Chapter 2-First it Giveth
A cold wind blew outside as Frankie stared Max square in the eyes.
"Max, you've been like a fucking brother to me for as long as I can fucking remember. I mean, you've let me slide on so many of my, ahem, legitimate businesses. But right now, I need your fucking help."
Max could tell Frankie was desperate, for one thing, he swore a lot more. Which meant he was irritated. Which meant things weren't going his way. Which meant he was taking his Hail Mary with 2 seconds left and the entire franchise on the line. Max hoped he could be Frankie's Joe Montana.
"Listen, Frankie, I'm gonna try and stay away from all the guns and dames that I can. So why don't you ask someone else. Try my cousin Jerry."
"I tried Jerry and he's fucking dead. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Huh? Donnie Fish is gonna have my fucking balls on a fucking silver fucking platter! And you'd fucking well like to fucking well think that I'm fucking well kidding fuck...?"
"Alright, tell me the gist of it. Where do I need to go?"
"The Empire. He operates outta there. Now that I've told you, you need to do it. Or I'll fucking kill you."
"Frankie, I don't know. It's gonna be tough. It's Donnie fucking Fish. You don't just confront Donnie fucking Fish. What did you do anyway?"
"Max, I, uh, fucked up his plans of a new gang war."
"How?" Max was beginning to fear, which meant he couldn't back down now. He feared it, he had to confront it.
"I run the New York harbor. Well, I see this fucking Columbian drug boat and I'm thinking 'fuck Frankie, these semi-nigs are gonna try and take over the fucking drug trade.' now, you know me, I hate those fucking coke-lickers. So I gets my boys to take 'em all out before they reach the harbor. Then they board the boat, take it 30 miles out and sink it. Now what I didn't know was it was a shipment for Donnie. Not El Paso's finest, oh fuck no, but fucking AKA's, Uzi's, Shotties, fucking assault rifles, berettas, and even some fucking M-20s."
"What the fuck is an M-20?" asked Max.
"They call 'em Camel Planes. They are missiles with enough power to blow up a fucking building if ya hit it fucking right. Now I'm getting Annie to check and make sure Donnie isn't taking my shit from my joints, cuz that's how he starts. But she'll call if something is fucking wrong."
And, as always, the phone rings. Frankie picked it up, held it to his ear for 5 seconds and quickly put it down.
"Never mind, he's skipped to urban brawl. We gotta take him down and take him down tonight."
Max immediately rushed towards his pieces that were on the table and got his ass down the stairs.
"Maxie, wait a sec. Take this." Frankie handed him another Desert Eagle. "I know how handy you are with these mother fuckers. Take them out, I'll be with you. We're only going down a couple of blocks to the department store."
Max began to run towards the store and immediately saw that Annie was hiding.
"Annie, what the fuck is going on?"
"Max, thank God. They've just lost it, I mean fucking gone out of their goddamn minds. I tried to stop them, but one of them stabbed me." She moved to reveal a knife in her arm.
"Call over your brother and get him to take you to Doctor Mantegna, he'll take care of you.
Max got up and pulled out his Uzi and his DE.
"You want a piece of New York, you fucking greaseballs, go for me."
He immediately picked off two of the men who were standing in fear. It was as if they had seen a ghost. Max tore through them with his Uzi. That was when things got ugly and the Italians pulled out there Lambrettas (special handguns with no safety, made by Donnie Fish, AKA, Donnie Lambretta). Max knew this was going to be tough. These guys were professionals. But he had had enough of the shit that the Italians had been giving him for the last 8 and a half years.
He dropped his spent Uzi and pulled out his other Eagle. Two shots straight into the gut of one of the men and he was down and almost crying.
"Annie, get the fuck outta here before they get you to!" Max shouted at Annie. He turned into an alleyway away from the gunfire and saw her run down the road to safety. He turned and fired and then got one in the shoulder and fell to the ground.
"First it giveth, huh? Then I suppose you'll taketh away?" he whispered to himself while he got up.
"This guy's a fucking machine, we can't fucking kill him," said one of the Italians.
