The Kaelffin Nail

“It turned out that the sweet-talking, tattoo-sporting pikey was a gypsy bare-knuckle boxing champion. Which makes him harder than a coffin nail.” - Turkish, Snatch 2000

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…The Department of Abnormal Activities, Washington DC…

…A Few Days Ago…

The Department of Abnormal Activities sits amongst a cluster of  bureaucratic structures on the western edge of DC. It isn’t on any Capital tours, its presence impossible to locate unless you know exactly where to find it.

This clandestine department of the US Government works in the shadows, dealing with the esoteric and obscure. As the name implies, abnormal activities are the focus of this mysterious organization. This included things like cryptids, aliens, the occult and any number of parascientific occurrences.

As you can imagine, you didn’t apply to work here. Promising candidates were courted for months, observed for months without ever knowing. Eventually candidates are exposed to the less-than-normal side of life as a final test.

Those who survived physically, mentally and spiritually were brought into the Department.

Agent Reginald Stone was a fifteen year veteran of the Department and rigid defender of "normalcy". Built like a brick shithouse, and blessed with a dispassionate, banal personality, he had done well at the Department.

“We’ve got a few things for you today, Agent Stone.” The voice of D.A.A. Director Lionel Yates fills his office. He’s a short, serious man in his late fifties with gray hair and a thick pair of glasses giving him a bug-like appearance. “Firstly, your partner Agent Muller, has been reassigned to the west coast office. Today you’ll be taking some fresh blood, Agent Getty Soon. I expect you’ll show her the ropes.”

Lionel’s eyes rotate behind his thick glasses as he studies the granite face of Stone. Realizing that Yates is waiting for a response, Stone grunts and gives the barest hint of a nod.

“Good. Now let’s discuss your new case.”

Lionel’s hands brush over a densely packed manilla folder bound together with a string struggling to hold it closed.

“Ever heard of Arkham, Massachusetts, Agent Stone?”

Stone nods, affirming while remaining silent.

“Over the last few decades the Department has worked covertly with local officials to ensure that any abnormalities in the local region have been suppressed and taken care of. Our relationship has been amiable, they maintain the facade of a normal New England city and we stay out of their business unless absolutely necessary. This has worked out well until recently.”

His fingertips push the folder toward Stone, everything within already filed away in the Director’s mind.

“Local leadership has seen a considerable shakeup with a special election held last year. Familiar with the name Maximillian Wilhelm Kael?”

“No, sir.” the stoic agent replies, his voice like two granite slabs being dragged across each other.

“He’s an outlying element that’s been on our radar for years. Never quite dangerous enough to dedicate resources too, he managed to install himself as Mayor and broke down all the safety railings the previous administrations had put into place. Now, instead of helping to suppress the darkness around Arkham, it seems he’s been openly encouraging it.”

Stone grunts, scooping up the file from the desk.

“I want you to take Agent Soon to Arkham and investigate this mayor and figure out just how bad the situation really is. My gut tells me this whole thing could explode into something much worst soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Agent Soon is downstairs waiting.” Yates replies, his eyes darting down to his desk and the pile of reports waiting for him.

Reginald doesn’t wait to be dismissed, rising from his chair and turning toward the door. As his hands grasp the brass doorknob he hears the Director’s voice call out, “Be nice. No matter what happens… make sure she comes back to us in one piece, Agent Stone.”

Stone turns to look at the director, nodding solemnly.

“Yes, sir.”

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…The Miskatonic Dam Construction Sight, Arkham, Massachusetts…

…A Few Days After ReV90…

“It took longer than expected to block the waterflow from the Miskatonic.”

The flat, wet voice of the Marsh Family foreman dips unpleasantly into Max’s ear as the two of them look out over the Miskatonic Dam construction project. What had once been a powerful river was now little more than a trickle of water and drying muck.

“Oh it looks much nicer now, don’t you agree?” the Mayor of Arkham squeals gleefully, his strange green eye washing over the industrial wasteland that had been a river.

With a nod, the Foreman replies, “It will look a lot better when we are done, Mister Mayor.”

“Indeed it will… heh-heh.”

There is a flicker in the back of Max’s mind, a great, monstrous wyrm turning and stiring from it's slumber.

His old companion was waking up.

“Excuse me a moment, I’ve got a call to make.” Max says, quickly excusing himself skittering away. He puts enough space between himself and the worksite to hopefully not be heard.

