Why'd You Have To Go And Make Things So CompliKaelted!

“Politics have no relation to morals.” - Niccolo Machiavelli

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…United Center, Chicago, Illinois…

…ReVival 72…

Max snarls, his body burning as he remains locked in a deadlock with FLAMBERGE. Neither man can out maneuver the other enough to secure an advantage.

His mind is frantic for a new avenue of offense he can take.

What is he going to have to do to beat FLAMBERGE?

Then he sees him.

The most beautiful creature he’s ever beheld.

Max can’t remember the last time he didn’t want to see him.

But we’re making new memories here.

His train of thought is completely derailed as confusion washes over him.

… why?

Then he feels that old familiar bloom of pain and agony shatter his pelvic region.

Shock swallows the physical pain, but his mind is just beginning to experience the first flashes of true pain. As FLAMBERGE’s arm locks around Max’s neck his eyes are violently torn away from his love.

He should tap, it’s the smart thing to do.

But he doesn’t want to.

He surrenders, instead, to the familiar embrace of darkness.

Pouring over his eyes like black tears.

☠️☠️☠️☠️

I feel for you, Elise Ares.

Out in PRIME trying to prove yourself.

Trying to make your master, Jack Harmen, proud. 

Trying to make a name for the Pop culture Phenoms. 

Trying. 

You might be succeeding if it weren’t for my boys, Green and Vale. 

You might be succeeding if you weren’t associating with the wrong kind of people. 

You might have succeeded on ReVival 74.

If it weren’t for Maximillian Wilhelm Kael.

Wait, I don’t feel for you at all.

I’m gonna beat the shit out of you, skutterfuck clapslack.

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…Arkham City Hall, Arkham, Massachusetts…

…A few days after ReVival 73…

“And so it is, with great humility, that I, Doctor Millicent Armitage announce my candidacy for Mayor of our illustrious and storied city of Arkham.”

The aged black oak halls of Arkham City Hall rang with the cold voice of the Matriarch from her pulpit at the center of the Arkham City Council Tables. Like the rest of the room this raised, crescent table was made of wood, the rich patina a testimony to age. Doctor Armitage fit well into this setting, her modest outfit was sharp, tailored to her shape for a modern take on a classic look. A ruby and onyx pendant hangs from a golden chain, unique in design, sharp and mysterious as its wearer.

“I was a personal friend of the late Mayor Gillman, and he often sought my council when the matter of Arkham’s history and laws were brought into question. Dren Gillman believed in the good work of public service! I look forward to serving the people of Arkham by affirming his legacy and using our shared experience to inform my decisions.” Light clapping from the gathered council members encourages the gallery to join in. Millicent waves off the clapping, furrowing her brow into a serious expression.

“My opponent uses chaos, bullying and blatant obscuring of the truth to snake his way into the machinery of Arkham with one goal, and one goal only. Self enrichment. He doesn’t have any interest in helping anyone but himself. No experience in public service, no education in law, economics, political science or business. Nobody has seen him since July 25th, following yet another public loss. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all just disappear after a bad day at the office?”

Armitage pauses, shaking her head in disapproval as a few boos echo from the crowd.

“He wants to turn this special election into a circus because that’s what he thrives in. He’s a professional clown who spends every other Friday rolling around wrestling, attacking someone, or engaging in activities I won’t mention because, quite frankly, they aren’t fit to be discussed in public.”

She sighs, her lips puckering as she pulls her glasses off, cleaning the lenses with the sleeve of her blouse.

“We all know the blight his family has had on this wonderful city. The good people of Arkham have suffered in the shadow of the Kael family for far, far too long.”

The black, cat eye glasses are lifted back to perch on her nose. She shifts her posture in a manner that projects both strength and elegance, her chin held high.

“Which is why I am confident on September 4th, when you, the good people of Arkham, cast your votes, you will do so for order. You will do so for sanity. You will do so for a better future. Arkham, when you cast your votes,” Millicent pauses, drawing in a short breath with a nod and a sly smile. “You will vote for Millicent Armitage!”

An explosive cheer erupts from the gallery as several of the shadowy city council members stand and join. The doctor waves and mouths “Thank you”, the role of politician one she slips into with ease.

The doors to the gallery are suddenly thrown open with a loud bang. An awkward deputy shuffles through them. “Sorry, Doctor Armitage, the Sheriff sent me. There’s been a threat on your life, we need to clear the gallery and lock this room down.” he whispers, voice shaking with anxiety.

