Authors Notes

Hello again everyone. I'm sorry that this took so long but I've had some complications, *cough* laziness *cough*.

Heh, well I'm back now and hopefully will get to work on this and my other story which you can check out if you want to. If you're a Fallout fan you might like it. Anyway Here is the 5th chapter of Max Payne: Miami.

Please enjoy and if you really like it, then leave a comment telling me what you think or give some suggestions. I'm always looking for great new ideas.

Here. We. Go.

Max Payne: Miami

Chapter 5: Unfortunate Memories

Max was leaning against Rogers's kitchen counter just staring at the wall while deep in thought. Roger was getting a little uncomfortable with all the silence. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off as Max began talking. "If this is where you live then why were you out so late?" He asked. Roger smirked and answered proudly. "I just so happen to be a man that likes to party." Max just grunted and continued staring at the wall.

Rogers smirk turned into a frown. 'Man this is gonna suck if he's like this all the time' He thought. "Alright well listen." He said getting Max's attention. "If you're going to be in Miami then you need to get some new threads." Max looked down at his attire, then glared slightly at Roger. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" He asked. Roger leaned forward in his chair and said. "Well if you didn't already know, Miami is filled with criminals. And criminals don't really like police too much. Your outfit practically screams cop." Max seemed indifferent. Roger pressed on. "Look, even if you don't care about that you still don't want to walk around Miami in a black leather jacket during this time of year. You'll sweat to death."

Max sighed but saw the logic in what he was saying. "Fine." He said. Roger smiled a bit. "Good, now at least I have an excuse to leave the house today." Then his smile faded into a grimace and he continued. "Although I'm not really sure you'll like the clothes from the place I shop at." Max took a closer look at the other mans outfit. His face twisted into an expression of minor disgust.

Roger sat in his chair wearing a tight fitting green shirt that said Aero-something on it, tan shorts, and flip-flops. Roger saw his look and said. "Well unfortunately this is pretty much all that they sell, I don't know of anywhere that might have something for your tastes." He spoke again before Max got a chance to reply. "Although I would suggest something in a lighter color, and a little less leather."

Max sighed and was going to tell him to forget about it, but then remembered something. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. Roger gave him an inquisitive look. "What's that?" Max took his eyes of the paper and looked up. "It's the number of the person who gave me a ride here; she mentioned that she knew this place pretty well. I could give her a call later and see if she knows of a good clothing store near here."

Roger lifted his eyebrows, but then they lowered and he smirked at Max. "Well, not even here for a full day and you're already getting chicks numbers. I'm impressed." He said with a chuckled. Max rolled his eyes in annoyance. "It's nothing like that." He said calmly. Roger just smiled. "Sure, sure." He said teasingly. "Well we can deal with that later, I'm gonna catch up on some much needed sleep."

He stood and gave a big stretch while yawning. He looked at Max and motioned towards the couch with his hand. "I only have one bed so you'll have to sleep there; I hope that's not a problem." Max just shook his head. 'I probably won't get much sleep anyway.' He thought. Roger just nodded and headed up the stairs, taking his gun with him.

Max removed his coat and tossed it on the back of a chair. Then he walked over to the soft looking couch and laid down on it. Sighing he shut his eyes and tried to get comfortable. 'Might as well try to get some rest.' He thought to himself as he drifted off.

Carver covered his mouth while yawning as he walked through the extensive halls of Sergio's compound. After he had finished his assignment, he went to a nice club and flirted with some pretty girls. It wasn't like he was actually trying to get a date or something, he was just doing it to distract himself from his earlier activities. It was strange. He was one of the deadliest men in all of Miami, yet he didn't like to kill. He didn't really mind too much if they were some kind of scum or douche bag. However he hated the thought of killing someone innocent.

He could tell that Sergio wasn't exactly thrilled about that. It's easy to imagine why a crime lord wouldn't be happy if his best man had a problem with murder. Speaking of Sergio, he needed to go see him before he turned in for the night.

Carver turned down a long hallway and stopped when he came to a large door with a snoring man sitting in a chair to the side of it. He smirked as he picked up a shotgun that was leaning on the wall next to the sleeping fellow. Carver held it facing the ceiling; he got it as close as he could to the man without touching him. Then he pumped the 12 gauge Spas, causing a loud sound as the weapon ejected a shell. It bounced off the previously slumbering man as he yelped loudly and fell out off his chair, hitting the ground in an attempt to avoid an expected blast from a shotgun. Instead he heard loud laughter from above him.

He turned his head to see Carver leaning against the wall to support himself. He held the shotgun by the pump in his left hand while slapping his knee with his right, his face red from laughing so hard. The man on the ground jumped up, his face red with anger. "Damn it Carver! That's not funny!" He yelled. Carver replied while still catching his breath. "I-I'm sorry Joe- hahahaha it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up-hahahahaha!"

