Everything fell apart in New York minute. It use to be good. Warm summer
sunsets, a beautiful home, a beautiful wife and baby. It was like a sweet
dream, but unfortunately dreams have a tendency of going nasty when you're
not looking. I came home one winter night to the putrid smell of wrong,
everything was wrong. As soon as I stepped into the door I heard the
screams that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Two drugged-up crazed
men had raided my home. In a haze of anger and fear I pulled the trigger of
my berretta and let lead fly. Each bullet was the evolution of life going
by in a bang. The bullets hit the thugs like concrete blocks dropping on a
rusty anvil. Death on impact, but I wish they'd die sooner. The pain was
far from over. I hollered my wife's name praying to anyone listening for
her to answer. I rushed into the master bedroom like the gates of hell and
it was as if I was engulfed in a dark cloud that chilled my spine. I became
paralyzed in the face of fear. Those bastards, those fucking bastards.
There they lay, my prized possessions, my wife, my only child, covered in a
pool of their own blood.
Blood runs thicker than water, but tears of the heart hadn't flown
down this face for a long time. And as my lung howled into the night I
could feel everything breaking down. Mind, body and soul, it all felt lost
within. One of the neighbors had called the police and the men in blue had
found me crawled up beside the family I worked so hard to have, gone in a
flash.
The report came in a day later. Working in the force for most of my
life gave me strings to pull. The late culprits were found to be high on a
drug called Valkyr, a.k.a. V. After the funeral I had them switch me to the
DEA.
That was three years ago and the nightmares are as vivid as ever. It
took us this many years to get a crack in the Valkyr case. I had to work my
way from small fish to the head of the school. My partner, Alex, and I had
been working together trying to bring down who we think is driving the
drug, a mobster named Donnie Punchinello. But the only way I could get to
him was to go undercover.
By the time I figured out where V deals where taking place I had been
incognito for a little over a year and a half. When I called back the info
to the DEA, I got a message from Alex.
"We gotta meet"
Alex's meeting place was the subway station at roscoe. It was good,
roscoe wasn't necessarily a busy place and it was out of the eyes of New
York. I showed up at 9:30 and stood waiting. At About 9:34 I heard
something familiar. It was a gunshot. I had my trusty berreta in my sleeve
and my badge on my belt, I hadn't arrested anybody in months, and I had
forgotten how it tastes.
I waltz into a control booth and saw a crimson river of blood on the
dirty concrete floor. A subway patroller lay face down with a barrage of
holes in his chest. I wasn't scared, but this was serious. Where is Alex? I
walked out the control booth and I was face to face with two burley men
holding shiny pistols.
"Hold it right there," yelled burley an #1.
"I don't know this guy. You know 'em Todd?" said burley man #2.
"He's not with me, Bunch," replied Todd.
Their guns never stopped starring at me.
"Hey you, what your name?" asked Bunch.
"Whats it to ya?" I pondered.
-click-
"I wanna know who's head I'm about to blow off," explained Bunch.
I've had a gun pointed at me before. Ever since that winter night
staying alive was only sought after to get things done. I wonder if they
could see my Beretta?
"The names Payne.Max Payne."
In a bang I dove sideways, avoiding the gunfire and pulled out my
firearm before I hit the floor and fired at will. The blood spilled from
Bunch and Todd's head, their faces turned from smug to unconscious. It's
time like these where the whole world slows down and I can see every pixel,
every frame, it's like a football player who is in the zone, it's fucking
bullet time.
I started to move down the subway. I bet there were more burley men
with more shiny handguns and I couldn't find Alex, which just made things
worse. The subway was dark and hollow. As I pasted hallway after hallway
under the shadows of the underground I started thinking. "Maybe they shot
Alex, maybe I came to late." Someone else close to me gone. I hope not, God
I hope not.
The gunshots were sparring, but were loud. Paranoid moved across my
face like the drips of sweat that began to bead at the top of my forehead.
"MAX!"
"Alex, shit, am I glad to see you!" I cried.
Most New York subways are broken up so different trains can come in
at one time. Alex and me were on opposite sides. The gates were locked but
I could still see him through the bars.
"Have you any idea of whats going on?" I asked.
"I Think it's Punchinello's doing"
"How do you know?"
"We intercepted a radio message between a thug and Lupino from the
inside"
Jack Lupino was Punchinello's right hand man. I had gotten pretty
close to Lupino while undercover and knew most of his doings. The man was a
complete pussy, all talk, no walk. From what Alex was telling me there was
passage way from under the subway to the inside of a bank and Punchinello
wanted to make a withdrawal, a rather large one.
That's when a shadowy figure walked down the hall on Alex's side. Then
without a remark without a warning, without a clue a shot was fires and
Alex hit the floor.
"ALEX!" I screamed.
The shadow was gone like smoke. Not only was Alex my only friend he
was my only link to the outside. No one else knew I was undercover. I
walked away from the scene of the crime and was greeted with a barrage of
bullets. Whizzing by me like the busiest bees in the nest. In a humm I dove
toward Lupino's goons like a frighten superman. Tapping my berretta,
hearing the bullets clang and clash against metal, concrete and flesh. The
agonizing pain of bullets in a shoulder or in a leg and the sound of silent
death with a bullet in the head or the heart.
~*Chapter 2*~
I moved out of the subway and into the red line. I wanted Punchinello and I wanted him dead. Valkyr was bad shit, but this all meant so much more. I headed to the Chas hotel a dank and depressing place. V deals went down here, and I knew Lupino would be hanging around for the trafficking tonight. I was tired of playing games, I didn't have time for them I was coming in swinging Beretta in hand, target in mind. Lupino maybe too much of a shit to tell me where Punchinello is down the wire of a mic, but he'll sure talk down the barrel of a gun. I walked into the back door of the Chas hotel. This place was disgusting, filled with filthy mobsters, V junkies and tired-eye prostitutes. I just walked in, waltzed down the corridors, I didn't care. If anyone tested me I popped them. I had made my way to the suite, Lupino's hideout. The door was closed, so I listened in on Lupino's paranoid ranting. "I'm so fucked! Can you believe this shit? Punchinello is gonna have me whacked for sure!" "Calm down boos, it ain't all that bad." "Ain't all that bad?! This is war freakin' war! And after what happened at the roscoe station. Oh man!" Lupino had the Calldry brothers, gun totting cock-mongrels if u ask me, but they do keep the morgue filled. Charlie and Carl were there names and I hope they leave for a- "ArghghghaArghgeArgh" Fucking V junkie! They can go off at any moment. This one had a handgun, and started to shoot at me. He was too drugged up to aim, I blasted him Texas style and he fumbled backwards and broke the stair railing. The gunshot spooked the Calldry brothers, I heard them coming so I busted through the listening door and spotted the brothers and Lupino armed and dangerous. "Payne! I knew you were a fed. Cap his ass boys!" ordered Lupino "Our Pleasure" answered the Calldry brothers in unison. My cover was blown, big deal. I guess I'll just have to kill Lupino, oh well. The Calldry brothers started firing like cowboys on V, I pushed a table on it's side and Carl and Charles blew holes in it till it looked like Swiss cheese but it gave good cover. I popped my head up from the damaged table and gave my Beretta a work out. The point from where the bullet left my gun to when it whymmed in the air. Each bullet moved like perfect magic each with a death warrant. Carl was hit enough times to see his wasted life pass before his eyes before he ever hit the ground. "CARL! NO! You Bastard Payne!" Charles was about to cry "We trusted you Payne!" "I'm getting out of here!" Screamed Lupino. I popped back out of the protection of the table and shot as many bullets as I could at Lupino before he could escape through the window. I got him in the kidney before he fell out the building and onto the outer flat. Bullet holes now decorated the suite with dry wall spilling out from every side. I turned to Charles, highly distort with a gun between his fingers. I pulled the trigger on my Beretta to finish the bloodline and chase after liquid spine paranoia Lupino and.nothing. Outta fucking bullets! Everything can change in a New York minute. Charles blasted away and before I could dodge the barrage he got me in the forearm. I dropped behind the table and arranged my mind as quickly as possible: block pain, reload weapon, then shoot the son of a bitch! "This is for Carl!" cried Charles. With that I forged all my strength and dove backwards, I planted my feet on the bottom of the table, pushing it forward into Charles' legs making him fall over. From there I let my Beretta do all the talking. Charles now lay dead hunched over next to his brother. I peered outside the window and spotted Lupino holding his bloody side and getting into a car and driving off. I couldn't catch up with him, but theres only a few places Lupino can go. A letter on a desk caught my eye. It was from Punchinello to Lupino. Punchinello was riding high on the Roscoe Bank robbery and blamed the failure on Lupino. Then there was some shit about V deals. Punchinello was balls deep in the V game. But I already knew that and collecting evidence got boring some hundred bullets back. The cheap intro music of a local news program blared in my ears. A radio with a bullet shot in it was tuned to the news and I was splattered all over it. "In recent news.-static-..DEA agent Alex Stollin was shot.-static- .Police believe the murder suspect is a named Max Payne.-static-." I had just gotten my fifteen minutes of fame. I looked back at the letter "Lupino $$$ Tomorrow Ragnarok."