"Is that Max Payne?" As soon as the Italian said those two words, the men were of like a drag race. Max didn't want to pursue them, he only wanted some sleep. But he had promised Frankie. He got into the nearest car and was on his way towards them. He picked up the cell in the car.
"What fucking idiot leaves his keys and cell-phone in a car." Max joked to himself. That's when he looked in the backseat at the man fast asleep. "Poor shit, probably got kicked out by his wife."
He knocked one onto the windshield and fired through. The lifeless body rolled away past 34th Street. The Italians eventually reached the subway, where the ran down the stairs. Max was too tired to get out of his car, so drove it right down the steps and crashed it into the gates, creating a hole large enough to fit a man. He knew that, because the poor shit had gone through.
He climbed through the windshield and walked about for a minute. "Those fuckers, they split up. Why the fuck would they be so scared?"
"Ah! Where the hell am I? What am I doing in here? Oh no, my house!!!"
A loud shot rang through the room. "Don't need to worry about anything now, pal." Max now knew that if he got caught, he'd be tried for the murders of the Italians, so why not make it an even 6 killed?
He ran down the hall, with both guns by his side. He had the strut of the local sheriff in an old western, he was confident. "Come on now, greasy, I'll make it quick and painless if you tell me who you're with," Max was toying with them, he loved psychology like that, making the perp's brain almost fry with anxiety. Would he rat out his boss and face a quick death? Or would he face pain and torture to keep the name a secret held by the dead? Only he had the answer.
Max walked up to a wall as silently as he could and swung the handle of his gun around it, smacking one of the Italians square in the jaw.
"SHIT!! I can't feel my fucking mouth, it hurts to fucking talk!"
"That's what a broken jaw is for, smartshit. Now, tell what you know or I'll make it worse."
From around a corner further down the corridor, an Italian screamed some strange sounds and, without looking, Max shot him square in the eye.
"You gonna tell me what I want to know? Or will I beat it out of ya?"
Max squeezed the mess that was the Italian's jaw.
Look out for Chap. 3: City in the Clouds, soon...
A cold wind blew outside as Frankie stared Max square in the eyes.
"Max, you've been like a fucking brother to me for as long as I can fucking remember. I mean, you've let me slide on so many of my, ahem, legitimate businesses. But right now, I need your fucking help."
Max could tell Frankie was desperate, for one thing, he swore a lot more. Which meant he was irritated. Which meant things weren't going his way. Which meant he was taking his Hail Mary with 2 seconds left and the entire franchise on the line. Max hoped he could be Frankie's Joe Montana.
"Listen, Frankie, I'm gonna try and stay away from all the guns and dames that I can. So why don't you ask someone else. Try my cousin Jerry."
"I tried Jerry and he's fucking dead. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Huh? Donnie Fish is gonna have my fucking balls on a fucking silver fucking platter! And you'd fucking well like to fucking well think that I'm fucking well kidding fuck...?"
"Alright, tell me the gist of it. Where do I need to go?"
"The Empire. He operates outta there. Now that I've told you, you need to do it. Or I'll fucking kill you."
"Frankie, I don't know. It's gonna be tough. It's Donnie fucking Fish. You don't just confront Donnie fucking Fish. What did you do anyway?"
"Max, I, uh, fucked up his plans of a new gang war."
"How?" Max was beginning to fear, which meant he couldn't back down now. He feared it, he had to confront it.
"I run the New York harbor. Well, I see this fucking Columbian drug boat and I'm thinking 'fuck Frankie, these semi-nigs are gonna try and take over the fucking drug trade.' now, you know me, I hate those fucking coke-lickers. So I gets my boys to take 'em all out before they reach the harbor. Then they board the boat, take it 30 miles out and sink it. Now what I didn't know was it was a shipment for Donnie. Not El Paso's finest, oh fuck no, but fucking AKA's, Uzi's, Shotties, fucking assault rifles, berettas, and even some fucking M-20s."
"What the fuck is an M-20?" asked Max.
