Max Payne II-The Fall of Max Payne
Author's Note: This plot is not based on the upcoming video game. It is something that I wrote when thinking about possible reasons for the title. Any real similarities, other than the main character being Max Payne, are entirely coincidental.
The smell of coffee was beginning to make Max sick. He had smelled nothing but it for the last week and a half. He was sick of his desk job. He could remember what he Parole Officer had said.
"You can only get a government job, and no smoking, drinking, drugs, unprotected sex or violence. You commit another crime, and I'll personally see to it that you get raped 5 times a day. Don't fuck around with me Payne."
Just thinking about his voice made Max play in his head the bliss of putting an entire Desert Eagle clip in his chest.
"Rape me, you stupid mother fucker," he said to himself as he sorted the mail, "if I had the chance, I'd rape you with my fucking Uzi."
He had been out for a week and a half and already, he had broken four of the five rules he was given. But after the Valkyr incident, he was never going to do drugs again. He had, however, acquired two firearms as rock-bottom prices from one of his old contacts. He was getting ready to go back to cleaning up the streets the only way it could be done. By being the baddest mother fucker in town.
He clocked out at Five O'clock, like he did everyday. He got on his bicycle and left the New York Postal Department to go to his 2 room apartment in Hell's Kitchen. Max needed his Eagle. Without it, he was like Garfunkel without Simon, he sucked. He did, however, manage to track down the baseball bat that nearly broke his skull, and ended up breaking Jimmy Niagara's.
He checked his message machine. "You have 2 new messages." It was probably just the PO again, checking up on him. Or it was his mother, complaining of what a no-good son he was. But it was neither.
"Payne, you stupid mothafucka, I am gonna make your white-ass bleed like a fucking period if you don't contact me. You know who this is. Call me before 9, or I'll rip out your tongue and make it give my fucking junkyard dogs blowjobs.'
Frankie Franello, thinking he was a big time mother fucker. What did he know? Who the fuck did he think he was? Max felt like calling him up and challenging him to a showdown. But he was depressed, on Prozac, and needed some enjoyable entertainment. He had already shot Frankie's toes off, maybe he could make sure no more piggies would be going to town.
Payne walked to Frankie's place with both guns in his pockets and approached the guard. Benny Howard was the bouncer at the time, easy to take down. Instead Max confronted him.
"Benny, how the fuck have you been? I haven't seen you since you testified against me, you little dickshit."
"Max Payne, you runt, why don't you take out your Uzi and I'll let you through."
"Benny, you're getting forgetful in your old age." Max pulled out the Eagle as well. He didn't want trouble, yet. That was when she walked by. He instantly recognized her face, but from where? She looked at him and frowned.
"Aren't you gonna say hello, or will you just leave without even a note like you did last Thursday?"
Shit, thought Max. Shit shit shit shit shit. Double shit. He should've recognized little Annie Franello, they went to high school together. But he didn't. He just wanted some ass. She pointed the gun right at his love handle.
"Maybe I should make sure that you don't do it to any woman again. Or, better yet, at least for me, I could tell Frankie that you fucked me. Then you'd be screwed."
"Would you Annie, or would you prefer the last man who made you scream like that to have one more try?"
"I suppose, Maxie, you are a bit of a specialist when it counts. Maybe we could use the ladies' room?"
Max wasn't one to turn down a woman, especially one as fine as Annie. But he regretfully declined.
"I'll take a rain check. I have some business with your little brother."
"Now now now, Maxie, you know that he's older than me."
"Who said anything about age?"
At that moment, Frankie walked in the room. Max and Annie stared at him blankly.
"What, is my fucking dick hanging out again. Stop fucking looking at me like that! Annie, get fucking moving and get on your fucking rounds before I lose my fucking temper! Huh?" Frankie shouted. Frankie was small, really small. But he had an even shorter temper. In fact, it seemed like he was always angry. He also had a mouth like a choirboy. "Max, I have a serious fucking problem that only a man of your know-how and genre-"
"Do you even know what that means Frankie?" Max asked him.
"Ok, so maybe I don't know big words. But I do know when I have big problems. And Maximus, my friend, compadre, fratello, will you fucking well help a little dip-shit in need?"
"Frankie, maybe you don't understand it, but I shouldn't even be here. I could go back for ten, even twelve years. Then I'd be fucked."
"Max, you do this for me, I'll make sure you can walk up to the President himself, shoot him in the foot, fuck his wife, kids, even his fucking dog, and be given the Medal of fucking Honor."
"Fine, what is it?"
Wanna know more, you'll have to wait until I can be bothered doing the second. But the first was fun, so it won't be long.
