Equestria's Payne

by xl9

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Crossover, Human, Dark
Length: 1577

After an ethereal voice gives him an offer he literally can't refuse, drunken ex-cop Max Payne is thrust into an alien world brewing with conflict.

Bullets.
Booze.
Balding has-beens.
None of these belonged in Equestria, but with a war on the horizon, the Princess of the Sun has little choice but to bring in a warrior who cant get the job done without anything to lose.
Turns out only one man fits that description, and he isn't too thrilled to be there.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-27 21:20:03 UTC

Brazillian Nights

Hoboken.

São Paulo.

Two sides of the same bloodstained coin.

Both filled with drugs, violence, and most importantly, neither are safe from the miserable sack of shit Max Payne.

I sometimes wonder how horrible the world would be if I went everywhere. A trail of dead women who I tried to protect, empty painkiller bottles to cover up deeper wounds, and shattered shot glasses without a drop of scotch left in them that would trace the world, leaving nothing but death and despair.

Or at least that’s the best case scenario.

Honestly, Brazil wasn’t the worst place on earth. Sure I didn’t speak their language, hated the people who I worked for, and was constantly bombarded by shitty techno music, but anything can beat a New Jersey winter as far as I’m concerned. My life had taken a change since the move, spending less time unloading bullets into street punks and more time wasting my days away in front of a television.

I flipped through the channels on the TV. Latest headlines on those psychopaths in LA. Some crime drama in the 40s. A comedy about a punk at a boarding school. Finally I found my target, that one flick about the cowboy who dies to protect his family, like an honorable family man. Sometimes I wish I could take that role. Better me than Michelle or Rose.

I try not to think about them, but my past never let me rest. Every single night, alcohol or not, I can see Michelle’s limp body, Rose’s crib splattered with blood. It’s like life was nothing but a long series of stories, the writer constantly out to make my life a living hell.

As the cowboy was gunned down by the lawmen, I downed my second bottle of scotch that night. If I didn’t get killed protecting some rich assholes, my liver would probably finish the job. Just if on cue, I heard a loud knock on my door followed by some garbled shouting in spanish. Right, just what I needed. Someone to interrupt my sulking with a nine millimeter headache.

Time slowed for me, as it often does whenever I’m about to get offed. I dove behind my kitchen counter as I heard my door slam open, some thug readying his gun. His shot missed by a mile, instead shattering my TV. The gunman steadily approached my position, but I was ready for him. Just as he rounded the corner to take the shot that would end my life, I ripped the beretta out of his hand.

A swift kick to the gut brought the man on his knees, as he looked up at me with pleading eyes. Nice try, but that kind of pleading doesn’t work on me. I pulled back the trigger, leaving a grisly hole in the man’s abdomen. I knew better than to leave my guard down, a single gunman means more aren’t far behind.

On cue, a pair of two more men approached my front door. I took careful aim as time slowed to a crawl again, giving me time to line up my shots. Two bullets, each taking out the attackers in a single shot. Bullet sponges they were not.

I ran at the two thugs, picking up a second beretta on my way. Taking cover behind my doorframe, I blindly shot at the oncoming footsteps. I heard a scream of pain and a body dropping on the floor, but the footsteps didn’t end there. I begrudgingly popped my head out of my cover, spotting the oncoming circus of homicidal maniacs. The man I had downed was getting back to his feet, and the men seemed to be carrying assault rifles of some kind. I narrowly ducked back into cover, evading a burst of hot lead.

When I wasn’t busy having a brush with death or drowning my sorrows in the bottle, I really needed to find out how they get that shit.

I took a deep breath, and poked both arms out of cover. I wildly fired until the magazines went dry, gunmen collapsing on the cheaply carpeted halls. As I saw a man fall to his knees, blood pooling on the ground, I almost felt bad for the poor schmuck who would have to clean these carpets. Reasonably, he should’ve known nothing good would have come doing cleanup duty in an apartment building featuring an alcoholic ex-cop with the last name ‘Payne’.

