C.S.J.

“We could’ve been anything we wanted to be, but don’t it make your heart glad? That we decided, a fact we take pride in, we became the best at being bad!” - Bad Guys, Paul Williams

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Official Field Report for the Department of Abnormal Affairs

Case: Arkham - 34 - 01

Date: 07/23/2023 - 07/29/2023

Agent: Getty Soon

Sr. Agent: Reginald Stone

Report: 

The first attempt to question the subject, Maximillian Wilhelm Kael, failed when the subject used an escape tunnel to access a transdimensional sublinear space hereafter referred to as The Underground. Agent Stone opted not to pursue the target and instead it was decided that we would remain behind in Arkham to gather intel. 

Could someone tell me what a Transdimensional Sublinear Space is?

After checking into our hotel, we started asking around town about Max. Turns out he’s a pretty polarizing individual with people either despising him or fiendishly loyal. While his new dam project seems to be universally despised by the older residents of Arkham, younger generations seem open to the idea of energy independence. 

I also spent some time at the local public library researching the city’s history. It seems that Arkham was founded by four major families: the Armitage, the Marsh, the Mason and d’Erlette families. Records indicate that the Kael family was also around during this time, but it almost appears like records of their activities have been expunged. At first, I thought this might have been Max’s doing, but this erasure of the Kael family has been going on for years, decades even. 

It might mean nothing but it feels worth looking into. 

Since Max’s election, the Mason’s, and the d’Erlette families have seen a sharp decline in influence, while the Marsh family have seen their numbers swell. The Armitage Family has been weakened, but still stands as the only safeguard against Max’s influence in City politics. 

Stone’s insight to wait paid off when Max Kael returned to Arkham using the same Underground escape tunnel in the City Hall. We were able to corner the Mayor for some questions, though I feel this left us with more questions than answers. 

There were no records indicating that the subject had lost an eye and yet Max was sporting an eyepatch. Furthermore the subject’s green eye had an unusual, unnatural green glow to it. If Max isn’t himself an abnormality, his eye certainly is. 

The subject avoided most of Agent Stone’s questioning. 

At one point, the subject received a text and exclaimed “I don’t have time for Cancer Jiles!”

I had questions I wanted to ask, but Agent Stone didn’t feel I was ready. Maybe next time. What we know for certain is that he will be headed to Chicago soon for another PRIME event. 

I’ve also started watching the PRIME professional wrestling product at nights in the hotel room while I’m doing research. I had no idea that professional wrestling had such deep rooted lore and narrative. It’s easy to see how a character like Max Kael can vanish into the crowd in something like a professional wrestling production. It’s all so larger than life. 

We’ll be staying here another week. Agent Stone says that we’ll be meeting with the Department's primary contact in Arkham. He won’t say who it is, but assures me that their insight will be extremely helpful. 

Agent Getty Soon 

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…The Kael Estate, Arkham, Massachusetts…

…A Few After Rev91…

“What the fuck is the Department of Abnormal Affairs? Probably just a pair of scammers trying to get me scared.”

Max’s warbly voice echoes down the long hall as he stalks away, the Bolognese Bull his ever present shadow. 

“I won’t have it, BB, I won’t fuckin’ having it! Get one of my boys to look into these two, and find out what they’ve got under their fingernails. And if this so-called Department of Abnormal Affairs is real, I want to know what kind of trouble we’re really in, okay?”

He pauses, looking at the emotionless, black masked face of the Bolognese Bull. There is no recognition of Max’s words, or acknowledgement that he’s even registered Max’s orders. Kael’s green eye twitches as he waves his hand in front of the Bull’s face. With a sigh Max turns, throwing his hands into the air.

“I need to get myself an actual assistant. Since Snarkly’s vanished I’ve got no one to bark orders at!” he rants, pausing for a moment as he turns to BB. “No offense, BB, you know I love you. It’s just that you don’t seem the majordomo sort.”

He winks, or maybe just blinks, at BB before spinning on his heel toward his bedroom door. 

“We’ll need to put up an ad on the classifieds, set up interviews, weed out the weasels and the wimps for someone I can rely on.” Max giggles, throwing a toothy smile over his shoulder. “... and toss in the gutter the moment they become too much of a handful.” 

Throwing open the thick wooden door, Max slithers into the inky blackness of his bedroom. His hand skitters across the wall before it fumbles with the light switch. Light forces the darkness into a shadowy retreat while a stale musk fills Max’s nostrils. 

“Ah, home-again, home-again!”

Slamming the door shut before BB can enter, Max lets out a low sigh. 

