Stilwater Correctional Facility:


I remember that the ceiling was moving.

Lamps flashing their annoying lights on my eyes and bare pipes over the ugly concrete.

My body was being rolled to an unknown destination, without any context except not being able to move. I had no idea of what was going on, but suddenly heard a man's voice say next to me:

'She is awake, unbelievable!'

Another male voice replied, it had this deep, husky tone:

'We are taking The Leader of The Saints to the infirmary, officer. The chief of police is waiting for us.'

With a flash, it all came back to me:

The Leader of The Saints, that was me.

Out of instinct I kept my face as lifeless as possible, letting my arm fall limply to the side when it slid out with the motion of the gurney.

For someone like me the words 'officer' and 'police' never meant anything good. Things were starting to make sense and I realized that the ceiling I was staring at could be no other but the prison's.

'She is… Beautiful. Look at those eyes… Not like I pictured at all.' The second man's deep voice said, unusually tenderly for a cop.

'Huh. Fuck you, asshole.' I thought, cuz compliments coming from the fuzz meant nothing to me. I was interrupted though, as successive brutal hits shook the gurney and the back of my head hit the metal sides of the damn thing painfully. I bit my tongue in order not to betray pain.

'Careful when you go down the stairs!' The deep voice said again with angry authority.

'Sargent Payne, you're way too human with those scums. People like her don't deserve to breathe. She and her gang killed more than two hundred of our men, I ain't worrying about bumping this brain dead bitch on the ceiling all the way to the infirmary, for all I care. Why bother being careful with someone if its to send them to the chair, anyway?'

Chair?!

My entire body suddenly panicked at this word, as I was more and more aware of how shitty my situation was. My heart was beating so fast and strong that I feared they could hear it or that my body would give away in any sign that I was listening to everything they were saying.

'Move it, officer. You're dismissed. I'll take her myself.'

I felt that the gurney stopped and heard steps, the sides of my vision showing that the two men changed positions. The gurney resumed its pace but much more gently now.

At the imminence of close death I tried to frenetically think a way out of there, questions popping in my brain. Why was I there?

Turns out the answers came much quicker than I thought.

When we entered the infirmary room I suppressed a gasp as a knot formed on my stomach, recognizing in the blond man with the police uniform one of my closest friends.

'Troy.'

My imagination raced to years ago: That same Troy had his cig between his lips in that same manner, except, he was dressed in the colors of our gang. He had been shot, his purple shirt soaked in blood after barely escaping death. His arm was around the shoulder of a strong asian man, who was carrying him and also looked a bit wounded and pale.

'Thanks Johnny, if it wasn't for you I was a goner.'

'The fuck! You know I would take a bullet for any of you.' The man replied.

A pretty asian girl joined the picture to lit his cig with her golden lighter.

'You guys are such pussies.' She teased with affection. Then the four of us joined in one single embrace, glad that our friend was alive and swearing to always watch out for each other.

'Third Street!'

You can imagine how I felt when I understood I was there because he betrayed us.

If I could, I would've got up and strangled that asshole right there. But, old school gangster I was, my face didn't betray my hate by a blink, I knew that I had to wait for a real opportunity to settle things with that traitor.

He turned and spoke to the man behind the gurney:

'Did she say anything?'

'Nope. Nothing but vital signs.'

'No need for cuffing her then, the doctor will take a look and then, well…' He hesitated. 'The rest is up to the huh… You know.'

'You should rest, Troy. If it isn't hard enough for you that Johnny is having his trial tomorrow…'

I heard Troy take a deep sad breath:

'It is.'

And with that what I hoped for happened. I heard their steps distancing and a door closing.

It was time to act.

My face came back to life as I looked around in the dim light of the infirmary. My eyes stopped on the doctor, distracted with some X-rays while his back was turned to me.

I drew a long anxious breath: Once I started this there was no turning back.

My body was as frozen, but after an inhuman effort I managed to turn around and slid out of the gurney.

The sound of it hitting the ground caused the man to hastily turn and stare at me, a bit stunned to see me rise. His mouth was opening and I guessed he was recovering from his shock and about to call for help.

I looked like a wounded snail when I gathered all my strength and dragged myself desperately towards him. Craving to survive, my shaking hands grabbed the pen on the pocket of his white vest and stuck it on his jugular. The dark warm liquid soaked my hands and orange uniform as I covered his mouth and slid to the floor together, washed out.

His body was lying there dead, next to mine. I made the picture even prettier by puking over it, nauseated with the effort. I coughed, almost suffocated, but then suddenly understood I wasn't alone in the room. A hand wrapped around my mouth and pulled me up.