~*Chapter 3*~ Lupino was to meet Punchinello at the Ragnarok. The Ragnarok was a place of no return. I've heard Lupino talk about it before, a gothic nightclub full of bondage games and shit like that. Freaky shit, but that was New York. I stepped to a window to see the snowfall. The freezing snow was covering the black and brown. Punchinello wanted the DEA off his back and that meant the death of Alex and he set me to take the fall for him. He wanted my incarceration but all he got was my attention. I got the taxi to the Ragnarok. The car radio blurted some stuff about the snow and how analyst say it could turn into a blizzard. I guess that was good, less people on the street for me to accidentally kill. The Ragnarok was as inviting as a headache. Rain out pleasure smiles, gums inflames, bleeding, bumping to a machine gun beat. That's what I think when I enter this place. The beginning is dark, I hit the dance floor. The room is packed. Freaks, outcast and the night unleashers have all gathered to dance their problems away. Lights gleamed into my face. I moved my through the people. I make it to the back. It seemed the place was split into two, separated by a curtain. The second room consisted of the V Junkies. Laying around getting high. Suddenly I heard a screech. "Payne!" It was Lupino. "Kill the bastard!" Dudes in black coats came at me with a surprise. They came from each way. I rolled to a side and warmed-up my Beretta. I got one in the stomach who belt down. The junkies got freaked and started to move out. Before another could blow me away I dodged fiercely. One coated thug carried a nasty shotgun. From a kneeling position I aimed for between the eyes and made my mark. He goofy eyes before lifelessly slamming to the ground. A third thug rushed and tried to grab my gun. I struggled as his face breathed on mine. I almost lost when noticing the fourth thug behind me. He was cocked, so with my last strength I turned 180 and let the rusher get the bullet in the back from the fourth. Before the rusher fell to the floor I picked up the dead man's shotgun and blew away the last black-coated thug to kingdom come. Lupino was gone, scared shitless. I worked my way through the Ragnarok. The further I went the heavier everything got. I stumbled into the bar and sound it riddled in Valkyr, witchcraft books and horror videos. Satanist, devil worshipping, voodoo shit. Does Punchinello believe in this stuff? I made my way in Punchinello's direction. I heard some voice. It was Lupino on his cell. "Massario, I'm telling you he's flipped! He is fucking nuts!" "Ya miss me?" I surprised Lupino gun steady. I wanted Lupino dead, but if he was talking to Massario this could be deeper then I ever imagined. Massario was the Don of the Mafia in New York. "So Punchinello a nut, huh?" I remarked. "Dammit Payne! Wont'cha just go away!" badgered Lupino. "Aww, c'mon Lupino, ghost don't rest until they finished their business." Shady business at best. "I hate you, Payne-" I got tired of his voice and fed him a sliver bullet right in his face. This wasn't fun. I'm not enjoying this. O was brought down to a singular line, an only option. I use to have a home on the other side of the river, basking in Sunday BBQs and my wife's perfume. Now I'm down here alone with the crooks, the thieves and madmen. I'm not dying, I'm already dead.
~*Chapter 4*~
I barged into Punchinello's room. And from sight of things, Lupino was right Punchinello had flipped. The room was covered in bloodstains, pentagrams and other decorations I don't think you can buy at the mall. A couch was settled in a corner covered in ripped paper and bloody fingerprints. It was mostly letters from Massario, telling Punchinello to shake up, threatening him even. In the center of his room was a pedestal. A book lay on it listing chants of Satan and evil Gods. Something about the coming of a storm. The book was never a best seller but whatever it had going for it Punchinello was stuck on it. It told of the end will come in a blizzard. The end was near, it just depends on whos end were talking about.
I walked up a flight of stairs and entered a ritual type room, half of it closed off by a huge curtain. I know just standing there would be a bad idea, especially when I started to hear Punchinello's voice. "Oh Blade thee! I have tasted the flesh of fallen Angels! I have drank from the devil's green blood and it runs through my veins!" cried Punchinello's voice. It was all a bunch of crazy voodoo space monkey talk. All derived from a bad dream.mine. I shot at the curtain fed up with the gibber-jabber. "Show yourself Punchinello!" "You dare interfere with my plans!?" I was just waiting for him to say something stupid like "those who get in my way will die." The curtain opened and Punchinello stood there with funky make-up on his face and a crazed smile. His heavy laugh grew from a rumbling to an ear piercing, bone shaking experience. Breathing heavy I looked strait in his clouded eyes. "Those who get in my way will die!" "That's my cue" Punchinello was sporting a sawed-off shotgun and was blowing in sanctorum. I dodged all his shots but he wasn't really aiming. In fit of senseless anger he stream rolled toward me. I pulled my Beretta, the bullets blasted into his chest and stomach. It only slowed him down. He let his shotgun sing and I dove to the side, landing on my wounded shoulder. Difficult to get back up I rolled away from Punchinello. He let out an agonizing scream and began running toward me; a lone of his blood chased him. I was chased to the top of the sanctorum. A long diagonal strip led to the whole design of a bad architect. It was the only thing climbable. I made it to the top, and Punchinello was close behind. But he tripped and hung on to the ledge for dear life, dropping his weapon. "NO! NO! This isn't how it's suppose to be!" sobbingly cried Punchinello "Gods save me, please!" "We never plan for these type of things," I explained. I tipped my Beretta towards his face, with the cold steel of my hand gun pressing against his sweating forehead. That was the last thing Punchinello will ever see and that made me happy.
~*Chapter 5*~ Punchinello lay motionless, head blown apart. Was it gratifying? Maybe on some level. Revenge is told to be sweet, but it was starting to sour taste in my mouth. At least I felt big. I felt like a man, walking into danger and coming out alive. I wasn't smiling that would be shameful. My name is Max Payne don't fuck with me. -click- "Hey there cowboy" Everything can change in a New York minute. I was being held at gun point, and I turned from feared lion to limp sheep. The killing of Punchinello clouded the area around me, I was still balls deep in the Ragnarok. "You're pretty handy with that Beretta," the gunman said. I turned around to find out it was a gun woman. A broad I knew, Sylina, Massario's wife! I played it cool, though; sometimes bad situations can turn to be good opportunities. I was just hoping I wasn't gonna get shot. "I bet you say that to all the guys," I wittingly replied. She was pretty, real pretty. No bruises or scars. I thought Massario was a big time wife-beater. She was holding a brilliant Desert Eagle .O5. It would smoke my Beretta in any lifetime. "The name's Mona," the femme fatal said. "Don't you mean Sylina?" I remarked. "I'm her sister" she answered. "The name's Max-" "Payne. I know you. You're all over the news wasting Massario's men, that God damn wife beater." "Looking for some revenge yourself?" "How do you like your scotch?" I couldn't resist a broad with a pretty face. The drink was good, tasted like honey going down. "Punchinello isn't your guy, a bad guy, worth the bullet, but not your man," Punctured Mona. "You got an explanation," I pondered. "Punchinello was a mad man and praying to Satan for months now, he had no idea what V was, he was on his own natural high." "So it's Massario's deal?" "Massario maybe the Don, but if u ask me, I think someone is even pulling his string." I was taking swigs of the scotch, listening to Mona's story. Until I felt something float inside me. I started seeing green. I looked at my empty glass of scotch. All green, slugging green, like napalm and sewage. The bitch slipped me something it was V. "I can't have you running around in the snow, cowboy," Laughed Mona. Mona my ass. It's Sylina, how'd she trick me so easily. That's the last time I trust a broad with a gun. The V was staring to take over like a haze going a thousand miles an hour. Everything can change in a New York minute. Things got dark as the drug put me in a trance. I started Hallucinating, seeing things; all my senses were mixing and meshing together. I was dropped in the other side of the river, on a black winter night in a house so different, so wrong, but so familiar. Long hallways, I could only run. Nightmares, Nightmares, Nightmares. The haunting cries, just keeps running. Blood dripped from the cracks and seems, the place was breathing. "MAXXXXX!!!" "NOOOOOOO!!!" "PLEEASEEE!!!" A lost voice called out. It was my wife. The cry of a baby. The fire of a gun shot. My heart, beating faster and faster. The hallways began to form and shrink. Transforming into a line of blood, and me teetering on the edge of insanity. Discuss, Disease, Horror. I wanted out. Then all of sudden blood dropped all over. Splashed from parts unknown. Then in a flash, my eyes opened and there I sat in a spinning universe in the middle of a dark alleyway. My eyes burned, my mouth chapped, my bones rattled and my brain hurt. I sat dank and solemn in the darkness of the alleyway looking at a wall in front of me. The wall had a large V with a needle going through it. There was thousand of these graffitis all over the city. It stood for Valkyr. Valkyr changed my life before I had ever taken it. The green glow of V was haunting. So destructive, what one will go through for a high. I wanted Massario, I wanted it over. I wanted the green glow over. I wanted the screams over. I wanted the nightmare over. I got back up and walked the block back to the Chas hotel. Maybe someone could cop out the Don's address.
