[I loved the story of GTAV. What a bloody brilliant game. I finished it last week, explored all the possible endings. Accidentally the first time, choosing option A to begin with and it having the most effect on me. I didn't like the first two options at all. They just seemed wrong. I chose Option C, in the end for the save. This is how I think Option A could of been written. Please let me know what you think. For the first chapter, its sort of a distorted version of the game version. But I've changed the dialogue and reactions. Part 2 will be more fic-fictional.]

1

Trevor watched in dread as Franklin drew the silenced pistol and aimed the barrel straight at him. So he wasn't expecting that to happen out of the blue. But here in Los Santos, he was just beginning to learn to always expect the unexpected.

"Whoa, Whoa!"

"Don't pretend, dog, like you never saw this coming. You know better than me you deserve this. It's the only way to get the feds off my back, man!"

"W-What about Michael? ..Did he put you up to this?! That sly son-of-a-bitch! I'll get 'im!"

"This shit ain't about Michael! It's just me and you . Its nothing personal, homie. Just business." Franklin shrugged, clamping his eyes shut and twisting the pistol grip to the side, preparing to shoot. His finger barely touched the trigger, before his eyes snapped open at the sound of Trevor's voice again.

"..Just business? Just FUCKING business!? I knew I couldn't trust you! You pretending to be my friend through all this and you're no better than him. You're exactly like him!" He fumed, stabbing a finger accusingly in his direction and kicking the side of his own truck as he paced its length. Yes. He was pissed. Yes. He was raging. It showed on his face, until it switched with sudden realisation. "Michael and you planned this all along, didn't you? Be a man and admit it. Get rid of Trevor, bigger payday. FUCK! I knew I couldn't trust ANYONE! Well fuck yooou very much Mr Self riotous, doing the best for everyone by killing my lonely little ass. And er, sorry to burst your unpropitious bubble and all that, but I'm gonna give you something to goddamn shoot at you jumped up motherfucker." Trevor growled, pulling himself back into the driver seat of his truck with ease and slamming his foot on the gas, only allowing Franklin to hastily let off a couple of crooked shots before he was fleeing the scene of his assassination, sending mud flying back at Franklin.

"Hold up T! T! Let's just do this on the quiet, right here! I'll take care of your body! It will be unmolested from all the other hillbillies you've hacked off!" He yelled, getting in his car to chase him down. "Shit."

"You fucking traitor! Go fuck yourself!" Was the only fading reply he received back, before the chase through Los Santos began..

The chase was getting out of control. Trevor was purposely causing as much chaos and carnage as possible, swerving through heavy traffic and causing car crashes left, right and centre throughout the city. He was taking the most impossible of shortcuts, cutting through tight alleyways, with no self regard to his truck getting scraped, trying to throw Franklin off his tail who was still following suite. It would be impossible to clap him on the quiet now without the police searching for his crazy punk ass wrecking half the city. He struggled again to gain control of the wheel as he attempted another shot at Trevor, hitting the rail close to his target. He heard the sharp growl even above all the traffic noise, before he looked down at his cell ringing on the passenger seat.

"Michael!"

"Franklin. Where are you?"

"I just turned left onto El Burro Boulevard. I got him on the run, brother. But his motherfucking ass is fast!"

"Shit. Don't lose him. I'm on my way."

"We're heading into the oil fields now. Yo Trevor! Slow down! You're gonna get us both killed! Let's just talk!"

"I'm nearby kid." Michael assured, hanging up on the other end and throwing the cell into the backseat. He pressed the gas harder, biting hard on his bottom lip. Christ. He could think of better things to do in the middle of the night than having to deal with this. What the hell am I doing? He thought to himself, throwing a long side glance at his own silenced pistol on the seat next to him..

END OF PART ONETo Be Continued...