Burn the Sage, Eat the Kael

“The spirit of envy can destroy; it can never build.” - Margaret Thatcher, until she wasn’t.

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…Arkham City Hall…

…October 8th, 2024…

A miserable Fall rain drizzles from the grey sky above Arkham. The smell of dying foliage clings to the stately walls of the City Hall while a small crowd gathers tightly before it.

As was tradition, the previous Mayor would stand witness to the Mayor-Elect’s swearing in. In this case it was Max’s opponent and Mayor Pro Tempore, Doctor Millicent Armitage. A long, sweeping white coat and matching wide rim hat shelter Millicent from the worst of the weather. Her face is as dreary and bitter as the weather she endures, awaiting the arrival of the man who defeated her.

Somehow.

As though the thought itself was a means to summon him there comes a dreadful noise from down the street.

A thrumming beat, growing ominously louder and louder.

Millicent wrinkles her nose while the small crowd whispers and murmurs uncomfortably. Her cold eyes quickly spot the slow procession of Marsh family members marching toward the city hall like a rolling tide of inbred swine. They bang on crude drums and rusted sheets of metal producing a discordant thunder to match the mood of the skies above.

Behind the Marsh horde a long black limo with chrome accents and some kind of outrageous hot rot engine rolls up to the side of city hall. It’s the kind of limo that screams comic book villain, nothing about this thing looks good for the environment or friendly.

The back door pops open and a flood of children, as young as eight, as old as twelve, pile out onto the sidewalk. They’re joined by a Goat Boy which can mean only one thing.

The Daytona Diamond’s Bastards Children’s Choir has returned.

They file up along the side of the street as the Marsh Family continue their clattering march.

♪Rattle big black bones in the danger zone!♪

♪There’s a rumblin’ groan down below!♪

A pair of black wingtips covered in white spats jut out of the back of the limo like they were at the ends of two long spiderlegs. White gloved hands soon join them, clinging to the roof of the limo. Then, like a tarantula popping out of its hole, the rest of Max Kael suddenly springs forth.

♪There’s a big dark town, it’s a place I’ve found!♪

♪There’s a world going on underground!♪

He’s in a black tailed tuxedo with a flash top hat sitting at a cant atop of his crown. Beneath the hat its all smiles, metal teeth and gums, his eyes alive with the drunken glimmer of momentarily satisfied ego. Twirling a cane in his left hand, Max begins his march toward the stage.

♪They're alive, they’re awake!♪

♪While the rest of the world is asleep!♪

His gloved hand snags the rail of the stairs leading up to the stage, the rest of him sloshing forward to join his hand like some mobile tumor. Oozing up the stares he takes a languid step forward before two-stepping toward Doctor Armitage.

♪Blow the mine shaft roads it will all unfold!♪

♪There’s a world going on underground!♪

With a dramatic cut of his hand through the air the clanging and the wailing of the children’s rendition of Tom Waits’ “Underground” come to a merciful finish. Biting his lip coyly the Mayor-Elect twists his head away from the motley crew he’s assembled, cursed green eyes falling on the Doctor.

“Doctor Millicent! Fancy meeting you here.” he gleefully hisses through cold, metal teeth.

Armitage holds her ground, her lip curling as she acknowledges his arrival with a curt nod. Leaning close, Max wheezes a sickly chuckle, “Let's make this fast, I gotta plan the ass-whoopin’ of a non-traditional fuckin’ dirt hippie.”

“What?!”

Shoving Millicent out of the way, Max raises his hands triumphantly.

“HELLO, ARKHAM!”

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…The Skies Above Arkham…

…Shortly after the Inauguration…

“So you’ve decided what to do about the Sage Pontiff business?”

Snark Darkly’s voice chimes cheerfully from the end of the ebony boardroom table nestled in the heart of THE SPIRIT OF ARKHAM. The skin on his face rests in wrinkly deposits, the bone structure it hangs off wildly inhuman.

