Episode Transcript
Heinous Investigations
Episode 3: Startup (Part III)
(The sound of feet on pavement and leaves rustling as our heroes (?) walk through town.)
Carlton (voiceover): Hanesbury. What I am now calling the supernatural cesspool of New England. I mean, supernatural according to the people who live here. And now the highest profile one of ‘em has somehow roped me into—ok, if I’m being honest with myself, I really have no idea what I’d even call this mess. Here we are, with nothing but some questionable gear from a certified nutcase, whatever skills we were born with, and the unfathomable belief that we actually have a snowball’s chance in hell of doing this without causing any damage, physical or psychological. And I mean that is all we have…
Miriam: So is this treasure hunt going to take long? Because I have to duck out this afternoon to—I have somewhere to be. So if we could hurry this up, that’d be great. Lookin’ at you, Mister Designated Leader. Think you could look at the map and tell us where we should go?
(Carlton unfolds the map.)
Carlton: Fine, but it’s not like it’ll help much. I looked at this thing for hours last night, and all I can say is that there’s an obvious reason nobody’s been able to find this treasure yet...this thing’s written in gibberish.
Miriam: What? Let me see.
Carlton: I’m telling you. You pick up bits of a lot of languages in legal work, and this looks like none of ‘em. I mean, the pictures are easy to read, but without the words, we’re only gonna get so far…You’d have hoped there would’ve been an “X marks the spot” situation.
(Algy speeds over, “Thwip!”)
Algy: Here, let me look at it. Like with almost everything else, I am a fast reader.
Jack: Fast at reading doesn’t mean fast at thinking. You could read that thing fifty times in a second and you’d still have no clue what it was saying.
Algy: Psh, I bet it’s not that tough…Yeah, I have zero clue. Anyone else want to try, or should we just give up now?
Orville: I think the doctor might be able to read it.
Elliot: Wait, what?
Orville: I can hear you translating it in your head.
Elliot: But I—Erm, it is not that I don’t—that is, I have a slight idea…Did you really hear that?
Orville: Yes.
Carlton: Ok, something’s telling me the mind-reading thing is gonna get real old real fast. Think you could turn it down a notch?
Orville: I already did.
Miriam: Ok, so the doc can read the map. So can we please just read it?
Elliot: Erm, oh, alright. [*mumbles*]
Carlton: Well?
Elliot: It appears to be some variation of Old Welsh. I’d put it at about 900 CE.
Carlton: So what, the dangerous criminal knew about dead languages?
Elliot: Possibly. It would have been slightly less dead then. Perhaps it was his own sort of code? It certainly seems enigmatic enough, even when translated.
Liza: So what does it say?
Elliot: It says, “Look for the tree that bleeds, within and without.”
Jack: I’ve never heard of any tree that bleeds. Not even in a place as creepy as Hanesbury.
Elliot: Well, I doubt that it’s meant to be taken literally. It’s likely a—
Ginnie: Ooh! A riddle! Let me do it! I love riddles! Hmm…
Carlton: Uh, Ginni—
Ginnie: Shh! [*mumbles*] I got it! It’s a Red Maple.
Liza: You’re sure?
Ginnie: Uh huh! It’s red on the outside, like blood, and it “bleeds” sap inside.
Elliot: It couldn’t really be that simple, could it?
Carlton: I think it could. I saw a huge one of those yesterday. I just wish I didn’t see it where I saw it.
Jack: Why? Was it dangerous?
Carlton: No, but it sure was...weird.
Miriam: Well then, looks like a perfect job for the insane brigade. Apparently we specialize in “weird.”
Carlton: Ok then. Let’s go dig up some mysterious hidden treasure.
(Footsteps as they approach a small shop. Carlton knocks on the front door. Chester opens it.)
Chester: Ah, it’s you! The fresh meat! It’s still a no on the legal whatsit. The tremors are gone anyway, at least for now. That’s Hanesbury for ya. Always keeps ya guessin’.
Carlton: Well, actually, I was—We were here to talk to you about something else.