Joseph snatched the gun from Carvers hand. "I nearly had a heart attack!" He proclaimed. Carver was now only chuckling. "I'm just keeping you on your toes, besides its not good to sleep on the job now is it?" He asked, not really needing an answer. Joseph just sat back down in his chair with the shotgun in his lap and growled.

"Is Sergio in?" Carver asked motioning to the door. "Yeah." Joseph answered angrily, and then he proceeded to grumble to himself while glaring at the wall. Carver entered the door smiling to himself and closed it behind him.

As he walked in Sergio transferred his attention from the book he was reading to Carver. His concentrated look disappeared and was replaced by a satisfied smile. "Ah Carver, It's good to see that you have returned. Albeit a little later than I had expected." He said. Carver's smiled became sheepish as he began to explain his self. "Yeah well I decided to have a drink or two and sort of lost track of time."

Sergio merely dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "No matter, I heard that you dealt with Mitch. Good job and I trust that the rest of the assignment went well." He said expectantly. Carver's eyes looked elsewhere in the room. "About that." Sergio raised an eyebrow.

Carver continued. "I had a clear shot at my target but…" his voice faded. Sergio didn't like the sound of this. "Go on." He said. Carver sighed. "His son was with him." He said as he cast his eyes downward. Sergio frowned deeply and his face wrinkled in anger. However he quickly regained his composure and replaced his expression with a convincing look of sympathy. Carver was none the wiser as he was still staring at the floor. He looked up as the other man began to speak in a soothing voice. "I see, do not worry about it I can always have someone else take care of it."

Carver looked up and into the eyes of the man before him. There was sincerity as well as something else, but he couldn't tell what. Sergio put his hand on Carvers shoulder. "I understand your choice of actions." Carver nodded his head as he ponded upon some not so fond memories.

He always hated his little trips down memory lane. Every time his thoughts were filled with his short lived happy childhood….It was too painful. Remembering his parents during good times was nice. However when their deaths were brought to mind, it wasn't exactly pleasant.

Even with all the time passed, that night was still fresh in his mind. They had just gotten home from dinner. When they entered their home, it was being robbed. His family was pretty wealthy, so it wouldn't be too much of a surprise to most.

He remembers it clearly. He was 9 years old, living a very happy childhood. At least until that night. They never suspected a thing when they walked through the front door, his parents were both chuckling cheerfully at a joke his father had just told. It went right over his head at the time, but he smiled all the same, not wanting to be left out. His mother was carrying the leftovers from dinner in some paper bags; she walked toward the kitchen to put them in the fridge. That's when it happened.

Loud gunshots rang out from the room his mother had just entered. He began to panic as she fell to the floor from the doorway, staring lifelessly at him while blood stained the front of her dress in several places. His father screamed in horror. "NO!" He yelled, racing over to her. Before he could reach her, a man wearing dark clothes and a ski mask, stepped in front of him. He raised his left hand which held a large pistol, aiming at his father's head. However he was to slow in pulling the trigger, his father swatted the assailants weapon away with a strong backhand. It bounced off a wall and slid to a halt somewhere underneath their couch.

Taking advantage of the shocked attacker, his father lashed out with a furious right hook. The other man stumbled back, crashing into a china cabinet, the glass casing shattered, causing everything inside to come tumbling out onto the floor and the masked man. His father turned and looked straight at Carver, fear and sorrow evident in his teary eyes. "Run!" He yelled frantically. "Now!" Carver obeyed and rushed to the front, grabbing the handle he flung it open as quick as he could. Chancing another look he glanced over his shoulder.

His father was advancing on the stunned man, ready to tear his head off. But he never got the opportunity. Another mask wearing robber descended their staircase hurriedly. In his hands was a sawn off pump shotgun. Raising it as his father whirled around to face him. Then he fired the mighty weapon with less than two meters between them. The blast lifted his father clean off his feet, blood splattering on the wall behind him. He landed right on top of a small coffee table, it shattered beneath his weight. Coughing up blood he jerked a few seconds before letting out a gurgled sound, his body went limp as the cruel claws of death finally claimed him.

Carver ran from the house as fast as he possibly could, tears streaming freely down his face as he cried loudly. He sprinted across the stretch of his neighbor's lawn, then slamming into their front door he began banging loudly. After a few seconds someone peeked out from the curtains next to the door. Almost immediately after the large door swung open, standing there was Mrs. Parker, a fairly good friend of his parents. She hurried him in and gathered the sobbing child in her arms. "Oh my, dear what happened, were those gunshots?"

