BRO, IT’S MAX KAEL?
We cut to Angelica Brooks who is standing by herself, microphone in hand with a steady, professional smile on her face.
Angelica Brooks: Ladies and gentlemen.. Maximilian Kael?.
The camera panned back as we see, for the first time, the man that has claimed the name of Max Kael?. He’s the right height, the right weight and the right build but there is something off for those who remember the old Max Kael, before his death. The face is a little longer, the two brown eyes not familiar to most. It is Max Kael but at the same time it also didn’t appear to be him.
And if you don’t know, care or remember who Max Kael is then this guy was definitely Max. There is a mixed reaction from the crowd which can be faintly heard in the distance. Kael grinned menacingly at the camera as his nostrils flared and his lips spread to reveal long, white teeth.
Angelica Brooks: Let me be the first to officially welcome you to PRIME, Max Kael?.
Brooks holds the microphone out to Max as the former, maybe, Lord of the now defunct Kaelsalvania tore his manic eyes from the camera to look down at the microphone being offered. His grin somehow managed to stretch even further as he reached out..
A wrinkled, liver spotted hand deftly snatched the microphone from Angelica’s hands before Max could grasp it. The withered appendage belonged to an angry, short old woman. She wore a tan business suit and white curly hair that went out of fashion decades ago. Her face, while still wrinkled, had most of the crevasses smeared smooth with foundation.
U.N. Couth: Nobody talks to my client!
Her shrill voice is accented with something vaguely Eastern European. The sound of it cuts through both Max and Angelica causing the latter to flinch noticeably.
U.N. Couth: And my client doesn’t speak to wrestling hussies! I know what you’re all trying to do, trying to seduce Max to get his money cause you think he’s a sucker! Trying to suckle at the teet of Kael, eh, you trollope!
While a full six inches shorter than Angelica and some thirty six years her senior, Couth doesn’t seem any less intent on scaring off the younger woman. Brooks backed away though less out of fear and more out of confusion as the old hag turned her attention toward the camera.
U.N. Couth: And my client doesn’t do interviews for YOU!
She jabbed a crooked, knobby old finger at the camera. As she screamed her lips parted to reveal fake dentures just barely holding onto their gummy foundation.
U.N. Couth: Max Kael? is the kind of talent that deserves to be showcased in the Main Event. A Main Event in any company, in any sport, in any country! He’s a former Hall of Famer, a former World Champion and a former human being! How many people in this company can claim to have come back from the dead through sheer God damn Will!
Kael quickly darted forward, pulling the microphone up to his grinning lips.
Max Kael?: Doctor Will is good people!
The microphone was yanked away from Max by Couth, that gnarly finger turned toward the non-Undead alive agained Max.
U.N. Couth: Shut up! I told you, these people don’t deserve to hear your golden voice!
Max sneered at Couth but relinquished the microphone back to her control. The two glared at each other for a few awkward moments before Ulsa looked back toward the camera.
U.N. Couth: I’m putting the talent of PRIME on notice! My client, the ONE and ONLY, trademarked, sealed and delivered MAX KAEL? and he’s here to make me-US, to make US a lot of money by wrestling! Now I don’t know professional wrestling from a Star Wars but I know a sucker when I see one. And I see a whooooooooooole sea of suckers waiting to give their money to see my Client. And I see a whooooooooole sea of suckers waiting to lose a professional wrestling.. whatever you call it, to my Client!
A smile crepts up on Couth’s face and it’s full of Xtreme Karen energy, a righteous sort of self-confidence that doesn’t require any awareness or intelligence to possess.
U.N. Couth: And maybe if you SUCKERS buy enough Max Kael? merchandise I’ll let him grace you with his golden voice next week. MY CLIENT COMMANDS IT!
Max stared at the back of Couth’s head with a perplexed expression on his face, perhaps not in full agreement with her little tirade. For her part the uncouth U.N. Couth throws her head back and unleashes a howling cackle before we cut away to a dipshit and the person who tolerates said dipshit.