Sandy Shores.

It was a hole in the ground filled with rednecks, bikers and meth heads. Yet Michelle never questioned how she ended up there. She could have moved to the hills, blended in with the 'upper' class in San Andreas, but the idea of living in a rusted out trailer, surrounded by illiterate fucks who would sell their mothers for Methamphetamine's seemed more appeasing.

The truth?

Michelle was a burnt out mercenary who was being hunted down by a bunch of British spies that acted as if their biscuits had broken off into their tea.

Moral of the story? Be careful of who you fuck in the back seat of a black van.

Her last redwood hung from her deep red lips as she made her way to the general store. Today's list consisted of cigarettes, booze, chips, porno magazines and ammunition. Maybe even a trip to the hospital to get a repeat of her anti-psychotics, the voices told her that the latter wasn't that important.

Trevor Philips found himself sitting on the hood of his truck, watching Ron shoot targets like a noob whilst yelling crippling insults at him. He couldn't tell if he was in a good mood or still high, probably a mixture of both. The fact he'd woken up tied to the train tracks in a pink floral dress, complete with high heels and lacy underwear proved that the night before had been eventful, fucking hilarious and quite enjoyable. In fact, he was still wearing said outfit. Hey, it was comfortable.

"Well. Good morning Mr Philips. I take it last night was a string of fucked up events, like usual." Michelle smirked as she stamped out her cigarette on the road with her bright red heels. High heels on asphalt? Why the fuck not.

"You're fuckin' right it was. A little bird told me that you took advantage of my little buddy, Wade last night. How'd that go?" Trevor hung his legs off the edge of his truck and dangled them back and forth. Michelle shrugged.

"Once the kid got his bearings he was amazing. 9/10 would fuck again" She chuckled and stuffed her hands in her skin tight black skinny jeans. She tried to pay little to no attention to Wade walking out of Trevor's trailer shirtless, covered in bite marks and bruises.

"Hey Michelle. How are you this mornin'?" Wade began to walk towards her, and flinched as he walked past Trevor. Michelle always hated talking to the guys she fucked the next day. It was just plain fucking awkward.

"I'm good, Wade. Oh, and you left my door open. Do that again and I'll chop off your fucking hands and shove them so fucking far up your ass they'll tickle your fucking throat." Trevor chuckled at Michelle's hostility. She reminded him so much of himself it was just like looking into a gender bent mirror. He fucking loved it.

"Boss! Remember to ask her about the job!" Ron called from his spot on the driveway. He held the pistol in one hand and his free hand was sitting on top of his hollow head, keeping his filthy as fuck hat on as a hot, dry gust of wind passed through.

"Ah! Yes! The Job! Now! Listen here young lady! I have a wondrous opportunity for you to get back into the business!" the ex-mercenary cringed as Trevor intruded her personal bubble. His breath smelt of sex, drugs, booze and blood, and she began to wonder when he last brushed his teeth. Or even showered.

"Nuh-uh. I'm done. If those British pricks find me they'll cut out my fucking uterus and make me wear it as a hat!" Michelle cringed at just the thought.

"C'mon Michelle, it aint gon' be as fun without you" Wade looked at her with cute as fuck puppy dog eyes and she just wanted to slap him.

"I don't care what it is, I don't care how much I'd get paid, I don't fucking care. You fucktards don't understand the severity of the situation I'm in. I have to stay under the fucking radar, otherwise I'm fucked! You can take your fucking shitty ass fucking piece of shit job and shove it up your fucking loose anal cavity." Michelle spat venom as her hands had balled into fists and her nails began to dig into the calloused flesh of her palms. She was on the verge of punching Trevor out and sodomising him with his own rifle, but then again, the fat fuck would probably enjoy it.

"Listen, you little dumb fuck. I've been playing this game a lot fucking longer than you, and if i say this is worth your skinny white bitch muscle, you'd better take that to the fucking bank. I don't know why a little cunt like you thinks you can just snub your shit stained nose at me like this, but if you try it one more fucking time, that shit-stained nose and shrivelly cunt might just fucking collide. I once fucked a guy dressed as a mermaid with a jackhammer, just because his fucking bra and tail colours clashed. What do you think I do to whiney little girls? Think on that, you bitch, and on how much you love your clitoris stuck on your vag, rather than stitched where your eye used to be." Trevor spat back and by the time he had finished his petty insult, he had Michelle pinned against his truck, with her legs tightly wrapped around his boney waist. The woman smirked as she felt Trevor hard against her thigh, and she looked seductively into his rage filled eyes.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?" Michelle's smug tone cut through the awkward silence like a knife through butter. Ron and Wade both looked at each other with wide eyes. Was she really being a sarcastic little shit to Trevor? She must have had a death wish.

"OH. You, young girly are treading on thin fucking ice. Put one more foot out of fucking line and I fucking swear!" Trevor threw her to the ground and growled like a savage animal. Michelle just laughed.

"Whatever, T. You don't scare me. My eye was ripped out by a chick because I fucked her husband. I had to fucking eat it, Trevor. Now. If you'd excuse me, I've got shopping to do." She picked herself, dusted off her jeans and rearranged her eye patch. Her past employer had offered her a prosthetic eye, but she liked how 'professional' the eye patch made her look.

"Seeya, Michelle. I'll come around later!" Wade called out as the sassy bitch walked off. Trevor growled once more and punched Wade in the face. Ron was too scared to say a word.