GTA 5: TRAPBOY

A/N: Best I could come up with. You wouldn't believe how many times I restarted this Goddamn chapter.

Francis is kissing a young white woman with black hair. He plants kisses on her neck as he begins to take off her tank top.

She places a hand on his chest and pushes him onto his bed. "Whoa." He smirks, clearly pleased by her actions.

She straddles his waist, grinning, and tosses her tank top onto his face.

He laughs, but his amusement is short-lived. After pulling the tank top off his face, a bullet suddenly penetrates his skull, leaving the pillow and sheets stained red. She quickly puts her top back on and flees the house, where a guy in a dark red Emperor is waiting for her. She hops into the car, and they speed away.

*A few hours earlier.*

"So that's it," Tommy Lee says, wrapping up his explanation.

"Are you sure these are the right guys?" Franklin Clinton asks.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Tommy replies, rolling his eyes. "Big Mike got me this info. His men are pros." He sighs, then adds, "So, I'm asking... are you all sure you're willing to help me out with this?"

Lamar glances at Franklin. "You listening to this guy? Asking if we're sure." He scoffs.

Tommy chuckles. "Okay, okay..." He crosses his arms.

"Though I do have a question," Lamar says, pointing at three unfamiliar faces. "Who the fuck are they?"

"We have beef with that Dave guy's whole family. Big Mike told us he's" — she points at Tommy — "killing them all, so we're here." She shrugs.

"Yeah, that's about it," Tommy agrees.

*Back to the present.*

The woman who just killed Francis, Dave's cousin, is named Pamela, and the guy who picked her up is Daniel. Pamela's father, a member of the Families gang, was murdered by Francis' father, who belonged to the Ballas. She had always wanted to kill Francis' father, but by the time she had the chance, he was already dead. Meanwhile, Daniel was simply a close friend of Pamela's.

———

*At Dave's mother's house.*

Dave's mother, Michonne, is in the kitchen, humming her favorite pop song with the radio turned up as she cooks something on the stove.

She stops stirring and moves to the counter to slice up duck meat.

Unbeknownst to her, she is being watched from a car parked outside. The kitchen window faces the road. The third member of the revenge mission is Chris, who joined because Dave had raped his little sister.

Chris watches Dave's mother from the car for a few more minutes before putting on a face mask and sunglasses. He grabs his double-barrel shotgun, exits the car, and runs across the road.

He leaps over a thigh-high fence and rushes to the front door, kicking it down with full force. Though muscular, he wears thick clothing to conceal his physique.

The woman screams in fright immediately. He wastes no time, dashing into the kitchen and firing both shots, killing her instantly. Her body slumps onto the kitchen counter, as the close-range blast knocks her back.

He quickly turns and departs.

———

Franklin gripped the steering wheel of the stolen car, the engine humming softly beneath them as they idled in shadowy corner of the parking lot across from the 24/7 convenience store. His eyes flicked between the rearview mirror and the entrance of the store, watching for any sign of movement. Lamar sat in the passenger seat, fidgeting with the micro SMG resting in his lap.

"Man, we've been sitting here for ages," Lamar complained, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. "How long does it take for her to finish a shift?"

"Just chill, nigga," Franklin replied, his voice calm and steady. "We wait until she comes out. Can't mess this up."

"Right, right," Lamar muttered, leaning back in his seat. "But I swear, I need to stretch my legs soon. This ain't the most comfortable ride."

They had been staking out for nearly half an hour, the tension in the car thickening as they exchanged occasional glances. Franklin shifted in his seat, trying to keep his focus sharp while still keeping his mind on the task ahead. The plan was simple but dangerous: take out Dave's aunt, a woman who had always been a second mother to him but was now caught in the crossfire of their revenge mission.

Finally, the doors of the convenience opened Dave's aunt, dressed in a faded apron and carrying a small bag of groceries. Franklin's heart raced as he signaled to Lamar, who immediately perked up.

"There she is," Franklin said, his voice low. "Get ready."

Lamar rolled down the window at his side, the cool night air rushing in as he held the micro SMG. He focused on the target.

As she stepped off the curb and began walking toward her car, Lamar took a deep breath, his finger hovering over the trigger.

"Just do it, man," Franklin urged, his voice tense. "We can't hesitate."