“I’ve been formulating a strategy the last few days, Darkly,” the sound of Max’s voice echoes around the room before rebounding back to Kael himself as he sweeps past Darkly with purpose. As always he’s dressed in his black three piece suit though a black and red silk robe billows around him like an angry cloud.

The Mayor of Arkham casts his manager a brief look before grimacing uncomfortably. “You should probably put your face on.”

Darkly’s body twitches violently, accompanied by a low, meaty cracking. The skin tightens and restricts while the bones crack into more familiar designs. In short order the Snark Darkly we’re more accustomed to grins cheerfully from the table.

“Thank you, Max, static anatomy is such a humbling experience!” expresses the doll-eyed manager, tipping his panama hat.

“I’m gonna pretend that I understand that and move on.” nods the Mayor, billowing to the head of the table. With a spin he dramatically collapses into his chair while kicking his wingtips into the air. “... to your original question, the Sage Pontiff business. To me, my The Herald!”

Max punctuates his demand by clapping his hands.

…

Nothing happens.

A scoff escapes Max’s mouth, his eyes narrowing in rage and confusion. Offering an apologetic shrug to Darkly, Kael clears his throat.

“To me, MY THE HERALD!”

His voice echoes up and down zeppelin, each reverberation adding fuel into Max’s growing rage.

“Oh, I think he’s down at the Estate.” Snarky suddenly remarks. “He’s been spending a lot of time with that other guest of yours, Kai. I can’t blame him, she is quite lovely.”

The green of Max’s eyes flash at Darkly’s comments, his lip curling.

“She… is lovely,” Max hisses through clenched metal teeth. Jumping up out of his chair, Max stalks around the room with a sour expression on his face. “Perhaps too lovely, but then this is my problem to solve.”

Scratching his chin with one hand he makes his way over to the wall, flicking a light switch as darkness swallows the boardroom. There is another distant click as a projector flickers to life displaying a picture of Max’s future opponent, the Bodhisattva of Transformative Experience himself, Sage Pontiff.

The glittering of Max’s green eyes sway in the dark as he approaches the table, a low, nasty chuckle vomiting up from his mouth.

“Now… let’s talk about Sage Pontiff… heh-heh.”

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…The Mayoral Office of Arkham…

…A few days later…

“We’re gonna need a new portrait.”

Max grins as he stares up at the empty space where the previous mayor’s portrait had hung. The grand office of the Mayor of Arkham was an ancient room, built nearly two hundred years ago and still just as stately.

Well, for now at least.

“This whole place is gonna need a pick-me-up to fit the new Kael aesthetic, you know?” the Mayor of Arkham hisses as he turns to stare at the small group of assistants and interns that have been gathered before him.

“Yes, sir.” the senior assistant, a surly man in his mid forties with gray hair responds.

Max’s head snaps to the side as he eyes the assistant with his malevolent emerald orbs, a covetous rage burning behind them.

“Mayor.”

“Sir?”

Leaping over his desk, Max grabs the senior assistant by the head, shoving him against the wall. The others scatter in surprise as Max growls, spittle dripping from his lower lip, his green eyes pulsing with unchecked hate and malice.

“When you address me, you’ll call me… Mayor, do you understand?”

The senior assistant sputters and chokes as his assailant’s hands tighten like a vice around his head. His skin flashes red as his wide eyes stare in horror into the verdant glow of Max's own peepers.

“..yuh… yes, Mayor…”

“Good!”

Releasing the man’s head, Max’s face resets to that practiced, metal toothed smile. The senior assistant slides to the ground, snot and fear leaking from his face. Ignoring the man, Max turns and saunters back to his desk.

“Wow, what a first day in the office, aye? So, lowly assistants and interns, what business have we today?” he chortles, seating himself behind his desk like a snake coiling into their den.

“MAX!”

The voice of Max’s son, Sutler Reynolds-Kael lashes his father’s ears before the door to his office is kicked open loudly.

There is a low, exasperated sigh from Max as he turns his attention to the newly arrived SRK, his smile bending into a tired frown.

