MisKaelaige of Justice or Is This A Trap?

MisKaelaige of Justice or Is This A Trap?

Posted on May 7, 2020 at 10:32 pm by The Minister

“I can almost see it, that dream I’m dreaming but there’s a voice inside my head saying you’ll never reach it. Every step I’m taking, every move I make feels lost with no direction. My faith is shaking but I gotta keep trying. Gotta keep my head held high.” – Miley Cyrus


Everything had culminated in this moment. Max’s plan, which had put into motion just three days ago, was actually a rousing success despite the odds. He had managed to secure his old body brace around fallen North Korean Dictator Kim Jong-Un, automating it to force the otherwise inactive body to move around stiffly like some twisted, modernized version of Weekend at Bernies. He had managed to avoid any suspicion from the North Korean Government though your guess is as good as mine as to how.


Balls deep in the North Korean palace the Lord Supreme Dictator and his trusty sidekick, Kim Mechong-Un, had begun to enact Max’s final phase.. The utilization of Brenton Cross’s time travel technology to once again dive back through time and ruin yet another member of the Order’s life.


“..and now Scott Stevens.. Like the old Darin Zion..” Max cackled as he stared at the round futuristic disk that lay on the ground, a time travel platform created by North Korea using Brenton Cross’s original Time Travel designs. “..I shall ruin your career!” 


He held out his right hand and flashed a grin toward Kim. The Mechong-Un stiffly retrieved a small remote device from the pocket before slamming it down robotically into the Lord of Kaelsalvania’s hand.


“And now.. THE COUNTDOWN!” 


Thrusting his hand with the remote trigger into the air as he let loose a perhaps over the top and terribly hammy laugh, a real over work folks. Moving akin to an unoiled Tin Man, Mechong-Un picked up a sheet of metal and began to create thunder noises with it. 


Quite suddenly “I Want A New Drug” by Huey Lewis And the News begins to jam from Max’s pocket. The North Kaelrean General perks up and looks around in confusion, his laughing and the thundering coming to a sudden stop. Quite against his will Max begins to swivel his hips and stomp his feet while his arms way back and forth.


“Damn you 80ies Blues Rock, why are you so good!” Max snarls as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Listen, Kim, I’m sorry you have to see this, it’s fucking Huey Lewis and the News, I don’t have any choice in this. I made the mistake of making this Cecilworth’s ringtone, he never calls! I’m so embarrassed.”


Max answered the phone ending the beautiful sound of a Johnny Colla sax as well as Max’s involuntary dancing. 


“Cecilworth! What an unexpected pleasure, how can I he-” he sputters to a sudden stop as the distinct voice of Cecilworth can be heard. Max’s brow furrows as a dour, unpleasant frown crosses his face. “..you had a stroke?” 


More yelling from the other side of the phone as Max pulls the phone away from his ear. Covering the phone with his hand Max looks toward Mechong-Un, shaking his head. 


“I guess Scott Stevens released a promo and Cecilworth accidentally watched it. He’s telling me about it right now.” the Prime Minister of Maxopotamia whispered before bringing the phone back up to his ear. 


Kim Mechong-Un doesn’t react to Max, as one might expect for an unconscious man being held aloft by a rusted robotic system of braces cobbled together by a professional wrestler who somehow ended up with time travel technology. Don’t think about it too hard, none of this makes much sense. 


“..wait what? Explain that to me again? No. NO! I don’t want to watch the fucking thing, you just tell me what it said. Cause you’re my friend! .. Okay. Of course. Not recently, no? I don’t know.. Maybe twice a week? Fine. Okay. Okay. Right. Two cups. Yes. Sardines, mayo and oyster crackers, in that order. Talk to you later champ.” Max mutters as he hangs up the call with a sign. 


Max tosses the trigger onto a nearby table as a grumpy expression clouds his face while his metal teeth can be heard grinding together from inside his rotten maw. 


“Well buckle up, Kim, I guess we gotta watch this thing too.” 



A glowing red eye peered down at Kim Jong-Un as he lay in his hospital bed, his broken, weakened body supported by the various machines that were currently plugged into him. It would have been easy to kill him there, the two of them were alone, the infamous leader of North Korea was completely vulnerable. 


It would have been too easy. 


A snarl rippled across chapped lips as a low hiss escapes between clenched metal teeth. This wasn’t where he was supposed to be, this wasn’t anywhere close to his goal.. But this whole process was part of a bigger plan.