Fumbling with the phone in his pocket, Max puts on the airs of making a call as to further obfuscate what might appear as madness to the random onlooker.

And honestly, they would be right to believe so.

“What do you want?”

Max’s voice is insistent, impatient and tinged with the barest hint of fear.

At first there is no answer, he’s just standing there in the middle of a small clearing, one hand on his hip the other holding his phone against his ear as he speaks to no one.

Then he feels it. Like the pressure change when drops from altitude, there is a pop in his ears before the butterflies in his stomach begin to take wing.

And then it’s there, standing in front of him.

The Minister.

A reflection of himself though paler. A sense of unrelenting dread and corruption roils off this twisted beings shape, a shape that only Max can see. Set in the face of this entropic thing were two burning red eyes.

“Why are we here?”

The words drip from the Minister’s craggy maw like lava from a seething volcano.

“Oh, just a little side-project, nothing you need to worry yourself over.” Max quickly answers, his green eye darting to the space around his shadowy counterpart, everywhere but into those hateful red orbs.

The flat frown is drawn into a wide smile, broken, blackened teeth peeking through chapped lips as the Minister’s curiosity grows.

“Really? The building of a dam? Since when have you had an interest in such altruistic behavior?”

“Woah, woah, woah! What’s with all the questions, can’t a Mayor build a dam if he wants?” his voice grows strained as he squirms around the questions, turning away from the Minister as he desperately tries to hide his expression.

“Your mind is naked before me, Maximillian. There are no mysteries for me in the halls of your mind, child. I know it, know it's twists and turns, no one better. You can no more hide your intentions from me than you could hide darkness from a moonless night.”

The words seep into Max’s mind and he perceives it infecting him.  He can feel the Minister’s will scraping away at his will, digging like rats through the grey matter of his brain.

“Why hide this from us? Is it so important? It must be important. TELL USSSsss…”

The fingers around his phone tighten as the Minister’s rake his mind causing a great deal of discomfort. Sweat grows slick across his forehead and he becomes aware of how tightly he’s clenching his teeth.

And then it stops.

Like a storm broken by the rising sun, the pain and pressure vanishes.

But this relief isn’t victory.

The Minister has found its answer.

“Heh-heh… Oh, this isn’t altruism. It’s REVENGE.”

Max nearly doubles over as he takes in a deep breath, jaw dropping open as he finally relaxes.

“It’s a personal matter! Can’t a man plot revenge without drawing criticism?!” he barks out, nearly throwing his phone before thinking better of it. Instead he pulls the phone to his forehead, groaning softly.

“There are no personal matters between us, sweet child. We’re one, we’re the same now. There is nothing you can hide from us, especially something as delicious as chaos and destruction. Except, oh dear lovely Max, you’re thinking so small.”

His brows knit together as he spins around, green eye glaring at his decrepit doppelganger.

“Oh, so soooorrryyyy, it’s my first fucking genocide.” Kael hisses, his apology drenched in sarcasm the same way Texas dresses a salad with ranch. .

The shadow lets out a hideous laugh, the fire in its eyes growing brighter.

“We’re just thinking of scale. Why have revenge on just this Arkham?”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?”

The Minister's shape distorts, dissipating into a stain on the soft summer breeze.

“...heh-heh…” 

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…Arkham City Hall, Arkham, Massachusetts…

…The Next Day…

Getty Soon had high hopes.

Since as early as she could remember Getty had dreamed about becoming an FBI Agent.

She wanted to make the world a better, safer place by investigating major crimes and taking down the dangerous enemies of America’s society.

She wanted to help.

She wanted to matter.

She graduated high school early and immediately threw herself into college, getting her Masters Degree in Criminology before applying to join the FBI.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, her dream slipped from her fingers.

Well not exactly slipped away. More like it was ripped out of her hands when she found herself attacked by a mysterious assailant who turned out to be a vampire.

A fucking VAMPIRE.

That was when she was rescued by, and summarily recruited too, the Department of Abnormal Activities.

That was barely a week ago and everything since had felt like a blur. Her idea of becoming an FBI Agent, her dream for as long as she could remember, was little more than a stain on the pavement just barely in the rear mirror of her life.

And now?

She’s packed into a black sedan on her first assignment for the Department with Agent Reginald Stone headed north to Arkham.

“Life comes at you fast.”

Her words break the silence they had shared since passing New York. Stone doesn’t seem to react, his eyes on the road, hands locked on the steering wheel.