I tried to react but a strong arm held my waist and arms together from behind, stopping any attempt of my weakened body to break free.

I struggled, hopeless, and stuck the pen blindly on my aggressor. He let out a faint masculine groan, but he still didn't let go of me, just his mouth glued to my ear and whispered urgently:

'Shh! Don't say a thing, there is a guard behind the door! I am here to help you.'

'Who the fuck are you?' I said lowly as he let go of me and my body found the floor again.

'I'm Carlos. My brother was in the Saints and he told me all about you. Listen, we've got to get you out of here.'

I leaned on my hands and turned to look at him, suspiciously. His athletic figure was coming out of the shadows and I couldn't see much more than a purple beanie and an orange uniform.

'What's your brother's name?'

'Hector. Hector Mendoza… You remember him?'

'Of course I do, but as for you being his bro…' I made an effort and managed get up. '… I can't fucking verify that.'

'I am a prisoner too! Give me one good reason to bullshit you!'

'Where is he, then?' I asked, grumpily.

'He died!' At this point, his voice shivered with rage. 'Shot in the head by a cop two years ago.'

I ignored him as I tried to plan my next move, but he seemed exasperated that I wasn't buying his story:

'You gotta believe me! I just got fucking shanked by you for God's sake, why would I lie!' He showed me the wound right below his ribcage, his hispanic accent thicker now. 'Do you even know your way out of here like I do? Without me you'll be dead in a couple of minutes!'

I got closer to the stranger so I could read his expression, leaning on his shoulders for support. I could distinguish in the dim light a big pair of brown eyes, stuck on mine stubbornly as if begging for me to believe.

Was it out of survival desperation, because I had no better plan in mind, or was it because, despite everything that happened, that gaze still managed to inspire me trust? I'll never know why, but I grabbed Carlos' arm and decided to side with him:

'Ok, let's get out of here!'

'I know the way to the roof.' He said, without wasting time and went to search for the doctor's access card on the body. We used it on a small door marked 'Security' and sneaked our way out into some stairways.

Carlos then popped out the grill of a vent under the stairs and we got in one after the other.

Leaning on our elbows, we crawled silently in the darkness of the dusty vent for about ten minutes.

Light ahead finally showed that we were about to reach the end of the tunnel so we were extra careful with noises.

My heart skipped a beat when a pair of legs passed casually in front of the vent. We waited for it to leave, more nervous than ever and I poked my head out to inspect:

'What do you see?' He asked.

'Shh! One guard. Alone. He is turning around and going to pass by us again.'

Carlos looked around and quietly left the vent. I saw him coming back with a cinder block in his hands.

'Hit him. Hit him, now! Go!' His voice whispered at my side and he hid in the shadows.

I raised the cinder block above my head with all the fucking strength of my body and prepared to go for the back of the head of the guard.

'Damn it!' My arms left at the last moment and the block fell on the ground. It was more than enough to draw his attention: As soon as he saw an inmate ducking in the shadows he understood things were fucked up.

'On the ground, now!' He threatened, pointing his gun at me.

I had no will of getting back to jail from to be be sent straight to the death row for my many crimes. So I ran.

Kind of.

Well, I stumbled on the ground after barely jogging two steps.

With a loud 'bang!' I sensed that a shot passed right next to me and struck on the floor by my side. But in no time an arm in an orange sleeve passed around the guard's neck, pushing him backwards.

Carlos went straight for his gun, kicking his face. The two brawled on the ground for a while until I finally had the strength to help him out. I dragged the cinder block towards his reach and in two seconds the guard's head took the worst from the strike.

Wasn't pretty.

'Thanks. This was embarrassing.' I panted, tapping my hands on his side as I tensely looked around the penitentiary's roof.

We were at an open space and since it was night, almost in the dark. The sentinel lights danced around the ground, illuminating it and blinding us briefly. Not only my muscles were weak, my eyes burned like crazy with those strong lights.

'Hey, don't complain, after years in a coma it's a miracle you can walk around.' Carlos caught his breath and quickly dove to the dead guard's hand, pulling on his fingers so he could retrieve his pistol. 'Here, fast! They heard the shot, we can't stand here for long, let's move, now!'

He passed the pistol to me and helped me getting up.

We crawled gluing ourselves against the walls so we could avoid the searching lights.

We kept moving, our ears pumping with adrenaline. I kept following him without questioning if it was a safe bet to trust a guy I just met that same day for this escape.

Carlos and I were almost running while keeping our heads down, I could already hear voices coming from the vent where we crawled from.