~*Chapter 6*~
By the time I got to back to the Chas Hotel it was nearing two o'clock in the mourning. The hotel was pretty empty, dead bodies still lay here to here. I went to the hotel bar. The bartender gave me a hello. "You hear about the shooting?" he asked. "Yeah," I answered. The TV in the corer talked about the blizzard, but it was hard to hear, two low down thugs were talking about some adult tapes they scored from room 313. Room 313 was a little famous at the Chas Hotel. Some whore, named Cassidy filmed sexual acts of her friends and clients and sold the taps to the highest bidder. Everyone knew she polished off Massario a couple of times when Sylina was out. I think I'll pay her a visit. I marched monotonously to room 313. The door was closed, but I couldn't hear anything. I tapped the door handle, the door was opened. I got bummed, I guess she wasn't in. -BANG- The door was hung ion a contraption, with the other end tied to a shotgun, on a chair. And it was fully loaded.in my stomach! A man in blue glasses and a woman, wrapped in sheets stood there looking my vision. Blood spilled from my stomach like the gates of Heaven. It can't be over, can't it? "Bang, Bang Payne, look at you now!" A voice hollered. It can't be over "You're little apocalypse, is ending now," the voice spoke again. Everything was blurry. "Get me my gun, I'm gonna finish this trouble maker off." I've had this dream before, going all the way and failing. But this was real this was very real. I walked so determined, and now I'm only a few breaths away from death. Everything can change in a New York minute. .. Do you believe in miracles? Random acts of God? Hotbox explosions that burn your eyebrows off? Well, now I do. The explosion blew me to my feet, in a heat strike. I grabbed the wall and crawled my out of the rigged Chas Hotel. For all I knew the man and women in room 3113 were gonners. My stomach still bleed like Niagara falls as explosions blew from side to side. It was ahead rush. I made my way out, with the tops of the Chas hotel exploding room after room. I got out to the freezing cold of a blizzard with the heat behind me. In a second, two men came and grabbed me by my arms and stuck in a black Mercedes Benz with the license plate "Vodka." The Vodka mobile drove off, with a man bandaging my wounded stomach and feeding me painkillers. The main man was a Russian by the name of Rudisky. "Payne, No. 1 man right now," proclaimed Rudisky in a thick Russian accent. Rudisky was the head of the Russian mafia in New York. "Hows life?" I asked coming back to my senses. "Everything is good except for Massario's shit, you know. Massario's V deals is messing up business these days." Rudisky was a mobster who still knew what honor and dignity was. Which made him one of the good guys. None us were saints. "Look Max, I have an offer you can't refuse. Hahaha. I've always wanted to say that," Rudisky chuckled. I would have laughed if I remembered how to. The Russian mob and Massario's mob, have no love loss between each other. The V dealing was just making things worse. The Chas hotel was trafficking big V deals, that's why the Russian rigged the place. The Vodka mobile dropped us off at the docks. ~*Chapter 7*~
"Look, Payne, my boat the "Rhonda" is stocked full of hi-res hardware, guns, my doings. My captain Duska Dimes, has taken the boat over when he went traitor on me after teaming up with Massario. If you can reclaim my, Rhonda, and pop that traitor dime a few bullets you can have all the weaponry you want for your personal apocalypse. Because if Massario gets a hold of my cargo he has won and I have lost. I took the job, after I looked at my last Beretta magazine with only three bullets. Rudisky spared me a clip and I walked out to the pier. Outside the mercury was falling fast. It was colder than the Devil's heart, raining ice pitchforks as if the Heaven's were ready to fall. Maybe Punchinello was right, maybe the blizzard would bring the end of the world. The cold boat clanged and groaned with each step of my foot. I walked into the captain's drive point, Beretta in hand. A husky sailor stopped me holding a colt command(rifle type machine gun, good at killing people). It was a gun I knew I was going to need. "Hey you! Who are you?" the husky sailor questioned. "Nice gun," I said. "Huh?" I pelted a bullet in the sailor's toe to keep him at bay. Then I grabbed on to a metal pillar and swung my way around to the sailor's side as he fired his colt. Coming around on the side, I put him to sleep with one life-ending bullet to the cranium. I had to conserve bullets; there were more sailors on this morbid love boat. The driving point had some stairs to the storage, so I picked up the colt and moved down. After the first case, I was attacked. Bombarded by enough bullets to rival the beaches of Normandy. Metallic holes encircled me before I could dodge them. But I moved up quick enough. One of the gun totters spoke. "I dunno know who you are, but unless you want to die you better leave now!" His voice was shaky. I cocked the colt and dove an entire fleet of stairs and didn't let go of the trigger. A murderous gattling noise rumbled from the colt as I crashed to the ground. The stairwells echoing the sound out to the ocean. I landed hard, but alive. I was questioning whether or not to push myself back up. But out of the corner of my eye I saw a thick steel door with the word "storage" spray painted on it. As I opened I wonder where this soviet trader lurked. But like always, I spoke to soon. The disgruntled Russian was waiting for me, pistol in position. Duska fired and miss, I dove in the opposite direction. Dimes fired like no tomorrow. No one was going to crack his staff. It was like dodging raindrops. I began firing back. Dimes hid behind a cooler, and I hid behind a siding. Duska was handy with a firearm, but he had about a ton of guns and ammo to lose and I had to nothing to lose. Reloading my colt for the second time, I dove out to the open and blasted away in the Soviet's direction, before hiding behind something closer. Then a moment of peace fire occurred. "Did Rudisky send you?" asked Dimes in broken English. "No, Stalin," I informed. Then a phone rang on the back wall and it spooked us both and we got up from our covers and began firing. In less then a second Dimes was down. He fell and he wasn't getting up. I didn't care for this guy. I went to check the stock. Filled with automatic weapons, death and desire gleamed over my eyes. The phone still rang, so I picked it up. "Dimes? Massario here," the other line said. "Massario, tell me how much did dime cost you, I bet it was more then his name." I paraded. "Payne?" "Right the first time." "You are dead!" "You sure you're not confusing me with Duska? But you are right we should get together and have a talk." "You-" -Click- Pissing Massario off was a dangerous game. But when people get mad, they make mistakes. I should know. That's where I wanted Massario mad enough to trip over his own feet, preferably into his grave. "Did you get everything you need?" asked Rudisky of the front of the docks. "Check" "I owe you. Anything you need" "This is my solo. When I'm through Massario won't be anybody's problem anymore." "Clear as Vodka. But anytime you get between a rock and hard place, just whistle. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship." "You really get a bang out of this big time gangster act don't you?" I walked the streets until I could find a pay phone. I wondered if the DEA tried to contact, and no doubt DEA agent B.B. Gognitti had contacted me, strange he wanted to talk to me, whatever. I popped another 35 cents in the machine and called Massario, I got the number off Rudisky. I didn't want to hear me beg. The phone rang. "yeah" "This is Max Payne, I want to cut a deal." "You're dead, Payne." "I got a cargo ships worth of your property, you better start talking." "You know my restaurant?" "Yeah" "Be there in an hour and half."
~*Chapter 8*~ Massario's restaurant had seen better days. It was your classic New York Italian restaurant. With red vies and quaint booths. I know what you're thinking, it's a trap. I didn't care, I have nothing to lose. I entered the restaurant just on time. No funny business. I could smell the gas as soon as I walked in. The walls went up first in a brilliant beautiful burst of flames. It was like the earth was giving way to hell. The front door was completing engulfed. So I'd have to find another way out. Blinding my eyes I went for the kitchen, and then into the storage. The flames followed me like a bright rd and orange blazing dragon on angel dust. It was impossible to see anything, the smoke the ash, the flames. Spotting exits signs burned my retina. Gas ovens were exploding upwards, hitting flay on the ceiling. Everything was collapsing. I'd have to find a way to the sewer. I could feel the fire on my back, I was being cooked. Massario felt my drive he felt my cause, my determination. He was trying to drown out my flames in gasoline. Before the entire restaurant burned to the ground I had reached the sewer. When I arose to he surface there was Rudisky with his Benz. "You coming?" the Russian asked. Before denying Rudisky's personal assassin offer, he told me he found Massario's address. After a good luck from Rudisky I was starring strait at the Don's mansion. I crept my way around the house. It was course of action. I had come like the blizzard that snow on me, to bring the end. The green glow of Valkyr, the dripping crimson of blood, the black of night, the white of snow. I was a ninja, my kung fu strong. I reached around to the back where I spotted a way to the basement. I had no idea who was in the house, if anyone was waiting for me, guns drawn full bravado. But this is the way things are. No honor, no dashing fireman jumping through the flames. I had no super powers, I'm no superman. The only thing I had to rely on was raw emotion and luck, and anyone who though different was a fool. I made my way to the basement. Wooden outlining, wine-racks and other not-so intriguing things. The basement was big, but led strait. As I walked in the dark, thoughts flew by me in a blur with my firearm molting to a lump in my palm, I spotted an open door. Someone wasn't happy with the Don's hospitality. A dead man lay flat on a slab with a steak through him. It was a calling card. They'd been waiting for me, and they where ready. I arose from the basement and entered the kitchen. It was nice and clean. Floured with white marble. There were Tarot card's arranged across a counter. Mrs. Massario had been known to be sort of witch. The Taro cards were foreign to me, but I'll take a crack and try to read her hand. There were three cards, the tower, the devil, and death. The tower must have represented the mansion. The rest was easy. The devil was the master of the house, and death, well; death was me coming for Massario. All of sudden, I heard voices whispering. "It's Payne, he's in kitchen," the voices whispered. "On the count of 3, we jump the bastard," another voice announced. "3.2.." I didn't wait for them to finish. I jumped through the door double uzis abroad. The uzis spat out bullets like a drill. Bullets flared at the tips like the back of an F16, in a magic flare show. Three thugs had been planning that attack and one was dead on arrival. Within seconds the room was covered in holes. I dove behind a plant and started negotiating bullet by bullet. A second thug screamed to an end as my pits reached across his soaked chest. The third tried to hide behind a sofa, but I riddled him with the last of my uzi ammunition. I pulled out my Beretta, and moved to the next room. I un carted my mag and pulled one bullet out. That would be reserved for Massario's brain. I moved room-to-room, hearing voices and footsteps. I made it to an elegant room, greeted by gunshots. Henchman flew down a titanic staircase. I shot as I dodged. Windows shattered and walls cracked. I threw a chair in front of me and watched as bullets flashed before my eyes. Seems cracked and fell, but I was too close to turn away. I fired back like the angels of hell flew before me. My Beretta screamed bloody murder as two thugs fell to floor with headshots to match. I scurried up the stairs, only to be blown back by an explosion. Things were getting dirty, and I didn't have enough paper towels to mop it up. Two other burley men came through the exploded canvas. Shotguns blaring like blown boom boxes. I dove away and fired like a turret disease, wasting bullets for a worthy cause. This is what I was dealt with. The -click- -click- of my empty handgun gave me the feeling no one was coming out of this retched place alive. I reloaded my Beretta and snatched a shotgun. As I ran down the hallway, I could hear more thugs coming for me. In moments bullets were chasing me. I lost myself in a room and lost the thugs. They cried threats as they pasted the room. I found out most rooms in the Don's mansion were interlocked, it was pure luck. I walked into the neighboring room, and there lay Sylina. She was bruised, bloody and unconscious. The pig must have had a good time doing it. I couldn't feel too bad for her, after her snarling trickery back at the Ragnarok. But her body laying there on the bed reminded me of another women laying on a bed. Reminded of a fallen cradle. Too bad these eyes are too dead to tear, In the whymm of my ear I heard a chopper above the house. I'm guessing Massario was getting ready to make a run for it. I rushed into the next room and found the Don.weeping on a telephone, next to him was a man in blue glasses. He ran out before I could mug shot him, but I tried to shoot him down. I directed my gun towards Massario. It was high noon, in the wild west of a dark nightmare. Massario, sat at his desk. Pudgy cheeks and a bad haircut. The Don was a complete pushover I was disappointed. "Please Payne, don't shoot me! She's big, I dunno know, government maybe." She who? "I'm telling you Payne, put the gun down and help me, you gotta stop her!" As I loaded the special bullet into my Beretta, Massario kept pleading. I wasn't gonna listen to him. He was trying to buy more sand for his hourglass. I pointed my Beretta between the Don's eyes. But I wasn't selling any! Then before I could fire, a group of suits with rifles came barging in and did my work for me. They gunned down Massario like Bambi's mom. The Don went down in a howl. I wasn't gonna shoot them, if they weren't gonna shoot me. They were imposing more then any hopped-up V junkie I'd seen in the streets. But through the suits came a frail 50-year-old woman, uzi in hand. She spoke in a voice that would make the wicked witch of the west quiver in fear. "Max Payne, it's like killing two birds with one stone. Do you know who I am Mr. Payne?" she asked. "No" I answered. "Good" She pulled out a syringe filled with green death, Valkyr. Two strong suits grabbed me and held me still as the witch injected me. "Feel the wonders of my brew," she chuckled. This was massario's string puller. She was the one who infested the local's with V. it was like finding out lady luck was a hooker and I was fresh outta cash. "Take me to Cold Steel." She demanded as she left. She gave me an O.D. of V. She would have done the same damage if she put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger. Everything can change in a New York minute.
