The Freeman-Kael Chronicles: Bursting the Bubble

“Uh-Oh, we’re in trouble. Something’s come along and it’s burst our bubble.” - Trouble by Shampoo

-

 ..Ivan Stanislav’s Office.. ..The day after ReVival 52..

We open in the hallway, where Ivan’s beautiful assistant Arina stands alongside Kenny Freeman. The young man is dealing with about a million thoughts running through his head as the pair approach the door to the main office.. After everything he went through the past two weeks, he and Max Kael picking up the win over Fred Dick and STRONK, finally allowing Kenny a measure of revenge on the man who attacked his Red Army leader…but at what cost?

As they step through the door, however, they see Ivan Stanislav standing in a striking crimson uniform behind his monolithic steel desk. He appears to be fixated on his wall, littered with accolades from the past…perhaps most notably, one empty section looms in the center, where the PRIME Universal Title should rest.

The opening of the office door doesn’t pull his attention away, but the quiet closure of it finally snaps the Russian Bear out of it enough to turn halfway with a smile at the first Red Army member of the ReVival Era. “Comrade Freeman! What brings you here?”

“It’s about Max,” Kenny replies, the emotions slowly creeping in despite his best efforts. “I dunno what was communicated between you two, but…”

He pauses, unsure whether to even finish the sentence until Stanislav motions for him to go on.

“He brought my family into this, Starshy Praporshchik,” Kenny continues, taking a brief pause as if mentally patting himself on the back for getting the pronunciation down for once. “I’m not exactly in a position to question or resist Max’s actions or motivations, but…isn’t bringing my family into this just a little much?”

Stanislav’s tongue snakes along the inside of his mouth as he listens. He walks to the large window overlooking Red Square and motions for Kenny to stand next to him.

“Vyacheslav Molotov was second most powerful man in Russia,” Stanislav begins, his voice low and serious. “His wife, Polina, was lifelong communist. Molotov’s love blinded him, Kenny. Polina was treacherous, and Comrade Stalin saw it.”

He turns away and raises his bushy brow in emphasis. “Polina was arrested and sent to Gulag. Molotov divorced her. For those five years, Molotov would eat alone in his apartment and set a place out for Polina, though he knew she would not be coming home.”

Ivan nods to himself. He stares at the tiny people walking through Red Square and the spires of his beautiful Kremlin in the distance. “Five years later, Stalin died and Polina was released. When she learned Stalin had died she fainted from sadness.”

The weight of Ivan’s words hangs heavily between them, magnified by his own presence and the grandiose view of Moscow outside. “Kenny,” Ivan finally says, his voice grave yet comforting, “you had greatest win of your career last week. You can win tag titles, finally, with the collective’s help. Your family may doubt and mock your dreams, but I have always believed in you.”

He looks down at Kenny, his wizened eyes intensely honest. “If I did not, you would have gone the way of Arthur Pleasant long ago.” His huge hand spreads across Kenny’s shoulders, and then squeezes the back of his neck. “You should go train, son.”

Kenny takes a moment to think on this, slowly nodding in agreement before he turns to leave.

Just as Kenny reaches the door, the Bear speaks once more from across the room. “Oh, and Kenny?”

The room falls silent as Kenny turns to face Ivan once more.

“Your family is here because of me. They will remain here so long as I deem it necessary.” With one final piercing stare, the Bear turns away and stares back up at the gaping hole in his wall of accolades. “I will endeavor to forget we had this conversation. Comrade.”

-

CLASSIFICATION: CLASSIFIED

DATE: 29th July 2024

MEMORANDUM FOR:  Commissar Maximillian Wilhelm Kael

SUBJECT: New Directives

Commissar Kael,

As of this morning I, Polkovnik Ratimir Nekkov, have assumed leadership of the Effort to Modernize the Red Army as per Order No. 94211 by High Command.

Ignore all previous instructions. You will focus all your efforts on Youngblood and FLAMBERGE. I do not know, nor care, why you initially targeted FLAMBERGE however I am presented with a unique opportunity to get more eyes on the Modernization effort..

You will find a way to challenge both to the same match. When you defeat both at the same time, High Command will surely recognize my leadership. This is your new directive.

