a job that I love. I mean, I made it! WE made it. You and me, bro." Michael monologued as he beamed, until he noticed Franklin's silence. "What...?"

Franklin then walked up to him. "Ay look, man - I love you, Mikey. You're the best father I could ask for, homie. You taught me all I know. I never woulda made it where I am without you, man... So, thanks." Franklin said as casually as possible, not knowing how else to say it. "But you gotta tell me what really happened wit' you and T, man. What the hell's really goin' on?"

Michael was taken aback, but he quickly realised that he owed his protégé an explanation. "All right, look. Siddown, man." They both sat on a nearby bench; the same bench where they first met last year, with Lamar. "My birthname is Michael Townley. My asshole alcoholic dad left me and my mom when I was a kid. Years later, she left me, too. In high school, I was the star quarterback. Hell, I even had my picture in the local paper a few times. But I guess my temper got in the way one too many times, huh? Anyways, I couldn't get a job, so I began a life of crime. I'd been in prison twice by the time I was twenny. Ah, after that, I met Lester, and we teamed up for scores." Michael then took out a cigar to light.

Franklin smirked. "Lemme guess, he'd plan them, while you'd be the one to execute 'em, right?"

Michael took a big huff of his cigar, before exhaling with relief. "Pretty much... Hell, you've been runnin' with us long enough - you should know now. Anyways, around the same time, I ended up running whores. One of 'em was a stripper - a seriously gorgeous thing - called Amanda..." Michael waited a sec, before Franklin's eyes widened in realisation, making Michael smirk. "Yep. What a story of 'how I met your mother', huh?" Michael chuckled.

Franklin chuckled a bit as well. "Shit, man, never woulda guessed!"

"Around the same time Jimmy was born, I met Trevor. Just over twenny years ago, man... Jesus... It's a frickin' lifetime away, y'know?" Michael said to Franklin - and partly to himself - with a kind of nostalgic sorrow in his tone. "Trevor was in a struggle and I helped him out of it. Heh... It's funny; first time I met him was also the first time I saw him kill someone... So, since he had nowhere to go, I took him in and let him work with me and Lest. Couple years later, we met Brad - small-time thug. He and T were always great buds, but Brad never liked me - and that feeling was more than mutual."

"So... it was you, Trevor, Lest, and this guy Brad? The four dangerous old dudes?" Franklin asked half-heartedly.

"Heh, yeah. Us four. But, in 2004, I met Dave Norton. A corrupt FIB agent, but like he said; the good kind of corrupt. I loved getting my hands dirty and getting rich with the guys, but I had a wife and two young kids - it was dangerous work. So, I cut a deal with him. Now, Franklin, this is where it gets messy, bro..."

Franklin looked to the side and looked Michael in the eye. "I'm listenin', man."

"After I met Dave, I'd do another score with the guys. Trevor, Brad, and myself robbed a bank in North Yankton, with a local getaway driver we'd hired. We robbed it, but the driver was killed just after, so I drove to the chopper pickup, which was actually Dave's location, where he waited with a sniper rifle. But after a train just barely hit our car, we went on foot. Now, the plan was for Dave to kill Trevor, then "kill" me, then arrest Brad. Only... Brad got in the way, and he got shot instead. I still got "shot" by Dave as well, where he fired a shot and I pretended it hit me. I faked my death and changed my identity; Brad was buried in Michael Townley's grave, and all was good. But Trevor was never arrested - he escaped... which was NOT part of the plan."

Franklin digested this in silence for a short time. "Man... no wonder T was upset at you for fakin' your death and takin' the dough."

"Ho yeah." Michael chuckled as he shook his head at himself. "But not only that, but Trevor thought for those nine years that Brad was alive and in prison. Since Trevor couldn't visit in prison, he'd write letters to Brad, and Dave would write the replies."

"So if Trevor was crazy BEFORE that fucked-up shit happened..." Franklin began.

"Yeah... you can imagine." Michael agreed as he stood up, prompting Franklin to do the same. "Now I know that what I've done is fucked up beyond reason... but what's done is done. Ain't no changin' that, Frank."

"Shit, man, I'll remember that - you can count on it." The two men gave each other a bro-handshake and hugged. "But shit, man, you only did it for the right reasons, homie - for the family. That's what comes first - and that's somethin' that the crew's just gonna have to accept."

Michael put a hand on Franklin's shoulder and gave him a firm look. "You're a good kid, Frank. I know I've said that before, but I always meant it." Michael then patted Franklin's shoulder and walked back to his car. Before ya know it, you'll be marrying one o' them strippers at the Unicorn and turning into me!"

As Michael sat in his car, Franklin waved at him. "Shit, man, never!" Franklin chuckled as he mounted his bike.