“...I guess we can deal with this business.”

“OUT!” Sutler commands as he glares at the gathered assistants and interns. It doesn’t take another word from the younger Kael as they scramble for the exit, two helping the senior assistant up from the ground as they go.

It’s almost comical watching them all ganglefuck their way to the exit, clamoring over each other as they flush past Sutler like a half a dozen turds down a toilet.

“Sutler, always a pleasure to see you.” Kael says, resting his chin on both his hands as he lets the sarcasm of his words seep like poison to the ears of his adopted son.

The SRK marches forward, grabbing the chair in front of the Mayoral desk aggressively as he drops down into it. There is a long, pregnant pause as Sutler dusts himself off nervously. Despite the fire in his eyes and the rage in his belly, it’s clear to anyone that there is an anxiety rattling his confidence.

“... when was the last time you spent time with your daughter, Chloe?” he starts, fiery blue eyes meeting Max’s green gaze.

Rolling his eyes, Max leans back in his chair, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been busy running and winning an election while working my way up the rankings in PRIME. Not to mention people aren’t gonna get kidnapped and uplifted by themselves, you know?”

The Son of Scions scowls at his father’s answer, shaking his head.

“You made promises to us both when we came back into your life a few months ago.” he begins, shaking his head in disgust. “And you’ve failed to meet those promises. Failed to be a father like you said you would. So much so I’d be willing to say that Grandpa Lee or Uncle Mike would have made a better fath-”

Max slams his fist down on the desk before Sutler can finish his thought, his eyes flashing with rage at the mere mention of Lee and Mike.

“That’s enough from you.”

“What? You don’t like the fair comparison?!”

“I said that’s eno-”

“YOU’RE A TERRIBLE FATHER!”

“ENOUGH!”

The Mayor of Arkham roars, his rage overtaking him as he flips the wooden desk he is seated at over with a loud crash! Charging forward, the Lord of Kaelsalvania gets nose to nose with his adopted son, his breath heavy, his eyes wide, several veins bulging from his forehead.

Sutler remains unmoved and while his eyes might be filled with the fire of a rebellious son his body remains ice cold in the face of his father’s rage.

“What are you gonna do? Beat me? Hurt me? Make me read from Snark Darkly’s book? Fuck you, Father-Dearest, you’ve already broken me so many times that I don’t even feel like a normal person anymore. I’m not afraid of you or what you could do to me, Max. All your temper tantrums, all your raging… I’m bored of it. You wanna scare someone, call those shitpants interns back in here so you can intimidate them with your screaming and your violence. But for me? Settle the fuck down… and I’ll give you a chance to make it up to Chloe and me.”

There is a loud snort from Max as he sneers into his son’s face, his eyes searching for any signs of fear or deception in his son’s face.

He finds none.

“... fine boy.” he finally responds, turning back to his chair as he steps around the toppled desk. Settling down into his chair he narrows his eyes at Sutler. “Say your peace… but never ever doubt that I can’t find some now way to torture you. Your fearlessness in the face of your father might feel like a strength for now.”

Sutler shakes off Max’s threat, clearing his throat as he reaches into his pocket to retrieve a piece of paper.

“I’ve recently come across an opportunity to deal with something, or rather, someone from my past. The cretin has been a thorn in my side for almost five years now, an irritating little shit and his brother.” Sutler begins, unfolding the paper.

“Oooh brothers, how charming. Do I know them?”

“In this case I think you were… I guess dead? Yeah, dead when they hit the scene. You might have heard of them in PRIME, they’ve most recently been sulking around DEFIANCE.”

“Ew, Defiance. I’ve never sullied my hands in that place.”

Handing the paper out toward Max, Sutler shakes his head.

“I don’t care for Defiance either but if we can deal with this problem.” the SRK takes in a deep breath. “... then I’ll consider your duties as a father to Chloe and me fulfilled.”

Snatching the paper away from his son, Max gives it a look before casting Sutler another gaze.

“Who the fuck are the Fuse Brothers?”

