RevivifiKaeltion and the Mask of a Red's Death

“You’d shoot a man in the back?” - Odo

“Well, it’s the safest way, isn’t it?” - Garak

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…Mercedes Benz Arena, Atlanta, Georgia…

…Half an hour after the Siberian Steel Cage Match…

“Well that didn’t go exactly as we were hoping, did it?”

Snark Darkly’s voice purrs unpleasantly as he stares down at the unconscious Max Kael. An oxygen mask covers his bloodied mouth while his broken body is covered in makeshift bandages the PRIME medics had managed to put on him, before Snark chased them off. The soft hiss of Max’s shallow breaths answers Snark as he smiles down at his ruined client.

“Broken bones, a punctured lung, why, they even say you might have some brain damage. Seems we underestimated Dawkins, Kai and that former Herald of yours. All minor setbacks, of course, nothing that can’t be fixed.” the disturbing manager of Kael coos, a pale, wrinkled hand patting Max on the shoulder reassuringly.

The door to the small medical room opens as one of the paramedics quickly steps in. “We need to get him to the hospital, sir.”

There is urgency in the medic's voice as he looks down at the bleeding, broken body of Max Kael.

“No, no. I will take him to where he needs to be, young man. Thank you for your concern, though.” Snark replies before offering a dismissive wave.

“But he’ll die if you do-”

“Oh he’s already brain dead. I wouldn’t worry about him.”

Darkly’s words bring a sense of finality to the conversation, twiddling his fingers toward the medic. The shadows around the door shift and grow while an ominous growl reverberates through the walls of the small space. There is a sickly green spark that crackles through the eyes of the paramedic. Black tears start to well up in the corners of their eyes before they stumble backward in a trance, closing the door behind them.

“Good people, such a delight. Without them everything falls to chaos, ruin and death just a little bit slower. I’d despise them if I didn’t know the truth.” Snark chuckles darkly (ha!) to Max’s brain dead body. “I appreciate their efforts, that struggle against the enshitification of the world around them. Like watching a fish flopping desperately on the shore, just short of the water. It will die, gasping its last breath beneath an uncaring sun, body turned to shit and returned to dust.”

His lips pull back over that tight jumble of far too many teeth, pink gums wriggling excitedly. Patting Max on the chest reassuringly, Snark stands and walks to the door, locking it.

“... now what to do about you.” Snark sighs, smoothing out his brown cardigan.

“I could just leave you the way you are, you’re delightfully quiet like this. Just hook you up to some machines to make sure your body doesn’t die out, that should still be good enough bait for my plan.” The slippery, otherworldly manager coos, turning with both his hands clasping together. “That’s certainly the safest option.”

Darkly glides toward Max, which is to say that his feet and legs move, but none of it appears appropriate for the direction he’s heading. When his shadow falls across Max’s pale face, Kael’s mouth twists and stretches wide, as if being held open by invisible hands.

“Safe is boring though. Who has any fun playing it safe, right?”

Tilting his head back, Snark’s eyes roll back into his head. His jaw drops, mouth extending wider than should be humanly possible as a nauseating gagging sound wells up from his gut.

The sound of something wet squelching up from Snark’s throat replaces the gagging. A flood of black and green worms come wriggling from Darkly’s mouth onto Max’s face. From there the vomited pile of worms slip and slither into whatever orifice they can find; pushing under his eyelids, falling into his mouth, up his nose and into his ears.

“YUUAAAAAGH!”

A wretched, howling cry explodes from Max as his green eyes flash open. Sitting up he claws at his throat, coughing and gagging on the maggoty worms. His strangled cries continue as he feels the grotesque invaders burrowing through his flesh and bone.

There is a pounding on the door to the closet, and worried voices demanding to be let in. Max continues to scream, his body contorting in ways defying the limitations of human anatomy.

“Yesss I imagine that does probably hurt.” Snark says in a voice that mimics empathy as he places a hand on Max’s shoulder.

Kael’s retching and screaming slowly dies down though he twitches uncomfortably, shuddering through the after effects of his apparent resurrection. The voices behind the door become louder and more demanding. It isn’t long before they’re joined by attempts to smash the door in.

Turning his eyes toward the door Snark’s smile drips down his face like wax too close to a flame. He pushes his lips up with one hand using his index finger and thumb to hold up the corners of his grin. “... that’s our cue to leave, Max.”

Darkly lifts his hand above Max and snaps.

…

….

……

BANG!

