Episode 7: The Therapist

As officers of the law, members of the police force often found themselves in life-threatening situations. In the event that an officer almost dies or kills someone in action, it was standard for that officer to have a psych evaluation after every mission. I understood the need for such services, I really do.

But I hated our therapist. In fact, many officers in the SPD shared my sentiment.

He was haughty, stoic, and from my experience as an officer, he had something to hide. I always thought it was unfair that a person like that held the power to send us back to do our jobs or to force us to take paid leave for "psychological reasons".

But protocols are protocols so I had to see him a week after our Dungeon Exploration in Antarctica.

I entered the large doors of the SPD Headquarters with a heavy sigh. As soon as my feet stepped inside, I was immediately met with incoherent shouts from other officers. It was a chaotic place as usual...

Weaving through the annoyingly complex foot traffic of the halls, I made my way to the Human Resources section of the building. It was on the third floor, but the elevator hasn't been working ever since some idiots decided that the weight limit was just a suggestion. So, I had to climb the annoyingly steeps stairs.

As I was climbing the steps, Michael appeared from one of the rooms. He was visibly panicked and in a hurry. I haven't seen him since that incident with the TSA. Also, wasn't he part of the Anti-Terrorism group in the US? What was he doing here?

"Hey, Michael!" I called out to him. "What's the hurry?"

Michael jerked his head towards my direction. "Oh, hey buddy," he greeted back. "Bad stuff. Some Fantasia Supremacists took over an entire city block downtown."

"Fantasia Supremacists? I thought they were disbanded?"

"That's what we thought too," he shrugged. "But evidently, they've been just hiding."

*Bzzzt* "Officer Michael Winston. Where the fuck are you!" a female's voice bellowed through the radio.

"Veronica?" I chuckled.

"The one and only..." he sighed. "Anyway, I gotta go. I'll send you the deets for your party."

After saying that, he bolted.

"Hey! What party?" I asked but he has already disappeared among the crowd downstairs. "Michael!"

This guy...

Well, whatever. I'll worry about that later. For now, I just need to get this over with.

I continued my trip towards the therapist's room and eventually found the familiar beige door. Quite tasteless as usual... The only saving grace was the guard that stood in front of it.

"Hey Steve!" I greeted him with a smile.

Steve was stationed as the therapist's guard after one of the officers got violent during a session. Some of my coworkers felt bad for him and saw it as a demotion. I asked him about it and his reply surprised me a bit.

He said to me with a bright smile, "I got a family now you know. At least when I stand here, I get paid with zero risk of dying. Going home to my family's worth the sore ankles."

He was a friendly family man. And with him to greet me everytime I had to see the therapist, I felt that the trip wasn't so bad.

But today, something seemed off.

"Hello, Officer Roberts," he replied to my greeting in such a professional manner.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, bud, you ok?" I asked. "Something wrong?"

I reached for his shoulder, but before I could touch him, he inched away from me.

"Nothing's wrong," he replied curtly. "The therapist's waiting for you inside."

I narrowed my eyes. Did I do something wrong? Or maybe my marriage with Maria changed his opinion of me? Well, whatever it was, I'll smooth it out with him later.

I twisted the knob and entered the therapist's office. It was the usual sight. White walls, closed blinds, blinding flourescent lighting, a white sofa where the clients would sit, and a white armchair where he would take notes. It was a sanitized, impersonal environment that put hospital rooms to shame.

The only splash of color in this room was a single mahogany desk that was clearly too nice and out of place. It was empty though... Which was weird since the therapist decorated it with a ton of framed photos of his cats and a bunch of random junk that he got from his trips.

He was nowhere to be seen too. Typical. There was a single washroom in the room and he usually came out of there after a minute or two whenever I come here.

And just on cue, the toilet flushed and the door opened.

"Alright, let's get this over with," I said as I took my usual seat on the sofa.

"Quite keen to receive your healing huh? Hijo."

I froze...

That wasn't the therapist's voice. No, it was the voice of the man who turned my life upside down during my time in Mexico.

I stood up and turned towards him.

"Chakob!" I exclaimed.

My "father in-law", the leader of an international drug cartel stood before me. A criminal inside a law enforcement headquarters...

He wore a white, tight-fitted collared shirt, tucked in his well-ironed kakhi pants. He also wore circular glasses that complemented his ancient demeanor.

"No need to be surprised," he chuckled as he took his place on the therapist's chair. "Also, please call me dad."

"What're you doing here?" I asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" he said and gestured at his outfit. "I'm the therapist now."

I paused. My mind swirled with all sorts of colorful words. A migraine also reared its ugly head once again.

"Please tell me you're joking..." I groaned.

"No jokes here. I have a license and everything," he replied with a smile. He took out a clipboard and a pen from the desk and then gestured for me to sit. "Let's get started."

I sighed in surrender. All things considered, the SPD and Rodriguez Cartel were working together, albeit in secret. My only concern was that there were some agents with lower level clearance who were kept in the dark. For the safety of those innocent agents, I'd rather not have him walking around here.

"So," he started. "Tell me about the Dungeon Dive you did with Han."

