High Octane Wrestling
Published: Written by: Maximillian Kael

“Brenton Cross.”


The sound of the Lord Supreme Dictator Maximillian Wilhelm Kael’s harsh voice cut through the darkness. The sound of a large switch slamming into place precipitates a bright pillar of light that cuts through the darkness illuminating the Lord of Kaelsalvania’s scowling face. His face wears his usual grimace, his smooth shaved head shining brightly. His eye ruined left eye socket was still visible to the world, a void of black with spider-web like scars crackling out around the edges of the hole. 


“I don’t know much about you. I don’t know, for example, where you come from, who your friends are, do you even have any friends? Usually I know a fairly decent amount about my opponents as I like to study them. I like to try to figure them out, get inside their heads and work my crazy little mind games..”


More lights click to life as the basement of the 5 Time Academy comes into focus, the walls lined with strange 1980ies style technical equipment and early 90ies style clunky computers. Max himself appeared to be in a large mechanical chair with several leather straps around his arms, chest and legs. Still, despite being lashed to the chair Max doesn’t seem overly disturbed. 


“..but you’ve beaten me to the punch. A time traveling soldier who gets nose bleeds.. Sounds like an 80ies movie where the director needed to explain why the lead kept getting nosebleeds from his cocaine addiction. I can’t attack that without sounding like an unhappy asshole. I can’t out camp a man who apparently time travels and wrestles as some weird way to fix the time stream. That’s just beyond me and I’m humble enough to know when I’m defeated. But please.. indulge me as I spend the next few minutes shitting on you.”


Several North Koreans in white lab coats appear, their faces masked behind welding goggles and surgical masks. Max’s eye flickered towards them for a moment before he looked toward the screen once again. 


“Oh, don’t mind these guys. See, that bitch MJF decided to knock my eye patch lose and then used it to attack me. That patch was made of hundred percent pure North Korean Iron which is roughly four times as good as Japanese Iron, or so I’m told. Unfortunately it had been bolted to my head which means I couldn’t just slap it back on, right? So I have to go through all this rigmarole just to get the damn thing put back on but THIS TIME… oh boy.. This time we’re gonna make sure that shit don’t fall off! We’re using 100% pure KAELTONIUMITE.. It was discovered in an ancient meteor that fell into North Korea after Kim Jung Un was born, crazy right!? At least 50% more believable than a Madman Szalinkski story!”


As Max finished his lips spread into a wide grin, a welcome expression to what had otherwise been a sad expression. Last time we spoke, he did mention that Max had lost his smile.. Well today he had gotten it back apparently. You know how things are around here, Max is a bit of a dramatic guy. 


“Unfortunately the greatest North Korean technology comes at a slight price. It hurts like a mother fucker! But it’s like they say in North Korea, Pain is just Capitalism attempting to slither into your skin like an Imperialistic Snake… or something, listen I don’t claim to understand North Korean sayings, I just use them when they feel appropriate. Just like I don’t claim to understand Time Travel but I can still have an opinion about it! Don’t think about it, let’s just move on, okay? I’m getting my eye patch replaced while I cut a promo, it’s fucking cool, alright? Plus it’s been a hot minute since I’ve had a chance to talk to anyone outside of the Herald or my loyal, but not entirely English speaking soldiers.”


One of the North Koreans leaned over Max’s shoulder and whispers something into his ear. Max’s smile diminishes slightly as he lets out a low sigh. He takes in a deep breath and glares toward, his silver jagged teeth peeking through. 


“I’ve just been informed we’re about to begin. But don’t worry, I’ve got a lot to say and plenty of time to say it. So let’s continue with you, Brenton Cross.. You’ve got an eyepatch, I can respect that only, the trouble is like HALF of High Octane Wrestling is missing an eye, has a fake one or wears an eyepatch. There is a reason people jokingly call High Octane Wrestling the Pirate Federation. Welcome to one of the only companies in America where your boss is allowed to literally stab your eye out when you displease them. Yeah, we’re that place so, you know, not a lot of depth there. Little eye joke for you.”

He winked, or perhaps just blinked, before he smacked his lips in satisfaction at the slow roasted gold he just brewed up. The sound of a power tool being fired up in the background causes the Lord Supreme Dictator to flinch slightly as his smile vanishes. His body visibly grows tense as he does his best to look calm.


“From what I’ve heard you’re a bit of a high flying idiot. Good. I love guys who like to bounce around the ring, particularly when I’m an LSD Champion. Why you might ask? Because I’m a big guy, I’m surprisingly strong and I’m deceptively fast. Add the fact that our match will have, how do you say, limited rules to worry about this really does not add many advantages to you. You’ll be running around trying to flop on me in various idiotic and self-destructive ways and me? I’ll just grab you out of the sky like a gnat’s testicle and beat you harsher than an incel beats his scrabby cock. Let that image sink in, it’s a good one.”


Max’s head is yanked back as a light is shined directly into his face. His fingers tightened over the ends of the armrests of his chair while his feet can been seen kicking upward in protest. He continues to speak, though his voice is a little more sheepish as what looks like some kind of bolt gun is lifted up over his head.


