MAX:
Max smiles, limping into the interrogation room. Fido looks at Max as if he's seen a ghost. He limps because his nerves are shot, he can't feel a damn thing except the swirling nausia deeply imbedded within his head. He sets his gun down on the table, leaning forward, he blinks hard a few times trying to shake the light-headed feel, it doesn't work.
"Two more beatings in here and I might have to put in some ring ropes and a referee."
The cop turns to Max pauses for a second then says, "...Who the fuck are you?"
"Max Payne, NYPD." he shows his badge.
"You look like a fuckin' nobody to me!"
"Shhh, don't tell anyone."
The cop grabs Fido by the shirt, Fido gives a sinister smile like he's going to kill somebody. Max sees it and stops the cop. He walks over and tries to get him to let go. The cop doesn't do it, so they have a very sloppy fight that lasts for about fifteen seconds. Max gains the upper hand and the cop lands very uncomfortably back-first onto one of the chairs, which falls over knocking him to the floor.
"I'm gonna' kill you motherfucka', first I'm going to have a talk with your boss in New York. Then when he gives me the thumbs up, I'm gonna' fuckin' KILL you!" he sounds serious. The cop slams the door behind him angrily.
Max leans forward and asks Fido if he wants a cigarette, Fido holds up his hand declining the offer. "I'll have to apologize for fuckers like that," he says lighting one up, "they think their shit doesn't stink anymore 'cuz they got a badge. Anyway, this isn't the street anymore, so I don't want to bash your head in, you're in here and we got rules to follow. All I want to know is where your friends are."
Fido 'zips his lip'.
"I know, you can't talk, right. But... You do know where they are, and you can write. You can write, right?"
It wasn't Max's idea to try to get Fido to talk, it was his bosses idea. Max thought the idea that Fido would roll over on his friends was insane. This man was nearly invincible to law and order.
Max reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a newspaper, tossing it onto the table. "I know who you are, at least more than some people. They don't mention your name in this article, but I may never know that. I read another article in a separate paper that said with anough therapy you could speak. So Fido, I want you to speak."
Fido stares at the article entitled 'Ten years for love.' Max can detect a note of sadness, but most of it is anger. Fido hated his girlfriend, and it made him hate people even more. Max actually felt empathetic for Fido. But one thing Max knew was that digging into someone's past, no matter how good your intentions are, will always blow up in your face.
Max knew it, Fido explodes. He tosses the paper at Max and kicks his chair half-way across the room. Max knew that if he could; Fido would toss the desk through the Police's 'looking glass' mirror, but it's made of heavy oak, and the chains are two restraining for anything of that magnitude.
Max decides not to fuck with Fido's head, he gets up and walks out of the room. Fido grabs the chair by a kind of pole that hooks the legs of the chair together, he sets it down and sits in it, staring at the mirror in front of him.
Max could tell that Fido had a tortured past, and it made him the toughest son of a bitch alive, he also knew that if this guy had friends, they'd be coming for him.
Max smiles, limping into the interrogation room. Fido looks at Max as if he's seen a ghost. He limps because his nerves are shot, he can't feel a damn thing except the swirling nausia deeply imbedded within his head. He sets his gun down on the table, leaning forward, he blinks hard a few times trying to shake the light-headed feel, it doesn't work.
"Two more beatings in here and I might have to put in some ring ropes and a referee."
The cop turns to Max pauses for a second then says, "...Who the fuck are you?"
"Max Payne, NYPD." he shows his badge.
"You look like a fuckin' nobody to me!"
"Shhh, don't tell anyone."
The cop grabs Fido by the shirt, Fido gives a sinister smile like he's going to kill somebody. Max sees it and stops the cop. He walks over and tries to get him to let go. The cop doesn't do it, so they have a very sloppy fight that lasts for about fifteen seconds. Max gains the upper hand and the cop lands very uncomfortably back-first onto one of the chairs, which falls over knocking him to the floor.
"I'm gonna' kill you motherfucka', first I'm going to have a talk with your boss in New York. Then when he gives me the thumbs up, I'm gonna' fuckin' KILL you!" he sounds serious. The cop slams the door behind him angrily.
Max leans forward and asks Fido if he wants a cigarette, Fido holds up his hand declining the offer. "I'll have to apologize for fuckers like that," he says lighting one up, "they think their shit doesn't stink anymore 'cuz they got a badge. Anyway, this isn't the street anymore, so I don't want to bash your head in, you're in here and we got rules to follow. All I want to know is where your friends are."
Fido 'zips his lip'.
"I know, you can't talk, right. But... You do know where they are, and you can write. You can write, right?"
It wasn't Max's idea to try to get Fido to talk, it was his bosses idea. Max thought the idea that Fido would roll over on his friends was insane. This man was nearly invincible to law and order.
Max reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a newspaper, tossing it onto the table. "I know who you are, at least more than some people. They don't mention your name in this article, but I may never know that. I read another article in a separate paper that said with anough therapy you could speak. So Fido, I want you to speak."
Fido stares at the article entitled 'Ten years for love.' Max can detect a note of sadness, but most of it is anger. Fido hated his girlfriend, and it made him hate people even more. Max actually felt empathetic for Fido. But one thing Max knew was that digging into someone's past, no matter how good your intentions are, will always blow up in your face.
Max knew it, Fido explodes. He tosses the paper at Max and kicks his chair half-way across the room. Max knew that if he could; Fido would toss the desk through the Police's 'looking glass' mirror, but it's made of heavy oak, and the chains are two restraining for anything of that magnitude.
Max decides not to fuck with Fido's head, he gets up and walks out of the room. Fido grabs the chair by a kind of pole that hooks the legs of the chair together, he sets it down and sits in it, staring at the mirror in front of him.
Max could tell that Fido had a tortured past, and it made him the toughest son of a bitch alive, he also knew that if this guy had friends, they'd be coming for him.