Beyond Insanity

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Characters
* Michael De Santa
* Franklin Clinton
* Dr. Russel Wilmington
* Salvador Ignacio Salazar
* Agent Katherine Reneau
* Agent David Harris
* Trevor Phillips
* Devin Weston
* Harold 'Stretch' Joseph
* Agent Steven Haines
* David Norton
* Dr. Megyn Greenblatt
* Kevin Fortt

## Chapter 1: Life As We Know It

It was two in the morning. Michael's eyes were glued to his laptop. Any minute now, news outlets would be reporting of a human rights abuse scandal against the American lifestyle clothing giant Swallow.

It was 2:05 AM when the Liberty Tree unveiled the scandal. Soon after, WNKA International and Weazel News posted articles in their website, and the story started gaining traction. Michael took a sip of Cherenkov, and switched on the television in his bedroom. Weazel reported of a massive strike outside the Swallow sweatshop in Indonesia, and it has been reported that two American managers were stabbed to death. It was good news. Quickly switching to BAWSAQ's website, he saw what he needed to see - the plunge in the value of Swallow's shares.

Michael had already short sold the shares he owns in Swallow, therefore netting him a profit of nearly 1 million. That's not the reason why he was grinning though. The reason of Michael's happiness is that he short sold the stocks to none other than Devin Weston, as per an settlement which came about nearly two weeks ago.

He took another sip of the American-made Russian vodka. The other side of his bed was empty. Amanda wasn't there with him that night. She had gone out with her friends. Michael feeling lonely walked out of the bedroom, carrying along a glass of vodka and its bottle. As he thumped down the stairs, his phone rang. "Fuck" he said to himself, as he hurried back into the bedroom, and unplugged his brand new iFruit XXX. It was Devin. Michael answered the call.

"Namaste, Michael."

"Hello, Devin. Nice to talk you at this hour."

"I just woke up in time for my yoga, and my assistant phones me about Swallow stock price. You planned for this, didn't you, slick?"

"It's just a coincidence, Devin."

"Listen, slick. I'm still rich. Rich enough for the Queen of Great f\*\*king Britain to give me head. Now, messing with me can be a bitch. I don't make mistakes when I invest. So, repeat this once more..."

"Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever, Devin. Invest the rest of your money in a better brain, douche."

Michael hung up, and set his phone back in the table, and got another phone call. This time, the call was private.

"Hello? Who is this?" Michael answered.

"Mr. De Santa?" Asked someone from the other end.

"Yes?"

"North Yankton. 2003. Brad Snider. Dave Norton. Trevor Philips. Franklin Clinton. These words sound familiar?"

"What do you want?" Michael shot back.

"Meet my boss in your golf club by sunrise." The caller hung up.

Michael did not know what to do. Clearly someone knows his life history, or at least pretends to do. Trevor's dead. Norton's forced to disappear. Franklin moved to Vice City. Brad's been dead for over a decade. It certainly can't be Amanda or his kids. He had no idea who he would be meeting.

Then there was a knock on his door.

Franklin's phone was vibrating. In fact, it has been vibrating for the past thirty minutes. Franklin's sleep was interrupted for the third time. One of the three girls sleeping next to him, a blonde girl with an assault rifle tattooed in her ass, urged him to pick it up. The other two were still asleep.

Franklin took a deep sniff. The room smelled of sex, liquor and cocaine. He was living the Vice life. He slowly pushed the dark-skinned girl, and took his phone.

Franklin had expected it to be Lamar. Lamar's been increasing nocturnal since 2013, since he has been on the Ballas' hit list sine the aforementioned year. Stretch for some reason hasn't given up in killing Lamar.

But it wasn't Lamar.

Curiously, Franklin picked up the phone.

"Mr Clinton." The crisp voice spoke. "There's a package for you waiting in your living room. Check it out."

Franklin went to the living room. There was a neat cardboard box on the sofa. It wasn't there the night before. He picked it up.

"A cardboard box?" He asked.

"Yup, airhead. Open it."

Franklin tore the box's cover with his bare hands, and opened it. There was a small diary.

He opened the diary, and in the first page, it said "Look forward."

Franklin looked through the glass window, a saw a hi-rise condo in front him. The building exploded within seconds.

"What the f\*\*k?" Franklin exclaimed. The explosion shook up all the girls, and they all rushed to the living room. "What's happening, Franklin bae?" Asked the black girl.

"Don't worry darlings. Get dressed up, and head home. Take any of my cars." Franklin said, attempting to calm them.

"No baby, I am not leaving you." The blonde said, and came to hug Franklin. At that time, a bullet came through the window, and went right through the blone's head, and she dropped down dead.

The black girl and the other blonde started screaming. Within minutes, they ended up dead too.

"What the f\*\*k is going on, ni\*\*a?" Franklin asked, rather angrily.

"Put some clothes, and run the f\*\*k away, you piece of s\*\*t. Run, because your apartment will blow up within minutes, you cunt." The caller said, and hung up.

Franklin followed suit. He got into his Huntley S, and drove away from his building, as he drove in the road, his building was engulfed in flames.

Firmly holding his automatic pistol behind his back, Michael answered the door. It was a familiar face. Agent Harris of the FIB. Agent David Harris was Norton's replacement.

"Harris? Not a good time..."

"Listen Michael. Kate is here."

"Kate? What does she want?"

"Better ask her yourself."

Dave pointed at a black Buffalo S parked in Michael's driveway, just beside his Tailgater. He and Michael walked towards the Buffalo S. The driver's window came down, revealing a beautiful woman behind the wheel. The woman bore the face of someone who worked excessively.

"Hello, Agent." Michael said as he approached the driver's window.

The woman peered through her large blue tinted sunglasses, which matched her blue suit.

"Your life is in danger, Mr. De Santa." She said.

"How do you figure?"

"Did you get a phonecall a few minutes ago?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me, De Santa. Your future depends on me, and me only."

"I did not receive any phone calls, Madam President".

"Quit with the sarcasm. I will you ask you once more, and you tell me the answer I want to hear. Else your WPP contract will get shredded, just like the future of you, and your disgusting family." The agent was serious.

"All right, I did receive a call."

"A FIB security team will be dispatched to your golf course. They will be watching your every move. I've also posted six FIB agents outside your house. From now on, you don't report to Harris, you report to me. Do you understand?"

"Wait, I have a doubt..."

"Thank You, De Santa. Tell Harris to get inside the car." She raised the windows.

Michael walked towards Dave.

"What's up with here, Harry?"

"She's getting increasingly paranoid these days, Mikey. Wish she retires soon. I need a promotion."

"So do I."

They both laughed, and Harris put out his cigarette and got inside the car.

The car aggressively reversed out of Michael's house, and roared through West Eclipse Boulevard.

Michael turned around and saw an FIB agent standing outside his door.

"Fuck. As if enough shit wasn't thrown to my face already."

He walked towards his house.