Absolute Power Kaelrrupts Absolutely

“Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.” - Terry Pratchett   ☠️☠️☠️☠️ …ReVival 83, Arena Coliseo, Mexico City, Mexico… …Immediately following Max’s match… “I DID IT!”

Max stumbles through the curtain, nearly falling over. He’s spent, he thinks he might have some internal bleeding, everything hurts.

“... I fucking did it.”

The words tumble from his lips with a sense of awe. He can’t believe he did it. At long last, with a little help from Cancer Jiles, he finally defeated the Diamond of PRIME.

“I defeated Brandon Youngblood… heh-heh.”

He hisses the words between clenching chrome teeth, the awe washing away to ominous joy. Punching the ground, Max jolts back up to his feet, green eyes wild with unrepentant ecstasy. He stares down at his hands as though he were seeing them for the first time, a rigor smile stretching across his long face.

All the fire in his belly from this monumental victory is quickly squelched as he feels a cold, unnatural hand clamp down on his shoulder.

Snark Darkly.

“Where is Blaze Claymore?”

His words are soft, gentle even and yet there was a hidden malice in them which causes Max’s hair to stand on end.

“That loser? When I got to the NEWS STAGE he was already gone, the coward.” he replies trying his best to throw off this line of questioning.

“He took my book, Max.” Darkly replies, flatly. The world around the two of them is swallowed by shadows. The sounds of the show grow distant, faint and then silent.

Max does his best to put on a brave face, shaking off Darkly’s hand as he turns to face him. “Oh? That sounds terr-YEEEEIAAH!”

Before he can finish, an intense pain flashes behind his green eyes. Dropping to his knees, he claws at his face as the sound of sizzling meat joins his desperate wailing. Max isn’t sure how long it lasts, a few dreadful moments or long, agonizing hours, but the suffering does eventually end.

He spits up blood, his throat raw from his screams. Between gurgling chokes, and distressing gasps, Max whimpers. In his anguish he doesn’t register Snark kneeling down beside him until his business manager shoves the plexiglass mask into his hands.

“You’re going to make this right, Max. That book is part of the key to keeping control of Arkham, of what is keeping you alive. Blaze can’t destroy the book… yet. True ownership of the book can only be freely given once used. Millicent never dared use it and so I was able to freely take it. Still… there is something about Claymore that troubles me.”

Snark stands, or more correctly rises like a pillar, fingers stroking his chin.

“That witch in Arkham, Millicent, must have shown him how to separate the book from me. We must get that book back.”

He pauses, looking down at Max. The Mayor of Arkham has secured the mask over his face, still on his knees. Darkly points a finger down at Max, casting his sentence.

“You must get my book back.”

Max drags himself up to his feet. The victory over Brandon Youngblood feels like a million years ago already. He runs his fingers across the smooth surface of the mask and nods.

“... I’ll get your book back.”

The shadows pull back as the light and noise of ReVival 83 roars back into Max’s ears.

“... even if it kills Blaze Claymore…” ☠️☠️☠️☠️ …The Mayor’s Office, City Hall, Arkham, Massachusetts… …A few days after ReVival 84… “I am so disappointed in you, Doctor. Really? Betraying your mayor? Where is your sense of patriotic duty?”

Green eyes glow ominously from the darkness beneath the mask. What can be seen beneath the plexiglass seems so much worse now, red mixing with inky darkness, always in movement somehow. Sickening to focus on.

“I don’t answer to you, Mister Mayor. I’m an employee of a private University, I come here as a courtesy, and to see just how more fucked you are.” Millicent coos over a smirk, perfectly pearly white teeth gleaming dangerously. “I see you got your mask back.”

Max smashes both his fists down on his desk like the petulant child he is, snarling back at the Doctor, “You’re gonna tell me everything you know about Blaze Claymore and how you helped him or I swear, I’ll break every bone in your body. That’s two-hundred-six bones, if that has any influence on your decision.”

Millicent Armitage lets out a fluttering, condescending laugh that cuts harder than Kael’s blunt threat. She leans back in the chair she’s seated in, both arms outstretched daring the wrath of the Mayor.

“Oh Mister Mayor, I’d like to see a bitch try.”

With a savage snarl, Max clamours over his desk and leaps at the woman seated across from him. It’s about halfway to her he notices that she doesn’t seem at all alarmed, not even moving to defend herself. Not so much as a flinch!

And that’s when he suspects he fucked up.

There is a blinding spark of light that fills his entire field of view. It’s followed by a loud cracking, like the kind that comes from a bullwhip. The next thing Max registers is his body colliding with his executive chair, toppling over it and onto the hard, wooden floor.

“... fuckin’ what?” he manages to choke out, his vision still hampered by light. Dazed, he attempts to stand only to collapse back down, his sense of up and down completely absent.

“Oh Max. The more you tie yourself to Snark Darkly, the more you stop being human and start being… well something else. And for whatever strength you think it gives you, it makes you far more vulnerable to the kinds of magicks designed to keep things like you out.”

Millicent’s voice weaves in and out of his awareness, blinking away the blinding light that still fills his eyes. Another wave of condescending laughter punches Max in the gut as he struggles to get up to his feet.

