The Corroded Mind of Alexandra [GTA V]

A/N: PokéRogue and Marvel Rivals has me by the fucking balls, and they won't let go. I'll be writing another chapter tomorrow as compensation.

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"There are only personal apocalypses. Nothing is a cliche when it's happening to you." - Max Payne, Self Titled

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A symphony of noise echoes in the air as Alexandra exits her shelter. The homeless camp's people are in an uproar, over what Alexandra intends to figure out.

As she walks further in, her eyes set upon a man on the ground surrounded by people. His eyes were lifeless, and the smell emanating around him was terrible, though the homeless camp usually smelled as such. 

"Another overdose. Yet again someone who has no self control. Going to higher and greater doses for that little bit of self release. I'm not one to talk, but at least I had some awareness of how much I could take."

This might become an issue if police are to show.

"The police could care less about people like us."

Some people surrounding the corpse look over to her, a somber look on their faces. Alexandra walks past them, heading towards the street, uncaring of their thoughts.

As she walks down the filthy street, getting drunk crossing her mind, Franklin's Buffalo pulls up to the sidewalk, its passenger side window rolling down.

"Damn. You look like shit."

"Don't I always?"

"Shit, I guess. Anyways, I'm 'bout to head up to see what the old dude's up to. Maybe get a drink. Wanna hop in?"

Alexandra walks around to the passenger seat.

"As long as that 'maybe' tuns to a 'definitely'."

"Alright."

They speed off.

"..."

"So, why purple?"

"Hm?"

"You've got purple strands in your hair."

"Ah. Those..."

She brushes her hand through her hair.

"You probably won't believe this, but they're natural. When my hair started to grow in, these came along with it."

"Shit, you're right. I don't believe you."

"I have no idea why I have them. They've always just been there."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"That don't make sense at all."

"Unfortunately."

They sit in silence for a while, music blaring through the speakers. 

"You're a weird one, Franklin. You know that?"

"How so?"

"You literally know nothing about me, yet treat me as a friend. Not many would do that."

"I'm just a chill guy."

Alexandra chuckles.

"I can see that."

She puts the seat back and lays down.

"Where are you from?"

"Los Santos."

"Your accent says otherwise."

"Russian dad, Irish mom. Both too prideful of their heritage to let me sound fully American. Was essentially forced into having an accent."

'Conditioned would be more appropriate.'

"That sounds harsh. I'm sorry, man."

"No need to apologize for something you had no knowledge of. It was a simple question, followed by the answer it required."

Yet another bout of quiet ensued, this time untouched until their destination

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Once again pulling up to Michaels house, Franklin parks next to the house. Suddenly, they both hear screaming, anger laced within words. They quickly exit the car and enter the front yard, gate opening for them. They see a man jump out of the window, knocking over a planter, and dash for a car, entering it and driving off. They walk up to the front door and open it, seeing Michael and a woman walking down the stairs.

"Hey, you... Stop him!" a woman dressed in a towel yells to Franklin, gripping it tightly.

"What's up man?" Franklin asks.

"Get out of my way" Michael responds, angrily strutting towards the front door.

"Michael, calm down!" the woman, most likely his wife, says.

"What the fuck is going on?" Franklin questions, putting his hands up.

"Nothing happened, it was a misunderstanding." the middle-aged woman replies, forehead knotted in worry.

"Doesn't look like 'nothing'" Alexandra says, arms crossed.

"She fucked a prick in my bed."

"You bullshittin' me?"

"It wasn't like that!" the woman screams, guilt laced within her voice.

"You two in?"

"Fuck it, I'm in. Let's roll, let's get this motherfucker."

Alexandra smiles creepily.

"Only if I get to crush his balls."

"After I beat the prick, then sure."

"Just don't kill him!" the half-naked woman yells, before slamming the doors shut.

Michael and Franklin hop in the front, while Alexandra jumps on the truck bed, sitting on the supplies littered around. They set out to chase the man.

"This truck yours?" Franklin inquires.

"Guy's doing some work for me. He'll get it back. Might have a dead body hooked to it, but he'll get it back."

"Oh, so we killing this dude?"

"He'll wish he was dead. That a problem?"

"Shit, a dog shouldn't shit in another dog's kennel."

"Exactly. People have been shitting in my kennel for too long."

As they drive, an RV pulls out onto the road, blocking their path.

"The fuck is he doing? Fucking stoner prick, RV asshole!" Michael rages, banging on the horn.

The RV eventually moves out of the way, but their target was already gone.

"Fuck man, I think we lost his ass."

"He lives somewhere up in the canyon, we'll find him.

They continue searching for the man.

"If I got to go to a motel, she's got to go to a motel. Let her get crabs for a change!"

"You got crabs?"

"What? No, no..."

"'Cause I like shook your hand and shit, man..." Franklin says in undisguised disgust. 

"No. Not any more. Look, we got rules. Not in the house. Not guys I got to look in the eye. Or pay for the privilege!"

"Oh, this dud's your employee? Now that's a line you don't cross, man."

"For any kind of man it is."

"Oh fuck yeah, let's go have some strong-ass words with this little bitch."

"Oh, we're gonna communicate nice and clear, that's for shit sure."