3. A dead hooker
Among Yeager's clothes, all spread out over the floor and bed, in the corner by the closet lies a pale prostitute with a deep cut over her throat.
Dakota: Jesus Christ, Yeager.
Packie: What else would you expect. The guy loves torturing people. Though I don't see any bruises or burns, there's just that stab wound.
Gerry: What difference does that make?
Packie: It means that Yeager wasn't the one who killed this hooker. A simple fatal cut would be too boring for him. Surely there'd be a laceration somewhere, a scuff mark or two.
Gerry: Look, it's great that you're familiar with the sex habits of another man, Packie, but come on. We gotta leave. The smell is killing me in here.
Dakota: Yeah, this doesn't mean anything. Let's take his stuff and go.
Gerry and Dakota pack all of Yeager's clothes in a suitcase that was leaning against the wall. They also pack some empty deodorant they found, a small sum of money Yeager left behind, and a few brownies inside a sandwich bag. They leave the hotel, Gerry holding the luggage, brownies in Packie's pocket. They stand outside the hotel for a bit, and Dakota has a quick smoke.
Packie: So we're headed to Paleto Bay now?
Dakota: Yup. I'll call another cab.
Packie: Or we could take a bus there.
Dakota: Hmm. Maybe. Sure.
Gerry: Can't believe we're ditching Gordon.
Packie: I thought I told you; he's Los Santos' problem now. He's probably sucking off some of that Vinewood poontang by now.
The trio walk down to the nearest bus station. After a few minutes, the scheduled bus arrives. It looks like it's been dented to sh*t, thrown into the ocean a couple times and is missing a headlight. Packie, Gerry and Dakota, however, have never took a Los Santos bus before, so they assume it's a custom there, and are happy to come on board. The bespectacled bus driver eyes them fiercely, staring them down when they're seated. Packie, sat next to Dakota, whispers into her ear.
Packie: Does this driver have a problem or something?
Dakota: Drug problem, probably. Everyone is this city has an addiction.
Packie: Wouldn't be surprised, honestly.
Dakota: Yeah. Hey, can you not speak so closely to my ear? It's... uncomfortable.
Gerry is seated with the luggage, beside a frail old lady listening to music. She takes her headphones off and leans onto Gerry's lap.
Lady: Excuse me, mister, do you know the closest place I can buy condoms?
Gerry: Well... surely, they have a bunch around here. And we're on a moving bus, so I can't say the nearest one. I also don't know where any of them are. And can you move away a bit, you're a little too close?
Lady: Motherf*cker, I asked you a question. How dense you gotta be, limpdick?
Gerry: What the hell?
Packie hears the commotion and looks at the elderly woman as she argues with Gerry. He can't help but feel he has seen her face somewhere before. Beneath the ugly makeup and obvious woolly wig, Packie concludes that, first, Gerry must be a f*cking idiot, and second...
Packie: Wait a f*cking second!
Packie leaps from his seat and stands, albeit a bit wobbly, before taking off the old lady's wig. She moves her hands to her hairless head. Her headphones come unplugged, and from her smartphone blasts rapid trap music.
Packie: Playboy X!
Playboy: Well shiiiit, money.
Packie: What are you doing here?
Playboy: Bitch, I'm back. After failing to take over Liberty, heard you cats was here and thought I'd come and pay you a visit.
Gerry feels an cold Uzi at his neck.
Playboy: After taking care of you, I was thinking of headin' to Paleto Bay. Take the opportunity to see a good friend in hospital.
Packie: I ain't letting that happen, sh*thead.
Playboy: Boy, I got an army behind me.
Packie, Gerry and Dakota look at their fellow passengers and squint their eyes at the flashlights and barrels of at least ten loaded guns aimed from both directions.
Gerry: Wait. I don't know who the f*ck you are, but why did you ask for condoms?
Playboy: Man, I've never been LS before. I was also trying to seduce you, so I could kill you.
Dakota: That's strangely forthright.
Gerry: Wouldn't have worked, sorry. I don't hunt no cougars.
Playboy: I wouldn't be smug if I was you, homie. I still got a trick up my sleeve.
Packie: Oh yeah?
Playboy: L, come out here!
The bus driver gets out of his seat, wielding a shotgun loaded with explosive shells. Packie gasps at the familiar face.
Lester: Looks like you've... *cocks gun* ...caught the wrong bus.
Our heroes stay frozen in the headlights of their enemies' weapons, Dakota still seated, Packie standing up, Gerry sat with Playboy's Uzi at his throat, and the bus seemingly on auto-pilot, speeding down glitzy Eclipse Boulevard.
1. Packie forms a plan involving the squashed-to-sh*t brownies in his back pocket; Dakota is visibly disgusted by the display.
2. Packie offers to buy condoms for Playboy, in exchange for letting them go.
3. There is another familiar face among the bus's passengers.
4. We follow Gordon, getting some of that prime paparazzi pomegranate power-level poontang.
5. We follow Pathos, investigating Bern Bern's return on the rise.
Note: "Bern Bern's return" has a certain ring to it.