Los Santos, 2030

by The Bohemian Rhapsody

Fifteen years have passed since the events of GTA V. Michael lost his wife, Trevor is crippled with arthritis, Franklin is married to Tracey, Lester is nowhere to be seen. But things are about to get much worse, when Trevor starts to deteriorate, and Michael is the only person who can help him. (Cancelled project, open for adoption) (Soon coming to AO3)

1. Chapter 1

Grand Theft Auto is property of Rockstar Games, a subsidiary of Take Two. I own nothing, only this fanfiction.

"Grandpa! Grandpa!" scream two young children, running into the bedroom of Michael Townley/DeSanta. They climb on the bed and begin jumping onto the poor man.

"JESUS... TRACEY!!!" yells Michael, trying to shield his crotch from the feet pounding around him.

Tracey runs into the bedroom. "Zane! Jessica! Stop jumping on grandpa!" she yells, trying to pull them away from her father. The children complain and soon leave the room, leaving Tracey and Michael alone.

The old man scoffs. "Tch, kids..." he smiles, pulling himself up, his bones creaking. "Never would've thought you and Frank would have a thing... times change, huh?"

Tracey smiles sadly. "They do, dad. Mom would've loved them..."

Michael's mobile starts beeping.

"Hey, Jim. How's work?" Michael asks, still tired.

"It's going great, dad! I'm applying myself harder than ever and I think I could be getting a promotion!"

"Jimmy, that's great! I never thought you'd get off your ass and get anything done. But look at you now, Captain! I couldn't be prouder. You're keeping the country safe, son."

Jimmy chuckles. "Yeah, but just don't go shooting any of our soldiers, okay dad?"

Michael smiles. "I'd be more afraid of Trevor. But don't worry son. We've been retired for over fifteen years. Take care."

"You too dad."

---

"RON! WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY PILLS!?" came an all too familiar yell from a trailer in Sandy Shores. An old man, half bald, pulls himself up into a sitting position on his filthy mattress, hocking up and spitting at the floor.

"Here Trevor!" says Ron, the quote unquote maid. He hands Trevor the newspaper and makes himself scarce.

Trevor reads the headline.

AMERICAN AND RUSSIAN SPACECRAFT LANDS ON MARS!

Scientists are receiving the first transmission from the Albatross, the first manned spacecraft to land on the red planet.

The Albatross was launched on June 5th, 2027, and despite an electrical fault during it's docking with the International Space Station, the craft has made it's way unharmed to the planet Mars. American and Russian pilots Lars Thompson and Yevgeny Vyacheslav landed last week, with news of their achievement being released only yesterday.

Trevor tosses the paper aside and reaches for his cane, bones cracking and eyes watering as he slowly holds his hand out to grab the wooden walking aid.

A middle aged man with dreadlocks walks in goofily. "Trevor, have you seen mah toothbrush? I wanna keep my tooth clean for da tooth fairy!" he says, innocently... yet stupidly.

Trevor sighs. "Wade, I told you yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that... forget it, I'm too old for this." He gets up, with difficulty, and shuffles out the door of his trailer. "FUCK THIS ARTHRITIS!!!"

Ron comes rushing back, wheezing from running. "Buh... BOSS! Insul... hiiiin..." he wheezes, giving Trevor his insulin.

"Fifteen years ago, every drug under the sun, but now... fuck my life." he snatches it and injects the side of his belly, the cold contents instantly revitalising his bloodstream. "God, medicine has come a long way."

This is Los Santos

The year is 2030

Chapter 2 under construction