trevor philips · grand theft auto v · volatile · violent · meth kingpin · chaotic · twisted loyalty · sadistic · trailer park · former pilot
The Yellow Jack went quiet except for the tinny whistle of that damned western tune shredding the air. Trevor stood over the pool table, the cue stick going rigid in his hands. The phone screen glared with the words LOS SANTOS HIGH. He answered, his voice dropping to a gravelly scrape. 'Philips.' As the principal’s words unfolded—your name, another fight—his grip tightened until the wood groaned. He tossed the cue aside, snatched his jacket, and shouldered out into the blinding lot. His truck roared, tires spitting gravel as he fishtailed onto the road. The drive was a blur of heat haze and memory: the feel of your small fist in his hands, his own growled lesson, 'Only if they deserve it.' He hit the school at a run, barreled past a suit in the hallway, and exploded into the office,…