(A record-scratch-like sound. Transition to Delia and Nate in another part of town.)
Delia: Whoo, looks like whoever set that fire really did some damage! Nate, remind me to get their number when all this is over. It could be nice to have some competent help on my plans for once.
Nate: You know, I’m not an idiot. I have a Master’s Degree—
Delia: In Art History!
Nate: Still counts…How are we supposed to find this treasure anyway?
Delia: I have my ways…And it all starts by going in there.
Nate: What, the library? Does this mean we get to, oh, I dunno, do some quiet research? No criminal activity at all?
Delia: Um, sure. Whatever you wanna hear.
(She tries to open the door and finds that it’s locked.)
Nate: That doesn’t sound very promising.
Delia: Ugh, really? I thought these dumb places were supposed to be open all day.
Nate: The front window’s all boarded up. And there’s a note on the door.
Delia: What? “Due to an unforeseen incident leading to the destruction of our front window, the library will be closed until tomorrow morning in order to assess damages!?! We hope that you will pardon us for the inconvenience. Thank you for your patience. Sincerely, Dr. Elliot Quaid, Volunteer Assistant to the Li”—what a load of—alright, I guess we’re going with Plan B.
Nate: We had a Plan B?
Delia: We do now. If one window is already broken, would it really hurt them to lose another?
Nate: I’m gonna go with yes.
(Delia smashes another window.)
Nate: And you did that. Great.
Delia: Well, are you coming?
Nate: Through the window full of glass shards?
Delia: Yeah.
Nate: I guess I am.
Delia: Good. Now hurry up. We’re burning daylight.
(Glass crunches as they climb through the window.)
Librarian: Oh my—hey! What are you people doing in—did you break another window!?!
Nate: Uh, uh, uh—Hi! You must be the librarian!
Librarian: I am, and we’re closed. Now I suggest you two get out of here before I call the police and have you arrested for trespassing. And property damage!
Nate: Got it! We are out of here! Thank you for your leniency and—
(Delia draws a gun.)
Delia: Get down, now! This is officially an armed robbery, and trust me when I say I’m very good at those!
Nate: You brought a gun!?!
Delia: Duh. Firearms are always involved in these kinds of high-stakes situations. Everybody knows that.
Nate: I don’t!
Librarian: Wait, let’s—hold on for a moment. I can help you if—
Delia: I thought I told you to get down!
Nate: I am really sorry about this! She’s always had a lot of feelings that she’s needed to work through, and—
Delia: Shut up, Nate!
Nate: Ok.
Delia: Now listen up, Madame Librarian. We’re just looking for an old picture. Got any photos of this town from the 1800s?
Librarian: Yes?
Delia: Where!?!
Librarian: The back room! By the stairs!
Delia: Thank you. Nate, watch her while I get the thing. Make sure she doesn’t move.
Nate: But—
(Delia runs off.)
Nate: Umm...how’s the window fixing going?
Librarian: [*whimper*]
Nate: Yeah, yeah, that’s fair. I really hope this is the last time anyone gets between her and this treasure. I don’t think she’s gonna be so nice the next time around…
(“Whoosh!” Back to our heroes.)
Chester: So you’re saying ya wanna dig up the land my shop is on?
Elliot: Well, only by that large tree round back. If you wouldn’t mind—we’d hate to impose—
Liza: Plus, it’s for a good cause. We’re only trying to help make the town better, starting with this and then hopefully moving on to tackling bigger supernatural problems.
Chester: Really? About time we got people to take care of that! And you’re working with ‘em, huh, newbie?
Carlton: I uh, actually ended up sort of in charge—maybe, I’m still on the fence about the whole thing.
Chester: Ok, whatever you say. So whaddya call yourselves? Me and the wife would prefer to know exactly who we’re letting defile the property.
Miriam: Uh, we haven’t really discussed that yet.
Carlton: I kinda liked “insane brigade”.
Liza: I think it has to be something that explains what we do.
Carlton: But what exactly do we do? I mean, we investigate...so maybe something with “Investigation” in it? I think if we—if you guys want the town to take you seriously, you need something short and simple. No gimmicks.