“I hope you get everything you deserve, Mister Mayor.”

As the light finally leeches from his eyes, he sees Doctor Armitage swaggering out of his office. He makes one desperate attempt to charge after her but immediately loses his balance, crashing back down to the floor. He watches her leave, laying there, pathetic and beaten.

“... why does everyone know magic that hurts me?”

His whining is suddenly cut short by a buzzing in his pocket. Too pathetic to move, he lays on the floor, fishing his phone out to see whose calling. When he sees the name he brightens up, a smile smudging its way across his face.

“... Cancer Jiles …” ☠️☠️☠️☠️ …The Kael Estate, Arkham, Massachusetts… …A few days after ReVival 85… Maxked Kael stares at the… man? Standing across from him.

He has three arms, one of which juts from his back like a scorpion tail. He also has three legs, all in a row.

“I… what the fuck is this, Snark? I’ve got shit to do. I have Squad Goals to prepare for!”

Outside the ring, Snark Darkly beams up at Max like a child ready to tell their parents all about dinosaurs.

“Squad Goals comes later. First, this is Klognostroeles, Champion of Centra-Prime! A worthy sparing opponent if ever there was one. I pulled him from a dimension a few shifts over. Fantastic pierogis.”

Max looks down at Snark then back at Klognostroeles, biting his lip as he tries to strategies fighting a man with three arms and three legs. He ultimately decides on an overwhelming offensive and launches himself at the transdimensional challenger.

“You know you won’t be getting any help out there, not from me and not from Cancer Jiles this time either. Not after you were tricked into making a match for my book AND with a no-interference stipulation. Not terribly smart.”

Inside the ring Max is attempting to fight off two arms while the third swings wildly at his head. He makes to kick the Champion of Centra-Prime in his baby bags but can’t decide which crotch is the appropriate one to kick. Unfortunately the left side of his face lights up with pain as the third arm finally lands a blow.

“I wasn’t lying when I said that my book was tied to your continued survival. If Blaze happens to win this mange, if he walks away with my book and destroys it? All the strength and power and healing I gave you will be stripped away, and then what will you be?”

Klognostroeles is forced back, Max’s hand shoved well up into his mouth. Kael grunts as he forces the three armed, three legged man toward the center of the ring.

“Nothing. A pile of oozing flesh barely held together by your clone genes. Dying. But you can make this right, Max. You can save yourself and this entire venture of yours. By defeating Blaze Claymore.”

Back in the training ring, Max is being strangled by two hands while the third pulls on his hair. An occasional knee flies into his gut, further hampering his situation. Frustration and anger flash across Max’s face while Snark continues his monologue.

“So… what are you going to do at Culture Shock?”

Center in the ring, Max fights off the two hands around his neck before smashing his forehead into the bridge of Klognostroeles’s nose. A wet crack is followed by a flood of blood from the three armed man’s nose as he stumbles back. Max throws himself into the ropes before returning delivering the Cruelest Stroke™.

Klognostroeles’s body collapses to the mat, unconscious, his face awash in the blood that pours from his nose. Max stands over his downed opponent, snarling, breathing hard before he turns his sickly green eyes toward Snark. His lips part as he hisses his reply to his otherworldly business manager.

“...destroy Blaze Claymore…” ☠️☠️☠️☠️ …The Ruins of the Best Arena, Chicago, Illinois… …Sometime after ReVival 84…

It had been well over a year since the desiccated ruins of the old Best Arena in Chicago had been anything but a rotting eyesore on the city skyline. A relic of a shitty death fed that once dominated Chicago’s wrestling scene, it was little more than a grave now for the High Octane company that once filled it.

However, that was not to say that this ruin was completely abandoned. Sulking in the depths of this place was a survivor.

A woman… or a thing more appropriately, that had managed to survive the fall of the previous company. Managed to escape death and damnation. A creature born both of this world and another, a malignancy that once infected the mind of Maximillian Wilhelm Kael.

“Hello? It’s Sutler, we need to talk.”

Sutler’s voice calls out into the darkness as he carefully navigates the crumbling arena. While the ceiling had remained intact, various detritus and garbage had fallen to the floor creating a minefield of rusted metal and ruined stadium seating. The whole place smelled of rot and rust.

The adopted son of Max Kael loathes coming to this place.

“... It’s about Max. Are you here?”

He feels the umbral gloom around him twist and turn, like a snake coiling around a fresh caught rat. Sutler feels a cold chill run down his spin, a common occurrence when meeting with her.

“You’ve come back. Speak, child.”

Her voice is gravely and filled with wickness, dripping onto Sutler like a moldy rain. Sutler strains his eyes, attempting to pierce the murk that surrounds him.

“Things have accelerated. There is a chance Max will be vulnerable after Culture Shock. Snark Darkly has lost his book and there is an opportunity for it to be destroyed. That will remove Max’s latest life line and cut off his connection to Darkly.”

While putting on a brave face, Sutler remains unnerved by the unseen presence that surrounds him. He reminds himself this is all for revenge, all to get back at his hated father, Max Kael.

