The Gentleman From Hell |S1| Ep. 4

Rusty Quill Presents.

Good evening, gentlemen and gentle ladies of hell.

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I can't remember a time when I didn't believe in a world beyond,

or at least adjacent to this one.

That other realm was a magnificent enigma, rendering the hardships of our world more tolerable.

Even when my interactions with the beyond puzzled me, I remained unwavering in my conviction that boundless beauty and tranquility awaited us all on the other side.

At least, I never did till now.

There's something here, and it's as otherworldly as it is.

underworldly.

Come on.

I'm not gonna confuse a hyena with a dog.

I was within 20 feet of the thing for Christ's sake.

Okay, maybe not something domesticated, but something like a koi dog that got it on with a wolf.

You know, something like that.

Mace, I'm a former FBI, too.

I'm a trained observer.

My eyewitness testimony is admitted in court.

If I say I saw a hyena, you can bet your ass I saw a fucking hyena.

How the hell is a hyena gonna get out here in northern New York?

The things are from freaking Africa, aren't they?

Look, I have no idea how it got here, but it's here.

That much I'm certain of.

Couldn't it have been a pet of Ben's that got out?

Billionaires are always up to stuff like that, importing exotic animals and the like.

The Bureau went over every inch of this place, and I'm sure they brought in dogs.

If there was any trace of a hyena, they'd have found it.

Like they found the stash Ben hid behind the wall?

It's been more than 20 years since everyone went missing.

How long do hyenas even live?

Must be something like a dog, right?

10, maybe 15 years at best?

No way an animal like that could have lived that long.

Just like there's no way it could have evaded one of the biggest manhunts in U.S.

history.

Look, a lack of facts to prove a theory is one thing, but a lack of theories to explain an actual fact is another.

I have no fucking clue how it got here, but it's here.

I saw it.

Period.

And that's not all.

I

felt

something.

Darkness.

While he was out there chasing the thing.

It was such a horrible feeling.

Formless.

Like poison mixed into a pint of dark ale.

I may not have seen it with my own eyes, but I felt it nonetheless.

And I would think that you, of all people, Mason, Rutherford, Cutty, would know well enough to trust me when I say I felt something.

Alright, alright.

So there's a hyena out there.

I believe you guys.

Happy now?

But we're not getting paid for animal control.

The doors are all accounted for and locked now.

If it was coming in before, it isn't anymore.

I'd be surprised if it couldn't crash right through the door.

Goddamn thing was massive.

So, tell me why you didn't take a shot at it.

You said you were only 20 feet from it.

I wish I knew.

I was just

shocked, I guess.

The sound it made when I saw it

took me off guard.

You two only hear what you want to.

I just finished saying that I felt darkness.

Darkness, not an animal.

Whatever it was, it was more than just a hyena.

Wait, not only is it a hyena, but it's a magical hyena.

Need I remind you what I've been able to do?

What I saw when we went to...

No,

no.

You don't.

I remember just fine.

So what do you want us to do, Phil?

Well, first of all, I'm officially changing my mind about the walkabout.

I want you two right next to me, every every single step of the way.

And then, and most importantly, I want both of you to open those closed minds of yours.

You don't seem to get it.

By accepting my clairvoyance, you also embrace the entire spectrum of supernatural entities, including ghosts and goblins, at no extra charge.

So, where do you want us to set up?

We'll start upstairs and then slowly make our way to the library downstairs.

Make sure you line the route with the candles I brought.

You'll find them them in the box next to the big grandfather clock in the living room.

Aye, aye, Captain.

I want to listen to something that might help me focus on him.

Something that speaks to who and what he is.

This journal here says on the nature of my facility.

How's that for deep?

Hand it over and we'll find out now, won't we?

There's something deeply wrong with sorting through all of this.

A whole person deconstructed and divided into discrete pieces of media.

And yet, here we are, digging around in it as if we were pillaging a bargain bin at a discount store.

I think you pretty much summed up my life at the FBI.

Well then, I think this entry will do very nicely.

It's dated well before he was named King of the Castle, so to speak, and seems to concern his various mental disorders.

He mentioned existential obsessive-compulsive disorder in the last recording.

Nah, I've heard of OCD, but not this existential version, if that's even the real thing.

Well, you're in luck, Mr.

Oates.

He addresses that very thing in the opening of this entry.

Are you gentlemen prepared for a spot of reading time?

You know how we Yanks love to hear the English talk.

All of my audiobooks are read by Englanders, if that tells you anything.

I've long suspected you of having good taste, young man.

Now, let's hear what Mr.

Viers has to say about all of this.

Existential obsessive-compulsive disorder.

It's somewhat comforting to know it has a label, even if only a speculative one at the moment.

Yet the term disorder strikes a discord note, suggesting that it is a very important thing.

all share my curiosity, if not its clinical persistence.

But it's more than that, isn't it?

Even if I did figure it all out, which I'm certain never to accomplish, I would only doubt the conclusion and seek out another, which could be no more evident than through these damned recordings I'm compelled to make.

My need to be sure of how I or another person acted in any given exchange.

Obviously, the concern of saying or understanding something incorrectly remains.

I'll just question whether the tape might have silently omitted something, or that the person knew I was recording them, and so altered their words accordingly.

There is no securing peace of mind, merely a slight lessening of anxiety.

To this very day, all of my actions, every last one of them, have amounted to little more than a slight lessening of anxiety.

I attended a lecture on the paranormal today.

The topic has always been a passion of mine, as it narrows the subject of what I'm after.

Unlike any other serious inquiry into the possible origin of things, its fulfillment means the obliteration of all established ideas concerning how the universe operates.

The immutable laws of physics would be forced to admit of some mutability, as gravity, light, space, and even time tend to be skewed within instances of the paranormal, illustrating exception after exception to the established rules of nature.

