I sat there, looking at the white snow as it passed me by. I had felt nothing since Mona's death; I moved without any emotion, sending heartless criminals to jail without any sense of moral righteousness. I was a walking mannequin; I had nothing live for but kept going anyway. I was doing $500 worth of coke a week, and it had begun fucking with my brain. This was my new fucking life: $4,000 a month from NYPD, an additional grand for personal requests (like getting dirt on a crooked congressman), and two thirds of it being spent on coke and hookers. Yet no blow job could make me forget Mona or my wife. All it did was exacerbate the pain, yet I still couldn't help myself from paying some good looking stripper $200 to let me fuck her. Same went for Coke; though at least I got to forget when I snorted. The new Max Payne was a pathetic shadow, nothing more. I had tried to commit suicide twice in the six months since Mona passed, but both times I had failed miserably. This was gonna stay my life until I either died on the job or overdosed. I listened to the radio as I simultaneously watched the snow pass by. The arrogant DJ announced that tonight was only an appetizer; that in a week the worst storm since that fateful night that I was first framed for murder would arrive. Unfortunately, fate has a way of repeating itself.
Max Payne 3
The Revenge of Payne