"They call 'em Camel Planes. They are missiles with enough power to blow up a fucking building if ya hit it fucking right. Now I'm getting Annie to check and make sure Donnie isn't taking my shit from my joints, cuz that's how he starts. But she'll call if something is fucking wrong."
And, as always, the phone rings. Frankie picked it up, held it to his ear for 5 seconds and quickly put it down.
"Never mind, he's skipped to urban brawl. We gotta take him down and take him down tonight."
Max immediately rushed towards his pieces that were on the table and got his ass down the stairs.
"Maxie, wait a sec. Take this." Frankie handed him another Desert Eagle. "I know how handy you are with these mother fuckers. Take them out, I'll be with you. We're only going down a couple of blocks to the department store."
Max began to run towards the store and immediately saw that Annie was hiding.
"Annie, what the fuck is going on?"
"Max, thank God. They've just lost it, I mean fucking gone out of their goddamn minds. I tried to stop them, but one of them stabbed me." She moved to reveal a knife in her arm.
"Call over your brother and get him to take you to Doctor Mantegna, he'll take care of you.
Max got up and pulled out his Uzi and his DE.
"You want a piece of New York, you fucking greaseballs, go for me."
He immediately picked off two of the men who were standing in fear. It was as if they had seen a ghost. Max tore through them with his Uzi. That was when things got ugly and the Italians pulled out there Lambrettas (special handguns with no safety, made by Donnie Fish, AKA, Donnie Lambretta). Max knew this was going to be tough. These guys were professionals. But he had had enough of the shit that the Italians had been giving him for the last 8 and a half years.
He dropped his spent Uzi and pulled out his other Eagle. Two shots straight into the gut of one of the men and he was down and almost crying.
"Annie, get the fuck outta here before they get you to!" Max shouted at Annie. He turned into an alleyway away from the gunfire and saw her run down the road to safety. He turned and fired and then got one in the shoulder and fell to the ground.
"First it giveth, huh? Then I suppose you'll taketh away?" he whispered to himself while he got up.
"This guy's a fucking machine, we can't fucking kill him," said one of the Italians.
"Is that Max Payne?" As soon as the Italian said those two words, the men were of like a drag race. Max didn't want to pursue them, he only wanted some sleep. But he had promised Frankie. He got into the nearest car and was on his way towards them. He picked up the cell in the car.
"What fucking idiot leaves his keys and cell-phone in a car." Max joked to himself. That's when he looked in the backseat at the man fast asleep. "Poor shit, probably got kicked out by his wife."
He knocked one onto the windshield and fired through. The lifeless body rolled away past 34th Street. The Italians eventually reached the subway, where the ran down the stairs. Max was too tired to get out of his car, so drove it right down the steps and crashed it into the gates, creating a hole large enough to fit a man. He knew that, because the poor shit had gone through.
He climbed through the windshield and walked about for a minute. "Those fuckers, they split up. Why the fuck would they be so scared?"
"Ah! Where the hell am I? What am I doing in here? Oh no, my house!!!"
A loud shot rang through the room. "Don't need to worry about anything now, pal." Max now knew that if he got caught, he'd be tried for the murders of the Italians, so why not make it an even 6 killed?
He ran down the hall, with both guns by his side. He had the strut of the local sheriff in an old western, he was confident. "Come on now, greasy, I'll make it quick and painless if you tell me who you're with," Max was toying with them, he loved psychology like that, making the perp's brain almost fry with anxiety. Would he rat out his boss and face a quick death? Or would he face pain and torture to keep the name a secret held by the dead? Only he had the answer.
Max walked up to a wall as silently as he could and swung the handle of his gun around it, smacking one of the Italians square in the jaw.
"SHIT!! I can't feel my fucking mouth, it hurts to fucking talk!"
"That's what a broken jaw is for, smartshit. Now, tell what you know or I'll make it worse."
From around a corner further down the corridor, an Italian screamed some strange sounds and, without looking, Max shot him square in the eye.
"You gonna tell me what I want to know? Or will I beat it out of ya?"
Max squeezed the mess that was the Italian's jaw.
Look out for Chap. 3: City in the Clouds, soon...