I didn't even had to say anything to my accomplice, he heard it too and we understood each other. The guards already found our trail and were behind our steps by seconds, now it was a matter of moments before they found us.

I sensed Carlos push my hand towards a direction, the idea that he knew the way out lighting a ray of hope inside and pushing me to suffocate the growing panic.

I let him guide me, doing my best to jog in silence, skipping breaths.

Without warning, he came to a hard halt and I used all strength left to retain my moving body so it wouldn't bump too strongly on his. My over stimulated senses took notice of the reason of his sudden hesitation : A security light slid itself on the walls in our direction.

Out of reflex, he ducked and so did I, and we clumsy fell on top of each other as the light passed right above without detecting our presence.

I couldn't believe our luck.

The voices still moved closer but, so far, we managed to sneak our way successfully. We were now in front of descending iron stairs boarded with high security fences, topped with barbed wire.

'I think we might pull this out!' Carlos whispered joyously. 'If we pass through, we're probably free!'

'Probably?!' I asked dryly, realizing that he didn't know his way around the prison as he first bragged.

He gave me an apologetic shrug as we rushed the way down the stairs:

'Oh come on. You wouldn't accept to do this otherwise.'

I gave him a glance of death for this remark, he saw that I wasn't kidding and just adjusted his purple beanie with an awkward expression, immediately lowering his large brown eyes, exasperated at the idea that he just disappointed me.

I confess that I almost wanted to strangle him at that point, but seeing that this kid cared so much made me feel sort of funny so I didn't say anything. Besides, since we were now in front of the entrance gates of the penitentiary, I had to let out a satisfied sigh.

I tapped him on the shoulder as a silent thanks.

'Told you I would get you out of here!' His sheepish expression vanished as his words dripped with pride at my compliment. Now, in the light, I could distinguish his traits better. He had a cute, baby-like face that at present had triumph written all over it. It's sweetness didn't agree at all with his prison uniform, and you had to actually see it to believe that such an innocent face could belong to an inmate.

We kept walking silently side by side, our hearts beating madly fast, each step we took leading us closer to the silhouette of the city we could spot behind the gates.

'What now?' I asked him as we hid behind a column, trying to figure a way to make it through the other side.

'We'll wait.' He crossed himself, joining his palms and brought it to his lips in expectation, as if he was hoping in God for it to work. 'Tranquila! Someone will have to come in at some point!' He continued in Spanish. 'Let's just fucking hope it's before those cops have the time to give the alarm!'

And turned out, fate was indeed at our side. If there is a higher power or some shit like that, it certainly rolled with us that night.

Not even a minute after, a police car stopped at the front gate, and we held our breaths as it opened so the vehicle could enter.

'Let's do this!' I told him and we came out of hiding, shooting the cops dead and entering the car.

We didn't even had time to close the doors when a screaming siren took control of the whole island.

Turning red lights twisted accusingly at the front gate and, to our desperation, it started to close…

'Shit! GO!' Carlos screamed at my side and without thinking I hit the gas, speeding towards the doors and bumping them open.

'Almost home free, baby!' My new friend celebrated at my side, letting out a breath of adrenaline decreasing.

I too relaxed a little on my seat as we both looked around for orientation.

It was only then that we acknowledged that the summer night was beautiful and that we were free.


Stilwater PD, later that night…

Ultor wanted to clean the city. Even a few members of the police were involved, one of them been Max Payne, recently transferred to Stilwater.

A lot was muffled, but apparently, he did quite the noise back in his former precinct, and that was the reason why he found himself in this city.

He was a truly honest, dedicated cop, yet, it was well known he wouldn't really do things by the book.

A tall, brown haired man in his mid forties, he still managed to remain attractive even if all the booze and painkillers he was once hooked on made him look older. But most of his appeal came from his personality. Caustic and caring at the same time.

He had a sarcastic sense of humor, and looked at life with totally derision. This probably came from the fact that his life was marked by countless tragedies, the biggest one was having his wife and baby daughter brutally murdered by some junkies. The dark humor was just another way to cope with that.

He and Troy Bradshaw, the Chief of Police, were now making a late shift at the PD. Next to them a newspaper seemed to justify why the two men were burning the midnight oil.

'Coma victim awakes, kills way to freedom! The sidewalks are no longer safe! The legendary leader of the gang once known as The Third Street Saints is free again.'

'Here.' Troy opened a huge file on the table. 'All the info we have on The Leader of the Saints. As a matter of fact, no one knows her real name. I could fish some info while I was a undercover, but this still remains a mystery.'

'Why is that?'

'She is probably an illegal immigrant, no papers found. If she has an ID now, it's a fake one, that is for sure.'