Millicent turns to examine the deputy carefully, his sweat slick brow and nervous energy giving weight to his words. Her mouth tightens into a flatline, turning her attention back to the cheering citizens of Arkham.

“Thank you, thank you! Good people of Arkham, at the request of the sheriff’s department please exit the gallery in a neat and orderly fashion.” She announces, the flash of incisors slipping through the politicians poised smile.

It doesn’t take long for the gallery to empty with Armitage’s name buzzing amongst the crowd. As the doors close the City Council, the deputy and the Doctor are left alone, an unpleasant silence enshrouding them. The pale faced deputy approaches Millicent, dabbing sweat from his brow.

“I… I’m sorry Doctor.” he sputters. “I didn’t have a choice. They got t-”

Before he can finish, the doors to the chamber bang open. A steady stream of well dressed Russian thugs file into the room. They spread like spilt borscht, oozing into the dark corners.

“Good evening, Doctor Armitage.”

The good doctor nearly jumps out of her skin as the malevolent cooing of Snark Darkly pours into her ear. She takes a step back, sizing up the surprising arrival with a clinical eye. Readjusting her glasses, her surprise was quickly crushed by her stoic professionalism.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, my apologies! My name is Snark Darkly.”

Even on the well lit stage, Snark’s presence inexplicably draws shadows to him in defiance of the light. The awkward movements of his lips do not match the words that funnel up from his throat. He offers a robotic bow like a poorly operated puppet, before snapping back up.

Millicent’s nose scrunches, lip curling as a hiss escapes her clenched jaw.

“Oh I have heard of you now that you’ve introduced yourself. You’re the thing that’s been hanging around Max Kael. We recently lost a volume from the Rare Books and Special Collections section of Orne Library. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”

Her thin eyebrow twitches as she glares at the strange manifestation being dangled in front of her.

“Oh I wouldn’t know anything about that, Doctor Armitage, though I do have many duties tied to my management services that I provide my client. One of those is to ensure he makes important appearances. Speaking of which!” Snark skips down the stage, waving his hands toward the darkened gallery doors.

“It is my pleasure to introduce… Maximillian. Wilhelm. Kael!”

In the quiet that follows Snark’s words the heavy plod of shoes on hard wood floors echoes ominously. Millicent peers into the shadows of the entrance, barely making out two faintly glowing green eyes swaying to the rhythm of the foot falls.

A storm of hate and jealousy blows through the doors of the gallery as Max Kael stomps out of the darkness, clad in his usual three piece black suit and red bowtie. From the corners of his menacing green eyes, black tears streak down his face. His eyes flash about the room as he marches up the stage to the podium, lips pulling back into a silver toothed sneer.

“I’ll make this quick cause I just found out I gotta kick the shit out of some kid named Elise Ares.” He mutters with a tired grunt, his hands settling on his hips.

“Sometimes you wake up and you just hate the world. You look at all the injustices in your life, all the times you were cheated out of something. Every time somebody lies to you, manipulates you for their own gain! When they CHOOSE SOMEONE ELSE!”

Max smashes his fist down on the podium, his words ripping themselves from his throat. Millicent takes a step back, eyes moving to the City Council members as they share a concerned look.

“I’m not a bad guy. Well, I’m not that bad of a guy, right? I work hard! You think it’s easy to weave Machiavellian machinations on a personal, professional and political level?! While also setting aside time for a secret relationship? I’m spinning plates like a motherfucker out here and I don’t get the appreciation I deserve for it! Over half of you morons are playing checkers, while I’m engaged in 4D Chess with fuckin’ Spock! KEEP UP!”

Spittle flies from Max’s mouth as he turns, banging his fist on the podium in punctuation with his words. An exhausted sigh flares his nostrils, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Imagine this. A man is walking the Eastern Trail just as the sun is setting on the western Miskatonic ridge. His heart is heavy, his soul worn down to marrow from a life of regrets.”

He lowers his hands, hooking them into the pockets of his waist coat. Slowly, with a shark’s grace, Max begins to patrol the Council Table.

“As his weary eyes take in the beautiful sunset, he notices something. He sees something he hasn’t seen since before he lost his youthful innocence! He sees a little piece of truth. The cruel light of honesty which illuminates the umbra of deceit. All the shadowy lies we tell ourselves and others are drawn into burning luminescence! Hallelujah and praise be, that truth did set him freeeee!”

Punctuating his remark by smashing the heel of his shoe down hard on the old wooden stage, Max swivels to meet Armitage’s steely gaze.