“I said life comes at you fast, you know?” she tries again.

“Hmm.” he grunts though it’s unclear if he’s agreeing with her statement or just acknowledging she said it.

“It’s just, I don’t really have a lot of experience with this kind of stuff. Give me a crime scene with a dead body and some hard science and I’m your girl.” she continues, more to get the words out of her head than for the benefit of her stoic companion. “But I looked over the case file and there’s a lot of words in there that I don’t understand. What is a transdimensional subumbral entity? Like, I know what all the parts of those words mean but you smoosh them all together and I’m lost, on God.”

She raises a hand, looking toward Stone who remains unmoved.

“... or this Max Kael guy? I looked him up, apparently he’s a professional wrestler? One who was killed back in 2019 in a literal Death Match and somehow came back to life in 2023? What is it he’s listed as in here?” Soon carries on, flipping open the dense case file in her lap. “A bidiversified enhanced replicant clone potentially hosting the previously mentioned transdimensional subumbral entity?”

She looks up from the file toward Stone expectantly.

Getty is greeted by silence.

“You don’t talk much do you?”

“No, ma’ma.” Stone grunts.

Her face lights up when he finally replies, unable to hide her smile as she returns her attention to the file. It wasn’t an answer to her questions but it was at least an acknowledgement that he was listening. She’d take that for now.

The next hour or so swept by as Getty further familiarizes herself with the case. There was concern that Max had some kind of dealings with other worldly entities. For most of his life he had been considered a low level threat until seizing the position of Mayor. After that he appears to have begun expanding his connections to known threats against humanity; Individuals like the necromancer Baron Taterton and a being known as the Unfortunate Truth aka Snark Darkly.

In particular, Soon took the time to read about his victims.

People like Kai Makama, kidnapped and tortured by Kael.

Or Blaze Claymore, a coworker who Max also kidnapped and abused the previous year. Though, oddly, the more she tries to remember Blaze’s name, the more keeps thinking he's named Nathan Lake. Weird.

She’d ask her partner about that when he was in a more talkative mood.

When they finally arrive in Arkham, her mind is swimming with the details of Max Kael’s life and most recent history. She’s ready, or at least as ready as she believes she can realistically be. Soon can feel her pulse quicken, feel the tightening of her gut.

She controls her breathing as the sedan pulls into a parking space in front of the Arkham City Hall.

“Miss Soon.”

Her concentration is broken by her partner’s gravely voice, shocked out of her thoughts.

“Uh, sorry, I wasn’t distracted, what's up?”

For the first time since climbing into the driver’s seat, Stone’s head slowly rotates until he’s looking at her from behind a dark pair of sunglasses. His lips part as his craggy voice rumbles from his chest, “Given the nature of our target it is possible this situation could escalate into violence. If that happens, Agent, stay behind me.”

“Should I be armed?”

“We’re just here to talk to the Mayor but in this line of work, violence is part of the job. Always expect it and pray you’re not proven right.”

Turning, Stone begins to get out of the car before Soon can ask any further questions. She quickly joins him, scrambling from her seat and out into the pleasant Arkham summer. Her eyes are immediately drawn to the imposing City Hall, a stately structure that reminds her of the state buildings in Washington but older.

Much older.

She joins Stone as he climbs the steps and enters through a pair of heavy, regal doors. They’re immediately greeted by a large reception desk, a tiny, withered old woman with at least three different pairs of glasses perched on her head or dangling around her neck. Her elden eyes turn toward the two as a tight smile is drawn across her saggy face.

“Can I help?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Stone begins before turning toward Soon. When she realizes that she’s supposed to take over, Getty quickly shuffles forward with a cheerful smile.

“Uh, yes, we’re here to see Mayor Maximillian Wilhelm Kael?” she beams hoping her burst of brightness will expedite meeting their person of interest.

“Oh, sorry dear,” the old woman begins, shaking her head apologetically. “I’m afraid you just missed him. The Mayor and his bodyguard left not more than a minute or two ago.”

Soon turns to Stone excitedly, “Quick! Maybe we can catch him on the road if we’re fast!”

The two turn toward the door preparing to leave before they hear a light laugh from behind them.

“No-no, you don’t understand.” the old woman continues with a shake of her head. “He’s not out there, my dear.”

They turn back, Stone stoic while Getty wears a look of befuddlement.

