Prologue

Tick tick tick tick….

Max sat alone in an empty hallway, the only sound his own foot tapping rhythmically and that of the clock opposite him.

"This can only end one way. You do know that, don't you?"

Tick tick tick tick….

Next to the grandfather clock, still counting the seconds, was a single door with a plaque above it saying 'Dr Philip H Jakes, Practising Psychologist'.

"I am not a patient person. I have limits. And you are pushing those limits, one tick at a time."

Tick tick tick tick….

Max was sure the ticks were getting more sarcastic.

".. OK, I don't care if you are inanimate…. you remind me of anymore seconds I'm stuck waiting here, alone, with one of your ****ing ticks…"

…tick

"Right!" Max got out of his chair, marched over to the grandfather clock and pointed his luger at pendulum. "I gave you 3 warnings, 3 more than most people get! But you wouldn't-"

Just as Max was reaching his climax, the door next to the grandfather clock opened, revealing a short, balding middle aged man. He turned, apparently following the sound of shouting and an expression of mild shock showed as he looked over to Max, standing there with his gun held threateningly at the antique time keeper.

Max looked back at the man and guessed the scene probably wasn't painting him in a very good light. He knew he didn't look stable at the best of times. The typical self-constructed image he wore was one he had spent many years perfecting. He found if he expressed the right mix of cheerfulness, sadistic intent and barely controlled rage, that many law breaking individuals would break down and desperately confess (even to things they hadn't done), if only to make him stop smiling at them.

Now however Max did not look like his usual hyper active self. His white fur was matted in places, one of his ears seemed to be crooked, he had bags he could use for pockets under his eyes and his gun hand was noticeably shaking.

An awkward silence fell over the room as Max and the man stared at one another with Max still keeping the gun pointed at the swinging pendulum.

"… Um… Are you Doctor Jakes?"

The man just nodded.

"…The guy who's supposed to give me my psych evaluation… so I can keep getting freelance work from the police?"

The man nodded again, his eyes focused notably on Max's shaking gun.

"…Ok." There was another noticeable pause "…despite what you may be thinking, I'm not crazy". Max put away his gun as he stepped back from the clock. "And he started it"

Doctor Jakes raised an eyebrow at this. "As first impressions go, this certainly is a memorable one" With that the doctor went back into his office. Max wondered if he should follow him or consider this a lost cause before he heard from the other room "If you are done threatening my Rosewood, you can come in now"

Max hesitantly walked into the room. As he closed the door and looked around, he found pretty much what he expected. Book cases filled with leather bound works, on subjects that had long titles which held no interest to him, the typical leather chair and couch for the doctor and his patient, a large well-kept desk and… wait.

"A kitchen?" Max asked as his gaze passed over what was obviously a studio style kitchen, with marble counters, long legged steel chairs, an oven, a large fridge… "You live here?"

"Yes", Doctor Jakes answered as he went to his desk to pick up a brown folder, which he started leafing through. "When all you need to work is some furniture and a plaque over your door, working out of your home is just too practical in this city…. No commute" he said with a grin.

"We do the same back..." Max paused and awkwardly corrected himself "'I' do the same back at the office. Fold out beds from the wall".

"Very noir 1950's detective" Doctor Jakes said, grinning wider. He stopped his brief reading of the file and walked over to Max "Ok, let's start fresh and get introductions out of the way. I am Doctor Philip Jakes. You can call me Doctor, Philip or Jakes. Though I would prefer Philip" He finished this by offer his hand.

Max looked over Doctor Philip Drakes properly. He was balding, despite looking in his mid-30s. He wore a plain white shirt and simple blue jeans. The only distinct feature he had was a short scruffy ginger beard. He stood relaxed and didn't seem to be bothered by Max's earlier outburst.

Max took the offered hand, trying not to embarrass himself any further "Ok, I'm Max. Just Max. No last name, at least none I am aware of… So we OK to just forget that scene in the hallway?" Max asked, giving his best nice guy/sane guy smile.

"Oh. Oh goodness no" Philip replied jovially, before turning away and walking over to his desk again. "You've already failed your competency evaluation."

"What?" Max asked in a dull tone, all his good humour dropped.

"You had an argument with my clock… which involved a gun." Philip said whilst reading Max's file again, as if that explained everything. The look Max gave him did seem to make him pause "Look, an evaluation like the one you need to take is like a practical driving test. If you make one single mistake early on, no matter how well you do afterwards, you still get the fail. And one look at you and the behaviour you just displayed…" Philip shrugged. "Only difference is, I am willing to be honest with you and tell you from the start."