Author's Note: This plot is not based on the upcoming video game. It is something that I wrote when thinking about possible reasons for the title. Any real similarities, other than the main character being Max Payne, are entirely coincidental.
The smell of coffee was beginning to make Max sick. He had smelled nothing but it for the last week and a half. He was sick of his desk job. He could remember what he Parole Officer had said.
"You can only get a government job, and no smoking, drinking, drugs, unprotected sex or violence. You commit another crime, and I'll personally see to it that you get raped 5 times a day. Don't fuck around with me Payne."
Just thinking about his voice made Max play in his head the bliss of putting an entire Desert Eagle clip in his chest.
"Rape me, you stupid mother fucker," he said to himself as he sorted the mail, "if I had the chance, I'd rape you with my fucking Uzi."
He had been out for a week and a half and already, he had broken four of the five rules he was given. But after the Valkyr incident, he was never going to do drugs again. He had, however, acquired two firearms as rock-bottom prices from one of his old contacts. He was getting ready to go back to cleaning up the streets the only way it could be done. By being the baddest mother fucker in town.
He clocked out at Five O'clock, like he did everyday. He got on his bicycle and left the New York Postal Department to go to his 2 room apartment in Hell's Kitchen. Max needed his Eagle. Without it, he was like Garfunkel without Simon, he sucked. He did, however, manage to track down the baseball bat that nearly broke his skull, and ended up breaking Jimmy Niagara's.
He checked his message machine. "You have 2 new messages." It was probably just the PO again, checking up on him. Or it was his mother, complaining of what a no-good son he was. But it was neither.
"Payne, you stupid mothafucka, I am gonna make your white-ass bleed like a fucking period if you don't contact me. You know who this is. Call me before 9, or I'll rip out your tongue and make it give my fucking junkyard dogs blowjobs.'
Frankie Franello, thinking he was a big time mother fucker. What did he know? Who the fuck did he think he was? Max felt like calling him up and challenging him to a showdown. But he was depressed, on Prozac, and needed some enjoyable entertainment. He had already shot Frankie's toes off, maybe he could make sure no more piggies would be going to town.
Payne walked to Frankie's place with both guns in his pockets and approached the guard. Benny Howard was the bouncer at the time, easy to take down. Instead Max confronted him.
"Benny, how the fuck have you been? I haven't seen you since you testified against me, you little dickshit."
"Max Payne, you runt, why don't you take out your Uzi and I'll let you through."
"Benny, you're getting forgetful in your old age." Max pulled out the Eagle as well. He didn't want trouble, yet. That was when she walked by. He instantly recognized her face, but from where? She looked at him and frowned.
"Aren't you gonna say hello, or will you just leave without even a note like you did last Thursday?"
Shit, thought Max. Shit shit shit shit shit. Double shit. He should've recognized little Annie Franello, they went to high school together. But he didn't. He just wanted some ass. She pointed the gun right at his love handle.
"Maybe I should make sure that you don't do it to any woman again. Or, better yet, at least for me, I could tell Frankie that you fucked me. Then you'd be screwed."
"Would you Annie, or would you prefer the last man who made you scream like that to have one more try?"
"I suppose, Maxie, you are a bit of a specialist when it counts. Maybe we could use the ladies' room?"
Max wasn't one to turn down a woman, especially one as fine as Annie. But he regretfully declined.
"I'll take a rain check. I have some business with your little brother."
"Now now now, Maxie, you know that he's older than me."
"Who said anything about age?"
At that moment, Frankie walked in the room. Max and Annie stared at him blankly.
"What, is my fucking dick hanging out again. Stop fucking looking at me like that! Annie, get fucking moving and get on your fucking rounds before I lose my fucking temper! Huh?" Frankie shouted. Frankie was small, really small. But he had an even shorter temper. In fact, it seemed like he was always angry. He also had a mouth like a choirboy. "Max, I have a serious fucking problem that only a man of your know-how and genre-"
"Do you even know what that means Frankie?" Max asked him.
"Ok, so maybe I don't know big words. But I do know when I have big problems. And Maximus, my friend, compadre, fratello, will you fucking well help a little dip-shit in need?"
"Frankie, maybe you don't understand it, but I shouldn't even be here. I could go back for ten, even twelve years. Then I'd be fucked."
"Max, you do this for me, I'll make sure you can walk up to the President himself, shoot him in the foot, fuck his wife, kids, even his fucking dog, and be given the Medal of fucking Honor."
"Fine, what is it?"
Wanna know more, you'll have to wait until I can be bothered doing the second. But the first was fun, so it won't be long.