By
Chanlin Marr
Having been arrested atop the AESIR Corporation Tower, Max Payne is escorted under heavy guard to a nearby New York City Police Precinct for processing:
For my victory over evil I was given a parade of flashing red and blue, shining off the white snow that covered the world. An all-American celebration.
The chained tires of the cruiser reached the precinct in record time. The media was already there, a bio-mechanical blob of digital cameras and steamy breath. The New York Neo Ice Age hadn't been enough to stop the world's need for a new headline.
"Mr. Payne! How does it feel to be the most wanted man in Ne-"
"Max! How many people did you gun down toni-"
"What's your sign?!"
The shouts and questions and screams began to bleed together into a haze of noise. Somewhere among it all, I thought I heard someone chuckling, but it was whitewashed from my attention by the staccato of flashbulbs and loud words.
I was strong-armed into central booking by a pair of formerly 'fellow' officers, my new steel bracelets clinking audibly, now that the paparazzi was muted by closed doors and bustling police work.
Before the ink could dry on my fingertips I was sitting in the box, the interrogation room, chained to a cheap metal table. Above me, the standard fluorescent tube buzzed its cold light downward. The standard 'mirror' was there too, on the wall, hiding God knew how many accusing pairs of eyes behind its silvery sheen. But the only eyes I saw were my own, staring back. I didn't recognize the face.
A soft rattling of the door grabbed my gaze, sticking it to the turning knob, then the general area where the person's center of mass would appear.
My mind was still that of a killer's.
The second I saw the newcomer's eye, I knew things were going my way.
"Mr. Payne. It is good to see you again."
"Probably only half as good as I see you." The Cyclops smirked at that, pausing to give me the once over, then turning towards the mirror as he sat across from me and waved away whoever might have still been watching. He was pretty cocky to think they'd all just vamoose at his say-so.
Behind the wall I heard a muffled shutting of a door. Overconfident bastard.
"You succeeded above and beyond my wildest dreams, Mr. Payne. The Inner Circle had been fighting Nicole Horne and her plans for some time now, with little ground gained. You did in two days what we had been working towards for 5 years."
"Cut the congratulations, Woden. All I care about right now is whether or not you're going to keep your end of our little bargain." He grinned at that. It was the smile of a serpent.
"And if I were just to say 'Goodbye,' Mr. Payne?"
"Then I'd say you're really itching to have 'America's Funniest Home Sex Tapes of Alfred Woden with Candy the Hooker' air on primetime." That caught him cold. I could see the serpent slither timidly back into his hole.
"I presume you have something hidden away on that? Very well. It is of no consequence. Whatever I may be, Mr. Payne, I'm a man of my promises. And even regardless of that fact, I'm not so foolish as to bring upon me the ire of someone so proficient at taking lives as you."
That stung, and he knew it. I did what I did because I had to. Up front. No bullshit. Mr. "Secret Society" here didn't know the meaning of 'up front.' Funny thing was, he kept right on talking. I wasn't thrilled with his sales pitch.
"Now obviously your life as you know it is over. Even I do not hold so much sway that I can just erase the fact that Max Payne has committed numerous counts of homicide over the last 48 hours, whether they were justified or not. No, I cannot erase your crimes...but I can erase your existence."
"Been there, done that. Why do you think the Cops so conveniently forgot I was working for them?" I might as well have not been there the way his words kept talking themselves right through me.
"What I propose is that you be killed. I may not be able to whitewash the justice system, but I can hurry things along rather nicely. You'll be put to trial, convicted, and sentenced to death. You'll go to the electric chair, and Max Payne will be dead."
"I'm still waiting for the punchline, Al. And if I don't hear one quick, I'm going to give you one. Hard." He was paying attention now.
"The punchline, as you call it, is the captured Valkyr test subject who will be taking your place in court, in jail, and on death row for the foreseeable future. Fortunately he is your approximate height, and has a similar build. Add to that a comparable hair and eye color, and with a bit of facial reconstruction, which is being performed as we speak, we should have a workable double of you for disposal in no time.
"The beauty of it, Mr. Payne, is that the man is a blubbering zombie, so far gone from experimentation that he will fit perfectly the image of a psychotic killer. But that won't net him an insanity defense, because the actions 'you' took were much too tactical and methodical for someone legally insane. The court, and the jury, will simply assume it's an act."
I knew then that I really had fallen from grace. His plan actually made me smile. What sort of demon was I supping with here?
"How long?"
"Truth be told, even with the strongest anti-inflammatory medication, the swelling from the surgery won't completely disappear for at least a month. And even by that point, 'touch-ups' may be required. Best guess: you have two months of confinement before we can make the switch."
Woden stood, glowering down at me like Odin from the rainbow bridge, holding my salvation in that one working orb.
"Try to do your best to act crazy for the next 8 weeks. It will make the transition so much easier."
The smile came back, now the contented cobra smoothing his silk tie as he turned towards the door. He tossed one more veiled promise over his shoulder as he stepped into the shadowed hallway beyond:
"Your life isn't over, Mr. Payne. You shall live to fight another day."