The door to the small room kicks open as several PRIME and medical staff pour in. Much to their surprise, there is no one there. No Max. No Snark.

Just a few bloodied bandages, and the smell of ozone. 

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…The Kael Estate, Arkham, Massachusetts…

…The Day After ReVival 80…

“I don’t care, Blaze Claymore is a nobody. He's nothing! He was the fourth most interesting thing in a three man team for the love of Hephestus.”

Max stalks through the front door of the Kael Estate, a deep scowl carved into his long, pale face. Sliding through the door behind him was Snark Darkly, strange eyes fixed on the back of his clients head.

“I don’t need you to care about Blaze Claymore, I just need him dealt with Max. It will be a simple matter for you, as you say.” Snark reasons, hands waving through the air.

Pausing, Max’s shoulders slump forward followed by a deep sigh. Turning, Max points a finger at Darkly before snarling, “You’re here to help me get the Universal Title, not clean up cheap Temu rip-off of Johnathan Christopher-Hall. That doesn’t get me any closer to Cecilworth Farthington and the PRIME Universal Title. I think it’s important, Snark, that we remember that it is you who works for me, not the other way around.”

There is a tense silence between the two as Darkly’s eyes twinkle with an amused malice.

“I’ll ask you just one more time nicely. Please. Please take care of Blaze Claymore.”

He lifts one single finger to give Max a helpful visual aid. Kael’s eyes dart from his manager's face to the finger and back again. He scoffs, dismissing Snark with a wave of his hand as he turns to march further into his home. Sighing, the glitter in Snark’s eyes grows into a pale green glow.

Max’s steps slow as he feels a growing pressure in his head. His face twitches and tightens into a gruesome grimace. Then comes the screaming, starting off as breathless yelps but quickly intensifying into guttural screams. Collapsing to his knees his hands crawl at his face, his eyes growing the same intense green color as Snark’s own eyes.

“... that’s twice now I’ve brought you back from the brink of death, Max. Twice now that you’ve…” Darkly’s words are calm, barely audible above Max’s wailing. “Every time it happens, a little bit of me takes root in you. Not enough to control you, but I can cause discomfort, though I’m loathed to do so. I didn’t want to do this but, well, you’re the only one to blame for your current predicament.” If Max can hear or understand what Snark is saying, he doesn’t react. Instead he continues to scream as he tears into his face, finger nails gouging through flesh while blood pours from his self-inflicted wounds. Steam begins to rise from his eyes the brighter they get, intense heat sizzling the fleshy eye sockets.

“Honestly I prefer the carrot to the stick, but your obsession with Cecilworth isn’t going to get you any closer to the Universal Title. The best way to do that is to win. And not just win, a BIG win which I have helped negotiate for you. You see, I’ve arranged for you to fa-... wait. Wait, you're gonna want to be focused on this.” Snark snaps his fingers and almost immediately Max’s eyes stop glowing, the blinding pain taken away though his face continues to smolder in his hands. Red blood grows darker and thicker until a black tar oozes between his fingers. Reaching down, Snark gently pulls Max’s hands away to gaze down at his ruined face.

“You take care of Blaze Claymore, and I’ll heal your face. In the ring, in the parking garage, in his own locker room, I don’t care. Until then, however, you’ll have to wear that ruined visage.” Snark chuckles, releasing Max’s hands allowing him to cradle his face once again. “As for ReVival 81 you’ve got a very special opponent. Defeat him and you’ll be looked at more closely for a potential Universal Title shot. Fail and you’ll tumble back down into mediocrity until another choice match arises."

Between a few pathetic cries and gasping breaths Max stares up at Darkly, green eyes peaking between his fingers as he tries to hold his face together. “...who?... WHO?”

Snark’s lips part, his far too toothy smile exposing itself.

“Ivan Stanislav.”

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…The Mayor’s Office, Arkham, Massachusetts…

…A Few Days After ReVival 80…

Doctor Millicent Armitage hadn’t enjoyed a single peaceful night of rest since Max Kael had won the special election to become Mayor of Arkham. In the months following his ascension to the most powerful political position in all of the Miskatonic Valley, a strange sourness had settled over the city.

The river had dropped considerably thanks to the new hydro-electric dam project he had jammed through the City Council. Marsh Family labor was being used to construct the monstrous wall of gray concrete and metal to the East of Arkham. Members of the Arkham police force were let go and replaced with the Mayor’s Russian gangsters, eroding even more of her influence.

