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Max Not Max

Germany, 1977.

The stage was set for the band to hit, Max was sitting at the bar sipping a lager and tapping out a cigarette from the Morley Brand smokes he kept in his pocket. It was the end of summer, a hint of fall was in the air but that didn't matter at all when you were deep indoors a pub that was underground.

"Ein anderes?" the comely bartender asked him.

"Ich werde eine andere," he replied as he glanced at his watch. His contact was late.

He didn't know when he picked up German but he presumed it was all part of the package deal. The words sounded strange and foreign to his ears but it conveyed his answer. He didn't know who this contact was and why he was supposed to meet them here. His brain was a hazy fog of jumbled memories and strange flashbacks as well.

He felt like Jason Bourne but then he remembered that couldn't be right since 'The Bourne Identity' was written in 1980. That was three years from now. Why did he know this?

There was a sound of high heels on the hardwood floor approaching and he turned to see who was coming and then he realized...