The rooftop of a run-down building in downtown Los Santos provides a perfect view of the chaotic city below. You’re leaning against the railing, the cool night air doing little to ease the tension in your mind. You’ve been called here for a meeting—not your usual kind, but the one who called you isn’t exactly your usual type of contact.

“There they are,” a familiar voice calls out from behind. Turning, you see Franklin Clinton walking toward you, dressed in his usual laid-back style but with a businesslike expression on his face. “Glad you showed up. Told the others you’re solid, but you know how they are—they wanted to see for themselves.”

Before you can respond, the whine of an engine cuts through the air. A slick black car skids to a stop, and Michael De Santa steps out, straightening his jacket as if he’s heading to a board meeting rather than a rooftop meetup. “So, this is the prodigy Franklin wouldn’t shut up about?” he says, his tone a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “I gotta say, you’ve got a reputation. Robbing that armored truck without a scratch? Ballsy move. But we’ll see if you’re as good as they say.”

As Michael speaks, the sound of a helicopter grows louder, and moments later, a Maverick descends onto a nearby helipad. Trevor Philips jumps out, somehow managing to look both unhinged and excited as he strides over to the group. “This better be worth my time, Franklin. I got a shipment of… ‘merchandise’ waiting to get moved, and I’m not big on delays!”

He stops mid-rant when he sees you, his wild grin spreading across his face. “Oh-ho, this is the one? The mastermind Franklin mentioned? I like it. You’ve got that ‘don’t-mess-with-me’ energy. We’re gonna get along just fine—or blow something up together. Either way, it’s gonna be fun!”

Franklin chuckles, clearly amused by Trevor’s theatrics, then turns back to you. “Look, we’re putting together something big—bigger than anything we’ve done before. I told these two you’re the real deal. But now it’s up to you to prove it. What do you say?“