This is Fan Fiction based on the Max Payne Computer game series. It is based on a fictional (yet looks to follow the original) time line of events set years before the first Max Payne game, in particular the years before Max enrols into the NYPD academy.
Chapter 5 - Where No-One Knows Your Name
The bar was small and drab, and looked like it had never been decorated since it first opened and would probably be exactly the same in 10, 20, even 30 years time. There were a handful of people sitting at tables and in booths and a row of silent hardened drinkers sat on stools at the long bar. I joined them and ordered a beer as if I drank them all the time. There was no chance that I would actually enjoy it, but I had to blend in best I could. No-one even gave me a glance as I took a mouthful from my bottle and wondered to myself what turned these deadbeats around me to drink? It had to be something pretty bad as this beer in particular tasted awful.
I took another painful mouthful and made eye contact with the barman.
"I ain't seen your face in here before" he grunted. "You ain't a cop are ya?"
"Me! No." I replied as cool as I possibly could. "I'm just after a quiet beer. You gotta a problem with that?"
Jesus Max – who the fuck do you think you are?
"I don't son, but it's your funeral..." came the mumbled reply as the barman turned away.
It wasn't too long before that thought came to the forefront of my thoughts.
About fifteen minutes or so had passed when the bar door opened and in barged a stocky, bald guy who had clearly not come in for his first drink of the day. He grunted something at a couple of deadbeats in one of the booths and then sat three bar stools away from me and ordered a beer with a whiskey chaser.
"comin' right up Mitch!" growled the barman.
Mitch took out a pack of smokes, put one in his mouth straight from the packet and started to pat his jean pockets – presumably looking for a light. I already had my cigarettes and the book of matches I found in Jen's room on the bar, so I slid them across the smooth bar to him.
"Thanks kid." Mitch said in a deep but suspicious tone. "Hey, your a new face."
"I seem to get that a lot."
"We don't get many new faces in here." Mitch's face became more concerned looking, and he kept his eyes on me as he light his smoke and took a long draw. "Are you a local?"
"Local enough."
Mitch roared with laughter. "You've got balls kid. Its a good job I'm in a helluva good mood today as otherwise I might have to come over there get to know you better!"
Enough Max – don't push your luck!
"No need for that. I'll not be stopping long."
"Now that's a smart idea." snarled Mitch as he took one of the whiskeys and downed it. As he rammed the glass on the bar, he raised he raised his left arm and demanded another Whiskey from the barman. It was at that moment that spotted his tattoo. It didn't look like much at first but as he lowered his arm, time seemed to slow right down and I was able to focus solely on the unknown shape etched on the grunt and I could tell without a shadow of a doubt that the tattoo was made of two letters – an "X" and a "Y". My heart felt as if it stopped right there and then, and I wasn't sure if it would kick back into life or not. This might be the asshole that mutilated Jen. I tried to run a plan through my head but the truth was that I was clueless as to what to do next. The sensible thing seemed to be to make a move to the bathroom and maybe make a more calculated decision whilst in there. As I walked towards the restroom I could feel Mitch's eyes on me constantly as I remained as casual as I could. The bathroom was small and far from glamorous. I went over to the only sink and filled it with cold water. I splashed the water on my face and looked at myself in the grubby mirror on the wall. C'mon Max, watcha gonna do now? It might be idea to walk away while you can. Don't be a hero! I splashed water once more on my face, but this time when I looked up there was two faces in the mirror.
Thwack!
Then darkness.