As gunfire roared on, I suddenly realized just how slim my chances were of making it out alive. This wasn’t the first time my house was under fire from thugs, but last time I had the help of an insane survivalist and an old police academy recruit with a job offer. All I had here were two guns with barely any bullets left to use and some clowns with military grade weapons running my way.

My assessment was interrupted by a grenade rolling at my feet. My instincts kicked in, and I dove into the plate glass window across from my apartment. I really should’ve remembered that I’m thirteen stories off of ground level.

As I fell, I got a good long look at the punks below. There seemed to be what amounted to a small army, one who wouldn’t get the pleasure of killing me.

The fall could do that alright.

As I approached my incoming doom, I cracked a grim smile. After all, dying had been on the top of my to do list for awhile now. Time slowed, for what would be the final time as I relentlessly jammed the triggers on my berettas, even long since I had run out of bullets. Yet just before I hit the ground, time completely stopped.

I saw the surprised faces on the thugs as their chums were crumpling in a heap next to them, a shotgun slug that just barely missed my face, the fires of a car from a mishandled grenade, the fresh spurt of blood still dancing in the air like a red water balloon. Everything had stopped, including my descent.

“Max Payne,” A motherly voice announced from seemingly every direction. Reminded me of Helen’s comfort after I had a bad day. “You will not be the one to perish today.” Well isn’t that swell, I thought. I would’ve answered like a total jackass, but my mouth was frozen into a smug smirk.

“Do not worry, I am not here to do you any harm,” Because I would really hate to die right now, obviously. “I instead come with an invitation to my world.” My world? Goddamn, first nightmares, then cults then ghost ships on the Panama Canal, and now aliens who stop time. My life kept unravelling like a dime a dozen paperback novel.

“It is a world much like your own, and conflict is brewing.” Whoever was providing this asshat her script needed to be offed, pronto. “The ponies of my world need help, Max.” Great, just-

I mentally paused, taking in my situation. I was suspended in midair, inches from death, and an omnipotent voice was telling me I needed to help ponies on another world. Fuck, maybe Passos was right about the whole ‘Don’t drink and down pills’ thing.

“They are a peaceful race, and I need your… Expertise.” Expertise? My only expertise is in getting drunk and generally being a useless waste of space. “You clearly have a talent for combat, as the scene before you shows.” Gee, I’m flattered you think I’m good at merciless killing.

“And, more importantly…” the voice took on a darker tone. “You have nothing to lose. Nobody will miss you, and I know you won’t miss yourself if you die.” How quaint. “So you will enter my world. If you fail my mission… Fail my people,” She half shouted at me, like a grenade blast into my eardrums. “Time will resume and you will splatter across the floor.”

“But,” her voice reverted back to the same calm tones as before in a surprisingly quick fashion. “If you succeed, you will hit the ground and walk it off like so many of your past exploits.” Great, can you get me some scotch with that?

“Your quest begins now, Maximilian Payne..” And with that, my vision was flooded with a white light, completely blinding my eyes. When I finally came to, I landed splat on a wooden floor. My head felt like I had gone through the worst hangover of my life, but without the prior pleasure of intoxication.

“There he is!” A shrill voice called out from behind me. I fluttered my eyes once, twice, just to get a grasp on my surroundings. But nothing could prepare me for what followed.

A disgustingly pink face looked down at me, the stupidest smile plastered on its face. Surrounding it were five other babyfaced equines, each of them sporting insane colors and heads way too large for their small bodies to handle. I reached into my coat for painkillers to hopefully dull my senses and make this monstrosity go away, but my head lurched after the thing shouted in my ears.

“LOOK! HE’S HERE! MAXY WAXY IS HERE!” Maxy Waxy… By far the stupidest fucking name I had heard in my life. I grunted in pain, and closed my eyes.

“Save it, please…” I groaned

It’s reaction was to press my nose and yell “Boop!”

This wasn’t a part of the goddamn job description.