"Nothing special," I replied. "Mr. Han acted as a monster repellant so we mapped the place with no problem."

Chakob scribbled in his notes.

"Sounds like an easy time," he said with a smile. "What about the Boss Room? I read the report beforehand and it sounded dicey."

I paused. Was he really gonna play the therapist role until the very end? I don't know that I'd be saying this, but I prefer the previous one. He just did the bare minimum but he got us back to the job quickly. I won't play his games. If he wants to play therapist, he can do it with the other officers.

"I'll save us, both the trouble, Chakob," I said. "Yes, I almost died. Yes, the dragon turned out to be a little girl in human form. No, it wasn't traumatic. And during the fight, all I could think of was winning so if it happened again, I wouldn't change a single thing I did."

Chakob just looked at me. The clock on the wall ticked as we sat there in silence. And then, he scribbled on his clipboard.

"Ah, young blood," he sighed. "So impatient. So passionate. I like it."

I raised an eyebrow. I half expected him to be a bit peeved, but I guess nothing can faze him anymore.

"So... are we done?" I asked as I got up from the sofa.

"Come on, hijo, relax for a bit," he said as he waved his hand for me to sit back down. "I know you're strong. After all, you've been doing this policing thing for many years. So let's talk about something that you don't deal with everyday."

I furrowed my brow. "Ok...? I'll bite," I said as I sat back down again.

He took a deep breath. And while wearing a grave expression, he opened his mouth.

"Tell me about Mozambique," he said.

His words fell like a hammer on my head. For a moment, my ears rang, my eye twitched, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Don't go there, Chakob," I said gravely.

The air hung. The temperature rose. I gripped my hands together to the point that they hurt.

"Betrayal, Andrew, is such a brutal poison," he continued. "It's a poison with two bottles: one for the betrayer and another for the betrayed. In my line of work, it's a poison I drink everyday so I know that if you don't talk about it, it'll eventually kill you."

I gritted my teeth and my nostrils flared. The wind quivered around me as I held my tongue.

"Tell me what happened Andrew," he pressed on with such a gentle, soft voice that was laced with venom for my ears. "What happened to the mission in Mozambique? To Blair?"

The string of my patience snapped and I lunged at him before I knew it.

However, before my hands could reach him, he pressed a thumb on my forehead. And all of a sudden, my surroundings blurred, my movements slowed.

"What... what did you do?" I managed to mutter. My voice echoed in my head as I did.

"The brain can process 11 million bits of information every second, Andrew," he said. "I simply stretched this moment temporarily using magic so we can have a bit more time."

"The rumors were true..." I gasped. "You did develop your own martial arts..."

He pressed his index finger on his lips to gesture I shut my mouth about it.

"Ever since you married into the family, betrayal has become your poison to bear too, Andrew," he continued. "Even now, this room's surrounded by officers you know and love. And each one of them wants to kill you."

My eyes went wide. No... Even Steve...?

"Why?" I asked. "As far as marrying Maria, there was no evidence that she's touched your operations. And the SPD's backing me up! There's no reason for them to arrest me, let alone kill me..."

"You know the answer to that, hijo," he replied.

I thought for a bit. And based on recent events, there was only one answer I could say.

"The Miracleworker..." I trailed.

"Han was too hasty," he said. "As soon as you got back here, he went full toro on cornering them. Of course, they caught wind of it so they quickly put a plan into action."

"Right... since marrying me was what started it, me dying would solve it," I concluded. "And since their main weapon's deceit, they'll for sure frame you. And you'll become a merciless Drug Lord again instead of the senile old fart we wanted to show the world."

"You always, catch on quick, hijo," he chuckled. "The Fantasia Supremacist thing was just a decoy. Lots of clean officers left the building to go there so we're outnumbered by a lot of dirty cops."

"Did she really get SPD officers on her side?" I asked.

"Yes, and no," he replied. "The Miracleworker's been in business for so long so they already stole some of the officers' identities. Hell, they even got some of their boys in my crew."

"And I'm assuming they're here too? To make it look like it was your idea?"

"Two snipers at the nearby building and a couple of them behind the walls," he pointed. "The rest of them are SPD officers. Including the guard outside, there's 20 in total."

I paused again. That many? Just for me?

"Some of these guys are real people though," he added with a smile. "Real people you worked with in the past. Ate lunch with. Laughed with. Cried with. The Miracleworker knew what knife to twist and now, they're after your life. Knowing that, what will you do, Andrew?"

He then stooped down to my eye level and stared deeply.

"Will you kill them? And if you do, will you hesitate?" he asked with the most devilish smile. "Betrayal's a poison, yes but it also reveals the real man. So, Andrew, what will you do? What man will you show me?"

I took a deep breath and stared directly back into Chakob's eyes. Again, there was only one answer for me to say.

"I'll be the man I've always been," I replied with conviction. "A police officer. I'll arrest those bastards who betrayed the badge, no matter who they are! And when I see her again, I'll do the same for Blair."

Chakob smiled with a hint of satisfaction.

"That's good enough for now," he said and with a wide grin, he cracked his knuckles. "Get ready. We have some idiots to punish."