A larger plan that required his patience, cunning and viciousness. The man that lay in the bed before him had been crucial to his plan up a week ago. Now? He had everything he wanted from Kim and it was time to leave this all in the past was quickly coming. 


“Jeremiah 46:16..I will stir up Egyptian against Egyptian- brother will fight against brother, neighbor against neighbor, city against city, kingdom against kingdom.” 


His voice was guttural, low and pious. The red eye looked over Kim dispassionately as his tongue slowly lapped over his chapped lips leaving behind a slick coat of saliva. The tattered skin eagerly absorbed the spit while small lines of blood crossed the scaled white tissue.


“I don’t have anyone to talk to, Kim. Nobody that understands what I’m trying to do at least so you will hear my confessions.” he spat the words from his mouth as though he hated the taste of them. He slipped closer to the unconscious leader of North Korea, a leather gloved hand reaching out and grabbing a clipboard attached to Kim’s bed. “I trust you to be discreet about what I tell you.” 


Feigning interest he looked over the clipboard, grunting unpleasantly as he did so. 


“I’m the reason Max Kael is facing Scott Stevens, yes it’s true, don’t tell anyone. Max needed an opponent for the LSD Championship, I needed more time for the Plan. This will feel like a gift from Lee adding further credence to Max that it is Lee manipulating him, it will make him further suspicious of Lee and with Max being the first draft pick.. Well.. heh-heh.. Can he really be trusted as a member of the Group of Death?” the Man with the Red Eye lets out another weezing chuckle before he pulls a carton of cigarettes out of his black North Korean uniform. 


Tapping on the box a few times before retrieving one of the cigarettes from the box before jamming it between his lips. Retrieving a zippo lighter with the North Korean flag on it the Man flicked it open and lit the cigarette. He sucked in two deep lung fulls of smoke causing the cherry to angrily burn its way half-way down the dart. Two jets of smoke poured from his nose as he exhaled before ripping the cigarette from his lips.


“Isolation is the name of the game, we both know that. Max is pulled away, feeling alone, feeling vulnerable. Not being challenged. Michael has his own problems right now, he’s not going to worry about Max. Cecilworth Farthington is distracted with his World Championship, he won’t have time for Max. Dan Ryan and Lindsay Troy? Passing associates.. Max will have no one and once he realizes that.. Well..”


He lifted the cigarette to his lips again as he took another tug, this one not nearly as deep. He sighed a little as the lightheaded sensation of the first drag finallys started to hit. 


“..then I’ll be there for him. And is that such a bad thing? In a world this corrupt and broken, sickened and dying, rotten straight into the very core you don’t need a Doctor.. You don’t need  a Scientist. Kim, in times like this where there is no hope what you need.” he said before taking another long drag off his cigarette before dropping the butt on the floor, grinding it out with his shoe. 


“..is a Minister.”



The Grand Throne Room of the Supreme Leader of North Korea was an impressive sight as always. The long, high room was lined with pillars wrapped in red marble with North Korean banners hanging high above. A long red carpet led up to a massive wooden throne painted in gold, red and bronze with rose read pillow cushions. 


Seated atop them was the heavy wrapped Kim Mechong-Un, his official Dan Ryan Terminator sunglasses pulled down over his eyes. Seated next to him, with his head buried in his hands, was the black uniformed Maximillian Wilhelm Kael, LSD Champion and Number One Ranked Wrestler in High Octane Wrestling. 


A muffled scream emanates from Max’s direction before he snaps up abruptly, his blue eyes staring forward as he shares the same deadfaced expression as his Number One Fan, Kim. His head slowly turns toward the camera as gravity pulls the corners of his lips down into a deep frown exposing his soured lower gums.


“..Well obviously I can’t go back in time and kick Scott Steven’s wife in the womb or find some way to make Scott Stevens do analytical work for fun. I just can’t, doing so would give the man way too much credence. Nope, I had to ditch the whole damn thing because I can’t ruin Scott Stevens, only that big Texas idiot has the power to do it.”


He throws his hands into the air out of annoyance, clearly distraught about the whole situation.


“That whole thing was like the ugly girl saying she doesn’t care about Prom but wouldn’t it be really cool if the homecoming king asked her out. Hate to break it to you, ain’t nobody in High Octane Wrestling wants you to even make it to Prom, Stevens, let alone put anything with any semblance of value on you. Fuck. FUCK!” 


Like a petulant child Max stomps his feet while punching at the air while roaring unhappily. Pulling a bell from his pocket he begins to chime it loudly with one hand the other other waves someone off camera toward him.


