A/N: This story is from the 3rd person point of view. The dialogue is edited and somehow different from The Third Way.


That Devin Weston motherfucker's crossed the line. First, he doesn't give our three characters their rightful payment. Now, he wants Michael dead.

Mr. Weston gave Franklin three choices: Option A, kill Trevor (even though he was a psycho, Franklin did care about him), Option B, kill Michael (don't even get me started on this sociopath) and last but not the least, Option C (Franklin has nothing to lose now, maybe except Chop).

We all know damn well what Option C does. Franklin took his chances and dialled Lester.

"Lester dog, I gotta talk to you about somethin'."

"Whatever you need Frank, I'll be at my house. Come see me when you wanna."

With those words Franklin hopped on his Western Bagger and headed off for Lester's crib.


About two hours later, he arrived at Murrieta Heights. Walking down the alleyway, he eventually spotted Lester's.

Franklin knocked, but found the door open.

When he went inside, the house looked like it was hit by a tornado. Smashed glass, broken furniture and Lester lying unconscious in his bed is what he found.

He approached him, but the moment he saw a pool of blood underneath him, his heart stopped for a split second.

Lester was dead. And he knew for sure who did it.

"Devin you asshole, you'll fucking pay for this.."

Before he could dial Michael and Trevor to inform them of what happened, the asshole suddenly rang up Franklin.

"Hey there, slick. I heard you talking to this Lester friend of yours. Luckily I made sure someone tailed you to wherever you were going. I warned you, every goddamn prick who's valuable in the state will go after your ass. You made the wrong call, slick."

"Fuck you! Lester did nothing!"

"He did nothing? According to some.. redundant partners of mine, this man helped you in every heist you pulled off. I knew he was valuable. And that's what I like taking away from people, slick."

"I'll make sure you'll pay for this, motherfucker. Mike and Trevor will know. They will, you dickhead!"

"There's no need to call names on the line, slick. Anyways, I got something else to do. Bye-aye, and nice doing business with you, Franklin, or should I say dead corpse in a matter of minutes!"

The skunk hung up on the line.

"Lester.. fuck, dog. I'll call Mikey up now."

Franklin took the keys from his pockets, and locked the door to show a sign of respect to his colleague. After doing so, he phoned Michael.

"Hey F, what's going on?"

"Shit, man. Lester's dead."

"What the fuck did you just say?! How? Why?"

"It was that cat Devin. He sent some dude to spy on me. Guess he knew I'd go to Lester for advice."

"DEVIN?! That gay massacring coward! He tried to kill Amanda and Trace too! Look, I'll phone Trevor. We're gonna make some fools pay."

"Look, meet me at Trevor's strip club. People are ought to pay for this."

Mike hung up on the line. Franklin almost imemdiately called Lamar next.

"LD, you there, nigga?"

"Shit F, you know I'm always here. What's the catch?"

"You know this Lester dude? That asshole Devin who didn't give us dough for the whips.."

"He clipped him?"

"Yeah, or one of his men did. Fucker's gonna pay."

"Hell, this Lester guy was too valuable. Trevor told me about him. Look, he just called me to meet up with the other white dude at the club. Meet you there, homie."

Franklin sped away as soon as Lamar hung up.


"Alright, so we all know why we're here. Our friend Lester. He's dead. And we all know who did it."

"Devin Weston. That fucker is going to pay. He will. Look, I tracked him down with Lester's app. He has this meeting at Vespucci Beach, by my shrink's office. We could ambush him there."

"Lester was better at these things, bro. But hell, I ain't got a better plan."

"I need you all to come by the house two blocks from the one I told Frank and Lamar. Come fully equipped, with weapons, and revenge. Be there before nineteen o' clock."

Michael left the club, and so did Franklin and Lamar later on.


6:45 PM, by the ambush point. Michael was waiting patienly while Trevor's truck came by, fully stashed with heavy weapons.

"T, I didn't mean it like that. We're not doing a massacre here."

"I know, Mikey. Just for the fun of it. Frank and Lamar are inside that pile."

"Shit dog, if you coulda told me this is what your homies did, I woulda left the hood a thousand years before!"

"Yeah, homie."

"Alright, everyone be prepared. Devin is in a black limo. License plate should be something like D3VINW3S or some bullshit."

It took some time, after a few cars passed by, when the black limousine strolled and parked at the house. True enough, Devin Weston emerged from the limousine.

"Time to get me some paper, baby!"

"I so want to kill that retard right now."

"Give him some time, T."

They gave Weston the entire meeting before he came out of the house.

"This is the time. You know the call. Seven bullets."

Trevor released the first bullet from his Heavy Pistol, incapacitating Devin. His security guards came out to inspect, but he threw knives at them to keep them silent.

"I know it's you, slick. Come the fuck out before you get everyone over your shit."

Devin tried to crawl away, but was put down by yet another shot. This time from Lamar.

"That's for the Monroe, you cheating fuck!"

Both his legs were shot. He had no escape. But he could do one thing.

Luckily, he had kept hold of his Micro SMG all the time. Lucky for him as well, it was fully loaded.

He pulled out his piece and open fired at the direction of the noise. After all bullets were released, someone fell. Someone who he always thought would fall. Someone too easy to fool. Maybe, he was too young. But it didn't matter.


Franklin, peppered with bullets, fell to his knees and stared lifeless at his cronies.

"FRANKLIN! WESTON, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

Michael shot Devin five times.

"For those cars! For Lester!"

And finally shot him one last time in the head, surely killing him.

"And for the kid.."

The three had no time to mourn, as cops were surrounding all over the place. They all split up and ran towards all different directions.


The news spread rapidly around the hood.

Franklin had died a noble death.

"Man, that fool was always too gullible. But he wasn't just no fool. He was family."

"If I could still tell that boy how much I loved him.. hope his mama and him are alright. God help them now."

"Fuck.."

Lamar hung up on the line after a conversation with Denise.

"I hope you's alright in what fuckin' place you are, F."

He was just finished putting a frame above the gang wall.

FRANKLIN J. CLINTON

1988 - 2013

The finest man of North and South LS. Will always be.


A/N: By this time the player would assume control of Lamar. Cheesy ending, I know.