~*Chapter 9*~ The walls of Massario's room began slime green goo as I braced myself. I thick green clouds smoked from the ceiling as the ground spouged into green vortex. Spirits of those past bolted through, in and out of my body looking for revenge. The vortex grew and grew. I fell in. My eyes began to flash as flames blew from every corner. I couldn't feel the heat, nor could I hear the fire. The flames turned black, as a phone began to ring. I picked it up the other line began to speak. "As the troops marched towards Mecca in singular bath, those who came from the west and other came from the north." I couldn't understand what he was talking about, some psychobabble over an odd feeling of déjà vu. My eyes began to flash as flames blew from every corner. I couldn't feel the heat, nor could I hear the fire. The flames turned black, as a phone began to ring. I picked it up the other line began to speak. "C'mon Payne your on V, snap out of it!" I couldn't understand what he was talking about, some psychobabble over an odd feeling of déjà vu. I walked out the door and I was dropped back at my home on a black winter night. My house seemed to go on forever with Alex and me at the end. Alex was screaming, screaming his lungs out. I peered at myself, pulling out a gigantic hang gun, pointing it at Alex's head. "NOOOOO!!" I blurred. But I still shot him. Alex flew into bare dust as I moved upstairs. I walked down a dark hallway with black flames and green spouge. That haunting scream taunting to me as blood dripped like a leaky ceiling. The blood drip an my face as the hallway filled up with water. I began to swim towards a door. In a struggle I turned the knob and entered the room. There I was again, standing in front of my wife. She screamed, just like Alex, and there I stood gun drawn. But I wasn't gonna let her die like Alex. I pulled my Beretta and it melted into liquid. "MAXXX!" "NOOOO!" "PLEEEASSEEE!" cried my wife as I shot her and she bleed all over the sheets of our bed. I lunged after myself and began pound away at Max Payne, me. With a fury of rage I worked away at myself until Payne puked. And then I woke up. I was quivering in a puddle of my vomit, sitting in front of that V with a needle through. I was ready to die. I was still in the late Massario's mansion. On my knees and palms I crawled out the house. It would take to much strength to stand-up. I looked at my Beretta, it was still solid. The special bullet, I had reserved for Massario had found a new target. The last thing I heard before going to green hell was the witch telling to be taken to Cold Steel. Cold Steel was a factory community on the south side. Let the snow fall and let those who die be justified. The end was a ripe apple on a long branch, just out of reach. I had come to avenge I was about to end the evil that has fallen among me. I was fighting angels and demons, Satan and God. The world was the enemy. My story was dieing down in the news. It was safer for the DEA to contact me now. I checked my messages again. Coincidently, a cross wire picked my phone just as agent B.B. Gognittie gave a me a ring. He talked on and on about nonsense, I was ready to hang-up, until he said hr wanted to meet. Some parking lot in the south Manhattan, I only agreed because I was heading that way. The place was lit which was a breath of fresh air. I rounded a corner of cold concrete and low end cars, and there stood DEA Agent B.B. Goginnitti. He was sly, he was stylin' and profilin'. Black coat, gelled hair slick back and bright, shiny, crescent blue glasses. "Payne! It's B.B., how the hell are ya?" he greeted. "So what does B.B. stand for Backstabbing Bastard?" I questioned. "huh," he answered. The cloths, the fancy shoes, it was way too much out of a cops salary. "I don't know what your talking about, Max," he clamored. Out of the shadow screeching tires blared and a black Lexus ran full speed in my direction. I dodge the automobile before it staggerly stopped. Four more came out while B.B. got in. I ran as the Lexus speeded off. The parking lot was continual downward spiral, like the soul of a wronged man. Tanked in, so hollow, and at this present time dangerous and deceitful. B.B. must have been bought over by the wench. The police may have been losing hope on booking me in, but I still had a price on my head. I was wanted dead or alive. I was public enemy #1 from everyone to the mob, to the force, to old hag druglords. By the time I got to the bottom of the parking lot B.B.s Lexus was nowhere to be seen. I raced around to find an exit. I found one, but I was locked inside by a giant garage door with a V sprayed painted on it with a needle through it. How appropriate. As I tried to open the door, a black van screeched by. Two men popped their heads out with a colt a piece and fired away. I ducked to dodge the fire and ran for my life. The twp man, plus two other men, jumped out of the van and began chasing me. Bullets whizzed by me as I turned the corner, spun on one foot and jumped backwards and grabbed my Beretta and let the man have it as they came around. It was ballet produced by John Woo. I landed on my back on the rough, sall concrete ground. I bad come so close to death so many times it was as if tip-toeing along the blade of a sicile. It doesn't take balls to do what I do, it just takes cause. When you lose everything, all that macho bullshit means nothing. It just collects at the bottom of your feet like dirt. Nothing means anything anymore; it's all simple dirt. And when the cops finally snag me and ask me why did way I did, or when I get dozed with an another V shot that won't up from or when I can no longer be chased by the bullets and I stand in front of the gates of Heaven and they ask me what brought me here. I'll simply say "I woke up one mourning and grabbed myself a gun." I jumped off my back when I heard a second car screeching. It was B.B. in the Lexus. It slided past the corner. I stood feets in front of it. B.B. stepped on the gas. The tires smoked as it gassed toward me like an unstoppable train. I lifted my Beretta and put on the brakes. From my trigger to Gognitti's front window. It cracked and smashed as blood spewed out. As my bullets wholed through B.B. Versaci coat, Gognitti let go of the wheel and the lexus turned and crashed into a wall a step away from me. I walked to the car and opened the driver's door. Gognitti flopped out, with bullet holes steaming from his body like the fires of hell high beneath me. I made my way to cold steel. It was busy , they were preparing under the harsh snow of the blizzard. Trucks where going in and out. The snow covering their every step. I walked in through the fire escape. Misc. rooms lined the walls. Henchmen in army pants, bulletproof vest and ski mask, fully armed and loaded walked the halls. I snuck into an office, to avoid a clash. The operation was completely professional; they had tanneries, walkie-talkies, captains, and generals. A large, stack of papers were neatly pressed on a table in the office. Operation dead eyes at the deep six. This was organized crime that would make the godfather weep in aww. The rumbling trucks grew louder outside, drowning out the blizzard's winds. Huge trucks drove by with the word Aesir painted on each one. Everything can change in a New York minute. Aesir Co. was a large corporation, the biggest in New York. It was headed by a woman named Nicole Horn, if my cards were right Nicole Horn is Miss Valkyr. Only someone with that much money could create and supply such a drug. I may have been playing the roulette table blind, but I had nothing to lose.
~*Chapter 10*~
Aesir HQ lay two blocks away from time square. I took my time, eating week old donuts and coffee that resembled engine oil, I hadn't seen daylight in an eternity, and I'd be surprise if I ever see it again. I was eating my bear claw in a booth, munching away across the table from death. I hadn't slept in a million years. This is the end, end of it all. I took a step into the Aesir building, black, cold, like the blood veins of the devil. It was empty, I moved in. I maneuvered all around. I got to the elevator, a suit with an uzi stood in the conveyor. "Going down?" asked the suit. "Sure," I responded. "So, what brings you here?" "I'm looking for something." "Oh.well the lost and found is up." "Redemption, Justice, Answers" "Jeez, you ok?" "Do I look ok?" "Wait, is your name Max Payne?" I blew his head off, grabbed his Uzi and walked off the elevator. He must have been on his way to duty. I was dropped off in some laboratory of some kind. In front of me was a glass door, with a small plaque on it. I walked up to it and read "The Deep Six." Then all of a sudden an alarm went off and a voice came over the P.A. "Warning Max Payne has been located in the building." I felt so wanted. I walked through the door and was met up with three suits, armed and dangerous. I counter-attacked and let my stolen uzi sing. A good ole fashion western shoot out with uzis, colts smack dab in a lab under a skyscraper two blocks from time square. One of the suits shot a gas pipe and it blew up between us, flaring. I spotted a door and ran for it. It led to a hallway and ran down it. Beneath the glow of neon bulbs, sweat, dirt and blood covered my face as I ran through the bright, clean, milk bone white corridors of the hallway. This was the end. I bumped into two large doors and busted through them and landed in a control room. Two men were working there. They immediately stopped what they were and pulled fire against me. With on uzi and Beretta in hand, I put one foot on a step and dove like a hawk on a suicide mission, blasting away as if it was the only way to see tomorrow. The men fell to the floor as two other men came in from the right. I gunned them down as more men flew in from the left. I was a target in the center of the universe. My uzi was empty, my Beretta had only one bullet left and I was taking heavy fire. I hid behind a control kiosk, breath in, let out a tiny prayer, breathed out and dove out from the cover and let the bullet fly to the sky. It hit a group of TV suspended in the air in the center of the control room above the suits. Once the bullet hit the rope, a flare broke out and the TVs dropped on top of the henchmen like a tear of a God. Cliché? I was on a personal apocalypse; nothing is a cliché when it's happening to you. I walked over to the mess of TVs, cords and corpses. Images to haunt for me for the rest of my days. Out of the corner of my eye I saw part of a painting on the floor. In a hurry I moved the broken TVs and dead bodies, whipped the blood with my sleeve and saw a symbol. I had seen a thousand of them before, all over the city. Spray painted across rickety building and crumbling brick walls. A V, but this time, a sword replacing the needle, with the word Valhalla written around it. Valhalla? I scanned to control, everything was broken, littered in bullet holes except one blinking computer screen. I walked over, looked around a bit and struck oil. The screen: Valhalla: the heaven thought from Norse mythology. A place where all great Viking warriors went when they died on the battlefield, where they ate in great feats and fought endless battles. Valkyr: the angels who transported the Vikings to Valhalla. Project Valhalla: lead by Nicole Horn. A convert operation. Testing a drug that would make military soldiers stronger, give them more endurance and become less weary. Aftermath: Project Valhalla failed. But Nicole Horn refused to give up, and underwent with the first live physical testing. The address was mine. Unhappiness comes in large doses. They come one after another by the truck loads. But pain comes in small doses, you step on a nail, your parents die. But pain, like a drug, only needs to come in small dose to change your life. I cocked my Beretta; I could feel the end like salt on my lips. I began to walk, the white hallways blurred by. My clogs dirty, with mud and blood left footprints that followed me to the promise land. At the end of the hallway, lay an open elevator. The last ride of my life. The elevator screeched and hauled as it moved up from enclosed darkness, to open glass. Through the glass shown flashing red and blue lights. Helicopters flew above with their devouring blind spot lights. They had all come for me, Max Payne, fugitive on the run, wanted dead or alive. The elevator stopped at the top. The elevator doors separated like curtains for the final showdown. I moved through the luxurious penthouse that sat at the top of Aesir. The shag carpets, expensive paintings and modern sculptures dripped green goo through the eyes of a tired soul. I made my way to a steel door "Rooftop" written across it. I placed my palm upon it, the bitterness made my knuckles tremble; the cold swam through my nerves and shot to my brain. Piercing evil lay upon the other side of this cold steel. Cold as the heart of a vile women who has lost all morals. I moved my palm to the doorknob when a P.A. spoke. Through the invisible speakers Nicole Horn spoke. "You try too hard Payne," she screeched, "You can't stop me your wife and child were simply unfortunate victims. Don't make yourself to end up like them. Turn away now!" She failed to realize that my decision had been made bug before we ever met. I licked the salt off my lips, and opened the steel door. I stepped onto to the snow-capped rooftop. The freezing snow hit me like a wet whip. I was getting my lashing, penance for my sins. The snow came in from the side at a lighting speed, carrying the end of the world. As the steel door closed behind me I spotted horn. She ran through two glass-automated doors. Before I could follow her through she locked them. She took a few steps towards the ledge of the building, then she turned her witch head and gave me a smile. Everything can change in a New York minute. I heard some rustlings and turned around only to be riddled with bullets. My body went into shock with every bullet that ripped through my skin. Blood spattered the glass door, all in front of Nicole Horn's eyes. I lay against the door as the killers stopped their barrage and talked into their walkie-talkies. They began to shuffle out with a job-well-done look on their faces. I didn't have enough pints to stand-up I drifted to the floor. I could feel everything drip away, all I've worked for, as far as I'd come, the things I know drip away in a mess of Valkyr, blood, sweat and despair. It was the nightmare coming true. I looked up at the snow casted night sky. As the snow turned to droplets of crimson and the black overhead morphed to green Valkyr. The familiar screams howled through the air and their stood death starring down at my fallen body. He stuck out his arm and reached for me ever so slowly. His bony fingers reaching moments from between my eyes, until he stopped and a steady thumping sound. Nicole Horn's helicopter, with the witch in the driving seat. I could hear her laugh through the madness. I reached into my pocket grabbed the special bullet, the one meant for Massario, then switched to the drug witch. I loaded the bullet into my Beretta, pointed it at the massive helicopter monster and pulled the trigger. Everything fell apart in a New York minute.