The Tag Team Championships will be captured when you have a suitable tag team partner, not some American suka like Kenny Freeman.

Cordially,

Colonel Ratimir Nekkshov ГРУ-19

-

He thinks he owns me. No one owns Max Kael.

I don’t want Youngblood. I want FLAMBERGE.

I promised Freeman. The Tag Titles belong to us.

What am I to do..?

-

..Training Facility K-67.. ..Sometime after ReVival 52..

The training ring is filled with the denizens of the Red Army. The usual suspects are there: Max, Kenny, Randall, the Herald and el Rojo Hoji. Joining them is a mysterious new figure..

“Kenny, I’d like to introduce your delightful training partner.” Kael gleefully informs Kenny as he waves his arms excitedly toward a lanky masked man with a broad chest. His face is obscured by a black cowl with a crimson sickle and hammer on the forehead.

“This is Gregori Oleggson, a former Olympic prospect until he murdered a rival team mate. I’ve seen the security footage and it was spectacular.”

He slinks with a slunk around Oleggson, looking like a serpent coldly examining its prey. Satisfied with what he sees, Max snaps his fingers.

“Everyone, clear out! Kenny needs to start training for our match against the Twins?. Stupid fucking name. Who puts a question mark on their name?” Max sneers as everyone, save for Kenny, makes to get out of the ring. Placing a hand on Gregori’s shoulder, Kael keeps the former amateur wrestler from leaving the ring. “You stay, Oleggson. Our opponents are crafty, sneaky twats, like goblins or people from Detroit. Kenny, my Comrade, you’re going to have to be ready for it.”

With a mischievous wink and a nod to Gregori, Max quickly jumps to the nearest turnbuckle, climbing and sitting atop it.

“FIGHT!”

Kenny lunges at Oleggson for the tie up, but gets caught with a knee to the groin before Oleggson sweeps him right off his feet. He looks at Max with a shrug of the shoulders, as if unsure what to make of Kenny’s tactics.

“Yeah, I don’t know either, Eggs.” Max says, shaking his head. “Again. TAL might look like a stupid-idiot but his grapples are surprisingly clean. You’re going to have to find a way to overwhelm his skills.”

“Sweep the leg!” exclaims Randall, garnering a stare from the rest of the group as Kenny grabs Oleggson by the ankle in an effort to trip the trainer up…but this just gets a confused look from Oleggson as he pulls his foot away, smacking Freeman upside the head for his troubles.

“Ken-..” Kael doesn’t even bother to finish, hanging his head with a sigh. “Again! Use your aggressive feelings, boy!”

This seems to motivate Kenny at least a little as he lunges at Gregori, lifting him up for just a moment…until Oleggson catches him with a crossface punch that sends Freeman down hard to the floor. He follows up with a wrist lock as Randall tries to will his friend back into it from the sidelines.

“Come on, Kenny! If you can’t get out of this, the Angled Luchador is gonna tie you into knots!”

Kenny flips over to relieve the pressure, but before he can counter with a hold of his own the trainer sweeps him right back off his feet, keeping a hold of his wrist all the while.

“Uncle!” Kenny shouts, having had enough of this embarrassment.

“He’s not your uncle, Kenny!” yells the Entertainer, garnering a confused stare from Oleggson as he finally lets go of the hold.

Max feels his left eye twitch as he stares at Freeman with a sour expression. His nostrils flare as he takes in a sharp breath.

“Alright, let’s take a quick break!” snarls Max. “Kenny, please join me in the locker room for a quick meeting.”

Climbing out of the ring, Kael marches toward the locker room.

“Partner to Partner.” 

-

The answer finally comes to me. I don’t need to choose.

I can do both.

First I.. we need to win this Tag Tournament. And we will.

-

..Training Facility K-67.. ..A few minutes later in the locker room..

“Why you being a lil’bitch, Comrade?”

Max’s voice is a calculated dose of familial concern as he places a hand on Kenny’s shoulder.

“Last ReVival we defeated the Big Dick Stallions. Next revival we need to defeat the Twins?. Where is your head? You should be elated! So what dafuq is up?

Kenny gives his tag partner a look of confusion, trying to make sense of the phrasing Max is using…all the while, struggling to come up with the right words to say himself.