“Cancer fuckin Jiles.”

Leaning against the door Max’s long fingers cover his face. He slowly slides down into a seated position as his mind races over the implications of such a match between the two of them in PRIME. 

Thus far they’d been allies, but now?

They’d be enemies, pit on either side of the ring with a desperate need to win. 

“... Cancer Jiiilllleeesss…”

The Minister’s voice drips with the kind of corrosive vitriol you’d expect from a fluorantimonic acid salesman. It doesn’t come from any particular location but rains down on Max like a filthy shower. 

“Yes, the Cool one himself, all six-foot-one-inches and two-hundred-eighteen-pounds of him. The King of Coolympus, Mister Night Two… Hell of a villain.”

“You almost sound like you respect him.”

“Almost. I like to keep tabs on my frenemies, especially the more dangerous ones. As former eGG Bandit, we’ve had dealings in PRIME, but we’ve thus far been lucky enough to avoid a direct confrontation.”

The angles of the room contort, the heavy lumber of the house complaining loudly as they seem to reshape themselves. Two red orbs flicker into life, dance through the shadows like two erratic fireflies in some mysterious dance. 

“Do you need us to deal with him as we did with Danny Christie?” 

The Minister’s voice swirls with excitement, the prospect of more violence and suffering a thrill for the cruel entity. 

Max sat in silence for a moment as he thought on the Minister’s offer. 

“No… No. Jiles is a villain like me. He deserves to face me.” Max begins, shaking his head. “No, if I defeat Jiles I want it to be with my own hands.” 

Pushing himself back up to his feet, Max scratches his chin, a plan slowly coming together.

“But I will need to head to Chicago early. And we’ll need someone else to meet us there. Someone who might have some insight into Cancer, the kind of insight I don’t have. An ace in the hole and counter to Vickie Hall. Someone who might actually help give me an edge against that cunning and conniving cool little cunt.”

“Excellent alliteration."

“Thank you!” 

“... who is this Ace-in-the-Hole?” 

Max’s lips spread wide, his silvery teeth glittering in the light of his bedroom. 

“... Jonathan-Christopher Hall…”

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…The Econolodge 22, Arkham, Massachusetts…

…Friday, July 31st, 2026…

“Why are you watching that?”

Stone’s voice is like a thundercloud in Agent Soon’s sunny sky. ReVival 3 plays on the hotel’s television. Soon tears her eyes away from Julian Bathory and Hayes Hanlon’s match to cast a scolding look at her partner. 

“This is research. Serious research! Not only am I getting a better insight into the way his mind works, the mind of a professional wrestler, I’m also learning a lot about the culture of professional wrestling.” Soon’s voice is a blend of excitement and curiosity, that special mixture that fuels passion and drives learning. “Just by knowing PRIME’s schedule, we can predict Max’s movements.”

The Senior Agent ground his teeth, creating a grumbling resonance that shook the bed he was laying on. His eyes move from Soon’s excited face to the TV then back to her. A cheerful smile bisects her face while she glows with barely contained excitement. 

Stone blinks slowly, knowing what she’s waiting for. 

“... continue, Agent Soon.” he finally grunts, defeated.

She makes an eager noise, jumping up from her own bed as she grabs a handful of files off her bed. Skittering to Stone’s side of the hotel room she tosses the files down, spreading them around. 

“Okay, what do we know about Max Kael?” she begins, picking up a red folder with the Mayor of Kael’s picture on the front of it. “He’s recently ascended in power in Arkham, and he’s a professional wrestler who somehow has dealings with abnormal entities. Not a lot to go on. BUT!”

She sets Max’s file down in the middle of the scattered folders before her hands dash over to a #97red one. 

“I did some background searching on him as a professional wrestler. From 2005 through 2019 he worked for a Chicago promotion called High Octane Wrestling. According to their website, Max Kael was born in 1976, and he died after receiving a mortal injury during a wrestling match in October of 2019.”

“But we know he’s alive.” Stone interjects. 

“Ah! Indeed we do because…” Getty quickly continues, hands scrambling over a blue folder. “In 2023 someone by the name of Max Kael?, with a questionmark, was hired into PRIME. I’m only three episodes in on ReVival, so he hasn’t shown up yet, but according to PRIME’s front office, Max Kael? is the same Max Kael who died in HOW. He’s been playing out his own abnormal resurrection, hiding in the plain sight of professional wrestling for the past three years. Three years of unchecked abnormal activity, and who knows how long before his death in 2019?”

Tossing away the PRIME folder, Getty sets her hands on her hips, her eyes wide as she considers the scale of Max’s potential abnormal influences. Stone’s eyes narrow as he considers what his young partner has presented him with.