The one benefit was that Max was largely an absentee Mayor, his time in PRIME demanding much of his attention. Unfortunately, at the turn of the new year, he’d returned to Arkham, ruling with an iron fist from the Mayor’s office.

Today she’d received a summons from his office with the Mayor demanding she pay him an audience. The audacity.

In the hours before she was to make her way to City Hall to attend to Max Kael, she debated the cost-benefit analysis of an assassination attempt. Removing him would effectively end the threat the Kael Family represented for Arkham and honestly the world.

On the other hand, she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life behind bars because of Max Kael.

Maybe she could make it look like an accident?

Alas there just wasn’t enough time to properly plan out an assassination of Max inside the Mayor's Office in the center of City Hall. So she made the march from Miskatonic University to City Hall through the howling wind. The bitter bite of winter’s wolves sinking their teeth into her bones does little to rattle her stoic grace.

Entering City Hall she is immediately taken aback by how much it's changed since last she was here on the day of Max’s swearing in. A great large marble statue of Max stands in the foyer to greet those entering. Large red, black and green banners hang from the walls with Max’s grinning face emblazoned on them. It feels like no matter where one stands, a set of his menacing green eyes are watching.

She quickly makes her way through the building before knocking both doors to the Mayor’s Office open, charging in.

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?! That eye-sore of a dam is ruining the waterfront, and it’s nearly completely dried up the river basin! We’re gonna see major economic and ecological disasters in the future. Did you even bother to do any kind of research before you started dropping concrete into the Miskatonic River!?”

She blows into the room like a wave of fire, closing the distance between the door and Max’s desk quickly with long, powerful strides. The chair behind the desk is turned away from her though a low, gurgling chuckle confirmed Max’s presence.

“You think this is funny?” Millicent slams her palm down on the desk.

“Heh-heh… ho-ho... heh…”

“Turn around, you little fre-”

Before she can finish, the chair turns revealing the Mayor’s ruined countenance. Her face drains of color, the hand on the desk rising to cover her mouth in disgust.

“Oh. Oh dear, is something wrong, Doctor Millicent?” Max hisses from the leather executive seat, his green eyes dancing with sadistic excitement. “Is there something on my face?”

Another gurgling giggle as Armitage takes a step back, recoiling from the corruption before her.

“What has he done to you?” Millicent whispers as she struggles to regain her composure in the presence of such horror.

“I don’t want to talk about Snark Darkly right now, Doctor. If I’m being honest, I’m a little put out with him right now which is why you’re here. Give me a moment, I need to put my face on.” he growls, opening a drawer in his desk. His hands scramble around in the desk for a moment before he retrieves a clear plexiglass protective mask from it. He quickly affixes it to his head and face. The angles of the mask distort the grisly wounds enough to ease Millicent’s disgust.

“... this is not good, Kael. That’s not just physical damage, your soul is being eaten away.”

“I didn’t call you here to talk about my health, Armitage. As head librarian over there at Miskatonic I need a spell to open a Fourth Dimensional portal.” “Time Travel? You can’t change the past, you fool. You’ll just create an unstable new timeline that will eventually collapse in on itself. What possible use could a time portal be to you?”

Max’s fingertips touch as he steeples his fingers, a twisted, silver toothed smile spreading across his lips.

“... heh-heh…”

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…A Hospital Room…

…May Of Last Year…

The door to the hospital opens up slowly, almost unbelievably softly given the giant that slips through.

It’s dark, only the soft lights of medical equipment illuminating the sterile space. The giant man takes a step forward. He’s careful, where he might normally stomp around, his footfalls are as gentle as a mouse’s kiss.

Which is why it’s strange that he hears the scampering of feet.

CRACK!

Despite the darkness of the room his vision goes white. He doesn’t even register he’s been hit in the back of the head until he feels his knees hit the hard floor. He shifts his weight, attempting to pull himself up to his feet, massive arms sweeping out blindly.

CRACK!

Once again the world goes white and he feels his face crack off the hospital room floor.

“You don’t know this…”

He can taste blood in his mouth, his tongue finding two broken teeth from smashing his face on the ground. That voice.

He knows that voice.

“... but, Ivan, you’re gonna be Heel of the Year for 2025, and I don’t think I’m taking it very well.”

Max Kael.

“You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve done this. I’m actually getting pretty good at killin’ you. …Heh-heh.”

Ivan slowly starts to crawl toward the hospital bed. He needs to get up, he needs to make sure Max doesn’t hurt his mother.

Doesn’t touch Fanya.

