Love to Hate, Hate to Love

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul” - Pablo Neruda

- …Training Facility K-37… …Sometime After ReVival 55…

A chilly Autumn breeze wraps Max in a cold embrace as he stands on the roof of the training facility he’s called home these last few months. He’s been here now for almost three hours staring up at the stars, lost in his thoughts. 

That rigor grin that was usually so predominantly displayed is absent. In its place, a sullen frown as the Commissar of the Red Army engaging in a full pout.

“Uh.. oh Great and Glorious Maximillian Wihlelm Kael, Comm-”

“What do you want, Bentley?”

The Herald fidgets uncomfortably in his uniform while staring at Max’s back.

“You’ve been up here a long time and… well...” Bentley begins, scratching his head. “.. everyone knows you’re broken up about not being in the tag team title match..”

Kael’s lip twitches while his eyes narrow into angry slits.

“I’m not upset about not being in the Tag Team Championship match. Fuck’em, it took the Poor Whoresmen and Fuck Your Tag Team to push us out of the tournament. And it was Kenny who ate that pin. I only wanted to succeed to get into Ivan’s good graces.. But..”

Max sighs, shuffling off any blame. A sarcastic chuckle flutters from his lips though he still does not smile.

“None of that matters now, Bentley. It’s all just so fucking pointless..”

Raising his eyebrow, Bentley does his best to make sense of Max’s nihilistic rambling.

“Oh.. uh.. Well then we can just have fun, right? Like when you attacked Joe Fontaine! That mattered, right? And we got his jolf clubs, remember? And you’ve been working so hard to face FLAMBERGE and Brandon Youngblood!” Bentley reminisces, his rosy windswept cheeks highlighting a clueless smile.

Turning, Max snaps at the Herald, “Who cares?! It doesn’t matter. It won’t matter.”

Cocking his head to the side like a curious puppy, the Sub-Marquis sputters a confused vocalization.

“I have learned the truth, Bentley. A truth so cruel and unfair that it’s moved me to apathy. I don’t know what I’m doing here in Russia. I don’t know who I am..” Kael sneers, as his acidic words drip of self-loathing. His voice wavers, and while Bentley is too oblivious to notice, it’s clear Max is on the verge of tears.

“..but I have discovered who I am supposed to be..” - …Somewhere Dark and Unpleasant… …A Few Hours Prior… “How has our guest been today?” Max inquires with a sharp grin.

“[No issues today, sir.]” One of the guards answers before opening the security door. Max grunts, brushing past both men. He enters into a large room with a single light in the center. This single illumination sends pools of darkness into the corners, an environment that this guest prefers.

Stepping in, Max hisses, “Shut the door. No recordings.”

The two men oblige, the heavy security door closing behind Max with a loud thud.

“You know, sometimes I wish I could be you. Spending my days in a shadowy room, locked away from all the morons. I can’t go ten minutes without some idiot on Jabber trying to start shit. It’s outrageous!” loudly complains the RIA-Ranger.

From the darkness ahead a single red point of light flickers to life causing a wide grin to stretch across Max’s face.

“..but in here? It’s just me.. And me..heh-heh..” Max growls while rubbing his hands together menacingly. “Just two Max Kael’s to keep each other company. Someone who understands me. To have someone who just gets you..heh-heh.”

“We are the saaame..” a raspy voice calls out.

“Yes!” Kael exclaims excitedly. “..and I need your help.”

The shadowy figure ahead of Max takes a step toward him. Even though the Unquestionable Kael can’t fully see what Kenny has dubbed the Mummy Max, he can feel him there. The same hateful soul burning with a vengeful rage.

“..you need our.. Heeeelp..”

A bandaged hand slips from the darkness and into the light.

“I can’t go to the person I used to go to. We’re.. Not talking right now. Besides, they don’t know the great burden of being Max Kael like you do..”

“..Max.. Kaaael?” the dry voice asks. The shambling, bandaged Mummy Max is finally fully illuminated as he takes another step forward. He stands at the same height as Max, one burning red eye glowing between the dirty wrappings that hide away his flesh.

“Yes, us, Max Kael!.. Say, what happened to you? Were you burnt? Did you fall into a vast chemical pit burning your flesh, forcing you into bandages like a Wish.com Darkman?” Coos the Commissar as he takes in the measure of his counterpart.

“..we’re.. Not.. Max Kaaaael.” the bandaged man in front of him coldly replies.

Max pauses, blinking in confusion.

“Uh, no. Kenny and Randall were very clear. You match my exact multi-dimensional signature, you’re a Max Kael, buddy!”

“..never heard of Max Kaaaael..”

“‘Fraid so.” With trembling hands, Max pulls away the bandages covering Mummy Max’s face. As more of the face is revealed, Kael’s desperate unraveling intensifies.