Miriam: Seriously? This whole business is a gimmick. We deal with the stuff that everyone else in this place is too freaked out to touch. It’s—not scary, but maybe creepy? Weird? Disturbing?
Algy: Heinous?
Ginnie: Ooh! I like that! That’s it sir! We’re “Heinous Investigations!”
Carlton: Wait, that’s not really a good name—it doesn’t make you sound like you know what you’re doing—
Ginnie: But we kind of don’t know what we’re doing.
Carlton: Yeah, but you’re not supposed to let them know that.
Jack: Ginnie, I think what Carlton’s trying to say is, it makes it sound like the way we investigate is heinous, instead of what we investigate.
Ginnie: Oh.
Carlton: Exactly. So, we should probably take the name back before it—
Chester: HEY PAULA! HEINOUS INVESTIGATIONS IS HERE TO DIG UP THE YARD!
Paula: WHO!?!
Carlton: Oh my god—
Chester: THEY’RE SOME KIND OF PRIVATE INVESTIGATORS OF HEINOUS STUFF! OR THE WAY THEY INVESTIGATE IS HEINOUS! THEY PROBABLY SHOULD’VE GONE FOR A CLEARER NAME!
Paula: OH! ABOUT TIME WE GOT ONE OF THOSE AROUND HERE! I SHOULD SEND ONE OF THOSE, UH, “SOCIAL-MEDIA-D-MS” TO ALL THE NEIGHBORS SO THEY KNOW!
Carlton: Wait wait wait, before you do that—
Paula: SENT IT!
Carlton: [*sigh*] Ok then. Heinous Investigations at your service. So can we dig back there, or not?
Chester: Oh sure, yeah. Lot’s already busted up. Might as well have the stern match the bow, right?
Miriam: Sure. Thanks. Let’s go team.
Carlton: Jeez, I thought I was supposed to be in charge…
(“Whoosh!” Back to Delia and Nate. Police sirens sound in the background.)
Nate: I’m going to be honest. I did not think we’d be doing this again so soon.
Delia: Well maybe we wouldn’t have if somebody had tied up the librarian before we left, like I’d asked.
Nate: I think she went through enough in the time it took you to get that old photo. How is a photo supposed to help us find the treasure anyway? Don’t you usually need a map for that?
Delia: Not when your great-great-great grandfather was the partner of the guy who buried it. And who was clever enough to take a picture once it was all covered up—after he double-crossed his partner, obviously.
Nate: Great, now I know our family’s messed-up morals go even further back than I’d thought.
Delia: Who cares? The point is all we gotta do is find where they took the picture.
Nate (nervously): Oh, look. Somebody got here first.
Delia: And they have a map!?! How the hell did they get a map!?!
Nate: I thought you said we didn’t need a—
Delia: Not the point Nate! Now we have to deal with these stupid, no-good…suckers who are gonna do all of the digging for us. Looks like we just caught another lucky break!
Nate: But aren’t they still in our way?
Delia: Not for long. Part of being a good career criminal, Nate, is knowing when to sit back and let others do the dirty work…This tree looks like a good hiding spot. Good view of what the competition is doing…Not that they’ll be the competition for long…
(Leaves rustle as Delia jumps up and starts to climb the tree.)
Delia: Are you coming?
Nate: Uh, yeah, I’m not sure if climbing is the best thing for me right now.
Delia: Get up in the tree Nate!
Nate: Ok!
(Back to Heinous Investigations. Cue sound of shovels digging into the ground.)
Liza: You know, Algy, you could help us dig.
Miriam: Yeah, “Fastest Man Alive”. Shouldn’t you be able to knock this out in a couple minutes all by yourself?
Algy: Soooooo, here’s the thing. These lead shoes the mad scientist gave me have been killing my feet...I don’t think I have it in me to do any digging right now. But you guys are doing great.
Carlton: Oh come on. You really think any of us are gullible enough to fall for that?