THE END PAYNE.. MAX PAYNE!
~*Chapter 2*~
I moved out of the subway and into the red line. I wanted Punchinello and I wanted him dead. Valkyr was bad shit, but this all meant so much more. I headed to the Chas hotel a dank and depressing place. V deals went down here, and I knew Lupino would be hanging around for the trafficking tonight. I was tired of playing games, I didn't have time for them I was coming in swinging Beretta in hand, target in mind. Lupino maybe too much of a shit to tell me where Punchinello is down the wire of a mic, but he'll sure talk down the barrel of a gun. I walked into the back door of the Chas hotel. This place was disgusting, filled with filthy mobsters, V junkies and tired-eye prostitutes. I just walked in, waltzed down the corridors, I didn't care. If anyone tested me I popped them. I had made my way to the suite, Lupino's hideout. The door was closed, so I listened in on Lupino's paranoid ranting. "I'm so fucked! Can you believe this shit? Punchinello is gonna have me whacked for sure!" "Calm down boos, it ain't all that bad." "Ain't all that bad?! This is war freakin' war! And after what happened at the roscoe station. Oh man!" Lupino had the Calldry brothers, gun totting cock-mongrels if u ask me, but they do keep the morgue filled. Charlie and Carl were there names and I hope they leave for a- "ArghghghaArghgeArgh" Fucking V junkie! They can go off at any moment. This one had a handgun, and started to shoot at me. He was too drugged up to aim, I blasted him Texas style and he fumbled backwards and broke the stair railing. The gunshot spooked the Calldry brothers, I heard them coming so I busted through the listening door and spotted the brothers and Lupino armed and dangerous. "Payne! I knew you were a fed. Cap his ass boys!" ordered Lupino "Our Pleasure" answered the Calldry brothers in unison. My cover was blown, big deal. I guess I'll just have to kill Lupino, oh well. The Calldry brothers started firing like cowboys on V, I pushed a table on it's side and Carl and Charles blew holes in it till it looked like Swiss cheese but it gave good cover. I popped my head up from the damaged table and gave my Beretta a work out. The point from where the bullet left my gun to when it whymmed in the air. Each bullet moved like perfect magic each with a death warrant. Carl was hit enough times to see his wasted life pass before his eyes before he ever hit the ground. "CARL! NO! You Bastard Payne!" Charles was about to cry "We trusted you Payne!" "I'm getting out of here!" Screamed Lupino. I popped back out of the protection of the table and shot as many bullets as I could at Lupino before he could escape through the window. I got him in the kidney before he fell out the building and onto the outer flat. Bullet holes now decorated the suite with dry wall spilling out from every side. I turned to Charles, highly distort with a gun between his fingers. I pulled the trigger on my Beretta to finish the bloodline and chase after liquid spine paranoia Lupino and.nothing. Outta fucking bullets! Everything can change in a New York minute. Charles blasted away and before I could dodge the barrage he got me in the forearm. I dropped behind the table and arranged my mind as quickly as possible: block pain, reload weapon, then shoot the son of a bitch! "This is for Carl!" cried Charles. With that I forged all my strength and dove backwards, I planted my feet on the bottom of the table, pushing it forward into Charles' legs making him fall over. From there I let my Beretta do all the talking. Charles now lay dead hunched over next to his brother. I peered outside the window and spotted Lupino holding his bloody side and getting into a car and driving off. I couldn't catch up with him, but theres only a few places Lupino can go. A letter on a desk caught my eye. It was from Punchinello to Lupino. Punchinello was riding high on the Roscoe Bank robbery and blamed the failure on Lupino. Then there was some shit about V deals. Punchinello was balls deep in the V game. But I already knew that and collecting evidence got boring some hundred bullets back. The cheap intro music of a local news program blared in my ears. A radio with a bullet shot in it was tuned to the news and I was splattered all over it. "In recent news.-static-..DEA agent Alex Stollin was shot.-static- .Police believe the murder suspect is a named Max Payne.-static-." I had just gotten my fifteen minutes of fame. I looked back at the letter "Lupino $$$ Tomorrow Ragnarok."
~*Chapter 3*~ Lupino was to meet Punchinello at the Ragnarok. The Ragnarok was a place of no return. I've heard Lupino talk about it before, a gothic nightclub full of bondage games and shit like that. Freaky shit, but that was New York. I stepped to a window to see the snowfall. The freezing snow was covering the black and brown. Punchinello wanted the DEA off his back and that meant the death of Alex and he set me to take the fall for him. He wanted my incarceration but all he got was my attention. I got the taxi to the Ragnarok. The car radio blurted some stuff about the snow and how analyst say it could turn into a blizzard. I guess that was good, less people on the street for me to accidentally kill. The Ragnarok was as inviting as a headache. Rain out pleasure smiles, gums inflames, bleeding, bumping to a machine gun beat. That's what I think when I enter this place. The beginning is dark, I hit the dance floor. The room is packed. Freaks, outcast and the night unleashers have all gathered to dance their problems away. Lights gleamed into my face. I moved my through the people. I make it to the back. It seemed the place was split into two, separated by a curtain. The second room consisted of the V Junkies. Laying around getting high. Suddenly I heard a screech. "Payne!" It was Lupino. "Kill the bastard!" Dudes in black coats came at me with a surprise. They came from each way. I rolled to a side and warmed-up my Beretta. I got one in the stomach who belt down. The junkies got freaked and started to move out. Before another could blow me away I dodged fiercely. One coated thug carried a nasty shotgun. From a kneeling position I aimed for between the eyes and made my mark. He goofy eyes before lifelessly slamming to the ground. A third thug rushed and tried to grab my gun. I struggled as his face breathed on mine. I almost lost when noticing the fourth thug behind me. He was cocked, so with my last strength I turned 180 and let the rusher get the bullet in the back from the fourth. Before the rusher fell to the floor I picked up the dead man's shotgun and blew away the last black-coated thug to kingdom come. Lupino was gone, scared shitless. I worked my way through the Ragnarok. The further I went the heavier everything got. I stumbled into the bar and sound it riddled in Valkyr, witchcraft books and horror videos. Satanist, devil worshipping, voodoo shit. Does Punchinello believe in this stuff? I made my way in Punchinello's direction. I heard some voice. It was Lupino on his cell. "Massario, I'm telling you he's flipped! He is fucking nuts!" "Ya miss me?" I surprised Lupino gun steady. I wanted Lupino dead, but if he was talking to Massario this could be deeper then I ever imagined. Massario was the Don of the Mafia in New York. "So Punchinello a nut, huh?" I remarked. "Dammit Payne! Wont'cha just go away!" badgered Lupino. "Aww, c'mon Lupino, ghost don't rest until they finished their business." Shady business at best. "I hate you, Payne-" I got tired of his voice and fed him a sliver bullet right in his face. This wasn't fun. I'm not enjoying this. O was brought down to a singular line, an only option. I use to have a home on the other side of the river, basking in Sunday BBQs and my wife's perfume. Now I'm down here alone with the crooks, the thieves and madmen. I'm not dying, I'm already dead.
~*Chapter 4*~
I barged into Punchinello's room. And from sight of things, Lupino was right Punchinello had flipped. The room was covered in bloodstains, pentagrams and other decorations I don't think you can buy at the mall. A couch was settled in a corner covered in ripped paper and bloody fingerprints. It was mostly letters from Massario, telling Punchinello to shake up, threatening him even. In the center of his room was a pedestal. A book lay on it listing chants of Satan and evil Gods. Something about the coming of a storm. The book was never a best seller but whatever it had going for it Punchinello was stuck on it. It told of the end will come in a blizzard. The end was near, it just depends on whos end were talking about.