“...no.”

Staggering back, Max trips and falls. The blood drains from his face, his flesh going white as a Scotsman’s ass. He can hear his brain cracking, boiling and tearing itself apart as it registers the  face staring back at him.

“It.. it can’t be you… can’t..”

Two red eyes stare down at Max as a mouth full of jagged, broken teeth wears a familiar grin. With sadistic delight, the figure confirms what Max fears.

“My name.. Is Arthur Pleasant..”

- …Back to the Roof… …A Few Moments Later… At this point Max has begun to sob between his hands uncontrollably. For the Herald, who had witnessed many of this man’s violent swings in emotion, was unsure what to do.

“..so we got the wrong guy?” Bentley finally asks, very confused as to why Kael is so upset.

“NO!” Max snaps, pulling his hands away. “We got the right guy.. I’m the one.. I’m the wrong one..”

After a few more wet sobs, Max retrieves his phone from his pocket.

Sighing, Max looks down, “..I don’t want to do this anymore, Bentley. I’m done.”

“Oh. We’re going back to Arkham then?” Bentley says, a cheerful tone in his voice. He always liked the Kael Family residence in Arkham. Lots of halls to explore.

A sad laugh escapes Max’s throat, both mirthless and delivered with a condescending malice toward Bentley.

“Maybe you, my the Herald, but not me. I’m done. Just gonna sign out of Jabber real fast. I do have one last mission for you though.” Firing off his final Jabber message, Max pockets his phone and turns to stare at the Herald. “I need you to pay close attention because this is very, very important. You ready?”

“Uh.. sure!”

“Tell that bitch RIA that I’d promise to haunt her dumb ass when I die but I’m afraid of getting Ghost Herpes from proximity to her shitty dump truck and bacterial vaginosis.”

Cheerfully nodding along the Herald does his best to dedicate Max’s words to memory before throwing up two enthusiastic thumbs up.

“You got it! When should I give her that message, oh Immortal and Incredible Maximillian Wilhelm Kael?” Max winks, or perhaps blinks out of sync, causing the Herald to giggle like a schoolgirl.

Then he turns, takes two steps forward and hurls himself over the edge of the roof. Just as uncertain as he was about Max crying, the Herald isn’t sure what to do now. Wringing his hands together nervously, he shuffles toward the edge of the roof, peering down.

“..Max?”

- …Somewhere in an Afterlife… …Shortly Thereafter… THUD!

He was expecting a sudden stop filled with all manner of cracking and wet, splattering sounds. Much to his surprise, instead he found himself landing in a chair in the center of Lord Farthington’s throne room.

“It happened too quickly.”

The ragged voice of the Minister calls out from the shadowy corners of the massive stone chamber. Kael’s brow arches as he searches the surroundings for his darker half.

“The brain doesn’t process fast enough to register your body hitting the ground. You were dead before your nerves could report the damage to your brain.” the Minister’s voice swims through a sickly, hot breeze. Max wrinkles his nose as his nostrils catch the scent of rot and decay

Rolling his eyes, Max shrugs, “..cool?’

A collection of spiders spill out from beneath Max’s chair, skittering across the floor and toward the closest darkened corner. Narrowing his eyes toward the shadows Kael watches the darkness within darkness shift and take shape.

“Why are you here?” demands the Distortion as it takes a step toward Max.

Averting his eyes, unwilling to look this thing in the eyes, or at least where they should be, Max groans. It’s a pitiful, mourning wail devoid of any hope.

That sad, simpering noise ends with Max mulling,“I don’t want to be in control anymore.”

Oozing from the darkness comes the Minister. It’s taken the form of his old self, a lifetime ago in a white suit stained with the blood of Max’s brother. This thing wears a version of Max’s face like a mask to conceal its true nature, a shape Max’s fragile mind can grasp.

“That wasn’t the deal we made.” it hisses at Max through clenched teeth while taking another uneasy step toward him. The Distortion trembles and twitches in a way that makes Max’s brain itch. Here and there bits of this thing fall away, hitting the ground as clumps of inky black spiders that scramble to rejoin their master.

He continues to avoid eye contact as the horrid thing moves closer to him. “..I’m tired. I don’t want to do this anymore..”

The Minister stops a few feet before Max, it’s churning, burning red staring knives into Max.

“You’ve been given the gift of a second chance at existence. You’ve been given functional immortality, dying and resurrecting multiple times.. And you’ve decided you’re tired of it?” scoffs the shadow opposite Max.

“You don’t understand!” Kael argues back, his eyes turning cautiously toward the Minister’s feet. “Nothing is going right up there! Kenny Freeman made me into a liar. Colonel Nekkhov forced me into facing both FLAMBERGE and Brandon Youngblood at UltraViolence. And I just discovered I’m completely fuckin’ alone in the entire multiverse cause it turns out I’m a variant of Arthur Pleasant.”