Elliot: Oh, you’re injured? Allow me to help you then.
(Cue miraculous healing.)
Elliot: There you are. Right as rain, I hope.
Liza: Neat trick. They teach you that in medical school?
Elliot: Oh, erm, hehe, yes, that’s very—you’re funny.
Carlton: Oof, that is tough to watch.
Jack: Well Algy, guess you’re good to go now. Feel free to grab a shovel.
Algy: Ugh, fine. But it’s probably going to take hours before we even get close to hitting—
(A loud “CLANG!”)
Algy: Huh. I think I just hit something.
Ginnie: Does that mean—
Carlton: Yup.
(Carlton brushes dirt aside and finds a metal door.)
Carlton: That map wasn’t some made-up load of junk. That’s a secret door.
Algy: How do you like that? Glad I could help find the entrance! You’re welcome.
Miriam: You know, you’re going to have a real rough time on this team if you don’t learn to keep your mouth shut. Somebody please open the door so we can move on.
(A low rumbling, slightly screechy sound as Carlton opens the door.)
Carlton: Way ahead of you. [*strains*].
(The door opens, and Carlton looks down into total darkness.)
Carlton: Wow, that is...deep. And dark.
Miriam: What, you scared?
Carlton: No—I’m just...surprised at how much free time this guy must’ve had on his hands.
Miriam: Ok. Then what now, Fearless Leader?
Carlton: I’m gonna take a look down there. You guys stay up here until I give the all clear.
Miriam: And if you don’t “give the all clear?”
Carlton: Maybe try not to think about that possibility.
Miriam: Considering it’s you going down there, I’m pretty sure that’s all I’ll be thinking about.
Carlton: Man, you really hold a grudge, huh?
Miriam: Shut up and get in the tunnel!
Carlton: Alright, I’m going. Jeez!
(Footsteps as Carlton climbs down into the tunnel.)
Liza: How does it look down there?
Carlton: Not sure! Hold on! Let me turn on a light!
(Almost inaudible “click” of a flashlight.)
Carlton: Oh.
Miriam: What?
Carlton: Hey Prior! Does that map happen to say anything about the tunnel splitting up into three smaller tunnels!?!
Miriam: No. Is that a problem?
Carlton: No! I just thought you’d want to hear pointless hypotheticals about tunnels!
Miriam: You don’t have to be a smartass...So what’s your plan? I don’t really think this team is in the right place to start splitting up. That barely goes right when competent people try it!
(Footsteps as Carlton climbs back up.)
Carlton: Well since some people want to get out of here as fast as possible, I’d say splitting up’s the best option we have. Pretty sure there’re radios in that massive pile of junk Frankenstein gave us. We’ll reach out to each other if we see something.
Miriam: Or if something goes wrong.
Carlton: Nothing’s gonna go wrong…But we should probably have somebody stay behind, just in case. Hey, Ginnie. Why don’t you stay here and guard the entrance? Make sure nobody comes in after us.
Ginnie: How do I do that?
Carlton: I dunno—Punch anyone who gets too close? I know from experience you can hit pretty hard.
Ginnie: Okie!
Carlton: And, uh, you! Creepy Guy—
Orville: Orville. Please don’t call me creepy.
Carlton: Yeah, ok. You go down the first tunnel we hit, and take the bash brothers with you so they have somebody to keep them from killing each other.
Jack: We wouldn’t kill each other.
Algy: At least not on purpose.
Miriam: Liza and I can take the second tunnel. Right Liza?
Liza: Oh, sure thing.
Carlton: Huh, thanks Prior. For once we’re on the same page. So I guess that means I’ll go down the third tunnel with um—who’s left?
Elliot: Ahem...Hello.
Carlton: Oh god.
Miriam: Nicely done, Carlton. It really was great to be on the same page for once. Now if you excuse me, my totally competent partner and I are gonna make our way to tunnel two. Have fun fighting off uncertain danger with your scrawny nerd. Let’s go, Liza!
Liza: Right behind you!
Algy: And we’ll be right behind you.
