GTA 5: TRAPBOY

**Five Days Later**

In the past five days, Tommy followed a simple routine: he bought weed and then sold it. On the second day, he repeated the same cycle—buying weed and selling it. However, on the third day, he had accumulated enough money to make a more lucrative purchase: crack. With this new investment, he sold the crack and profited significantly more than he had with weed. Riding the wave of success, he continued the trend on the fourth day, buying crack once again and selling it. As a result, he now had over $30,000 stashed away in a safe in his room and around $10,000 kept securely in a smaller safe in Tonya's room.

Big Mike had been very pleased with Tommy's progress and offered him a new job—one that was a step up from the nickels and dimes he had been making for the past two years.

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The clock was beeping incessantly right next to Tommy's head, causing his eyes to flutter open. He groggily pressed a button on the clock, silencing the annoying sound.

As he glanced at the time, he realized it was 4:32 in the morning; it had taken him a full two minutes to fully wake up from the persistent beeping.

He heard an annoyed groan next to him and turned to see Tonya, who was sleeping in just a pair of panties beside him. He had chosen to spend the night at her place because her mother hadn't been home for about two days. This wasn't unusual; Tonya's mom often vanished for a few days at a time to sell her body, all in a desperate bid to get her next fix of crack.

Rising from the bed, Tommy began to dress. Tonya stirred, turning away from the wall to face him. "Are you heading to Las Venturas already?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

Tommy sighed as he pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. "Yeah. It's about a seven-hour drive..."

Tonya sighed in response. "You better bring back a souvenir or something," she teased with a smirk.

"Sure," he replied, slipping on his black Eris shoes.

After fixing his appearance, he glanced at the clock again and saw that it was already 4:50. He leaned down to kiss Tonya softly on the lips before turning to leave.

"Bye..." she waved sleepily, a hint of longing in her eyes. She wanted to say "I love you," but the words had yet to leave either of their lips, despite their two-year relationship and the intimacy they shared.

As he opened her bedroom door, he turned back with a smile. Tonya thought he was finally going to say those two words, but instead, he quipped, "You better not spend my money." He smirked and dashed out of the room just as she threw a pillow at him in playful annoyance.

Grumbling, Tonya settled back into the warmth of her blankets and drifted back to sleep.

Meanwhile, Tommy sprinted down the hallway but slowed to a walk as he reached the front door. Stepping outside, he spotted a car parked in front of him.

It was a dark blue Huntley, engine running, with someone sitting in the driver's seat. Recognizing the vehicle, Tommy knew it was sent by Big Mike, so he felt at ease.

He approached the car and got inside. The man behind the wheel extended his hand for a shake, and without wasting any time, he started driving. After all, it was a long journey ahead.

The drive was mostly silent, filled only with the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the wind outside. Tommy gazed out the window, watching the early morning scenery blur by as they made their way through the quiet streets. He lost himself in thought, contemplating his recent success and the mix of exhilaration and anxiety that came with it.

About an hour later, the driver pulled into an abandoned parking lot and came to a halt. "Why are we stopping?" Tommy asked, confusion written across his face. "Aren't we going to Las Venturas?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "We? Who the hell is we? You're going alone."

"What?" Tommy was taken aback.

The driver groaned in annoyance. "For fuck's sake... What did Big Mike tell you?"

"That a driver would pick me up to deliver some, you know, 'supplies,'" Tommy replied, trying to clarify.

The driver sighed. "Of course, that fat fuck didn't explain anything..." He turned to Tommy. "Get out." Reluctantly, Tommy complied and exited the SUV, following the man.

They walked a few meters until they reached a worn and dirty Burrito van. The driver patted the side of the van. "You'll get in this and drive it all the way to LV, to the Sindacco Abattoir. Got it?" He tossed the keys to Tommy.

"I-I got it, but I've never been to Las Venturas before, man," Tommy confessed as the driver climbed back into his car.

The driver rolled down the window. "How old are you, kid?"

Tommy was caught off guard by the question. "Sixteen."

"Sixteen." The man nodded. "You're technically a man already. I bet you've already had your taste of pussy. Figure it out." The driver's tone left no room for argument.

"How will I get home after dropping off the supplies?" Tommy asked, hurrying after the car as it began to reverse.

