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It tumbled end over end, glinting in the dusk light, before smashing onto the rocks of the hillside below—a cloud of silver shards and magnetic tape, scattering like ghosts into the dry Los Santos wind.
And three criminals, drifting through it all, finally free.
Franklin just shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "So… no more favors?" Grand Theft Auto V
As they lifted off, the LSPD choppers swarmed. Trevor opened fire, shredding one, then two, laughing as the wreckage spiraled into the city below.
Trevor’s eyes were wide, wet, and wild. "Supposed? Mikey, there is no supposed. There's only doing and dying . And I ain't dying until I watch that weasel Steve Haines cry on live television." It tumbled end over end, glinting in the
Franklin weaved through Vespucci Beach traffic, sirens now wailing behind them. "You two gonna argue, or shoot? Because that's a NOOSE van on our six."
Michael tossed the bourbon into a trash can and climbed in. As Franklin peeled away, tires smoking, Michael checked his backseat. Trevor Phillips was already there, barefoot, reeking of ozone and cheap whiskey, holding a rocket launcher like a security blanket. "So… no more favors
Trevor stared. Then he howled with laughter—a raw, genuine sound. "You magnificent bastard."