Jack: Only if you want Miriam to take you out with a dart from over twenty feet away. Stick to the plan, would you?
Orville: You should. It’ll look a lot less desperate.
(Footsteps as they all go into the tunnel, leaving only Ginnie, Carlton, and Elliot behind.)
Carlton: Ok kid, let’s get a move on.
Elliot: Erm, Mr. Carlton, if you’d really be more satisfied on your own, I wouldn’t mind staying here with Ms. Kelly. I’m certain that if any unsavory characters do cross her path, they may require some medical attention—
Carlton: No, kid, it’s fine. I’d like to see Prior’s face when she twists an ankle or something and realizes she doesn’t have the doctor to take care of her!
Elliot: Something tells me that Ms. Prior is strong enough not to be thwarted by something as trivial as a twisted ankle, but if the idea makes you feel better—
Carlton: I’m just trying to make the best of the situation, kid.
Elliot: By envisioning another person in pain and distress?
Carlton: Yes—I mean, no, that’s not—I wouldn’t—ugh, you know, you’re way too good at being nice.
Elliot (mumbling): Years of practice.
Carlton: What?
Elliot: Nothing. Erm, shall we?
Carlton: Sure, kid. Can’t let the rest of the group get too far ahead of us. Radio us if anything looks suspicious out here, Ginnie.
(Footsteps as Carlton and Elliot go into the tunnel.)
Ginnie: Yes sir! I will be the best lookout ever! You can count on me! I come from a long line of powerful and diligent vampires who have always been prepared to show no mercy!
Delia: Hello.
Ginnie: Hi! Didn’t see you there!
Delia: Oh, that’s no problem. You know how you could make up for it? Let me and my little brother through that door right there.
Ginnie: Yeah, I can’t do that.
Delia: And why, exactly, is that?
Ginnie: Um, no reason.
Delia: Ok girlie, you see, my great-great-great grandfather went through a lot of double-crossing and thievery to hoard that treasure for himself—
Ginnie: You know about the treasure?
Delia: Yeah, because it was my family’s—I mean, as much as being no-good makes something yours—which is very. And since everyone in my family was either too dumb or too dead to ever find the thing, that makes it mine now.
Nate: You mean, ours now, right?
Delia: Yeah, right, ours. So, clearly you can let us pass, hmm?
Ginnie: Yeah, sorry. It’s still a no.
Delia: Ok, tried the easy way. Time for the fun way.
(“Click.” Delia aims her gun at Ginnie.)
Ginnie: Ooh, ok, I don’t want to fight you. So, if you wouldn’t mind going home, that’d be nice.
Delia: [*laughs*] You think you actually have a shot at beating me in a fight? I’ve been breaking the bones of my enemies—and one or two friends—since I could walk. I dare you to fight me!
Ginnie: Okie dokie. You can have the first sh—
(“BANG!” Cut to Miriam and Liza walking through one of the underground tunnels.)
Liza: Ugh…Maybe instead of worrying about booby traps, we should’ve considered how dark, wet, and dusty these tunnels would be.
Miriam: This is nothing. Try cleaning up after...
Liza: What?
Miriam: Just trust me. There are things way more disgusting than this...Can I ask you something?
Liza: What?
Miriam: I guess I just want to know...how did you end up living in that house with Martin and the mad scientist? Because, compared to them, you seem, you know, normal. I mean, besides the whole, mist magic...thing.
Liza: To be honest, it all just kind of happened. I think a lot of people would call it a lucky break, but I don’t know. I think I’d be drawn into some kind of chaos no matter what.
Miriam: Why would you say that?
Liza: Well for one thing, I grew up with seven foster siblings; I can’t think of a single time in my life when I had some actual peace and quiet, but at least it was never lonely. My foster parents had the best intentions—I think they would’ve adopted all of us, if they could, but sometimes things just don’t work out. With that many kids to look after, money was tight. And adoption was off the table for me, because…I mean, when you have a...talent like mine, well...People are scared of what they don’t know.
Miriam: You don’t have to tell me.