“The guilt and shame are too much for him. He writes down all of his sins and those less then saintly acts he’s carried out for others. His crimes pour from his mind like a fountain, painting the pages of his journal like Kurt Cobain paints walls. This moment of revelation is both terrifying and cathartic… heh-heh…”

He closes the distance between himself and Dr. Armitage who doesn’t so much as flinch at his unpleasant nearness. With a snap of his fingers, Max dispatches two of his Russian thugs, mouth puckering like an irritated butthole.

“Whatever you’re trying, Kael, we won’t be intimidated by filth like you.” Millicent begins, a professional scowl claiming her expression.

Max winks with a dismissive click of his tongue. “Darling…”

The two thugs reappear, dragging a black hooded figure into the Council Chambers. The figure is unceremoniously dumped at the foot of the pulpit, like a sad sack of potatoes.

Kael prances across the stage, arms waving above his head like two warring snakes. Slinking down, Max’s eager fingers rip back the hood as several of the City Council gasp in horror.

Sheriff Benton Mason’s eyes stare up into the lights, black tears staining his cheeks. Though he’s still breathing, there is no light behind his eyes, no shimmer of life or awareness.

“... what have you done?” Millicent’s face contorts in horror, stepping forward to take in the sight of Max’s latest victim.

Rising to his feet, Max feigns surprise. “Me? I’ve done nothing! Just returning a lost pet back to his handler.”

After a second of thought he snaps his fingers again, reaching into his waist coat, retrieving Sheriff Mason’s little black journal.

“Oh, and to let you all know that I’m keeping Sheriff Mason’s confessions near and dear to my heart.” he snickers, his eyes flashing dangerously in Millicent’s direction. “... for all our safety, mmm? Heh-heh.”

Snark Darkly oozes from Max’s shadow, the Kyn’Sadk-Lrar Manuscript held possessively against his sweater vest.

“You don’t know what you’re doing, you FUCKING idiot!” Doctor Armitage shrieks, poise shattering as she sees the tome.

It had started out as such a nice evening, but now Millicent had run out of her last fuck. Grabbing the ruby and onyx pendant that hung around her neck, the Doctor hisses strange words that burn the throat with their profane heritage.

Max and Snark are both caught off guard as the world begins to contort, curling to the left then violently stretching out like strands of overcooked pasta.

“Oh shit.” Darkly comments, impressed.

Max falls backward, his feet leaving solid ground. He catches Millicent’s baleful glare one last time, his own green eyes flashing defiantly.

“... Don’t forget to voooooote!”

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…The Kael Estate, Arkham, Massachusetts…

…A few moments later…

“..voooote!”

The word wriggles into reality first, echoing in the empty gravel driveway of the Kael Estate. A strange sucking noise is followed by a loud pop as Max Kael, Snark Darkly and his small retinue of Russian thugs are ejected back into functional reality. Their bodies tumble wildly through the air before gravity reintroduces them to the ground.

Max immediately snaps up to his feet, his eyes darting suspiciously in all directions His hands explore his body making sure all appendages are accounted for and in their correct place. “What the fuck was THAT?!”

Snark rises from the spot he fell, not like a normal person, just straight up from the crumbled pool of his body.

“That was a Banishment spell, no doubt powered by that lovely trinket she was wearing. I underestimated her resourcefulness.” Darkly admits, a jovial expression hanging loosely off his face.

Crossing his arms petulantly, Max’s chin drops in an aggressive pout.

“Do you think they heard the reminder to vote?”

Snark Darkly’s many fingers intertwined awkwardly, far too many knuckles getting involved. He rests his chin on the mound of wiggling fingers, his eyes glinting West, toward the glow of  Arkham. “Oh, I suspect they got the message.”

Max ponders on that for a moment before shrugging, not entirely in agreement with Darkly.

“Gonna go pay our guest a visit. Happy little coincidence Elise Ares on 74.”

Darkly turns, a broad smile pulling across his wrinkly face, all those pearly white teeth stacking up with each other. “Oh, Ms. Kai?” “... No.”

A smile teases his mouth..

“... the other guest...”

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…maybe I was being a little harsh earlier…

I’m just going through a lot of stuff right now.

Busy, busy, busy.

My new lawyer, Gavin bleh-blah, Wrestling Attorney, yadda-yadda has advised me not to talk about the kidnappings.

Anyway all this to apologize for calling you a skutterfuck clapslack.

I don’t even know what that is, I just thought it sounded fun. 

Unfortunately I do have to try and murder you on ReVival 74, sorry. 

But hey, keep an eye on the NEWS in Columbus.

I got a little surprise for you and Mr. The D. 

