Michael groaned as he returned to consciousness, squinting his eyes as he looked around. Everything was still blurry, and he could tell that the sun was shining right in his face. Grumbling, he swept his hand across the dirt until he came into contact with something small and metallic. Unfolding his aviators and placing them on his face, he was able to open his eyes without the light blinding him. Sitting up, he looked around him to see nothing but a desolate landscape. Aw, what the fuck did I do this time...
Standing up and shaking himself off, he was relieved to find that, at the very least, there were no dead bodies nearby. Well, at least Trevor didn't go on a drunken rampage again. Where...where is he anyways? Or Frank? And where am I, anyways? Looking around, he was surprised to find his rifle on the ground. Wait, why's this here? I thought I never took it out of the case...
Kneeling down to inspect the scene, he found the rifle was set up in a firing position, facing away from him. A single shell casing lay on the ground, and an inspection of the magazine showed that the rifle had been fired once. The rifle case had been set aside a short distance away from the rifle, and he could see a faint outline of where he would have been lying down to operate the weapon. What the hell did I do? Last I remember, we were at Trevor's airfield, and then...
Standing by the entrance to the rickety aircraft hangar, Michael and Franklin shared a laugh as Trevor told the story of one of his recent escapades. "So, anyways, the guy was coming after me, so I grabbed his hedge trimmer and-"
"Yo, what the fuck is that?" Franklin suddenly interrupted, pointing towards the distance. The Los Santos skyline had faded away in a wave of light, which seemed to be coming straight towards them. Before Michael could respond, the light overcame him, and he felt nothing.
Michael frowned as the memory resurfaced. What the hell was that? Whatever it was, now I'm here... Looking up from the apparent sniper nest, he could see a collection of multicolored figures in the distance. People? Going prone, he shouldered the rifle, and looked through its scope. What he saw caused his heart rate to spike. He could see a few people, wearing odd clothes, but more than that, he saw several figures that were decidedly non-human. Many of them were unconscious, and a few of them were getting up. As he panned the scope across the field, he could see a strange, pink creature that was heavily injured, with one of the injuries looking very much like a gunshot wound. Did I shoot it? Who the hell are these people? WHAT are they? What the hell is going on?
Standing up again, he patted down his suit jacket, and to his relief, he could still feel his Mini Uzi and its ammo. Kneeling down, he picked up the Barret, brushed it off with his hand, and folded up the bipod. Placing it back in its case, he zipped the thing shut, and lifted it onto his back. Looking towards the group in the distance, he considered his options. They were strange, and might be hostile towards him, but he also didn't know where he was, and they might be his only source of information.
Taking a deep breath, Michael began to move towards the group. After a few moments, he approached their position, stopping as he reached the outside perimeter of the group's location. Seeing the strange, alien beings up close was unnerving, but he took another deep breath and steeled himself. He heard shouting, and noticed that a man in some sort of duster was waving a gun at some other people. Taking out his Uzi and holding it up, he approached them.
"Alright, people! Let's all calm down...I don't know what the fuck is going on, but we don't need to kill each other yet."