At least, as we've come to understand them.

Unlike most who come to the paranormal, I'm not seeking any spiritual truth, only a material one.

Much like the speaker at today's lecture lecture rightly pointed out, there may be a coherent occult physics gliding serene and primal behind all occurrences of the supernormal.

Indeed, this book I'm writing even supplies it with a name, Crypto-Naturalism.

However unlikely it is to succeed within the formal sciences, I'm hoping it might find a comfortable enough home amongst the lunatic fringe.

Though I suspect even they will find it too too heretical.

They seem to prefer their mysteries without explanations.

Still, I feel crawling to see the book done, despite its chances at formal success.

Uh yep, here it is.

I think this is the book he was talking about, or just the unpublished manuscript.

Beneath it all, a search for answers.

His father mentioned reading it during the tape he made for Ben.

Said he got a hold of the manuscript.

Didn't say how, though.

I'd really like to get my hands on that tape.

I already found Priest's name on the list.

I'll drive out of here tomorrow to wherever I can get some coverage, look up his number, see if he's still in business.

That's all well and good, but let's not change the spirit of the moment, shall we?

I want to focus on the intrigue, the sort of person Ben was.

Leon, now would be a good time to light those candles along the route.

Mace, if you could please turn off the lights.

And since it's going to be the three of us this evening, why don't you two turn on your voice recorders while I'm about it, hmm?

Certainly wouldn't be the first time I've picked up EVP during a walkabout.

EVP?

So, like when ghosts talk, but you can only hear it when you play back the recording?

Precisely.

EVP stands for Electronic Voice Phenomenon.

And I've heard more than my share of the stuff.

I wouldn't be at all surprised if we've recorded some tonight.

Well, I'm willing to give it a whirl.

How very intrepid of you.

Since this is the first time you've joined me on a walkabout, it's paramount you follow a few simple rules.

First, stay quiet.

Second, while I know that both of you are doubting Thomas's, rather than pondering your disbelief, do me the favor of at least focusing on Benjamin.

What we know about him, what we'd like to know about him.

Do you think you fellows can handle all that?

Like you said before, in for a dime, in for a dollar.

Don't look at me.

You lay my doubts to rest after after you led us to Ackerman, back in Philly.

Splendid to hear.

Now, once I start asking questions, turn on your recorders and follow close behind.

All set.

Just say when.

Here we go, then.

To anyone listening, my name is Phyllis, and these gentlemen are my companions.

The large fellow is Mason, the leaner, Leon.

I would like to ask you some questions if you would permit it.

Who am I speaking to?

What is your relationship with this house?

how long have you been here?

Do you have anything you'd like to?

If that was an intentional response to my question, please give us another sign right after I count down from three.

Three,

two,

one.

Help me?

Jesus, do you hear me?

What can we do to help you?

Are you still there?

Both of you, play back your audio.

We might have received a response via EVP.

I would like to ask you some questions if you would permit it.

I can't believe we actually heard that shit.

I'm not an expert, but ghosts probably don't appreciate their attempts to communicate being called shit.

Now, that's enough, you two.

I need you to take this very.

That's the elevator.

The elevator that needs a complete overhaul to work.

The same.

Sounds like it's coming up from the basement.

It's still a ways below us.

I think it's past the first floor now.

Come on, the elevator's all the way on the other side of the main hall.

You too, Phil.

I don't want anyone left alone.

Did you really think I was staying behind?

Come on, it's on its way up.

The elevator's right around the corner, and no offense to you and the ghosts, Phil, but I suggest we go in there expecting a real-life person.

Yeah,

best to be on the safe side.

Stay behind us, Phil, while we clean the wall.

All right, take out the pop guns if they make you feel better.

But I'm telling you right now, there's no one here besides us.

Room's clear.

Come on, Incho.

Of course, it's clear.

Here it comes.

Get ready.

I can't see a damn thing in here.

God damn, flashlight's dead.

Mine too.

Jesus, what is that smell?

Sulfur.

Hey, anyone there?

Come out.

We're armed.

We're calling in there

You two stay right the hell away from that.

Do you hear me?

There is nothing human in there.

Listen, if anyone's in there, this is your last whoop.

Back up, back up.

They threw something out of there.

Shit, what the hell is it?

You can put your guns away, gentlemen.

The mystery object is an audio tape.

What in the hell just happened?

What was in the elevator?

I got no idea.

But I sure as fuck don't want it to happen again.

Phil, you want to let us in on what we just went through?

Apart from knowing that no human being was behind any of it,

I have no goddamn idea what just happened.

I've never experienced anything even close to that.

We really should go down to the basement and look over that elevator.

Just to be sure.

Jesus, Mason, how many damn times do I have to tell you that we're alone here?

That what we just experienced was purely supernatural?

She's right, Mace.

I say we just let it be.

There's no way a person was behind all that.

I mean, you could feel it, smell it.

Fine, but I'm getting the surveillance gear from the truck.

I'm gonna wire this shit out of this place.

If a mouse pisses in here, I want to know in what corner.

If that will make you feel better, is there a label or anything on that tape?

In fact, there is.

The label reads, to my son, Benjamin Veers.

Isn't that the tape you wanted wanted to get a hold of from Veers' lawyer?

Sure, shit sounds like it, but there's only one way to find out.

Absolutely not.

No one's playing this thing until it's been cleansed.

Cleansed?

Yes, spiritually.

Just holding it?

I can feel that it's not.

it's not right.

How is it not right?

It feels like I've been given a ticket

straight to hell.

The Gentleman from Hell is a Maltopia production.

Today's episode was written by Mark Anzalone and performed by Steven Zivik, Sam Stark, Aubrey Akers, and Mark Anzalone.

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

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