Insanity x2 (A Trevor Philips Story)

2: Two Years

I uncomfortably shifted in my seat. I examined my clothes. I was wearing black skinny jeans, a purple tank top and a pair of worn, black converse. I also had a black coat on me, which I tugged closer upon feeling the cold breeze that blew past. It was already seven o'clock and the contact wasn't here.

"Psst!"

I looked up, scanning the area around me, finding a fat man on the bench across from me, cane underneath his large hand, sausage fingers curled around it.

He wasn't making direct eye contact with me.

"Wh-"

"Come over here, and don't look at me." He whispered harshly.

"But there's no one here to see us."

He groaned, his hand now visibly twitching in irritation. I sighed, and sat next to him. I sat at the edge of the bench as to not trigger his paranoia once more.

"I've heard a lot about you, Lucy Reaper, owner of Reaper Industries. You're one of the biggest Cocaine distributors in the country. So, tell me, why is a drug kingpin like you in Los Santos all of a sudden?"

I let out a loud laugh. This guy impressed me. And to talk to me like I was just some normal person took guts. Guts I didn't desire to spill on the floor. No one got my contact information that easily. And if they did, they wouldn't be so bold as to meet me alone in the dark. He meant no harm, only business. "I wanted more of a challenge. I wanted to do something I could feel accomplished about. Why? Who're you?"

"I can find you jobs. Heists. Anything. You just let me know, and I'll hook you up. The name's Lester, and I could use someone like you. You're smart. But are you agile? Have you killed anyone before?"

"I've killed a lot of people, and you know that. How else could I be this successful?" I questioned. I stood up. "Obviously you have my number, you let me know when you have something for me to do." I started to walk away, but then I stopped. "How many others do you have?"

"A few. But they're connected with a guy named Lamar. All from different towns. Lamar showed them the ropes, but you don't need training wheels. You already know the game. I know you do. I suggest you avoid Lamar Davis, and Gerald. They're known to steal from the Vagos. And for your own sake, I'm cutting you off from interacting with Trevor Philips. He's in the meth business, but I want you to be a little more . . . . "Legit" before you meet him. No sense in you working for another drug business if you own one, so when he has a non-work related job, I'll notify you. For now, keep your schedule open. I have a bank heist for you. Flecca Bank. I'll be seeing you."

I nodded. Smart to avoid interaction with other drug members. But maybe I should pay Lamar and Gerald, since they're stealing my product. No one steals from me.

I shook my head. Not yet, Lucy. Don't go fucking shit up just yet.

I sighed, arriving home to find the empty house somewhat comforting. I parked the Banshee in the garage, examining my other cars. My Protegen T20, my Zentorno, my Kuruma, my Rusty Rebel, my Bodhi, and my newest addition, my Reaper. Come on, I had to have that car. It was my last name.

These were all my most cherished vehicles, but the Banshee was always my prized vehicle. I went inside my house, and lay on the floor, curling up into a ball. It was uncomfortable, but I was able to fall asleep.

--

Within the next few weeks, my house was fully furnished with the necessities. A television, a couch, a kitchen table, a coffee pot, pots and pans, silverware, a bed and a few lamps for the bedroom and livingroom. But that was all I needed, leaving my house seemingly empty and giving it the appearance of looking bigger than it actually was.

I made myself a cup of coffee and started to reminisce. Since I'd been in LS, I've robbed the Flecca bank, broke a man out of prison, raided the Humane Labs, robbed the Pacific Standard Public Deposit bank, and oh yeah, saved the world. I even killed a few targets and exploded a few trucks for Lester, and I even worked for Martin Madrazo and helped him take out a few targets as well. He became a friend of mine, although he was a terrible husband, as I met his wife and his mistress. It disgusted me, but he was a man of power, so I decided not to say much to him.

I was currently in my house, sending out my orders to everyone. I noticed Carlos was sitting on my couch. I smiled at him, but this caused him to shift uncomfortably and quickly look down at his phone.

"How long have you been here?" I questioned.

"Thirty minutes," he spoke, texting. I nodded, sitting next to him. He put his phone down and looked at me. "I actually wanted to ask you a question," he spoke, I could see him fiddling with his hands. I frowned.

"Alright?" I questioned nervously, crossing my arms along my chest. I was wondering what he was going to say.

"I wanted to know—"

The door burst open, revealing a bunch of Ballas. They ran in, I grabbed my Special Carbine and took cover behind a wall, Carlos doing the same as he took out his pistol.

I started to open fire, doing my best to kill the men who were getting dangerously close to me first. I started to reload as fast as possible when a Balla charged towards me, I grabbed the front of his gun and pushed it away while my other hand snapped his wrist. He let go of the gun and let out a deafening scream.

"You bitch!" he growled, grabbing me by the neck and slamming my head into the wall so hard my vision went blurry. I let out a gasp, feeling myself go limp in his hold. A deafening pop erupted, and I felt the man's blood soak my clothes and skin as Carlos popped a cap in the man's head.

"Lucy?" I heard him urgently speak to me, his hands grabbing me as I started to fall down. I couldn't stop myself from falling. He pulled me so I was resting my head into his lap, and started to phone our medics. I felt myself slip out of consciousness.

--

When I woke up, everything was white. The walls, the bright lights, the curtains around me. I sat up slowly, taking in the environment I was in. I turned to my left to a heart monitor, and a few IV's. I also had a few wires connected to my skin. I was in a hospital room. I frowned, looking down at my hands. My hair pooled in my lap, and I noticed how long my hair had grown and gasped. It went from mid-back length to ass-length. How long was I here for?

I turned to look at the nurse who had walked into the room. I slowly propped myself up, letting out a groan as my muscles moved for what felt like the first time in a million years. She gasped and jumped back as if she had seen a ghost, her eyes were wide and filled with terror.

"How long was I out for?" I questioned.

"Two years. . ." She gasped before running out of the room, screaming for a doctor. Two years? Two years? I started to hyperventilate, and turned to look around me. I looked in the mirror. I looked the same, but my hair was longer.

I thought back to the last thing I remembered, and voices started to rush back to me. People speaking to me during my coma.

Carlos took over my business for now, he also told me he was in love with me. . . Wait, Carlos was in love with me? So that's what he wanted to tell me.

Lester complained to me about how I should be helping him. A few of my old Las Venturas friends visited.

I started to scramble for my belongings after getting out of the bed and carefully removing the IVs, a common thing to do in movies that I was usually completely against. I tried not to collapse straight onto the floor when I swung my feet over the side of the bed and helped myself out of it.

The first person I rang was Carlos, hopping out of the hospital window with all of my belongings. I landed on my feet, but quickly fell straight onto my ass. I let out a hiss as my muscles practically screamed at me for that move.