The Gentleman From Hell |S1| Ep. 6

Rusty Quill presents

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Sure thing.

What did you two spelunkas find down there?

The Krugamelions?

Even better.

Oh, very well then.

Phyllis, psychic extraordinaire, en route.

Over here, Phil.

My, this place is moody, isn't it?

Wait till I show you the entrance to the elevator.

I gotta wonder what came first.

The mansion or this underground chamber?

So, what's the big find?

It's right in here.

The entire Via's library.

Along with all the other things that were in the house.

We also found the packing list, so we've got tags on most of the stuff.

Looks like they might have thought about auctioning off some of it.

I'm assuming it's all still here because the bureau wants it preserved in case they need to fill out some leads.

Christ, must be a fortune down here.

The packing lists also included photos of the rooms before everything was brought down and backed away.

So, so if we need to know where anything was, we got references.

Ah, the other half does seem to live quite a bit better now, don't they?

I've seen public libraries with less than half this inventory.

I guess existential obsessives really like their books.

Hmm.

We should probably start by fishing out some of the books Ben's already mentioned.

I'd especially like to take a look at the one that drew his father to Cold Sparrow.

The witching of Isabel, I believe it was called.

Well, let's see what we got.

Looks like

it should be right over here in this section.

And

voila!

One book on a history of the bygone city of Isabel.

Splendid.

It should make for some wonderfully light reading.

And before you ask, I already snatched the Wither Diaries.

And here, I thought I was supposed to be the psychic.

I was quite the philosophy buff in college, believe it or not.

I'm kind of interested to see what they're all about.

I'm gonna work the photo collection.

Looks like the photographers canvassed this place pretty good.

I wanna see if anything sticks out.

So, Phil and me are gonna read books while you go look at all the pretty pictures, huh?

I'll put my bureau assessment scores against yours any day, Junior.

Oh, I just might take you up on that, that, old man.

Ugh, when you two have finished chest-thumping, perhaps you might inform me as to what, if anything, you discovered about the elevator.

Did you finally satisfy yourselves that no one was down there armed with bullies and ropes and hidden microphones?

Yeah, well, the absence of evidence is an evidence of absence.

But while there were no people or bullies,

the thing certainly wasn't short on surprises.

Well then, let's have that to our, shall we?

Right this way, madam.

Always the gentleman.

Here it is.

Straight out of some kind of ancient tomb, it seems like.

Oh my god.

And that Latin inscription above the door?

It reads, All is not good till at last hell is but an empty pit, and the damned fled.

Turns out Mr.

Fancy Pants over here can read Latin.

Well no.

You know I had a full writing corner on my

waiting for you.

What's wrong?

You okay?

After all the years I've been at this,

I still get spooked whenever.

Whenever what?

I uh

I just need a few moments to myself, is all.

Sure, Phil.

Whatever you need.

Ah, thank you for that.

I.

I think I'll head back upstairs and make myself another cuppa.

You two take care down here and stay away from this...

Ugh...

thing.

At least for the time being.

Can you do that for me?

You know we will.

You sure you want to be alone right now?

I can come up and make the...

No, really.

I'll be fine.

I just need a bit to clear my head, is all.

Alright, but keep that radio close and give us a shout if you need anything.

We'll be right back after we grab all the recording equipment from the the van.

All right, then.

And don't you worry.

The radio and I have forged an unbreakable bond.

I'll see you boys when you return.

The cameras in this box are all state-of-the-art.

Should do a banged-up job covering the place.

I bought them during the Dunham job, but we never ended up needing

Yeah, I really didn't expect those fingerprints to be his.

He didn't turn out to be even half as hard to nail as we thought.

You won't catch me complaining.

So, uh,

what do you think spooked Phil?

Got me.

She'll tell us when she's ready.

You know,

given all that's happened, I uh

you want to pack it in already, huh?

Even you got to admit, this is not like any case we've ever had, and that includes the Soders.

No two cases are the same, Junior.

Ah, give me a break, will ya?

This isn't a missing persons anymore, and you know it.

We're up against shit we've never encountered before.

Look, I don't know about you, but ever since I left the Bureau, my wallet's been feeling pretty light.

These jobs are barely paying the bills.

But with the money Hughes is putting up, I could be seeing a return to the green real soon.

And probably a whole lot more.

I got no choice but to stay on the job.

Maybe it's time we accepted one of those book offers.

I mean, we could.

Do you really want that shit back under the microscope?

And didn't you just get done telling me about how much everything still eats at you?

Fuck no.

I don't want to write a goddamn book.

And neither do you.

Something is in that house, mace.

Lifting elevators, ordering fucking hyenas in and out of the place.

You actually think some high-tech cameras and a little gum shoeing is gonna crack this case?

Give me a break.

Even you can't be that nearsighted.

We got Phil.

She's never let us down before, and this is the sort of stuff she's best at.

I say, we got a pretty good shot.

So what did you do?

And don't blow smoke on my ass either.

Don't give me that routine.

I already...

I have been your partner for over a decade, so spare me the bullshit, Mace.

Tell me the goddamn truth.

Alright,

fuck.

I...

I bought this big place out in the Hamptons.

Ah, Jesus, Mace.

Oh,

fuck you, Leon.

You don't know what it's like to have your crazy ex-wife take your kids away and then turn them against you.

Christ.

She's had me ice skating uphill ever since.

Anyway, I thought all the interviews would keep the coffers full, you know?

Fuck.

All I wanted was a nice place where they could all

we could be a family again, but the goddamn money dried up, and now I'm practically on the water.

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to.

That's not your fault.

I got myself into this mess.

I just.

I need the money, Leon.

Holy shit, that was pretty damn close.

Wait, you get inside.

This next one might not miss.