Max found the rage building up holt before it too drained away. He couldn't hate the guy for being straight with him…. Well he could. He was good at hating without justification, but he wasn't in the mood today. "Ok then. Good session. I'm tired so I'm going to head off if-"

"Max" Philip said quickly, cutting Max off. "I'm not going to say you are fit for duty. At least not after one session. But why don't we see how this session goes. If you think you got anything out of it, we will schedule another one. If not, I won't report that you are UN-fit for duty."

Max groaned a little before nodding. He could waste an hour and maybe try another psychiatrist... Maybe one he could just pay to get the psych eval.

Philip, taking that as a yes continued "Ok, take a chair" He said, pointing not at the comfy leather couch or chair, but the metal stools in the kitchen area "Fancy a tea or coffee?"

Max generally didn't go for stimulants. His usual hyper active metabolism, if fed enough junk food, could keep him bouncing around the city from dusk to dawn to dusk again. However, a sever lack of sleep and eating nothing but jerky and cigarettes for the last couple weeks had left him drained. "Um, Coffee. Black with sugar"

Philip nodded as he went over to a counter. A silence descended as Max walked forward and looked over the office again. The room was actually rather nice. The office was traditional, with old wood and old brown leather. But the kitchen was quite modern, with a black marble counter, cupboards and draws all coloured a reflective jet black.

"Caffeine." Philip said suddenly, his back turned to Max. "I am not a fan of drugs in most cases. Even in my profession, I try to avoid prescribing anything to my patients unless I believe there is no better option" He turned back to Max grinning again. "But Caffeine. That's an exception. THE exception really"

Philip began taking cups from a cupboard whilst his kettle began to boil. He continued "In controlled amounts, for instance a cup of coffee a day, caffeine can reduce fatigue, increase concentration, can even reduce the chance of contracting various diseases. It offers no noticeable medical concerns…"

Max found the sudden subject strange to just bring up the way he did. Maybe this was to be put him at ease, with an irrelevant topic. It didn't work.

As Philip continued his sudden and unexpected dialog, Max jumped up into the metal stool whilst he looked to his right.

Passed a set of balcony doors was another door leading to what appeared to be Doctor Jakes' bedroom. The bedroom, unlike the rest of the office/apartment, was messy, with papers, clothes and shoes thrown over the edge of the bed, bed stand and window sill. This somehow cheered Max up, seeing some basic disorder in the doctor.

Philip looked over to Max as he took out a French Press and grinned embarrassingly. "Oops. Didn't mean to leave that open" He said before walking over and shutting it. He quickly went back to the kettle.

"Ok then. Where should we start. Where should we start" Philip murmured as if to himself, as he poured the water.

"You're the shrink" Max said. "You tell me"

"I'm not a fan of that term, but never mind about that." Philip said dismissively. "So, I imagine the most obvious place would be the… um… Incident" Philip continued as he finished setting up the press and turned back to Max, sitting opposite him.

Max didn't hide his discomfort. He knew he would have to talk about it. The incident. The series of events, starting with Sam gaining weird powers to, and ending with, Max having to kill his now former partner and friend. He still hadn't spoken about it to anyone else. The idea of laying it all out in front of a stranger didn't fill Max with joy.

Before Max could say anything though, Philip just shook his head. "hmm, no. No we can leave that for the moment. I would prefer if we started just afterwards."

"Afterwards? Nothing really interesting happened after all…. 'that' happened." Max replied.

Philip just shrugged. "I'm not after interesting. I'm after stability. It's been 3 weeks since, as you put it, 'that' happened. I want to know how you have been handling things. I know for instance that you are still receiving and working on private jobs. Tell me about them"

Max visibly grimaced. "Umm yeah, not really much to tell… works been coming in, but…" Max just let the sentence hang. He hadn't expected to be asked about his current work and wasn't too sure how to describe how crap things had turned.

Philip let the silence go on and just nodded before going back to the French press and pushing down the plunger. As the filter descended, Philip just said "Max, as you know, our mutual friend Flint was the one who contacted me and informed me of you need for an evaluation. He also mentioned, briefly, that you have been" Philip paused as he poured the coffee. "How should I put it… Struggling in your solo work. At least that's his impression."

Max suddenly felt annoyed. That Flint had been talking about him like that behind his back was bad enough. The fact he was insulting him…

As if reading his thoughts Philip continued. "His words were not unkind, nor a comment on your skills and abilities in crime investigation. Just the words of a very concerned friend".

Philips retook his seat opposite Max as he put a cup of steaming coffee in front of him. "So let's start again from square one. You've received a call from a client, I assume. What happened next."

Max took the cup in one hand and sighed. "Ok… I'm in my apartment. Flint has just left to get some take out… I pass the time with a game" Of Russian Roulette, Max thought to himself bitterly. "I'm just about to… 'win' I guess, when the phone rings."