I walked up a flight of stairs and entered a ritual type room, half of it closed off by a huge curtain. I know just standing there would be a bad idea, especially when I started to hear Punchinello's voice. "Oh Blade thee! I have tasted the flesh of fallen Angels! I have drank from the devil's green blood and it runs through my veins!" cried Punchinello's voice. It was all a bunch of crazy voodoo space monkey talk. All derived from a bad dream.mine. I shot at the curtain fed up with the gibber-jabber. "Show yourself Punchinello!" "You dare interfere with my plans!?" I was just waiting for him to say something stupid like "those who get in my way will die." The curtain opened and Punchinello stood there with funky make-up on his face and a crazed smile. His heavy laugh grew from a rumbling to an ear piercing, bone shaking experience. Breathing heavy I looked strait in his clouded eyes. "Those who get in my way will die!" "That's my cue" Punchinello was sporting a sawed-off shotgun and was blowing in sanctorum. I dodged all his shots but he wasn't really aiming. In fit of senseless anger he stream rolled toward me. I pulled my Beretta, the bullets blasted into his chest and stomach. It only slowed him down. He let his shotgun sing and I dove to the side, landing on my wounded shoulder. Difficult to get back up I rolled away from Punchinello. He let out an agonizing scream and began running toward me; a lone of his blood chased him. I was chased to the top of the sanctorum. A long diagonal strip led to the whole design of a bad architect. It was the only thing climbable. I made it to the top, and Punchinello was close behind. But he tripped and hung on to the ledge for dear life, dropping his weapon. "NO! NO! This isn't how it's suppose to be!" sobbingly cried Punchinello "Gods save me, please!" "We never plan for these type of things," I explained. I tipped my Beretta towards his face, with the cold steel of my hand gun pressing against his sweating forehead. That was the last thing Punchinello will ever see and that made me happy.
~*Chapter 5*~ Punchinello lay motionless, head blown apart. Was it gratifying? Maybe on some level. Revenge is told to be sweet, but it was starting to sour taste in my mouth. At least I felt big. I felt like a man, walking into danger and coming out alive. I wasn't smiling that would be shameful. My name is Max Payne don't fuck with me. -click- "Hey there cowboy" Everything can change in a New York minute. I was being held at gun point, and I turned from feared lion to limp sheep. The killing of Punchinello clouded the area around me, I was still balls deep in the Ragnarok. "You're pretty handy with that Beretta," the gunman said. I turned around to find out it was a gun woman. A broad I knew, Sylina, Massario's wife! I played it cool, though; sometimes bad situations can turn to be good opportunities. I was just hoping I wasn't gonna get shot. "I bet you say that to all the guys," I wittingly replied. She was pretty, real pretty. No bruises or scars. I thought Massario was a big time wife-beater. She was holding a brilliant Desert Eagle .O5. It would smoke my Beretta in any lifetime. "The name's Mona," the femme fatal said. "Don't you mean Sylina?" I remarked. "I'm her sister" she answered. "The name's Max-" "Payne. I know you. You're all over the news wasting Massario's men, that God damn wife beater." "Looking for some revenge yourself?" "How do you like your scotch?" I couldn't resist a broad with a pretty face. The drink was good, tasted like honey going down. "Punchinello isn't your guy, a bad guy, worth the bullet, but not your man," Punctured Mona. "You got an explanation," I pondered. "Punchinello was a mad man and praying to Satan for months now, he had no idea what V was, he was on his own natural high." "So it's Massario's deal?" "Massario maybe the Don, but if u ask me, I think someone is even pulling his string." I was taking swigs of the scotch, listening to Mona's story. Until I felt something float inside me. I started seeing green. I looked at my empty glass of scotch. All green, slugging green, like napalm and sewage. The bitch slipped me something it was V. "I can't have you running around in the snow, cowboy," Laughed Mona. Mona my ass. It's Sylina, how'd she trick me so easily. That's the last time I trust a broad with a gun. The V was staring to take over like a haze going a thousand miles an hour. Everything can change in a New York minute. Things got dark as the drug put me in a trance. I started Hallucinating, seeing things; all my senses were mixing and meshing together. I was dropped in the other side of the river, on a black winter night in a house so different, so wrong, but so familiar. Long hallways, I could only run. Nightmares, Nightmares, Nightmares. The haunting cries, just keeps running. Blood dripped from the cracks and seems, the place was breathing. "MAXXXXX!!!" "NOOOOOOO!!!" "PLEEASEEE!!!" A lost voice called out. It was my wife. The cry of a baby. The fire of a gun shot. My heart, beating faster and faster. The hallways began to form and shrink. Transforming into a line of blood, and me teetering on the edge of insanity. Discuss, Disease, Horror. I wanted out. Then all of sudden blood dropped all over. Splashed from parts unknown. Then in a flash, my eyes opened and there I sat in a spinning universe in the middle of a dark alleyway. My eyes burned, my mouth chapped, my bones rattled and my brain hurt. I sat dank and solemn in the darkness of the alleyway looking at a wall in front of me. The wall had a large V with a needle going through it. There was thousand of these graffitis all over the city. It stood for Valkyr. Valkyr changed my life before I had ever taken it. The green glow of V was haunting. So destructive, what one will go through for a high. I wanted Massario, I wanted it over. I wanted the green glow over. I wanted the screams over. I wanted the nightmare over. I got back up and walked the block back to the Chas hotel. Maybe someone could cop out the Don's address.
~*Chapter 6*~
By the time I got to back to the Chas Hotel it was nearing two o'clock in the mourning. The hotel was pretty empty, dead bodies still lay here to here. I went to the hotel bar. The bartender gave me a hello. "You hear about the shooting?" he asked. "Yeah," I answered. The TV in the corer talked about the blizzard, but it was hard to hear, two low down thugs were talking about some adult tapes they scored from room 313. Room 313 was a little famous at the Chas Hotel. Some whore, named Cassidy filmed sexual acts of her friends and clients and sold the taps to the highest bidder. Everyone knew she polished off Massario a couple of times when Sylina was out. I think I'll pay her a visit. I marched monotonously to room 313. The door was closed, but I couldn't hear anything. I tapped the door handle, the door was opened. I got bummed, I guess she wasn't in. -BANG- The door was hung ion a contraption, with the other end tied to a shotgun, on a chair. And it was fully loaded.in my stomach! A man in blue glasses and a woman, wrapped in sheets stood there looking my vision. Blood spilled from my stomach like the gates of Heaven. It can't be over, can't it? "Bang, Bang Payne, look at you now!" A voice hollered. It can't be over "You're little apocalypse, is ending now," the voice spoke again. Everything was blurry. "Get me my gun, I'm gonna finish this trouble maker off." I've had this dream before, going all the way and failing. But this was real this was very real. I walked so determined, and now I'm only a few breaths away from death. Everything can change in a New York minute. .. Do you believe in miracles? Random acts of God? Hotbox explosions that burn your eyebrows off? Well, now I do. The explosion blew me to my feet, in a heat strike. I grabbed the wall and crawled my out of the rigged Chas Hotel. For all I knew the man and women in room 3113 were gonners. My stomach still bleed like Niagara falls as explosions blew from side to side. It was ahead rush. I made my way out, with the tops of the Chas hotel exploding room after room. I got out to the freezing cold of a blizzard with the heat behind me. In a second, two men came and grabbed me by my arms and stuck in a black Mercedes Benz with the license plate "Vodka." The Vodka mobile drove off, with a man bandaging my wounded stomach and feeding me painkillers. The main man was a Russian by the name of Rudisky. "Payne, No. 1 man right now," proclaimed Rudisky in a thick Russian accent. Rudisky was the head of the Russian mafia in New York. "Hows life?" I asked coming back to my senses. "Everything is good except for Massario's shit, you know. Massario's V deals is messing up business these days." Rudisky was a mobster who still knew what honor and dignity was. Which made him one of the good guys. None us were saints. "Look Max, I have an offer you can't refuse. Hahaha. I've always wanted to say that," Rudisky chuckled. I would have laughed if I remembered how to. The Russian mob and Massario's mob, have no love loss between each other. The V dealing was just making things worse. The Chas hotel was trafficking big V deals, that's why the Russian rigged the place. The Vodka mobile dropped us off at the docks. ~*Chapter 7*~
"Look, Payne, my boat the "Rhonda" is stocked full of hi-res hardware, guns, my doings. My captain Duska Dimes, has taken the boat over when he went traitor on me after teaming up with Massario. If you can reclaim my, Rhonda, and pop that traitor dime a few bullets you can have all the weaponry you want for your personal apocalypse. Because if Massario gets a hold of my cargo he has won and I have lost. I took the job, after I looked at my last Beretta magazine with only three bullets. Rudisky spared me a clip and I walked out to the pier. Outside the mercury was falling fast. It was colder than the Devil's heart, raining ice pitchforks as if the Heaven's were ready to fall. Maybe Punchinello was right, maybe the blizzard would bring the end of the world. The cold boat clanged and groaned with each step of my foot. I walked into the captain's drive point, Beretta in hand. A husky sailor stopped me holding a colt command(rifle type machine gun, good at killing people). It was a gun I knew I was going to need. "Hey you! Who are you?" the husky sailor questioned. "Nice gun," I said. "Huh?" I pelted a bullet in the sailor's toe to keep him at bay. Then I grabbed on to a metal pillar and swung my way around to the sailor's side as he fired his colt. Coming around on the side, I put him to sleep with one life-ending bullet to the cranium. I had to conserve bullets; there were more sailors on this morbid love boat. The driving point had some stairs to the storage, so I picked up the colt and moved down. After the first case, I was attacked. Bombarded by enough bullets to rival the beaches of Normandy. Metallic holes encircled me before I could dodge them. But I moved up quick enough. One of the gun totters spoke. "I dunno know who you are, but unless you want to die you better leave now!" His voice was shaky. I cocked the colt and dove an entire fleet of stairs and didn't let go of the trigger. A murderous gattling noise rumbled from the colt as I crashed to the ground. The stairwells echoing the sound out to the ocean. I landed hard, but alive. I was questioning whether or not to push myself back up. But out of the corner of my eye I saw a thick steel door with the word "storage" spray painted on it. As I opened I wonder where this soviet trader lurked. But like always, I spoke to soon. The disgruntled Russian was waiting for me, pistol in position. Duska fired and miss, I dove in the opposite direction. Dimes fired like no tomorrow. No one was going to crack his staff. It was like dodging raindrops. I began firing back. Dimes hid behind a cooler, and I hid behind a siding. Duska was handy with a firearm, but he had about a ton of guns and ammo to lose and I had to nothing to lose. Reloading my colt for the second time, I dove out to the open and blasted away in the Soviet's direction, before hiding behind something closer. Then a moment of peace fire occurred. "Did Rudisky send you?" asked Dimes in broken English. "No, Stalin," I informed. Then a phone rang on the back wall and it spooked us both and we got up from our covers and began firing. In less then a second Dimes was down. He fell and he wasn't getting up. I didn't care for this guy. I went to check the stock. Filled with automatic weapons, death and desire gleamed over my eyes. The phone still rang, so I picked it up. "Dimes? Massario here," the other line said. "Massario, tell me how much did dime cost you, I bet it was more then his name." I paraded. "Payne?" "Right the first time." "You are dead!" "You sure you're not confusing me with Duska? But you are right we should get together and have a talk." "You-" -Click- Pissing Massario off was a dangerous game. But when people get mad, they make mistakes. I should know. That's where I wanted Massario mad enough to trip over his own feet, preferably into his grave. "Did you get everything you need?" asked Rudisky of the front of the docks. "Check" "I owe you. Anything you need" "This is my solo. When I'm through Massario won't be anybody's problem anymore." "Clear as Vodka. But anytime you get between a rock and hard place, just whistle. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship." "You really get a bang out of this big time gangster act don't you?" I walked the streets until I could find a pay phone. I wondered if the DEA tried to contact, and no doubt DEA agent B.B. Gognitti had contacted me, strange he wanted to talk to me, whatever. I popped another 35 cents in the machine and called Massario, I got the number off Rudisky. I didn't want to hear me beg. The phone rang. "yeah" "This is Max Payne, I want to cut a deal." "You're dead, Payne." "I got a cargo ships worth of your property, you better start talking." "You know my restaurant?" "Yeah" "Be there in an hour and half."