“The Mayor doesn’t like cars, he says they’re bad for his legs… or something.” Her voice is exasperated, as one might expect from long term exposure to Max. She shuffles from behind the desk, moving to a large vase. Pushing it aside she reveals an escape tunnel leading down into darkness.

“He’s gone Underground.”

☠️☠️☠️☠️

…The Underground Tunnels…

…A Few Days Before ReV91…

“I fuckin’ hate Detroit.”

Max and the Bolognese Bull move through the under-darkness between backstages areas. These vast rocky caverns and their strange, plant covered walls connected all the world's backstages together, very convenient for Max.

Since gifting his zeppelin to Daytona Diamonds, Max had begun to travel to and from the different venues by underground.

It was fast, reliable and more importantly, it cut down on his carbon footprint. Important details for a Mayor facing a potential Blue Wave come election season. Was he up for re-election? Snark Darkly was charge of those important details. Where was he anyway?

“Gruaaah.” B.B. replies, his hulking body taking up nearly the entirety of the stone passage behind Max.

“I got booked despite this stupid, silly Survivor’s tournament. I was expecting it to be like the Alamsy or some shit, taking up the full length of shows but I GUESS NOT!” Max bellows in annoyance as his voice echoes through the endless stone chambers.

“Oh, how lovely.”

The Minister’s voice hisses like a snake, tickling the back of Max’s mind causing him to stumble forward. It’s not long before the ominous red glow of the Minister’s eyes come swaying from the darkness ahead of Kael, two candles dancing beside each other.

“The fuck do you care?!” Max snarls though he gives the floating red eyes a wide berth.

Those two hateful lights dance away, further down the passage allowing Max and the Bull continue forward.

“We care deeply about you, sweet child. Look at all we did at UltraViolence for you.” the lights taunt as they swim through the unlit darkness.

“Look at what you did!? We lost! We lost to that fuckin’ insufferable, self-important Nate Colton! And now, AND NOW I’ve been booked against a fucking bareknuckle boxing champion.” Max snarls, his eyes flickering back toward the Bull who doesn’t seem to be paying attention to his master at the moment.

Turning forward he sees those two taunting red orbs twisting along as though unbothered by Kael’s angry ranting.

“Do you have any fucking clue what bareknuckle boxers do?”

“We imagine they bareknuckle box.”

“Oh fuckin’ cute, very cute.”

Kael spits, his face contorting angrily.

“This former boxing champ, Danny Christie, he’s some kind of internet freakshow. I’m still recovering from what happened to my body at UltraViolence and now I’m expected to fight somebody whose whole job is breaking bodies using just his fists. Just when I need Snark Darkly he’s gone! Absolutely ridiculous AND unfair. UNFAIR!”

As his diatribe comes to an end Max loses his footing, stumbling down onto his knees eliciting a pained scream. The Bull comes to a pause behind him, offering no comfort or kindness, his black luchamask passive, unmoved.

“Poor, sad Max.” the Minister’s voice purrs from the space around Max. “So blind to our kindness.”

In the eye of Max’s mind he can picture Nate Colton. He’s bruised, bloodied… victorious.

Max sees himself, laying on the mat unconscious in a growing pool of his own blood.

“Not every victory happens in the ring. For a man who has attained victory, does anyone in that ring look like a winner? This was the first move in a game of chess, sweet child. Did he defeat us in the ring? Seemingly so… but what did it cost him?”

Imagery of his sister, Jenny, creeps through Max’s mind.

“... his family is crumbling. Nate Colton’s foundations are cracking. We can smell his ultimate defeat creeping upon him like flies drawn to rotting flesh. Do not be so quick to judge defeat… heh-heh.”

Kael can feel the heat of the two orbs approaching before his green eye flickers up to greet them. Visions of blood and violence fill Max’s mind, the intensity of the Minister’s hatred for life charring Max’s soul like a plutonium rod. He withers beneath their oppressive light, confidence eroded by fear.

“Sweet, naive Max… we promised we’d achieve great things together. This is only the beginning. The Colton Family means nothing in the greater game but if you only measure success through victory in the ring then give us another chance. Allow us to face this… Danny Christie.”

Turning away from the lights, Max pinches his eye closed. Taking a deep breath he sighs, relenting to the Minister’s request.

“... they say bareknuckle boxing champions are tough as coffin nails.”

The light seems to grow brighter, excited by Max’s words.

“... What is a nail to a hammer?… heh-heh…”