Authors Notes

I promised some action and I'm sticking by my word. Although it's not an all-out fire fight like I want to write. It's too early for that. So for now, enjoy this appetizer.

Also I'm introducing some important characters, so PAY ATTENTION! Thanks, now enjoy!

Max Payne: Miami

Chapter 4: New faces, ally and enemy

From the top of a 7 story hotel a man looked down upon the busy streets of Miami. He stood at about 5'8 in height. Short dark red hair. Light brown eyes that seemingly glowed in the night. His facial bone structure was sharp. He looked to be in his early 20's and was in great shape. His attire at the moment was a simple dark brown dress shirt, dark blue pants, and grey sneakers. A casual outfit, which was fine for him since he didn't have anything big planned for tonight.

Next to him sat a rather grouchy looking man in his early 40's. He was garbed in all black with gloves and a cap. At the moment he was peering through the scope of a rather large sniper rifle. A custom made Dragunov. He had his crosshairs fixated on the car door of an expensive looking Mercedes that was parked in front of a 5 star restaurant. His assignment was simple: Clean shot to the head, then get out of there.

"Hey Mich." Came a smooth voice from beside him. "Not now." He said in an irritated tone. "But Mitch I need to tell you something." The voice persisted. "Not now!" Mitch growled. "If I miss this shot it'll be my ass." He continued in a lower tone. Obviously trying to calm himself for the shot. "I know but there's something I forgot to tell you about this job." Said the voice. Mitch furrowed his brow and turned his head to the side in an angry fashion. "What!" He said. Then he saw a quick movement as the figure next to him shifted his position at an almost untraceable speed. Then the figure flicked his hand and a metal click sound was heard.

Mitch felt a weird sensation in his neck. Something warm and thick was coursing down his chest. He reached up and felt the area below his chin. His eyes widened as he felt a long gash a crossed his neck. Then the pain finally registered. Mitch opened his mouth to yell, but all that came out was a suffocated gurgle. He collapsed on the floor and looked up at the man standing over him with fear and confusion in his eyes.

"Sorry Mitch, but the boss says that you haven't been as loyal as you let on." He said with a regretful grimace on his face. "I'll be taking over this assignment for you alright, it's in good hands I assure you." He said as the dying man's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his arms fell limply at his side. The only person alive on the roof walked calmly over to the rifle laying on the floor. He hefted it onto the ledge to better steady his aim.

The sights on the scope were excellent, he could clearly see the target exiting his vehicle. The man down on the street had his head and arm in the car, as if reaching for something. 'Damn, I don't have a clear shot.' The man with the gun thought. Then suddenly the man below jerked his heard out of the car and looked around as if someone had called his name. 'Perfect.' The gunman thought with a smirk as he slowly began squeezing the trigger.

What he saw next froze him right up and made his blood run cold. The target turned around and knelt down as a young boy of about 8 years in age came running into his arms. The apparent father below had a huge, joy filled grin on his face as the boy in his arms giggled and laughed. Then the supposed mother came next with a content smile a cross her lips as she watched the heartwarming Father-Son moment before her.

The figure on the rooftop lifted head from the scope and hastily removed his finger from the trigger. "No." He said. "NO!" He said again, but in a much louder voice. 'I won't do it. I won't to that kid what was done to me.' He thought angrily. He stepped back and took a couple of deep breaths. Then he sighed. "Sorry Mich. Looks like I was wrong about it being in good hands." He said in a quiet voice. A small smile crossed his lips as he opened a case that lay on the ground, and proceeded to disassemble the rifle in his hands.

As he placed the pieces in the case he said in a cheerful voice. "I have to thank you for the gun Mitch, she is quite a beauty." After everything was packed up, the lone man pulled out a cell phone (One of the newest and most expensive models). Once he found the number he was looking for in his contacts he hit send. With the device pressed against his ear, he waited patiently as it rang.

A voice answered on the other side. "Who's this?" The voice asked suspiciously. "It's Carver." The voice replied simply. "Tell Sergio that Mitch has been dealt with, and that I'll be by later to give him the full details." The voice on the other end lost its suspicious edge and became more casual. "Oh ok, no problem. Good job by the way, you really do know how to get the job done." At this Carver looked down a bit. "Right, well I'll see you later Joe." He shut the phone with a sigh. 'Well at least I know how to get the job halfway done.' He thought as he descended the stairs of the building.

On the edge of one of the many beaches in Miami, there was a large compound. There was also an impressive number of guards patrolled the surrounding area, as well as the interior. Deep inside this structure, in one of the many rooms. There was a man. A tall and bulky man of Cuban descent. He stood at about 6 ft, with rather large muscles. His attire consisted of an expensive white suit made from the finest of cotton, and black loafers made from the finest of leathers. He appeared to be in his mid 50's(Although he is as healthy as can be). Piercing dark brown eyes, black hair that was slicked down and curved slightly up at the back of his neck.