~*Chapter 8*~ Massario's restaurant had seen better days. It was your classic New York Italian restaurant. With red vies and quaint booths. I know what you're thinking, it's a trap. I didn't care, I have nothing to lose. I entered the restaurant just on time. No funny business. I could smell the gas as soon as I walked in. The walls went up first in a brilliant beautiful burst of flames. It was like the earth was giving way to hell. The front door was completing engulfed. So I'd have to find another way out. Blinding my eyes I went for the kitchen, and then into the storage. The flames followed me like a bright rd and orange blazing dragon on angel dust. It was impossible to see anything, the smoke the ash, the flames. Spotting exits signs burned my retina. Gas ovens were exploding upwards, hitting flay on the ceiling. Everything was collapsing. I'd have to find a way to the sewer. I could feel the fire on my back, I was being cooked. Massario felt my drive he felt my cause, my determination. He was trying to drown out my flames in gasoline. Before the entire restaurant burned to the ground I had reached the sewer. When I arose to he surface there was Rudisky with his Benz. "You coming?" the Russian asked. Before denying Rudisky's personal assassin offer, he told me he found Massario's address. After a good luck from Rudisky I was starring strait at the Don's mansion. I crept my way around the house. It was course of action. I had come like the blizzard that snow on me, to bring the end. The green glow of Valkyr, the dripping crimson of blood, the black of night, the white of snow. I was a ninja, my kung fu strong. I reached around to the back where I spotted a way to the basement. I had no idea who was in the house, if anyone was waiting for me, guns drawn full bravado. But this is the way things are. No honor, no dashing fireman jumping through the flames. I had no super powers, I'm no superman. The only thing I had to rely on was raw emotion and luck, and anyone who though different was a fool. I made my way to the basement. Wooden outlining, wine-racks and other not-so intriguing things. The basement was big, but led strait. As I walked in the dark, thoughts flew by me in a blur with my firearm molting to a lump in my palm, I spotted an open door. Someone wasn't happy with the Don's hospitality. A dead man lay flat on a slab with a steak through him. It was a calling card. They'd been waiting for me, and they where ready. I arose from the basement and entered the kitchen. It was nice and clean. Floured with white marble. There were Tarot card's arranged across a counter. Mrs. Massario had been known to be sort of witch. The Taro cards were foreign to me, but I'll take a crack and try to read her hand. There were three cards, the tower, the devil, and death. The tower must have represented the mansion. The rest was easy. The devil was the master of the house, and death, well; death was me coming for Massario. All of sudden, I heard voices whispering. "It's Payne, he's in kitchen," the voices whispered. "On the count of 3, we jump the bastard," another voice announced. "3.2.." I didn't wait for them to finish. I jumped through the door double uzis abroad. The uzis spat out bullets like a drill. Bullets flared at the tips like the back of an F16, in a magic flare show. Three thugs had been planning that attack and one was dead on arrival. Within seconds the room was covered in holes. I dove behind a plant and started negotiating bullet by bullet. A second thug screamed to an end as my pits reached across his soaked chest. The third tried to hide behind a sofa, but I riddled him with the last of my uzi ammunition. I pulled out my Beretta, and moved to the next room. I un carted my mag and pulled one bullet out. That would be reserved for Massario's brain. I moved room-to-room, hearing voices and footsteps. I made it to an elegant room, greeted by gunshots. Henchman flew down a titanic staircase. I shot as I dodged. Windows shattered and walls cracked. I threw a chair in front of me and watched as bullets flashed before my eyes. Seems cracked and fell, but I was too close to turn away. I fired back like the angels of hell flew before me. My Beretta screamed bloody murder as two thugs fell to floor with headshots to match. I scurried up the stairs, only to be blown back by an explosion. Things were getting dirty, and I didn't have enough paper towels to mop it up. Two other burley men came through the exploded canvas. Shotguns blaring like blown boom boxes. I dove away and fired like a turret disease, wasting bullets for a worthy cause. This is what I was dealt with. The -click- -click- of my empty handgun gave me the feeling no one was coming out of this retched place alive. I reloaded my Beretta and snatched a shotgun. As I ran down the hallway, I could hear more thugs coming for me. In moments bullets were chasing me. I lost myself in a room and lost the thugs. They cried threats as they pasted the room. I found out most rooms in the Don's mansion were interlocked, it was pure luck. I walked into the neighboring room, and there lay Sylina. She was bruised, bloody and unconscious. The pig must have had a good time doing it. I couldn't feel too bad for her, after her snarling trickery back at the Ragnarok. But her body laying there on the bed reminded me of another women laying on a bed. Reminded of a fallen cradle. Too bad these eyes are too dead to tear, In the whymm of my ear I heard a chopper above the house. I'm guessing Massario was getting ready to make a run for it. I rushed into the next room and found the Don.weeping on a telephone, next to him was a man in blue glasses. He ran out before I could mug shot him, but I tried to shoot him down. I directed my gun towards Massario. It was high noon, in the wild west of a dark nightmare. Massario, sat at his desk. Pudgy cheeks and a bad haircut. The Don was a complete pushover I was disappointed. "Please Payne, don't shoot me! She's big, I dunno know, government maybe." She who? "I'm telling you Payne, put the gun down and help me, you gotta stop her!" As I loaded the special bullet into my Beretta, Massario kept pleading. I wasn't gonna listen to him. He was trying to buy more sand for his hourglass. I pointed my Beretta between the Don's eyes. But I wasn't selling any! Then before I could fire, a group of suits with rifles came barging in and did my work for me. They gunned down Massario like Bambi's mom. The Don went down in a howl. I wasn't gonna shoot them, if they weren't gonna shoot me. They were imposing more then any hopped-up V junkie I'd seen in the streets. But through the suits came a frail 50-year-old woman, uzi in hand. She spoke in a voice that would make the wicked witch of the west quiver in fear. "Max Payne, it's like killing two birds with one stone. Do you know who I am Mr. Payne?" she asked. "No" I answered. "Good" She pulled out a syringe filled with green death, Valkyr. Two strong suits grabbed me and held me still as the witch injected me. "Feel the wonders of my brew," she chuckled. This was massario's string puller. She was the one who infested the local's with V. it was like finding out lady luck was a hooker and I was fresh outta cash. "Take me to Cold Steel." She demanded as she left. She gave me an O.D. of V. She would have done the same damage if she put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger. Everything can change in a New York minute.