“Listen, Max,” Kenny says, eventually settling on a more casual and cautious moral road to travel. “I, uh…I’m proud of what we pulled off at the Cow Palace.”

Inexplicably we can faintly hear Randall mooing from a distance, but Kenny presses on.

“I’m sorry for being so distracted, man. There’s an old song that talks about leaving one’s heart in San Francisco, but I guess part of my mind is stuck there after we finally upended Fred Dick and the man that I’d been seeking revenge on for months in STRONK. Kinda hard to pivot away from that, y’know?”

Max chews his lip as the gears turn in his rotten little mind. His eyes narrow until he takes in a slow, deep breath.

“I once let my heart lead me. I filled it with the two people I loved most in this tired, dreary world. Then one of them killed me while the other abandoned me.”

A sneer twitches involuntarily onto his visage.

“So I ripped out my heart, Kenny. I’ll never be hurt like that again..”

Despite all the rage and hatred he is alarmed to find his eyes watering at the thought of Cecilworth. What the FUCK was this?! He is glad he has his back to Kenny. Blinking back the tears he turns to his “pupil”.

“You’ll need to kill your heart, Kenny Freeman, just as I did. I don’t need a partner with a heart, that doesn’t work for me, brother. I require a killer, a partner unshackled from his past, unmoored from regret. Not one step back, Kenny Freeman. Now you must step UP!”

A cold, clammy hand clamps down on K-Free’s shoulder. Max’s wild, bloodshot eyes lock with Kenny’s.

“I know you’re still adjusting to this new morality but I have faith in you. That shitstain out there, Gregori? He thrives out in that ring because he can hide behind the rules of engagement. But heartless folks like you and me?”

His grip tightens as his smile stretches wide.

“..we thrive on violence, villainy and victory. Get it done, Comrade.”

Kenny just stares at him for a moment, letting that statement sink in before giving a reluctant nod of agreement. Max simply pats him on the back, giving Kenny a chance to make his exit.

-

My eyes and ears are everywhere. Kenny is lurking in the shadows of the locker room.

He doesn’t know I’m watching. Doesn’t know I’ve seen his conflict.

He doesn’t know I hear him. Doesn’t know I’ve heard his anguish.

All this pain is the crucible of greatness. I believe in Kenny Freeman.

-

Some time later, we find Gregori making his way to the sauna. He looks quite pleased with himself, eager to relax as he steps inside…never noticing a figure in the shadows. Inside the sauna, Oleggson takes a seat as he starts humming to himself. Back in the locker room, the figure steps out from the shadows, and the light makes everything all so clear as Kenny Freeman stares at the sauna door. His upper lip is quivering as he starts muttering to himself.

“Is this really the way?” Kenny asks, looking confused and even a little worried. “Why him?”

The inquiry is met with sheer silence, perhaps the most frightening thing Kenny can experience at this moment as he looks around the locker room trying to find a response that suits his needs. Eventually, he finds the courage to answer his own question.

“I can’t let Max keep going after my family,” he says with a sigh. “He wants me to get violent, and if I’m gonna save my family I gotta get violent on someone…right?”

That question is accentuated by the sight of a broom resting against the locker room wall. Kenny lets out another sigh before grabbing the broom handle, making his way to the sauna as he swings the door open.

“Hey, this spot is occu--hey!” shouts Gregori, but he is cut off by the sound of a thud, followed by some smaller thuds of wood meeting flesh. Moments later, we hear a massive crash from inside the sauna, before the door swings open again…revealing a shaken Kenny Freeman, who drops the broom to the floor before making a run for the exit.

And with that, silence looms over the locker room.

Dead silence.

-

CLASSIFICATION: CLASSIFIED

DATE: 3rd August 2024

MEMORANDUM FOR:  Starshy Praporshchik Stanislav

SUBJECT: Freeman Project Progress Report

Comrade Stanislav,

The sound defeat of the BDS was a great step forward in Kenny Freeman’s training. However there is still a long road ahead of us and I fear that Kenny is still weighed down by his decision.

The Twins?, still a stupid fucking name, are the current leaders of the tournament, defeating them will all but ensure us entry to the Championship match. To that end I have pushed Kenny to find his conviction and put away the memories of his past. Over the last few days he has gone from blunt tool to sharp instrument.