And yet… this all still felt very wrong.

“... Good. Return to Arkham and prepare for my arrival.”

The voice cut through the darkness, a command that brokered no refusal. There was something savage, unhinged and animalistic about the way she speaks, like the voice of chaos itself.

The young Reynolds-Kael nods quickly and begins to make his way out of the rotting corpse of a bygone company. He makes haste, not wanting to stay in this place any longer than he must, eager to be back out in the light and fresh air.

With Sutler’s absence the ruins of the Best Arena grow still and quiet as a tomb once again. In that soundless dim something moves for the first time in years. An ancient, terrible, suffering thing with one red eye burning with a baleful rage.

For it was time for the return of the Minister. ☠️☠️☠️☠️ …The outskirts of Montevideo, Minnesota… …A few days before Ascension…

The chill of Winter clings desperately to the hand while the revitalizing touch of Spring has begun to awaken the foliage. Still, even with the blush of the vernal season, the land still looked dead, absent of the vibrant colors of Summer. Over the horizon the sun has started to set, long shadows stretching across the barren landscape.

In many ways Minnesota was a lot like Massachusetts, enduring long, cold winters. The kind of place where you could lose your mind in a cabin as the snow piles in and the world outside becomes a frozen desolation. The kind of place where madness and lunacy could take root, like a Spring sapling, and grow into something dark and terrible.

“What a shithole town.”

Max stares at a large, slightly faded WELCOME TO MONTEVIDEO sign, the edges of it chipped and worn away. Resting his hands on his hips, Max glares up at the sign from behind his plexiglass mask, a downturned sneer on his face.

“You know, Blaze, you’ve been a guest in Arkham twice now, and I realized I’ve never even been to your hometown once. What kind of a name is Montevideo anyway? Fuckin’ stupid.”

He turns to look toward the camera. The twilight cast dark shadows across his mask, his two eyes glowing with a weird, wild light; flickering like candles in the wind.

“... but not as stupid as you, Claymore. Last year when I kidnapped you, if I'd known how much trouble you’d be, I would have put you down like a puppy in Kristi Neom’s care. Buuuut here we are. My face was taken from me and you, holding the key to advancing my own goals here in PRIME. I was meant for so much more than playing in the dirt with a pathetic little twiddlefuck like you, enduring insult after insult by those around me!”

He raises a hand, pointing at the faded WELCOME TO MONTEVIDEO sign.

“I had come here to punish you, Blaze. You see you’ve been stinking up Arkham and I thought I’d return the favor. I’d come to this little hideaway shithole and introduce a little… Max Kael energy to the place! Some might call it corruption, but I like to think of it as… heh-heh… UPLIFTING this pathetic place.”

Through the dark, the glimmer of Max’s chrome teeth can be seen, as he spreads his lips into a wide smile.

“But you know what I discovered when I arrived? You know what wonderful little secret I discovered upon reaching this accursed land of yours?”

Turning, Max slams his hand against the Welcome sign, an ill yellow-green light flashing across its surface. As the light fades, its traces are replaced with ominous black lines, like diseased veins filled with ebony blood. A low, gurgling giggle emanates from the Mayor Arkham as he drags his fingernails down the sign.

“It’s already corrupted. This place is already decaying, rotting from the inside with a disease I am more than familiar with. Heh-heh… Don’t you see, Claymore? She’s already done it. That woman you’re fighting so hard to save? That woman that you claim to love has already turned on you. She’s accepted Snark Darkly’s…”

Max cocks his head to the side as he searches for the right word.

“... promise of power. Sonja Cuchilla has damned herself and your town, and for what? A little temporal power? Money? Influence? Attention? Whatever it was she wanted, she’s already too far gone, too embroiled in this all… Don’t you see? Don’t you see, you fucking idiot?!”

Holding his arms out wide, Max turns his eyes upward, his shadow sweeping over the sign as it is consumed by the darkness around him. Only his green eyes glow from the cesspits of that foul corruption.

“You’ve already lost! You’ve lost your own. You’ve lost your love. You’ve clearly already lost your sanity for continuing to fight this losing war. And now you have to defeat me, the man who defeated Brandon Youngblood, the star of Cancer Jile’s Squad Goals team, the BLACK HEART OF PRIME!”

His arrogance and madness swirl together as his voice swells in the cold wind.

“And I’m fighting for more than some stupid book. I’m fighting for my destiny. Your antics cost me my face, stole away my beauty! I… I could never face Cecilworth Farthington with this ruined visage, never face my love looking this hideous. But when I put you down, Blaze, when I pin you in the center of the ring, when I get Snark Darkly’s stupid book back. When I put out the light in your eyes, when the darkness finally swallows you… I’ll get my face back. I’ll get my destiny back. And you? … heh-heh…”

Taking in a deep breath, the darkness, the dark lines, the twisting, sickly green light, all rush back into the shadowy cracks of his mask. Only those two, hateful green eyes burn in the night, glaring at the camera with his unsettling chrome teeth.

“... your story ends with the Cruelest Stroke™ imaginable. mhm-Heh-Hah-RaHA!!”