Hanging his head, Max stifles a sniffle before whispering. “ ..I’ll never be worthy of him.”

There is disgust in Max’s voice and for once, it’s reserved for himself. The Minister circles Max like a shark waiting out for its prey to bleed out.

“..these things are your doing, Max.”

The self-proclaimed Jabberlord snorts indignantly.

“Have you ever noticed what a little bitch you are?” the Minister chuckles to himself as he continues his predatory circling. “All your life you’ve always desired to be someone’s number two. I often wondered why that was the case? First it was Jackson Knights, the man who introduced you to professional wrestling. You followed his commands well, allowed him to use you to garner easier, more frequent wins..”

The distortion of the Minister shimmers and takes the shape of Max’s old mentor, Jackson Knights. An imposing figure standing near seven feet tall, he towers over Max wearing the face of the grizzly old veteran.

“Then it was Jatt Starr. Oh how you threw yourself at his feet, how you sullied yourself to appease his wants and needs. Then it was Lee Best, your adopted father. Then Michael Lee Best, your adopted brother. A sycophant your entire life, Max, a slave to another’s will. Even in your death, you were executing my will, my wants. Then, upon being given a second chance, what happened?”

The Minister shifts once again, this time into the long dead Ulsa N. Couth, her withered old visage glaring accusingly at Max.

“You immediately found yourself in bondage once again. Ulsa N. Couth and Lord Farthington first..” Couth croaks, MEAT? spilling out of her rotten mouth while she waves her arms toward the throne where Lord Farthington had been imprisoned, entangled in thorn covered black vines. “..Lord Farthington took care of Couth.. I took care of Farthington. Freed both of us. So tell us, comrade..”

A massive bear paw of a hand reaches out, engulfing half of Max’s head.

“..why join the Red Army? You’ve taken on two new masters, Ivan and Colonel Nekkov.”

Mustering all his strength, Max turns his eyes toward the Distortion’s interpretation of Ivan.

“I needed allies.. I needed someone to watch my ba-”

“LIES!”

The Minister’s foul breath strikes Max across his face as though expelled from a blast furnace. He feels the hand on the side of his face tighten its grip causing him to yelp in pain. He feels Ivan’s other hand clamp across the other side of his head. His brain races with a litany of potential reasons and excuses. Each is examined and immediately discarded as unacceptable to the sensibilities of his tormentor.

“..the truth, comrade.”

The vice begins to tighten as panic fills the vacancy hope might have once occupied. With no other option Max closes his eyes and to an unfamiliar place.

His heart.

With a whimper, Max speaks. “...I’m afraid of making my own decisions because if they fail, I’ll have no one to blame but myself..”

The pressure upon his skull lessens, the two massive hands relaxing their hold.

“I tell everyone it’s because I need their help to kill Cecilworth Farthington but that’s not true. I’m a coward who doesn’t want to take responsibility for his actions. I’m weak.. So pathetically.. Weak..” he admits with words filled with self-loathing. The hands retreat as Max slumps forward, defeated. Disgusted. Depressed.

“Why still obsess over killing Cecilworth Farthington?”

The voice is now the familiar, posh English accent of a long lost friend. Max’s eyes flicker up to meet the cool, even stare of his former friend, Lord Cecilworth Farthington.

It’s too much for Max’s fragile brain to handle. His heart flutters, body twitches as though experiencing some macabre malfunction. Was he angry? Was he scared? It’s an unfamiliar sensation, he doesn’t care for it.

Cecilworth smirks, “Something wrong?”

Kael’s face turns the same shade of red as his uniform, grinding his teeth in frustration before tearing his eyes from the Minister’s newest shape.

“He deserves to die for what he did to me.” Kael answers though there is little conviction in his voice.

A mocking laugh causes Max’s blood to immediately catch fire. Turning to glare back at the Minister he sees his friend is gone, replaced by his own dark reflection once again.

“And what did the Farthington boy do to you.”

“He let me DIE! Left to rot and stayed BEST FRIENDS with the fucking killer! He brushed past my death like it were dust for the bin!.. The one person I’d never betray, the one person I’ve met in this business who wasn’t looking to manipulate and control me! That.. one pure thing I had..” snarling, Max glares into the churning eyes of the Minister, filling them with all the hate and venom in his heart.

“And when I came back he was the first person I wanted to see. He couldn’t be fucking bothered to say hello. No, now he’s besties with Lindsay Troy! He’s got a new stable of people that are his new friends. People like FLAMBERGE.. You say it’s a miracle that I’ve come back to life?”

Taking a moment, Max snorts before spitting a thick wad of phlegm at the Minister’s feet.