'Keep going.'

'32 years old, brunette, light skinned, hazel eyes, Hispanic. Psychotic profile assumed.'

'Psychopath?'

'No.' Troy was quick to answer. Psychos wouldn't risk their lives for him like she and Johnny Gat did. His nervousness hinted that it was never easy to talk about this subject.

'What are the charges?'

'Sit down, Max, this will take a while...' Troy joked as he searched for another page in the file and started:

'Drug trafficking, first degree murder, extortion, vandalism, fraud, robbery…'

'Don't run out of breath Troy.'

'Huh, right? I'm trying not to... Possessing stolen property, indecent exposure, loan sharking, and finally mayhem.'

'Really?' Max said, picturing the remarkably beautiful, childlike face of the woman he saw in prison.

'Nah. Don't get fooled.' Troy warned, guessing Max's thoughts. 'That chick is motherfucking crazy.'


After regaining the city me and Carlos had to abandon the boat we used to escape the island and swim our way around the piers. Avoiding the dock guards was our main concern and, besides, choppers and boats were sent to hunt us down from the penitentiary.

We hid behind the 'Slippery Finns' fish company building, waiting for the sirens to die off. Several times the police boats passed so close to us that their red lights got in our faces. Without being able to move and soaked, we kneeled there enduring the cold for hours as still as possible, gluing our backs on each other for warmth.

Only when the sounds started to fade, we dared to get out of hiding and search for a way in.

I managed to spot a locker room from outside, and since we needed to get out of our peels, this couldn't be more perfect.

Carlos broke the windows with a piece of wood and we broke in, exhausted.

But to my surprise, he immediately stepped closer to me and started to undo the zipper of my jumpsuit, pulling it down and leaving me half naked.

'Easy, man!' I reacted, taking his hands off me. 'At least buy me a beer first…!'

'Oh my God, what did you think I was doing?' He backed off, totally embarrassed. 'I am just trying to take this wet clothes off before we have fucking hypothermia!'

I raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced and his face started to turn red. He turned away muttering something in Spanish and started to take off his own uniform:

'There is a shower over there, you should use it…' He pointed with his back turned.

I followed his advice at once and let out a small groan when the delicious warm water ran down my freezing body, bringing life back to it.

He humbly sat on the ground in his underwear waiting for his turn and hugged his legs, shaking back and forth while politely staring away.

His lips were blue and his chin was shivering with the cold as well, I glanced at his friendly expression between the curtain made of water drops:

'Why were you checked in?' I asked bluntly, wondering what crime landed a sweet face like that in jail.

'Car jacking. I got nine years.' He replied with a frown, adding as if to justify himself: 'The judge doesn't like people like us.' Carlos eyes stared at me for a very brief moment, quickly returning to where they were while he pointed at me and himself, in reference to the fact that we were immigrants.

It seemed to me that in a split second his gaze got lost on my body, and he coughed a bit to hide his nervousness.

I turned, also embarrassed, and got out to dry myself on anything dry I found. As Carlos took my place in the shower, I grabbed a pair of old jeans (that I had to twist multiple times on my waist to prevent it from falling) and what used to be a plain white shirt.

'We have to do something about your wound.' I said tossing him something similar.

'No problem. I used to live five minutes from here, right across the Liquor store. My roommate can fix me up.'

'In that case…' I picked up my gun and stuck it on the back of my pants, covering it with the shirt. Now that we were safe all I could think about was Gat and his trial, the lights of dawn reminding me of the urgency of the matter. '… I will be on my way.'

Carlos looked at me suspiciously:

'We just broke out and you're already thinking of doing stupid shit.'

'I can't let him fry.' I said, determined.

'At least let me come with you.' He insisted, clearly worried.

I shook my head.

I didn't want to drag him into this, he had done so much already.

So since he wasn't dressed, I hurried up outside before he had a chance to follow me.

On the last minute though I turned on my heels and poked my head at the window frame, looking insistingly for his eyes (they were often on the floor, insecurely) so I could show at least a bit of all the gratitude I had for him:

'Carlos…?'

'Yeah?'

'Thank you.'

He stared back at me, his gaze had this weird flame I couldn't understand:

'Anytime.'


Thanks for reading! :3

Hope you'll enjoy the next chapters and... Please review! :)

Rated M for lemons, cursing and crime glorification. Reminding this is only a fic, gang life, drugs, alcohol abuse and crime aren't cool at all.

Every time you see a line it means we're skipping to another scene, or changing from the protagonist's point of view to 3rd person. Max Payne will do a short crossover, and also, zombie Carlos won't be on this storyline.