Right behind you.

I once believed I was a good person, convinced that the spirits watched over me with kindness.

But after everything that happened at the pinnacle, I can no longer be sure.

Now I dread to wonder what they see when they look upon me.

What kind of spirits are drawn to me now after everything that's happened?

I don't know what hovers over this place, but it's blacker and bleaker than anything I've ever known.

And perhaps what we've done

called out to it.

Room service?

Come in.

Nope.

Only the super.

Just wanted to let you know that me and Leon are gonna be moving around the house, putting up the surveillance equipment.

So, if you hear any banging around, it's just us installing some cameras.

Oh, I'll have my earbuds in as as I settle into this marvelous book I've been supplied.

So, pound the walls with all the fervor you like.

I shan't hear a thing.

No, you don't get in.

I'll give you a ring on the radio after we finish, and I'll get the grudge situation sorted out.

A super and a chef?

How very renaissance of you.

You better believe it.

See you in a bit.

Talbewitching of Isabel.

Alright then.

Let's get started.

In the year of our Lord, 1642, when the world trembled under the weight of sin and heresy, I, Samuel Whitlock, eldest and most devout of Isabel, put quill to parchment, my heart heavy with the duty God hath bestowed upon me.

The devil's shadow had grown long across our fair town, and it fell to me and the other elders to root out the seeds of witchcraft that had taken root in the hearts of men and women alike.

Isabel

was once a haven of peace and piety, a place where God's grace flowed freely through the veins of every inhabitant.

But as with all that is blessed in this world, the foul hand of Satan reached forth to corrupt and twist what was pure.

It began with whispered rumors, fleeting shadows at the edge of the woods, and the sudden sickness that took the lives of two innocent babes.

The signs were there, clear as scripture, but many among us were blind to the danger that crept ever closer.

It was then, in the midst of this darkening time, that I was called upon to lead the trials.

With a firm hand and a heart steeled by righteousness, I took upon myself the mantle of judge and executioner.

For in Isabel, there could be no room or mercy when the souls of the innocent were at stake.

The truth was to be found, the evil rooted out, no matter the cost.

This book, my confession and account, is not written in pride, but in solemn duty for those who shall come after.

It is a record of the trials that took place in Isabel, the souls who were judged, and the fate that befell them.

It is a ledger of witchcraft, of sin, and of the righteous fury that cleansed our town of its taint.

Let it serve as both a warning and a testament to the power of the Almighty, who alone can save us from the darkness that ever seeks to consume the light.

As you, dear reader, delve into these pages, know that the events herein were born of necessity, not cruelty.

I did what was required to protect our town, to safeguard the souls of the righteous, and to fulfill the sacred duty placed upon my shoulders by the Lord God himself.

And so, with trembling hands and a heart heavy with the memories of those dark days, I begin this account of the witch trials of Isabel.

Samuel Whitlock, elder of Isabel, Anno Domini, 1642.

There can be no more solemn undertaken than the preservation of the soul against the darkest forces.

To seize the claw of Satan and lift it from where it seizes like an iron trap about the breast of innocence.

But the devil does not quit his grip easily, and one must ply more than prayer to see it removed at last.

Thus, when my attention was turned to the dark woods that wrung our good town, where ne'er a night passed into dawn without hearkening the sounds of a most abhorrent nature, I at once set about the task of marshalling the men of our village to seek out and admonish whatever unclean spirit had made the woods its home.

Stealing into the woods round the time of these terrible ulilations, we came upon a sight only fit for witness by the heartiest of men.

Animals of all shapes had been crudely removed of their skins and abandoned to the stark branches of a great dead tree.

And littered all around were the vile symbols of witchery, none more potent than the six-pointed star that the acolytes of the devil are wont to use when seeking the dark wisdom of their fallen prince.

But by far the most prodigious artifact of witchwork was the great black cauldron that sat, babbling and brooding beneath the cold dead arms of that hideous tree, as if waiting for the dead beast to drop into it of their own accord.

It was evident by the well-worn paths around the site that such meetings were not sparse, but as regular as clockwork.

I don't want to move them without us knowing about it.

You sure?

I think with the way it sounded last night, it's the last thing that'll move without us hearing us.

It might be a better idea to cover the hallways because there are byways of the house.

Okay.

From the sounds of things, I'm assuming you two gents are still at it.

No rest for the wicked.

You do realize it's three in the AM.

Place is huge.

We gotta be real strategic about where we want to set up the equipment.

Everything okay?

I'm fine, but it appears that reading about witches and devils isn't great for one's sleep.

Ugh, I've been tossing and turning forever.

You sure it wasn't Mace's cooking?

Dinner was a little on the spicy side.

Last time I checked, Gulash didn't have hot peppers in it.

Now, bite your tongue, young man.

Not the hand that feeds us.

I found Mesa's version of the classic dish to be

interesting.

No, I was just curious if I'd be alone if I decided to pop out for a bit, quench my thirst, before I decide to give sleep another try.

Come on now, I'll put some coffee on.

Tea, please.

I'll have the water boiling by the time you get here.

You're a peach, Mr.

Rhodes.

I'll be right out.

How did the lights go off?

We're running off a generator.

Mace,

Leon.

Can anyone hear me?

It's almost too late.

Who

is this?

Open the doors

and I'll show you.

Is anyone there?

Leon, Mason

Who's there?

I said

who's there?

Oh, God, no,

no,

stay away.

Get back, please.

Someone, help me, help me.

Please.

The Gentleman from Hell is a Maltopia production.

Today's episode was written by Mark Anselone and performed by Stephen Zivik, Sam Stark, Aubrey Akers, and Matt Van Hove.

Sound editing was completed by Stephen Ansloan, and script editing was conducted by Walker Kornfeld.

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