The man looked back at Tommy one last time. "You're a man. Figure it out." With that, he drove off, leaving Tommy standing alone in the parking lot.

Tommy sighed, watching the car disappear from view. "Fuck..." he muttered to himself, feeling the weight of his new responsibility settle heavily on his shoulders.

Tommy pressed the button on the key fob, and the van responded with a sharp beep, indicating the doors were now unlocked. He swung the door open and climbed inside, the scent of old fast food and stale smoke greeting him. Once seated, he turned the key in the ignition. The van rumbled to life, shaking slightly under him as he gripped the wheel tightly, feeling the vibrations travel through his body. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, glancing around the cluttered dashboard.

To his relief, he spotted a GPS device nestled among the mess of papers and empty soda cans. "Thank God," he mumbled, quickly programming it with the destination: Las Venturas. The screen flickered to life and calculated a route, displaying a bright blue line that snaked through the map. "I'm glad Frank taught me how to drive," Tommy muttered.

He shifted the van into reverse and backed out of the abandoned parking lot, merging onto the open road. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm golden hue over the landscape as he drove through the quiet streets of Los Santos. The familiar sights of the city blurred by, replaced by the expansive stretches of the highway that led out into the desert.

The van bounced along the uneven road, and he found himself gripping the wheel a little tighter as he navigated the twists and turns. The sun climbed higher in the sky, illuminating the desolate beauty of the landscape around him.

The drive felt endless, with the dry desert air whipping through the open windows, but Tommy kept his focus. He passed through small towns and gas stations. The GPS guided him effortlessly, and he was grateful for the technology keeping him on track. After a few hours, the mountains in the distance began to loom larger, signaling that he was getting closer to his destination.

With the sun now high above, casting long shadows on the ground, Tommy finally spotted the neon lights of Las Venturas in the horizon. The vibrant colors were a stark contrast to the muted browns and greens of the desert that surrounded him. His pulse quickened as he approached the bustling city, the excitement of being in a new place washing over him.

Eventually, he arrived at the Sindacco Abattoir, slowing down as he searched for someone who looked like they were expecting him. The air was thick with the smell of meat and the distant sounds of machinery. After a moment of scanning the area, his eyes landed on a bald Asian man sitting on a crate. The man was casually smoking what looked to be a blunt, a shotgun resting on his lap.

Tommy rolled down the window, letting the cool air rush in. "Are you Big Mike's guy?" he asked, trying to sound confident.

"Yeah, I am," the man replied, nodding in acknowledgement.

The man climbed off the crate, and Tommy followed suit, stepping out of the van. The man bent down and retrieved a duffle bag that had been tucked away under the crate. Tommy handed over the keys to the van, and the man exchanged it for the duffle bag. Tommy quickly opened it, peering inside to see stacks of cash. It looked like the right amount—$150,000—but he didn't bother to count it.

Just as the man was about to climb back into the van, he turned to Tommy, who was now slinging the bag over his shoulder. "Oh! Big Mike told me to give you a message. There's a Nebula across the abattoir—a black one... He said to use that to get home, and that you can keep it. You've been doing a good job."

Tommy's eyes widened, a spark of excitement igniting within him. "Really?" he asked, barely able to contain his enthusiasm.

"Yeah. Anyway, get that money to Big Mike," the man said, tossing the keys to the Nebula toward Tommy before climbing into the van and driving off.

Tommy caught the keys with a grin plastered on his face. He looked around for the black Nebula and soon spotted it parked nearby. The car was sleek and shiny. He approached it, running his fingers over the smooth surface before unlocking it and sliding into the driver's seat.

After adjusting the seat, he started the engine, reveling in the purr of the car. A few blocks away, he decided to make a pit stop at Burger Shot. The smell of fried food wafted through the air as he stepped inside, his stomach growling in response. He ordered three burgers, a large eCola, and a sizable portion of fries. After paying, he made his way back to the Nebula, feeling a rush of excitement as he settled into the driver's seat with his food.

As he drove away from Burger Shot, he took a big bite of a burger, the flavors exploding in his mouth. The first bite was heavenly, and he chased it down with a gulp of the icy eCola. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this free. The music from Glydez J's latest mixtape filled the car, and he turned the volume up, letting the beats pulse.