Unfortunately I will have to replace one of our staff. A trainer, Gregori Oleggson, passed away while using the sauna. Following a thorough investigation it is believed he suffered a heart attack, dying instantly.

Be aware Colonel Ratimir has insisted that I focus on FLAMBERGE and Brandon Youngblood as potential opponents for UltraViolence.

I will not abandon Kenny Freeman.

A promise is a promise is a promise.

Enthusiastically,

Commissar Maximillian Wilhelm Kael 

-

..Training Facility K-67..

He is dragged from the training room with his mother. She’s screaming, demanding to see her husband, to see Kenny. Before he can voice his own outrage a gag chokes back the words. The last thing he sees is Mama Freeman being pulled the opposite direction before a black bag lips over his head.

The guards “escort” Jack through a confusing series of lefts and rights before he’s forced down into a chair. The unmistakable sound and sensation of duct tape being used to secure him to the seat.

Then he waits, in silence, for hours.

Well not total silence.

He could hear his mother’s screams in the cruel reflection of memory. 

“Uh-Oh!” 

A cheerful little text alert banishes the ghost of Mama Freeman’s voice. Jack’s head tilts up, staining to hear anything else.

“One moment, beau, dealin’ with a real catch ya next Tuesday.”

An American. There was something familiar about the voice, it tickled his brain but no name or face came to mind.

Suddenly light floods his eyes as the bag is ripped from his head. Cool air wicks the sweat from his brow as he withers beneath the painful illumination.

“Hello Jack!” that American voice calls out again. “Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

He freezes as that tickle in his mind finally scratches his recollection. It’s the man who had commanded Kenny to attack their father. His teeth bite down into the gag, muffled screams of accusation being hurled at a shadowy figure just beyond the luminescence.

“Sorry, I can’t quite hear you ..I’m Maximillian Wilhelm Kael. heh-heh..”

Max steps into the light wearing a fraudulent look of concern. Eager fingers envelop Jack’s right hand in a mocking handshake. The prisoner struggles against his bindings, rage filling his eyes with hateful tears.

"Easy, friend. I’m no monster. I'm an honest man, Jack. A modern moralist, everything I do, I do to lift people up. Just like I’m doing to Kenny. Like I’m going to do to you..” Slipping behind Jack, Max kneels down and holds his phone so that Kenny’s brother can see the screen.

“You know what I’m not? People like your parents, self-righteous, virtue signalers. They’d rather peacock and complain than do anything meaningful. All talk but achieve nothing meaningful, never challenging themselves. Just living but not alive. Observe, I’m posting on jabber that I'm going to hurt someone every time I get upset."

Max sends the message and pockets his phone. He practically dances back around to stand in front of Jack.

“These people, like your parents, live in a world where they think there are no repercussions because they are insulated. Safe. Surviving. Tragically, chumley, that’s just not the case. There are always consequences, even if they never see them. Let me show you..heh-heh. Anytime one of them gets old Papa Kael a little hot under the collar, as an honest man, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to hurt you.”

His unblinking eyes never break contact as he tilts his head to the side.

“You can learn a lot about a person from the sound of their screams, Jackie boy."

“Uh-Oh!”

Dread tightens Jack’s chest as his eyes widen. Milking the moment Max lazily draws the phone from his pocket before unlocking it.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing insulting.”

Max lies through a sadistic grin as he reads.

"Oof. Bad break kid, looks like I hooked RIA."

“Uh-Oh!”

“She’s kind of obsessed with me.”

“Uh-Oh!”

Jack thrashes and struggles against his bindings as fear overrides all other thoughts. Rolling a standing tool chest over, Max sighs.

“Uh-Oh!”

"This is going to be a long afternoon."

…Ŭ̷̧̢̜͔̙̝͔̮̫̺̗̱̄͂̂͘͘͝͠ḩ̵̞̭̞̘͍̭̘̘̭̀̌̎̿̇̆-̴̨̝̮̦̈̌͋̀͑͆͒̊̆͂̎̚͘͘͝o̸̝̟̪͌̄͒̊̋̏͒̈́͝͠h̸̹̩̙͒̇̿̿̂̂̌̉͌̈́̉͘̕…