“This is a fucking curse. Living this life is hell and I’m burning up every Goddamn day. At least when I was dead I didn’t know how little people.. How little HE cared. Now I wake up every fucking day and know the one good thing in my life was a lie. I didn’t ask to be resurrected into this fucking nightmare.. Knowing I’ll never be good enough...”

The Minister regards Max for a moment before leaning in close. A pale hand grasps Max’s chin, forcing him to meet the swirling madness that is the Minister’s gaze.

“Good enough?” the Distortion snarls. “..good enough?”

“..There is only ONE Max Kael.. ONE Minister.. In the entirety of the Multiverse. There are endless variations of Arthur Pleasant, of Randall Schwartz and Kenny Freeman.”

Lifting a single finger, the rotten lips of the Minister pull back to reveal its rotten gums and blackened teeth.

“..there is only ONE us. And we will always be good enough.”

Releasing Max’s chin, the thing takes a step back.

“..now. Good enough for who?”

Max stares at the Minister for a moment, taken aback by the surprisingly wholesome message. Blinking back a few tears, Max once again looks away to hide the hurt in his eyes. “Who do you think?”

“Ah yes, of course. Then are you ready to admit the truth?”

His head rises, tears burning his eyes as he shakes his head refusing to acknowledge what both he and the Minister know. A low, sick laugh boils out of the Minister as he once again begins to slowly stalk Max.

“..you’re not some righteous avenger.”

“Please..don’t say it.”

“You’re not even doing Lord Farthington, that old fuckhead..heh-heh.”

“Don’t..”

“..you’re just a jealous, jilted…”

“..please..”

The Minister pauses a moment, savoring Max’s discomfort before hissing, “..lover?”

The word strikes Max in the chest like a dagger. He’s been shot, stabbed, fallen to his death, mauled by a monster truck but nothing hurt quite like this.

“You’re in love.. with him, aren’t you?”

Max turns to glare at the Distortion, appearing like a cornered dog as he snarls,“And he NEVER noticed! Not once! And I didn’t mind it before, I had other priorities.. No reason to risk the friendship. But to wake up to this? Knowing that he didn’t just not notice.. He never cared to begin with.. That pain? Speaking from experience, I’d prefer being dead. I.. I don’t know what to do.”

A smile spreads across the decaying lips of the Minister.

“..Then.. love will be our guide..heh-heh..”

- …A Concrete Sidewalk… …A Few Minutes Ago… “There!”

The Herald hits send on his phone, firing off the odd last request Max had made before throwing himself off the roof.

“You’re usually back sooner than this.” the Herald says, looking up from his phone to stare at the gooey remains of Max Kael. “Maybe it takes longer depending on how you die?”

Picking up a stick, Bentley gently jabs at the shattered body that lay in the center of a small crater in the sidewalk. The flesh and meat easily give away with the consistency of fleshy playdough. This does not sit well with the Herald causing him to turn and vomit.

As Bentley voids his stomach, the oozy remains of Max Kael begin to crackle and glow with regeneration energy. Light consumes his body, burning away the damage and leaving behind a fully healed Commissar.

Wiping vomit from his lips, the Herald cheers, “You’re back! All hail the Immortal and Impressive Maximillian Wilhelm Kael!”

Dusting himself off with a sigh, Max nods.

“You look a lot better than earlier. Are you feeling better?” the Herald asks, helping Max out of the hole his suicide had caused.

For a moment Max seems thoughtful, looking back up at the stars. His eyes fall back on the Herald as he pats him on the head, a real smile filled with hope and joy spreads like a plague across his face.

“..I think I’m in.. l̶̖͒̇͛͝ȯ̵̡̳̘̩̼v̷̱̬͕̱͕̾͑̅͠e̵͚̭̮͐̌̋̕ͅͅ.. Heh-heh..”

- I thought this started in a place of hatred. I was jealous of FLAMBERGE’s relationship with Cecilworth so I justified going after him.  I wanted to… hurt.. him, remove him from the picture.  Turns out I was wrong! Turns out I’m just a love sick fool.

Brandon Youngblood, in another life we’d probably be friends.  I look into your eyes and I see a champion of rage and malice.  Once motivated you will not stop until you’ve taken your measure of vengeance.  I didn’t want this fight but you forced my hand.  It’s important to me that you understand that. We wouldn’t want any hard feelings after I defang you.   FLAMBERGE, in no existence do I see us ever being friends.  Not because of anything you’ve said specifically or done. Well, outside of becoming friends with Cecilworth Farthington.  Kinda makes my brain go all crazy-wazy, and then poof, people start losing necks.  Maybe you don’t deserve what's about to happen to you. Love makes you do crazy things, ya know?  Hates been my dance partner for a while. But love? Ah mon amour! Let’s see how crazy love gets.