I will write all three scenarios. They all will make sense with the plot.

"Fuck… I don't like this. I guess I'll go with option one. So how exactly do we do this?" said Franklin upset with the forced decision.

"So here's what we'll do," Lester started, the gears in his head were spinning vigorously. "When Trevor's helicopters get here we'll take the one with Trevor's… um … slogan-"

"Pants down, dick out!" T shouted. He received glares from his two partners in crime. Upstairs in Frank's living room, Trevor's outburst was met with awkward silence and a disgusted glare from Amanda. She only hoped nobody was being victimized in the room beneath her.

"Um, yeah. So you three take that chopper. Chef will be coming with you, since he can handle a gun. You'll be able to land on the base without being blown up. Your family and Wade will be hovering on the south side of Lago Zancudo in the chopper Ron'll be flying. You will land in the parking lot of the base. Well you know what to do. Then about 300 yards out you'll reach the hangar with the plane. There will be some resistance just hold it off and, Uncle Sam will back off. It's not easy. It's not ideal, but it'll save our asses. Once we get to Yankton we steal another plane and we're off to Liberty City."

"L.C. Damn Lester, when you plan big, you plan real big," said Franklin in astonishment.

Just then, the two thuds of helicopters landing sounded on the roof. The plan was put into action immediately. Ron, Amanda, Jimmy, Tracey, Wade, and Lester all boarded one of the helicopters. They had no clue what was about to happen. Trevor piloted the other chopper. He, Chef, Michael, and Franklin all armed themselves with the ammunition from Franklin's cache. The men all looked at each other.

"We ready to do this, guys," Michael said exhaling. He was nervous. He had never been afraid of anything this simple. In his own words, he robbed banks and ran whores, but for some reason his palms were moist with the product of nervousness. The prospect of robbing the Army of the United States of America would not have daunted him before. Hell, he'd attempted to rob a better armed private militia. He had to pull himself together. He knew that this was different. His family was at stake. He felt the same way when Weston sent Merryweather to his house. I was an amalgam of guilt, anger, and … grief. He felt so guilty for this tense, dangerous situation that he exposed his wife and children to. He was angry he ever got involved with the wrong crowd when he was in his twenties. He grieved the life he once had. Sure it was in some shitty trailer in the middle of nowhere, but that life was certainly happier for all involved. Here he was about to fucking shoot up an army base, so that he and his family could be safe. "Shit," is all he could mutter as the whirlybird was about to land in the parking lot to start this mission.

The chopper touched down on the asphalt. Three men emerged from the vehicle with guns drawn. Trevor, Franklin, and Chef descended from the copter. Franklin was carrying the classic Assault Rifle. Trevor was carrying a sawn off shot gun. Chef had a grenade launcher, his favorite weapon after the Aztecas attacked the meth lab. Michael stayed in the heli with a sniper rifle, and Ron brought the helicopter to forty feet off the ground to give the shooter the vantage.

The three men on the ground proceeded with caution. They were all wearing armor, but they were acutely aware that the military's was superior. Trevor had expended a whole clip trying to take one of the military men down. All three men knew that headshots would be the most efficient way of making their goals. They moved forward. Ten yards, twenty yards, fifty yards. Michael was providing sufficient assistance with his rifle. Suddenly, a large flash of light that created a large explosion that launched a projectile at Michael's helicopter. Ron swerved, narrowly missing the contact that would have ended his existence.

Amanda, who was in the other vehicle, cringed when she saw how close the rocket came. Lester tried his best to comfort her, "Don't worry, Amanda. I've never seen anything that can take him down." That was very little consolation.

The men on the ground continued. 100 yards, 150 yards. The grenade launcher was very effective. The army was starting to thin as they saw their fellow cadets dying. Finally, the command all of the desperate men were waiting for.

"Retreat to the barracks!"

Almost immediately most of the men ran like hell to the barracks. The attackers did not stop shooting. Michael, especially, did not want for the army to try to ground the plane they wanted to requisition. With all four men shooting their weapons, not one soldier had made it back to the barracks. Trevor had only a second to think of the irony of his killing fellow servicemen, before he started to sprint to the hangar that housed the plane. He arrived first. There it was a beautifully painted plane that was the size of a 777. He called dibs on the pilot's seat, and took that seat. Meanwhile, Lester was gingerly flying his heli to the hangar. He landed softly. He rushed to the plane and boarded it only after Michael's family and Wade had embarked. Lester still took the time to admire Amanda's ass. She did not let it show, but she noticed it. Franklin and Chef arrived together and entered the plane. Ron landed, and entered with Michael.

Trevor took attendance, "Mikey, check. Frankie, check. Lesty, check." That earned a groan from the aforementioned man with the wasting disease. "Mandy, check." T started the plane. The jets roared to life. "Tracey, check. Jimmy Jizzle, check. Ronnie, check. Wadey, check. Cheffy, checky. Everyone who's not here say, 'not here'" That was met with tense silence. "Transponder, off. Here we go."

They took off. Trevor flew low and slow until San Andreas was out of sight for nearly half an hour. He gained altitude and they flew for several hours.

During that time Michael and Amanda had an interesting figh… I mean conversation.

"Michael are you gonna explain to me and the two of you're children what the fuck just happened?"

"What?"

"YOU just killed about fifty army guys! Lester , who, by the way, was staring at my ass, just said that this doesn't phase you! Explain, now."

Michael spoke in a calmer voice than expected, as if he was explaining long division to a third grader. "Look, look, you know ho we used to live. I've been in pickles before, you know that. I can get out of a bind real quick."

"You know what, I've been thinking, I didn't see you during any of those big robberies. Where were you when Vangelico was stuck up?" By now both tracey and Jimmy had perked up, listening intently.

"I was… out."

"Out?" she inquired.

"Yeah, out."

"What about the Union Depository. Look me in the eye, and tell me that you had nothing to do with that." She aggressively grabbed his face by the chin, and pierced his soul with her gaze.

"Fine I did it. Both of them. When you're in Didier Sachs you're not complaining, so be happy. With some smart investments our great-great grandkids will want for nothing. Look at what's in my bank account." He showed her the amount of digits. Her mouth shut, and he sat there with a smirk adorning his lips.

The plane flew into the sunset as the mainland came into view.