Across the room Max wedges a chair beneath the handle of the hospital door, bracing it closed. Flicking on the light, the room is bathed in a bright white light. Ivan turns his head, his eyes adjusting to the burning luminescence as the black shape that is Max slowly comes into focus. His distorted face twists beneath the plexiglass mask, his three piece black suit disheveled and covered in blood.

“кем ты стал.” Ivan mutters, brow furrowing.

Max pirouettes away from the door before he gambols toward the downed Ivan. On his way there he snatches up a dented, well used aluminum bat off the ground, swinging it down across Ivan’s back.

Twang!

TWANG!

TWANG!

“Woo! What have I become? Ivan, Ivan, Ivan, it’s not what I’ve become, it’s what I’ve always been. The Black HEART of PRIME, Ivan, THE Antagonist of PRIME, the man chosen by DESTINY to be seen as the most evil and dangerous force in Professional Wrestling.” Max snarls down at Ivan, lifting the bat again.

TWANG!

“But no. No, apparently kidnapping a man’s wife, and torturing her for a year ISN’T enough for these savages. Apparently I gotta up my game, gotta be my absolute worst self to get a little acknowledgement! And, as it turns out, my first opponent of the year is, well, you. Not that you’ll ever find that out.”

TWANG!

“So you know what I did? I tore open a portal in time and space, moving back to the moment you were most vulnerable so I could figure out how best to defeat you. How best to break you, to shatter you and to maybe enjoy myself a little. I’ve killed you about seven or eight times now, Ivan. At first I nearly died, you’re quite the physical specimen, even in your sixties. It’s actually kind of ridiculous.”

TWANG!

“Eventually I started to find a rhythm, the key was catching you completely off guard with a strike so overpoweringly vicious, you couldn’t immediately recover. Once I found that strike…” Max looks down at his right arm with adoration, a sickening smile stretching across his face. “... it was just a matter of perfecting it. Heh-heh. I’d break time and space to defeat you, if it means I might have a chance to face Cecilworth.”

TWANG!

“... but don’t feel too bad. When I end you, this timeline will slowly decay and collapse taking your sickly mother with it. That said, there is one thing that I can’t seem to get. No matter how hard I try.”

He sighs, the smile on his face dropping into an angry scowl. Reaching down Max slips the bat around Ivan’s neck, pulling him up to his knees. His face is covered in blood, his eyes fluttering in their deep sockets.

Fanya is sitting up in her bed, eyes locked on Max. They burn with the kind of rage that only a mother can muster when watching her child harmed. Her jaw is set, any frailty that age might have bestowed upon her, banished. Max meets her gaze with his own malice riddled green eyes.

“She never screams. She. Never. SCREAMS!”

Max releases Ivan taking several stops back, pulling his right arm back.

“Even as she watches me end you… with the CRUELEST STROKE!”

Charging forward Max twists his body swinging his arm to connect with a wicked running back elbow to the parietal of Ivan’s skull.

CRACK!

Ivan’s body collapses to the ground.

Unmoving.

Unresponsive.

Unalived.

Max stands over Ivan’s body, snarling and sucking in deep breaths as he cleans the blood off his elbow.

“... my boy will destroy you.”

Kael’s green eyes flash up at Fanya as she matches his intensity, fearless before the wretched sum of human waste that is Max.

“You may not scream.”

There is a loud banging on the door followed by frantic Russian. Max doesn’t break his gaze with Fanya, suppressing a giggle. Reaching into his pocket, the nefarious Mayor of Arkham snatches a piece of parchment with archaic, forbidden sigils burning a dazzling blue.

“... but Ariana will when she sees what I do to Ivan, wherever she is. Do Svidaniya! Enjoy what’s left of this doomed timeline, Fanya Dimitrovich! HEH-HEH!” The page burns up in Max’s hand as a gaping rip in time and space tears open behind the demented Black HEART of PRIME. He jumps through it, vanishing with the ragged portal.

Fanya crawls out of her bed, falling to the floor, clawing her way to the body of her fallen son. She cradles his head in her lap, fingers running through his hair. She doesn’t answer Alexei’s panicked calls outside the door, ignoring the sound of the soldiers trying to break it down.

Raising her hand, she spears her son’s blood between her fingers. The spot where Max had ripped a hole in time and space starts to split, long ebony cracks splintering through reality. She could feel time slipping away, breaking and shattering into nothingness.

She hugs her son one last time.

“... the only one left screaming will be you, Монстр."

.”