“Hurry up! Hurry up! I don’t want to give Scott Stevens any more of my precious fucking time than I need to. Not after that. Not after what he put me through. Not after he almost killed my good friend Cecilworth Farthington by nearly giving him a stroke. No. Enough is enough!” Max continued to rant as a North Korea soldier scurried toward him holding the LSD Championship.


Ripping the title away from the soldier Max angrily threw the belt over his shoulder, hugging it possessively. 


“I gave you WAY too much credit the first time around. I thought, maybe, perhaps somewhere in there you were still a wrestler. Nope. I was wrong. You know how I know you’re a big dumb liar? The book I gave you just had a book sleeve on it that said the Art of War, the pages were just filled with doodles of penises in various colors and sizes. It was a different time, okay, my sense of humor has grown since then. In either case, no, I do not plan on losing to Scott Stevens. Let’s talk about why.”


He snaps again as two North Korean soldiers run back on screen holding signs. One soldiers sign simply has the number ONE while the other has #Feminism written on it.


“You and your wife got pregnant? Horseshit you selfish fuck, you busted 2ccs of liquid Stevens into your wife and your part in the game was done, dickweed. Your wife got pregnant, your wife lost that child, your wife experienced that physical and emotional trauma while you, hopefully, did your husbandly duty, only to flag it in a random promo for an LSD Pole Match? What the FUCK is wrong you with? What is that, a sympathy grab? Are you trying to work through something? Bury that shit deep inside you, like me, like a real man, you insuffle pile of excuses. I wish your wife the best, you can fuck off. AAAARGH!”


Max’s face flushes red as he turns and slams his head into a nearby pillar screaming as he does so. The soldier with the ONE sign switches to a TWO sign. The second soldier slinks away having only the #Feminism sign.


“We’re in a sign shortage in North Korea so we could only do numbers and one additional sign, you’ll just have to deal with no visual queues. Okay.. TWO.. You like to sit at home and play with your kids and do your little stats? GREAT! Stay the fuck out of it. Don’t even show. Don’t even make an appearance. Don’t even waste my time and yours. You know what, nobody likes to clean the dishes so I’m glad you like it, every great company has strong, menial foundations of people like you. The nobodies, the desk jockeys, the guys who are eager to please their bosses for a pat on the back and a pizza party. Why.. WHY are you still here?! Why is this match happening!? WHY IS IT ON A POLE?!”


Turning he slams his head into the pillar two more times as we move onto sign number dos. 


“THREE, this is not the place for your weak hearted bullshit Scott Stevens. This is High Octane Wrestling, this is the lions den, we fucking KILL PEOPLE HERE. Remember the time Lee Best spiked Kostoff’s kid off the ground? If you don’t have the hunger, if you don’t have the drive, if you’re not ready to murder your neighbors and eat them then you’re just not Alex Jones enough to still be in High Octane Wrestling. But don’t worry, I know DEFIANCE will keep you warm, it’s probably a little more your speed anyway, so goodie for you I guess? Can you do that from your home office? You know what you can’t be from your home? LSD Champion, idiot” 


He goes to slam his head into the pillar again before thinking better of it. Despite doing it several times and no selling the damage it really did hurt quite a bit. Enough that the pain was starting to cut through his absolute disgust he was feeling for Scott Stevens. So instead he just spit on the pillar and turned his attention forward once again.


“So there are three things, I’m sure there are more. I’m sure there is plenty to talk about, I’m sure this is considered a burial but fuck, Stevens.. FUCK what was I supposed to do after that? How am I supposed to react? You’re like a shitty cook who can bring all the ingredients together but can’t work out how to make the damn meal. God fucking speed, hopefully I can send you home to play with the four.. No. Three kids you have and maybe you can dig out a few cool stats to post about later. I hope you get hit by a car on the way to the Arena. Honestly, I bet it wouldn’t slow down your wife’s career because she’s a professional.”


Waving away the soldier with the number signs Max stands, swaggering to stand in front of Kim Mechung-Un, his soured scowl holding much of his face frozen in bitterness.


“I am the Worthiest, the Terrifying and Terrific Maximillian Wilhelm Kael, Lord of Kaelsalvania, Prime Minister of Maxopotamia, the Number One Ranked Talent in High Octane Wrestling, the Lord Supreme Dictator, the LSD Champion, the General of North Kaelrea, First of my Name! Long May I M-”


[Korean]”..what the fuck?”


Max’s face goes pale as he hears the pitchy voice of Kim Jong-Un behind him. His expression drops from embittered anger to kid whose hand was caught in the cookie jar.