~*Chapter 9*~ The walls of Massario's room began slime green goo as I braced myself. I thick green clouds smoked from the ceiling as the ground spouged into green vortex. Spirits of those past bolted through, in and out of my body looking for revenge. The vortex grew and grew. I fell in. My eyes began to flash as flames blew from every corner. I couldn't feel the heat, nor could I hear the fire. The flames turned black, as a phone began to ring. I picked it up the other line began to speak. "As the troops marched towards Mecca in singular bath, those who came from the west and other came from the north." I couldn't understand what he was talking about, some psychobabble over an odd feeling of déjà vu. My eyes began to flash as flames blew from every corner. I couldn't feel the heat, nor could I hear the fire. The flames turned black, as a phone began to ring. I picked it up the other line began to speak. "C'mon Payne your on V, snap out of it!" I couldn't understand what he was talking about, some psychobabble over an odd feeling of déjà vu. I walked out the door and I was dropped back at my home on a black winter night. My house seemed to go on forever with Alex and me at the end. Alex was screaming, screaming his lungs out. I peered at myself, pulling out a gigantic hang gun, pointing it at Alex's head. "NOOOOO!!" I blurred. But I still shot him. Alex flew into bare dust as I moved upstairs. I walked down a dark hallway with black flames and green spouge. That haunting scream taunting to me as blood dripped like a leaky ceiling. The blood drip an my face as the hallway filled up with water. I began to swim towards a door. In a struggle I turned the knob and entered the room. There I was again, standing in front of my wife. She screamed, just like Alex, and there I stood gun drawn. But I wasn't gonna let her die like Alex. I pulled my Beretta and it melted into liquid. "MAXXX!" "NOOOO!" "PLEEEASSEEE!" cried my wife as I shot her and she bleed all over the sheets of our bed. I lunged after myself and began pound away at Max Payne, me. With a fury of rage I worked away at myself until Payne puked. And then I woke up. I was quivering in a puddle of my vomit, sitting in front of that V with a needle through. I was ready to die. I was still in the late Massario's mansion. On my knees and palms I crawled out the house. It would take to much strength to stand-up. I looked at my Beretta, it was still solid. The special bullet, I had reserved for Massario had found a new target. The last thing I heard before going to green hell was the witch telling to be taken to Cold Steel. Cold Steel was a factory community on the south side. Let the snow fall and let those who die be justified. The end was a ripe apple on a long branch, just out of reach. I had come to avenge I was about to end the evil that has fallen among me. I was fighting angels and demons, Satan and God. The world was the enemy. My story was dieing down in the news. It was safer for the DEA to contact me now. I checked my messages again. Coincidently, a cross wire picked my phone just as agent B.B. Gognittie gave a me a ring. He talked on and on about nonsense, I was ready to hang-up, until he said hr wanted to meet. Some parking lot in the south Manhattan, I only agreed because I was heading that way. The place was lit which was a breath of fresh air. I rounded a corner of cold concrete and low end cars, and there stood DEA Agent B.B. Goginnitti. He was sly, he was stylin' and profilin'. Black coat, gelled hair slick back and bright, shiny, crescent blue glasses. "Payne! It's B.B., how the hell are ya?" he greeted. "So what does B.B. stand for Backstabbing Bastard?" I questioned. "huh," he answered. The cloths, the fancy shoes, it was way too much out of a cops salary. "I don't know what your talking about, Max," he clamored. Out of the shadow screeching tires blared and a black Lexus ran full speed in my direction. I dodge the automobile before it staggerly stopped. Four more came out while B.B. got in. I ran as the Lexus speeded off. The parking lot was continual downward spiral, like the soul of a wronged man. Tanked in, so hollow, and at this present time dangerous and deceitful. B.B. must have been bought over by the wench. The police may have been losing hope on booking me in, but I still had a price on my head. I was wanted dead or alive. I was public enemy #1 from everyone to the mob, to the force, to old hag druglords. By the time I got to the bottom of the parking lot B.B.s Lexus was nowhere to be seen. I raced around to find an exit. I found one, but I was locked inside by a giant garage door with a V sprayed painted on it with a needle through it. How appropriate. As I tried to open the door, a black van screeched by. Two men popped their heads out with a colt a piece and fired away. I ducked to dodge the fire and ran for my life. The twp man, plus two other men, jumped out of the van and began chasing me. Bullets whizzed by me as I turned the corner, spun on one foot and jumped backwards and grabbed my Beretta and let the man have it as they came around. It was ballet produced by John Woo. I landed on my back on the rough, sall concrete ground. I bad come so close to death so many times it was as if tip-toeing along the blade of a sicile. It doesn't take balls to do what I do, it just takes cause. When you lose everything, all that macho bullshit means nothing. It just collects at the bottom of your feet like dirt. Nothing means anything anymore; it's all simple dirt. And when the cops finally snag me and ask me why did way I did, or when I get dozed with an another V shot that won't up from or when I can no longer be chased by the bullets and I stand in front of the gates of Heaven and they ask me what brought me here. I'll simply say "I woke up one mourning and grabbed myself a gun." I jumped off my back when I heard a second car screeching. It was B.B. in the Lexus. It slided past the corner. I stood feets in front of it. B.B. stepped on the gas. The tires smoked as it gassed toward me like an unstoppable train. I lifted my Beretta and put on the brakes. From my trigger to Gognitti's front window. It cracked and smashed as blood spewed out. As my bullets wholed through B.B. Versaci coat, Gognitti let go of the wheel and the lexus turned and crashed into a wall a step away from me. I walked to the car and opened the driver's door. Gognitti flopped out, with bullet holes steaming from his body like the fires of hell high beneath me. I made my way to cold steel. It was busy , they were preparing under the harsh snow of the blizzard. Trucks where going in and out. The snow covering their every step. I walked in through the fire escape. Misc. rooms lined the walls. Henchmen in army pants, bulletproof vest and ski mask, fully armed and loaded walked the halls. I snuck into an office, to avoid a clash. The operation was completely professional; they had tanneries, walkie-talkies, captains, and generals. A large, stack of papers were neatly pressed on a table in the office. Operation dead eyes at the deep six. This was organized crime that would make the godfather weep in aww. The rumbling trucks grew louder outside, drowning out the blizzard's winds. Huge trucks drove by with the word Aesir painted on each one. Everything can change in a New York minute. Aesir Co. was a large corporation, the biggest in New York. It was headed by a woman named Nicole Horn, if my cards were right Nicole Horn is Miss Valkyr. Only someone with that much money could create and supply such a drug. I may have been playing the roulette table blind, but I had nothing to lose.
~*Chapter 10*~
Aesir HQ lay two blocks away from time square. I took my time, eating week old donuts and coffee that resembled engine oil, I hadn't seen daylight in an eternity, and I'd be surprise if I ever see it again. I was eating my bear claw in a booth, munching away across the table from death. I hadn't slept in a million years. This is the end, end of it all. I took a step into the Aesir building, black, cold, like the blood veins of the devil. It was empty, I moved in. I maneuvered all around. I got to the elevator, a suit with an uzi stood in the conveyor. "Going down?" asked the suit. "Sure," I responded. "So, what brings you here?" "I'm looking for something." "Oh.well the lost and found is up." "Redemption, Justice, Answers" "Jeez, you ok?" "Do I look ok?" "Wait, is your name Max Payne?" I blew his head off, grabbed his Uzi and walked off the elevator. He must have been on his way to duty. I was dropped off in some laboratory of some kind. In front of me was a glass door, with a small plaque on it. I walked up to it and read "The Deep Six." Then all of a sudden an alarm went off and a voice came over the P.A. "Warning Max Payne has been located in the building." I felt so wanted. I walked through the door and was met up with three suits, armed and dangerous. I counter-attacked and let my stolen uzi sing. A good ole fashion western shoot out with uzis, colts smack dab in a lab under a skyscraper two blocks from time square. One of the suits shot a gas pipe and it blew up between us, flaring. I spotted a door and ran for it. It led to a hallway and ran down it. Beneath the glow of neon bulbs, sweat, dirt and blood covered my face as I ran through the bright, clean, milk bone white corridors of the hallway. This was the end. I bumped into two large doors and busted through them and landed in a control room. Two men were working there. They immediately stopped what they were and pulled fire against me. With on uzi and Beretta in hand, I put one foot on a step and dove like a hawk on a suicide mission, blasting away as if it was the only way to see tomorrow. The men fell to the floor as two other men came in from the right. I gunned them down as more men flew in from the left. I was a target in the center of the universe. My uzi was empty, my Beretta had only one bullet left and I was taking heavy fire. I hid behind a control kiosk, breath in, let out a tiny prayer, breathed out and dove out from the cover and let the bullet fly to the sky. It hit a group of TV suspended in the air in the center of the control room above the suits. Once the bullet hit the rope, a flare broke out and the TVs dropped on top of the henchmen like a tear of a God. Cliché? I was on a personal apocalypse; nothing is a cliché when it's happening to you. I walked over to the mess of TVs, cords and corpses. Images to haunt for me for the rest of my days. Out of the corner of my eye I saw part of a painting on the floor. In a hurry I moved the broken TVs and dead bodies, whipped the blood with my sleeve and saw a symbol. I had seen a thousand of them before, all over the city. Spray painted across rickety building and crumbling brick walls. A V, but this time, a sword replacing the needle, with the word Valhalla written around it. Valhalla? I scanned to control, everything was broken, littered in bullet holes except one blinking computer screen. I walked over, looked around a bit and struck oil. The screen: Valhalla: the heaven thought from Norse mythology. A place where all great Viking warriors went when they died on the battlefield, where they ate in great feats and fought endless battles. Valkyr: the angels who transported the Vikings to Valhalla. Project Valhalla: lead by Nicole Horn. A convert operation. Testing a drug that would make military soldiers stronger, give them more endurance and become less weary. Aftermath: Project Valhalla failed. But Nicole Horn refused to give up, and underwent with the first live physical testing. The address was mine. Unhappiness comes in large doses. They come one after another by the truck loads. But pain comes in small doses, you step on a nail, your parents die. But pain, like a drug, only needs to come in small dose to change your life. I cocked my Beretta; I could feel the end like salt on my lips. I began to walk, the white hallways blurred by. My clogs dirty, with mud and blood left footprints that followed me to the promise land. At the end of the hallway, lay an open elevator. The last ride of my life. The elevator screeched and hauled as it moved up from enclosed darkness, to open glass. Through the glass shown flashing red and blue lights. Helicopters flew above with their devouring blind spot lights. They had all come for me, Max Payne, fugitive on the run, wanted dead or alive. The elevator stopped at the top. The elevator doors separated like curtains for the final showdown. I moved through the luxurious penthouse that sat at the top of Aesir. The shag carpets, expensive paintings and modern sculptures dripped green goo through the eyes of a tired soul. I made my way to a steel door "Rooftop" written across it. I placed my palm upon it, the bitterness made my knuckles tremble; the cold swam through my nerves and shot to my brain. Piercing evil lay upon the other side of this cold steel. Cold as the heart of a vile women who has lost all morals. I moved my palm to the doorknob when a P.A. spoke. Through the invisible speakers Nicole Horn spoke. "You try too hard Payne," she screeched, "You can't stop me your wife and child were simply unfortunate victims. Don't make yourself to end up like them. Turn away now!" She failed to realize that my decision had been made bug before we ever met. I licked the salt off my lips, and opened the steel door. I stepped onto to the snow-capped rooftop. The freezing snow hit me like a wet whip. I was getting my lashing, penance for my sins. The snow came in from the side at a lighting speed, carrying the end of the world. As the steel door closed behind me I spotted horn. She ran through two glass-automated doors. Before I could follow her through she locked them. She took a few steps towards the ledge of the building, then she turned her witch head and gave me a smile. Everything can change in a New York minute. I heard some rustlings and turned around only to be riddled with bullets. My body went into shock with every bullet that ripped through my skin. Blood spattered the glass door, all in front of Nicole Horn's eyes. I lay against the door as the killers stopped their barrage and talked into their walkie-talkies. They began to shuffle out with a job-well-done look on their faces. I didn't have enough pints to stand-up I drifted to the floor. I could feel everything drip away, all I've worked for, as far as I'd come, the things I know drip away in a mess of Valkyr, blood, sweat and despair. It was the nightmare coming true. I looked up at the snow casted night sky. As the snow turned to droplets of crimson and the black overhead morphed to green Valkyr. The familiar screams howled through the air and their stood death starring down at my fallen body. He stuck out his arm and reached for me ever so slowly. His bony fingers reaching moments from between my eyes, until he stopped and a steady thumping sound. Nicole Horn's helicopter, with the witch in the driving seat. I could hear her laugh through the madness. I reached into my pocket grabbed the special bullet, the one meant for Massario, then switched to the drug witch. I loaded the bullet into my Beretta, pointed it at the massive helicopter monster and pulled the trigger. Everything fell apart in a New York minute.
THE END PAYNE.. MAX PAYNE!