Until then, fuck off and die!

xoxo

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…The Kael Estate, Arkham, Massachusetts…

…Sometime later…

Max gives himself one last look in the mirror, coiffing his hair before running his fingers over his thin mustache.

One last adjustment of his bow tie before he gives himself a little wink, as a treat.

Turning, he quickly clatters his way down a long hall before pivoting on his heels to stare at a large, ancient looking black oak door. It’s the kind of ancient hardwood that had survived for hundreds of years before someone decided it should be a door.

If wood could be angry, this door would be very, very angry.

Max’s dexterous fingers dance along the assembled locks, each clicking and clacking as steel bolts and brass chains come undone.

The oak door slowly swings open on groaning hinges. Max’s green eyes glitter with a pullulating malevolence.

Humming cheerfully to himself, Max’s feet carrying him down the creaking wooden steps into the darkness blanketing the sprawling under belly of the Kael Estate. The smell of mildew and rot invade Kael’s senses as he navigates the miasma.

“Knock-knock, lil’ buddy! It’s Max Kael!”

The shrill cry Max’s voice calls out into the cold stone passages stretching out like a labyrinth before him. He turns, squinting in the dark until his eyes find the crossbar switch bolted into the stone.  “Let me just get the light for ya…”

Throwing the switch sends a sharp crackle of electricity rushing through the ancient wiring of the Estate’s basement. Flickering lights come to life bathing the underground passages with a sickly yellow glow.

Scowling as he plants hands on his hips, Max’s eyes swivel from side to side, annoyance tugging like crows feet at the corner of his eyes.

“... where the hell are you? Marco?!” Max calls out, cupping a hand to his ear.

“MARCO!?” He roars this time, nostrils flaring widely as his brow compresses into an angry crease.

This time there is an answer.

Well, less an answer and more a muffled groan paired with malformed words struggling to be born.

“Hold on, I’ll come to you!”

Skittering across the dirt and rock floor like a well traveled sewer rat, Max quickly locates his ‘guest’.

A man in dirty clothes has done his best to cram himself into the darkened corner of a tiny room. It’s difficult to make out who this ‘guest’ is as only his legs kick loosely out into the puss tinted light. From somewhere in that shapeless dark, two wild eyes burn with desperate madness.

“There you are, buckaroo!” Kael exclaims, flaring his coat out dramatically before hooking his thumbs into his black waistcoat. “Just the guy I was looking for!”

Glissading toward his prisoner, Max’s feet dance across the floor.

“So, I found myself in a bit of a dill pickle, and you’re the potential ruben sandwich that will complete my lunch!” Kael soliloquies, crouching down next to his prisoner.

As Kael gets closer, the man pulls his legs into the corner doing everything he can to become one with the wall.

“I got booked against Elise Ares, an associate of that psychopath Jack Harmen. My boys, the Green-Vale Gang, they’ve had some bidniz with her, but there's shockingly little PRIME material to study up on her. Lame, right?”

Uncoiling from his crouch, Max pirouettes beneath the light, dancing to a song only he can hear.

“... That’s where you come in, buddy. See, word on the street is that you may have some insider information on this chick and her buddy, Mr. The D. And you’re gonna spill the beans, such as it were. We’ve been going easy on you, just a few words but I think today we’re gonna move onto… sentences. Oh, I made a little double entendre, oh cleverness of me… heh-heh.”

A wide smile stretches across Max’s face, all teeth and gums. In the bilious light of the basement, the black tears running down Max’s cheeks pulse with an unnerving splendor. They don’t glow, but rather drag light into them as they slither down his cheeks.

Max snatches the hood off his prisoner, tossing it away as he giggles excitedly to himself. “Snark, I think our kiddo is ready for his good night story.”

Peeling himself out of Max’s shadow manifests Snark Darkly with a certain manuscript clutched lovingly in his hands.

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel great afterward…” Max hisses between silver teeth as Snark steps forward, opening the ancient tome. Max reaches into the corner, dragging his prisoner out by his hair. They protest weakly but are overpowered by Kael.“... like getting your brain washed… heh-heh.”

Something catches Max’s eyes as he leans down, fishing an item off their prisoner. Max stands, twirling crimson sunglasses in his fingers.

“Let’s get this started, Snark. I need him TV ready for ReVival 74.”

Flicking open the pair of signature red sunglasses, Max slips them over his simmering green eyes. Cruelty fills every crease of Max’s face as he forces his mysterious guest’s eyes open. He shoves the prisoner’s face into the ravenous pages of the dark manuscript. Maddening screams soon joins Max’s sadistic giggling.

“It’s time for our BIG return!”