“So we have a reality deviant  running around causing chaos and havoc under the guise of a professional wrestler?” Stone finally inquires. 

All of Getty Soon’s wind seems to leave her sales, shrugging her shoulders. 

“That’s what it appears like, but I still can’t figure out what exactly he’s up to, or even what his motivation is. Or how he’s getting into contact with these other abnormal entities he does business with. I’m just getting a clearer picture of what we’re potentially dealing with.” she confesses though that hungry gleam in her eye tells Stone that she’s not going to give up the chase. 

“My old partner was like you.” Stone admits, the perpetual frown on his face deepening. His voice was even, passionateless. 

Soon wasn’t sure if that was an insult or a compliment. 

Before she can ask, there is a soft knock at the door. Stone looks down at his watch and grunts approvingly.

“Punctual as ever.”

The Department’s contact in Arkham, Getty realizes. As she quickly gathers up the mess of files she’d dropped on Stone’s bed, her partner eases up off the bed and plods toward the door. Unlocking the deadbolt, Stone pulls the door open and nods. 

“Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier, I’ve been helping a friend and his mother. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

The voice that calls from the open doorway is both commanding and entrancing in the way that stately old women’s voice can be. It draws Getty’s eyes immediately as a tall woman with skin the color of fresh cream and eyes as dark as onyx fills the doorway. Something about the women causes Soon’s hair to stand on end. 

“Of course, come in.” Turning away from the door, the box shaped Agent lumbered back toward his bed.  “Agent Getty Soon may I introduce you to the Head Librarian for Miskatonic University...”

The dark eyed woman sweeps into the hotel room, a sharp, tight grin pulled across his pale visage. She holds a gloved hand out toward Getty, leaning in perhaps a little too close.

“... Doctor Millicent Armitage …”

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…The Best Arena, Chicago, Illinois…

…The Day Before ReV92…

“I’m just so glad you could spend some quality time with us!”

Max’s voice echoes through the derelict ruins of the old Best Arena in downtown Chicago. Though it was day outside, only a few golden beams of light broke through the ruined ceiling of the once proud Chicago landmark. Instead Max rummaged through the detritus of the Executive Suite, high above the Arena floor, aided only by the light cast from his companion’s flashlight. 

Jonathan-Christopher Hall.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” Hall asks nervously as he keeps the flashlight trained on the WON ACTION NEWS TEAM’s lead anchor. 

A pitchy cackle crackles cascades from Max’s lips as he digs through the remains of a broken desk. 

“Oh no, my boy, I wouldn’t worry about that. The original owner is dead, as is his heir apparent. All this now belongs to the grandson of Lee Best. My son. Sutler Reynolds-Kael. And he won’t care, I promise. Besides, we won’t be here much longer. I can sense it! It’s close!” 

Kicking over a wooden panel a handful of #97red pens scatter across the floor. Canting his head to the side, Max squats down to stare at these relics of a bygone era. 

“Guy who owned that desk really liked pens, huh?” JCH asks as he points the flashlight down toward the bottomline pens. 

Max’s strange green light flickers up at his partner in crime, his left hand instinctively rubbing the eyepatch covering his left eye. 

“Yeah, he was a pen pervert. He’d take one of these pens.” Kael begins, reaching down to snatch up one of the pens. Twirling it between his fingers a few times, Max finally clicks the button at the top causing a sharpened fountain pen nib to appear. “... then he’d jab this end into his hapless victim’s eye!”

He lunges out at JCH, pretending to jab the pen into his eye causing the latter to jump back in surprise. 

“The Bottom Line, he’d call it. How desperately 90s, no? Heh-heh… How many men and women lost their eyes to these vanity pens, I wonder?” There is a coldness to his laugh, one of regret and sadness. “I miss them, you know?”

Jonathan Christopher’s attention seems to be elsewhere as he sweeps the flashlight around the room. For a moment Max looks tired and old. His shoulders slouch forward, the sardonic smile petrifies into a dull frown. He tosses the pen aside, continuing his search.

“... I shouldn’t miss it. Miss them. They brought such misery and suffering and ultimately, death to me. I don’t think they ever actually loved me or even liked me. But the lie felt real enough to miss it.” 

“Oh, well why not tell them?” the Forever Man offers with a helpful tone. 

“They’re all dead.”

The former Universal Champion’s face tightens up into a grimace, deciding to end that line of dialogue. 

“So, this is your ace-in-the-hole?” 