With a sudden rush of adrenaline, Lamar leaned out the window and aimed the weapon. He squeezed the trigger, unleashing a torrent of bullets. The deafening sound of gunfire echoed through the quiet street as he emptied the entire clip—16 rounds—each one finding its mark.

The bullets ripped through the air, striking Dave's aunt with brutal precision. She barely had time to react as the first few rounds hit her, sending her stumbling back, shock and confusion etched on her face. The last of the bullets tore through her, and she collapsed onto the pavement, lifeless.

Lamar quickly pulled the gun back inside the window, his heart racing. "Let's go! Let's go!" he shouted, adrenaline coursing through him.

Franklin slammed the gear into drive and peeled away from the curb, tires screeching against the asphalt. The car shot down the street.

"Did we really just do that?" Lamar asked, breathless, as they sped further from the scene.

"Yeah, we did," Franklin replied, his grip tightening on the wheel.

———

Tommy Lee's heart raced as he climbed the creaky stairs of the old apartment building. It was a relic from a bygone era, with faded wallpaper peeling off the walls and the musty smell of neglect lingering in the air. Only a handful of residents occupied the sprawling structure, making it feel almost desolate despite its size. As he reached the third floor, he could hear laughter and chatter spilling from one of the apartments, the sounds of a typical gathering.

He adjusted the AP pistol tucked into the waistband of his pants, feeling the cool metal against his skin. The adrenaline coursed through him, pushing aside any lingering doubts. He had come too far to turn back now. With a quick glance around, he approached the door, steeling himself.

Without a second thought, Tommy kicked the door open with a fierce grunt. The wood splintered, and the door swung wide. But in that split second, he realized his mistake; a bullet whizzed past his head, barely missing him. The sudden rush of danger jolted him into action. He ducked behind the wall just in time, heart pounding in his chest.

Gathering his composure, he extended his arm out from behind the wall, squeezing off three shots with the AP pistol. The echoes of gunfire bounced off the walls, and he heard a thud on the floor. His instincts told him he had hit his target.

Peeking around the corner, he saw a teenager his age sprawled face-first on the ground, a pistol slipping from his limp hand. Tommy stepped cautiously into the apartment, but his moment of triumph was short-lived. A shotgun blast roared through the air, pelting the wall next to him with splinters and debris. Instinctively, he ducked back behind cover.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, adrenaline spiking again. He fired off six rapid shots, aiming blindly towards the source of the noise. He heard a loud groan, followed by a heavy thud, signaling that he had found another target.

Tentatively, Tommy peeked out again, spotting a grown man clutching his chest, wheezing as he struggled to breathe. Without hesitation, Tommy aimed and pulled the trigger, putting a bullet in the man's head. The body slumped to the floor, and Tommy stepped over it, searching for Dave.

He moved through the apartment, scanning each room until he reached the bedroom. As soon as he stepped inside, a stocky 14-year-old lunged at him, grabbing his arms and shoving him against the wall with surprising strength. Shocked, Tommy reacted instinctively, headbutting the kid, but Dave held on fiercely, and they both tumbled to the ground.

In the struggle, Tommy's gun slipped from his grip, clattering out of reach. They scrambled to their feet, and Tommy, fueled by rage, landed a solid punch on Dave's jaw. But Dave, with a burst of adrenaline, charged at Tommy, shoving him backward. Tommy stumbled, his back hitting the window frame, and before he knew it, he was falling through the opening.

In a moment of panic, he reached out and grabbed Dave, pulling him down with him. They both crashed through the air, Tommy's back colliding painfully with the railing of a first-floor balcony before they tumbled to the concrete below. The air was knocked out of Tommy's lungs, a stunned silence enveloping him as he struggled to regain his breath. For a few agonizing seconds, it felt like he had forgotten how to inhale.

As he finally gasped for air, he noticed Dave sprawled on the ground, wheezing and struggling to recover from the fall. Seizing the opportunity, Tommy pushed himself up, adrenaline surging through him again. He punched Dave, who was still disoriented from the fall.

Spotting a brick nearby, Tommy snatched it up, rage burning in his veins. He positioned himself over Dave, who was trying to catch his breath, and began to bash the brick against Dave's head repeatedly, each strike fueled by vengeance. With each impact, he felt a sense of catharsis, a release of the pent-up fury he had carried for so long. Until finally, Dave lay still beneath him.