At that moment, another man walked behind him as he stared out a window at the ocean. "Mr. Rodriguez, I got a call from Carver." A smile decorated Sergio's face as he turned around. "Ah and how did our best man fare Joseph?" Joseph smiled as well. "He said he took care of Mitch, he also said that he would come by later to give you the full report." Sergio Smiled even wider. "Excellent, if that's all I think I'll retire to my studies for now. When Carver returns, inform him that I would like to meet with him as soon as possible." Joe nodded, he then turned around and exited the room to continue his duties. 'I really do know how to pick them.' Sergio thought happily to himself while grinning sinisterly.

Max Sat up in the soft bed groggily. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. A clock on the nightstand read 2;47 am. 'No less sleep than I usually get.' He thought bitterly to himself. His throat felt dry. 'This guy better have something to drink.' He as he got up. When he got here yesterday he went straight up stairs and through the first door to his right. Fortunately it was the bedroom with a decent sized bed. He had crossed the room and crashed on it. He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Now that he was rested with a night that contained a surprisingly low amount of nightmares. It was time to wake up. He had slept with all his clothes on, so as soon as he was up he headed straight for the door. As he opened the door and was stepping through, a motion out the corner of his right eye caught his attention. His hand flew up and grasped the wrist of his "assailant". The sight of a gun in the attackers hand made his "Sixth sense" as he called it kick in.

Time seemed to slow down, he slammed the gunman's hand into the frame of the door on the opposite side of the hall. Max heard a loud yelp from the figure beside him as the weapon dropped to the floor. 'Even if he's dropped his gun, he's still a possible threat.' Max thought. That's when his eyes looked towards the stairs. At the moment he was in a position with assailant's wrist still in his firm grip, leaving himself the advantage.

Max spun, bringing the mysterious attacker with him. Using the momentum of the spin, he threw the man in the desired direction. "No. No. No. No. No. NO!" Came from his mouth as he fell backwards down the carpeted stairs. Grunts and yelps were heard as he continued rolling from the second floor to the first. His little trip finally came to an abrupt halt as he hit a wall at the bottom of the stairs with a loud smack sound, followed by a few groans of pains.

Max wasted no time in bending over and snatching the gun up. He checked the safety, ammo capacity, number of bullets in the magazine, and made sure there was a bullet in the chamber as he jogged down to his assaulter. All this was automatic with him now, it was like second nature when it came to guns or combat of any kind. When the man leaning on the wall looked up, he looked right into the barrel of the gun he had possessed only moments ago.

Now that Max could get a good look at the man before him. He seemed to be in his mid-30's, short brown shaggy hair, green eyes. From Max's guess he was about 5'9 in height and had an average build. "Why did you attack me." Max said in a harsh tone. The man in front of him got a bewildered look on his face. "What do you mean attack you? You're the one who broke into my house, it was self-defense. For all I know you could've had a gun yourself, Miami's a rough place." He said, a bit offended.

Max lowered the gun a little. "So you're Bravura's friend." He said flatly. The man's eyes widened a bit more. "Who Jim? Yeah I know him but how do you- Wait you must be Max Payne." He looked Max up and down, then nodded his head. "Yep, you must be. Jim told me that you would be the guy dressed like an early 90's detective. He also mentioned that you'd probably have a bit of an attitude." Now Max lowered the gun down by his side. The man on the ground got up and dusted himself off, then he straightened up with a loud pop from his spine. He groaned in relief. "That's better." Then he extended his hand.

"Roger Heck's the name, I would say it's nice to meet you but I don't quite think I enjoyed that little tumble." Max didn't budge. Roger withdrew his hand. "Guess you not much of one for handshakes huh?" Roger walked in the direction of the kitchen and sat down in a chair. "Well I hope you warm up to me soon because it will be a rather awkward and uncomfortable 2 weeks if we remain on bad terms."

Max walked into the room and placed an unloaded pistol on the table. Along with its magazine and the bullet he'd ejected from the chamber. Roger chuckled a bit. "You sure are thorough when it comes to fighting and not trusting people." Max looked at him blankly. If he was feeling any emotions at, Roger sure couldn't tell. "Is there anything to drink?" Max asked, remembering the whole reason he left the bedroom. Roger pointed at the fridge. "Yeah but all I have right now is beer."

Max crossed the room to the fridge and opened the door. "That's fine." He said. "By the way, just how did you get in?" Asked Roger curiously. "If you want to hide your spare key, do it somewhere else other than under the only potted plant on your property. Roger laughed a little with an embarrassed look on his face. "I guess you're right." He said as Max grabbed a bottle opener that was hanging on the wall. Roger leaned back in his chair and sighed. 'Well this should be interesting.' He thought as he watched Max pop the lid off his beer and drink it. 'Very interesting.'

Author Notes

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There is more to come. The next chapter I do will focus more on developing the characters and getting to know them.

Until next time. Goodbye. PLEASE REVIEW!