He sobbed and sputtered out incoherent noises. Mrs. Parker tried her best to sooth the poor child, but he continued on in his frantic panicking. She turned to her husband, who had just rushed into the room with a small pistol in his hand. "Call the police!" He stared at the scene before him in confusion for a second or two before setting the gun on the table next to their house phone. He picked it up and hurriedly dialed 911. Everything went dark and blurry after that.

He woke up later, in a police station with the Parkers watching over him. He didn't speak a word for three days straight. Their funeral was held not long after. Many people came up to him and gave their condolences. That's when Sergio approached him. He introduced himself, saying how horrible of a loss it was that his parents were gone. He said he was a close friend of his father, and that he would like to help in any way. Carver vaguely remembered seeing him with his parents a few times.

After the funeral Sergio took him aside and told him that he meant what he'd said. With a comforting smile he promised that he would have a good home to live in. Carver was offered the choice of being Sergio's adopted son. The kind looking man said it would be much more pleasant than staying at an orphanage, waiting for some random couple to take him or being sent to live with relatives that he had never even met.

Going with Sergio seemed like the better option when he thought of the alternatives. Once all the technical details had been worked out, he was brought to the giant complex that Sergio called a home. The people there seemed scary at first, but soon after he got used to them. Once he was a bit older they taught him how to use a gun and let him practice at the shooting range. After that he realized that living there would actually be kind of cool. Even if Sergio did make him study hard weekly. It was tough, but he was always rewarded.

At age 13 they started teaching him how to fight and defend himself. He learned quickly and exceled at it. They also started educating him in the way of fire arms. Despite the bad memories he still picked them up and learned how to operate then with expert precision. By the time he had turned 16, he was a forced to be reckoned with in almost every way. The whole time Sergio had been teaching him more and more about the "Business" he ran. His silver tongue had craftily twisted his mind to his will. He taught him the importance of being ruthless. At first Carver was resilient to the idea of killing, but once again Sergio had convinced him otherwise.

His first kill was a low-life drug dealer in the back ally of a run-down slum who had tried to rip them off. He was 17 years old at the time. Sergio was going to do it personally, but decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce Carver to killing. He handed him the gun and told him to "Finish it." Of course he refused, but Sergio made a little speech about how it was because of horrible criminals like him that good people like his parents died every day.

He had stood there looking at the floor for a few seconds, the 44. Magnum in his hand shook slightly. Then he became completely still, slowly raising his head he made eye contact with the dealer. The nameless thug had raised his hands and was about to make a plea for his life, but before he could utter a word, a 44. Caliber bullet tore through his forehead and splattered his brains on the wall behind him. His body knelt there completely still for a moment, his head hung backwards, blood trickling out from the hole. Then he fell back and lay motionless on the ground.

And here he was, almost loathing his life style. Back then he was young and stupid, he completely understands what Sergio had done to him. However, he still owes him in a way, not like he could just walk out anyway. Sergio had walked over to his desk and sat down, his attention turning to the screen of his computer. "Why don't you go and try to catch some sleep, tomorrow we're meeting some business partners. There's an important shipment of a rare drug that we need to have delivered to them, and you're in charge of making sure everything goes as planned." Carver nodded as he left the room, turning down the hallway that led to his room. After he was gone Sergio slammed his fist on the desk angrily. "Damn it!"

Miami Police Department, 8:12 am

A rather portly man sat at the welcoming desk in the entrance of the M.P.D. His nametag said "J. Worrall" but everyone called him Jorge. He leaned back and yawned loudly, his shift would be over in an hour and he was tired. He picked up a fishing magazine that was laying on his desk and flipped through the pages, browsing the numerous fishing poles he wished he could have. The sound of a door opening drew his attention to the front of the building.

In stepped a man with dark brown hair, about 5'10 in height, brown eyes by the look of it, and dressed in a black suit. Jorge was a little wary of him, not really sure what to think. The man approached the desk and reached into suit pocket. Jorge tensed and was about to reach for his gun, but then the man pulled out an FBI badge. "Special agent Cooper, I'm supposed to be meeting with your supervisors in about twenty minutes."

Jorge's heart rate slowed back down to its normal beat after a few second. "Of course, he's expecting you." He said. "He's in his office, third floor, it'll be the forth room on the left." Jorge typed a few things into his computer. "Room 308, I'll buzz you in." After a little more typing, he reached over and pressed a yellow button on a panel of buttons near his computer. The elevator about a dozen feet away buzzed, and then the doors opened. Cooper simply nodded his head as thanks and headed to the elevator. After stepping in he hit the button for the third floor and rubbed his temples as the metal box began its ascent. He had much to discuss with the men in charge. Some serious chaos was about to break lose if they didn't handle this situation and fast.

Thank you so much for reading my story and I hope you enjoyed it.

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