“..So maybe.. Maybe you’re a decent fighter. Sure, someone mentioned you were ex-military.. Or currently military, I guess that depends on how Time Travel works and what you were when you started.. So that makes me assume you probably have some skill in combat. You bested two people though one of those people was Crash and that guy couldn’t hit the floor if he fell on it. Hard to say that there is any merit to your victories in HOW thus far. Trust me, Cross, when you enter the ring with me you’re up against over twenty years of fighting experience from bum fights to wrestling to straight eighties style horror slasher fic! I wouldn’t say I have any particular style but I’m told I’ll shades o-AAAAH”




Max is cut off mid sentence as the bolt gun fires off. As the pain blasts into his brain his body is stunned for a moment before his feet and hands begin to shake uncontrollably. His chest heaves violently as four more bolts were fired into his head in rapid succession. The wailing, ear piercing scream echoes around the room before he turns his head to the side and violently vomits onto the ground, his body pushing the contents of his stomach out as his abdomen tights from the pain rippling through his body. 


The white coats step away from him for a moment as he seems to whimper and shudder in his bondage, his head head hanging back and to the side not visible to the camera. The soft pat of blood hitting the concrete floor alters the White coats that Max was bleeding from his face. Each rushed forward and once again pulled Max’s head into position, working quickly. Max’s ragged gasps are all that is audible as he struggled through the agony. 


“..uh…aarg..so..fuck.. I.. ..Brenton? Are.. are you still paying attention? ..what?” Max’s grating voice hissed as one of the North Koreans leaned in asking him a question in Korean. Max grunts for a moment before you can see his head shake. “NO! We’ve.. We’ve already come this far.. Finish the job.. This needs to be functional by Chaos.. Somebody.. Somebody get me my title! Put it in my lap so they can see it.. And the rest of you.. FINISH THE JOB!” 


His voice was filled with fear and anger, two traits that the LSD Champion had thrived on most of his life. The Koreans went quickly back to work as they brought up what looked to be some kind of welding torched, positioning themselves around the HOW Hall of Famer. 


“..Cross.. Jesus this hurts.. Fuck.. alright.. Cross.. I just need to finish getting this out.. You’re a piece of shit.. No. Fuck. That’s lazy, listen, this really fucking hurts okay? So chances are this.. Next bit of what I say will.. Will just sound like gibberish but stay with me to the end, alright buddy? It’s worth it, I can.. I can almost guarantee that.. Okay.. okay..fuck..”


There is a hiss as the gas on the torch is triggered. A soft clicking noise of the ignitor caused Max’s body to tense up once again before the tell-tale sound of the gas flashing to life was followed by a bright flash of light. It is lowered over Max’s face as the sounds of his metal teeth scrapping and grating against each other joins the other industrial noises. 




The torch is switched off as Max’s screams subside. His body once again enters spasms though it appears as though the operation has ended. The white coats turn toward Max and offer him a respectful bow before shuffling off screen with the industrial equipment they arrived with. A singular North Korean soldier steps into frame holding the LSD Championship before placing it on Max’s lap. They too offer Max a deep bow before quickly running off screen leaving the Lord of Kaelsalvania alone on screen once again. 


Max mutters something incoherent as his chest rises and lowers in rapid succession. He coughs and sucks in a few deep breaths while attempting to speak but no meaningful words escape the black hole of his own mind numbing pain. His fingers flex and clench the armrests as his head slumps forward, burns and scorch marks covering the upper left side of his face where something new glittered. 


Lifting his head toward the camera the new metal eye patch that appeared to have been bolted and welded to his head, far shinier and lacking the rust of his previous eyepatch with a silver like appearance. Thin lines of blood dripped over the patch and ran in over his cheek as he stared forward, the crimson vitae running over charred flesh and standing out against the pale skin of his jaw and chin. Dripping from his face it began to splatter across the LSD Title, not the first time the belt had ever tasted blood and it was far from the last. 


“..look there.. I’m finally whole once again.. And by Chaos, Brenton Cross, know I’ll be ready. I won’t have been spending my last few weeks hoping through time to try and solve some Terminator style apocalypse. This ain’t 13 Monkeys and the first rule of time travel, as you know, is that TIME CANNOT BE CHANGED.. I am destined to win.. I am destined to be the end of High Octane Wrestling and there is nothing to be done about it. Well.. nothing someone like you can do about it…”


He shook his head as the blood flicked across the room giving it a very dramatic feel. His teeth clacked together as his tongue licked some of the blood off his lips. 


“…So get ready. Get all you’re time travel buddies together and host a little time travel party. They can watch from your special time traveling ass get handed his first High Octane Wrestling loss to the Lord Supreme Dictator.. Just like High Flyer. Just like Scottywood. Just like Halitosis and MJF. Because EVERYBODY gets beat by Max Kael eventually.. Everybody has a loss to the Prime Minister of Maxopotamia. Because My name..”


He turns and spits some more blood onto the floor before he turns his singular good eye toward the camera with a half smile, those silvery shark teeth visible once again.


“..is the Lord Supreme Dictator Maximillian Wilhelm Kael.. First of my Name..”


The lights die out once again as the screen is washed out in darkness.


“Long May I Maim.”

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