A red eye glimmers in the darkness of the Best Area, the entity as comfortable in these ruins as you might be in your own house. It had dwelt in this squalor for years, after all, relishing the decay and ruin. 

Mina Starr-Kael’s ghostly image drifted just beyond the touch of JCH’s flashlight, clinging to the darkness where it felt most safe. 

“Jonathan-Christopher Hall, the man as broken and lost as you. As obsessed with love and all of its pains. Why have you dragged him to this forsaken place? To hold a flashlight for you? Curiouser and curiouser.”

The Minister’s rancid voice crawls through Max’s brain like thousands of hissing beetles. He feels the itch of every word inside his skull trying to convince him to drive the Bottom Line pen through his green orb to end it. 

“Will you shut up!” Max snarls, shaking his head violently to rid himself of the static between his ears. 

“I, uh, I didn’t say anything, boss.” JCH replies, swinging the flashlight from side to side to see if anyone else was there. 

“Of course you didn’t! I wasn’t talking to you!” Kael admonishes JCH before kicking over a moldering stack of boxes. “... You’re probably wondering why I dragged you here.” 

“Oh!” JCH chirps, his expression brightening up. This he did know! “To hold this flashlight!”

The unwavering joy in JCH’s voice is the antithesis of Max’s cold cynicism as the Mayor of Arkham stares at the SPORTS correspondent with an unimpressed scowl.

“No. I mean yes, obviously you’re here holding that flashlight, but I also have you here cause I wanted a little personal one-on-one time with you before the next ReVival.” Max begins, turning away from the light as he starts kicking through the refuse again. “... to pick your brain about a certain someone we both know.”

JCH’s head cocks to the side like a dog hearing the word treat. 

“Vickie?”

“No!” 

Max shouts before taking a deep breath, calming himself. He can feel the Minister coiling in the darkness around him, no doubt still wearing the porcelain face of Mina Starr-Kael. 

“... no.” 

His voice is much softer, taking a more gentle tone as he turns toward JCH, hand clasped at his waist. 

“Though Vickie Hall is something we will discuss in the future, you’re here today so we can talk about my old pal, Cancer Stephenie Jiles.”

For a moment, JCH’s face drops. The facade of a man at peace with the world around him breaks and something shines through. 

Something real. 

“Jiles’ middle name is Stephenie?” 

It’s gone, locked back behind the mask of self delusion. 

“Yes, with an I E at the end, that’s what makes is masculine,” lies the mendacious Mayor of Arkham. “Anyway, that's not important. What’s important is that you and I work together to defeat him. I know he’s hurt you, I’ve been hurt before too. Not by Cancer Jiles but, you know, by people. I’m empathizing with you right now, you understand that, right?”

JCH nods his head enthusiastically. 

“Good. Good! As hurt people it’s our responsibility to help heal each other, and to hurt the people who have hurt us. Don’t look at my match as Max Kael vs Cancer Jiles… look at it as an opportunity for you, Jonathan-Christopher Hall, to get your revenge on Cancer Jiles. Now I want you to take some time right now and start dreaming up a dummy thicc, no fail plan to defeat Cancer Jiles at ReVival 92!” 

JCH continues to nod with ever growing enthusiasm. 

“Eggcellent! Like brothers you and I will be. Thick as thieves and… at least… “ Max closes his eye, going over advanced calculations in his head. That strange, green orb snaps open again, a toothy grin expanding. “... at least three times as trustworthy! Heh-heh…”

JCH looks like he’s on the verge of tears as he goes in for a hug. He’s immediately shut down as Max roughly shoves him out  of the way, pointing at some rubble, exclaiming loudly, “Oh! Oh I think I’ve found it!”

“... he reminds me of a young you. Pathetic. So eager to please …” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Max hisses. 

“Oh! sorry, I didn’t think I said anything. I’ll be extra quiet!” the Forever Man apologizes, locking his lips and tossing the key away. 

Doing his best to ignore the Minister’s words, and JCH’s insufferable positivity, Max claws through the trash and the rubble until he reveals a small, electric blue lockbox. With shaking hands he keys in the lock combination. 

click

Raising the lid, golden light pours out bathing JCH and Max in a warm, radiant glow. 

“It’s… it’s beautiful.”

“.... shut the fuck up.”

The shadows roil, twisting uncomfortably as they’re introduced to this golden light. Max can feel the Minister in his mind roiling violently. Reaching down his fingers clasps the small golden orb left behind from a bygone era. 

“Behold, my WON ACTION NEWS TEAM brother…” 

Standing, Max raises the golden eye high into the air. 

“... the Eye of Max Shell …”

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