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…The Kael Estate…

…A few days later…

The door to Kai’s room busts open as Max Kael slithers in like a snake. A smile is drawn across his long face, those silver teeth glimmering in the light of the room.

“Good evening, Ms. Kai, how are we feeling!?”

The baby-momma of Bryan Dawkins reflexively withdraws from Max, the sound of the chain on her ankle being the only noise that responds to the Mayor of Arkham’s question. This is in part due to the fact that she has a muzzle on that disallows her to speak.

“Not so talkative?!” Kael chimes cheerfully as he makes his way over to his guest. He dances his way toward her, his shadow eclipsing his prison as he glowers above her. “Here, let me help with that!”

Reaching down, Max’s hands skillfully unharness the muzzle, stripping it away.

“You fucking bastard!” The first words Kai chooses to speak are spit into Max’s face with all the hatred and vitriol she can muster.

“Oh come now, Kai, I had to muzzle you for your own good. Last ReVival you almost spilled the beans on where you are and we can’t be doing that, now can we? You have no idea what lengths I’ve gone through to make sure you remain hidden and obscured in my home.” Max begins, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and tossing it down to Kai so she can clean herself up. “... and when the time is right, I’ll let Dawkins know where you are. But for now…”

Stalking back and forth in front of Kai, Max’s voice lowers, the smile on his face vanishing.

“I need to know how you managed to break into the NEWS signal to get your little message out. You don’t have the technical know-how , so that means that somebody helped you and, well, I think I know who that someone is.”

Stopping, Max glares down at Kai.

“You’ve somehow bewitched my The Herald and turned him to your side. I can’t prove it yet but… all the signs are there. Including your former lover, Bryan, managing to steal my NEWS VAN in his quest to find you.”

“I knew he would fi-”

CRACK!

A brutal backhand from Max catches Kai on the jaw, knocking her to the side.

“He won’t find SHIT! These little wrinkles in my plan are just that, wrinkles. Wrinkles to be straightened up. So let’s straighten you out.”

Snapping his fingers the door to Kai’s room opens slowly as Snark Darkly wafts in like a poorly operated puppet. Clutched in his thin fingers is that dark tome he’s been carrying with him for weeks.

“You’re never going to win you fucking asshole.” she snarls defiantly at Max with no fear in her face. “Do whatever the fuck you’re gonna do, I’m not afraid of you.”

Turning to Darkly, Max shakes his head, “That’s the second time this week somebody told me they weren’t afraid of me.”

“We should rectify that, Mayor.” Darkly says through a cheerful grin, holding his book up.

Max and Snark’s shadows consume Kai as they press forward with wretched glee.

“Time to be… uplifted.”

☠️☠️☠️☠️

Sage Pontiff, my dear boy!

I've been waiting for us to cross paths, to meet each other in PRIME for sometime now. 

You and I are not so different when you examine our situations.

It’s just a matter of scale really. 

See, you’re out there in the world building your flock.

Some might call it a cult, others might call it an open air church.

Labels don’t matter to men like us though, what we’re after is…

POWER.

Now maybe you don’t recognize that yet, that revelation can sometimes be buried deep beneath the icy glacier of self-righteousness. 

But I know it’s there, festering behind your eyes like a dead carcass waiting to be consumed by carrion feeders. 

Just look at the sacrifices you’ve made to be where you are in this world?

Who else could have done that without the quest of power burning in their bowels, huh?

You’re me if I had settled for a plot of dirt and a few filthy hippies buying into my ideology. 

You’re me if I had settled to be a man pretending to be a God rather than a man who ascended to Godhood. 

You’re me if I had less ambition and more apathy. 

I blame your parents. 

And so I find myself liking you.

Not necessarily because you’re likable.

But because I have no reason to envy you.

No reason to be jealous.

You’re just me.

But less. 

And I love you for that. 

Blessings upon you, Sage Pontiff.

Can’t wait to send you to the Dreamweaver.

Xoxo

Maximillian Wilhelm Kael