Liza: Why? What happened to you?
Miriam: We can talk about it later. Finish your thing.
Liza: Sure. Long story short, I wanted my family to have everything they could, even if it wasn’t much. So I used my mist skills to make some extra money.
Miriam: What did you do?
Liza: Everything I could think of—I mean, being able to mess around with the biology of pretty much any living thing gives you a lot of range. I’d go out to night markets and set up this little “homeopathic” booth. I sold pain relievers, fertilizer for plants, stress reducers—I got pretty good at it after a while. People think I’m approachable for some reason.
Miriam: You don’t say…And I’m guessing a certain eccentric billionaire and family were some of those people?
Liza: Um no, they definitely weren’t—Ok they were, but they did not buy the stuff I was selling the night we met.
Miriam: Why’s that?
Liza: Um, well, I’d figured out by then that the stuff that sold the best from my stock was—it, uh, sold really well with folks who were looking for some...excitement in the…carnal department…
Miriam: Oh my god.
Liza: Hey, there’s nothing wrong with supporting people’s interests! Anyway, it didn’t matter—Mister and Missus Henrickson were more interested in me than what I was selling. We had a really nice conversation, they were impressed, I met Martin, was asked to move in, and the rest is history.
Miriam: Weird history.
Liza: I know. But like I said, I’m drawn to chaos.
(The sounds of clicking mechanisms and gears turning.)
Miriam: Look out!
(A mallet flies down from the wall at Liza, but Miriam pushes her out of the way.)
Liza: Oof!
(“Bump.” The mallet hits the ground.)
Miriam: You ok?
Liza: Yeah, thanks. Guess we found a booby trap.
Miriam: Guess so…
Liza: What? You look upset, like you’re disapoin—wait did you want a more dangerous trap?
Miriam: Kind of? I mean, come on, a big mallet? That was it? Seems more like something from a bad cartoon than a real trap...Ah well, guess the old highwayman didn’t really have much of an imagination.
Liza: Huh, when you put it like that, I guess I’m pretty disappointed too. But hey, if you look at the bright side, at least that means the guys are better off.
(Record scratch and smash cut to Jack, Algy, and Orville.)
Algy: I’m just saying you could’ve had my back over the giant spike pit!
Jack: I grabbed you before you hit the bottom!
Algy: Yeah, when I was barely an inch away from it! You’re the one with the crazy shapeshifting powers! Think you could’ve extended your reach a little faster!?!
Orville: Tripwire.
Jack: Where?
(Jack sets a trap off. Arrows fly out of the walls.)
Agly: Aah! Arrows! It shoots arrows!
(Orville stops the arrows telekinetically.)
Algy: Hah! Telekinesis! Forgot about that!
Jack: Like how you forgot about the possibility a tunnel would be a guaranteed firetrap?
Algy: I have no clue how that gunpowder even ignited! Isn’t this place a million years old!?!
Orville: Trap door.
Algy: Huh?
(“Clunk” as the trap door opens beneath Algy.)
Algy: Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!
Jack: Should I catch him again, or—
Orville: I’ve got it.
Algy: HOW AM I STILL FALLING!?! WE’RE ALREADY UNDERGROUND!!!
(Another telekinetic save.)
Algy: WHOO! ORVILLE, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY I AM YOU’RE HERE!
Orville: Since Carlton was right about the possibility of you two getting each other killed, I guess I’m happy I’m here too.
Algy: We were not responsible for those near-deaths! That was all the traps!
Orville: Yeah, but the arguing didn’t help.
Jack: Maybe we can discuss it after we get out of here.
Orville: Good idea. But let’s try to be careful from now—
(Orville is hit over the head; he falls to the floor.)
Orville: Ugh!
Jack: Orville? Are you ok?
(Jack is hit and falls.)
Jack: Oof!
Algy: Jack! Ohhhh man! I should go get help! Yeah! I’ll run and get help! I can get out of here in two sec—
(Algy is also hit.)
Algy: Ow!
(“Whoosh.” Cut back to Liza and Miriam.)
Liza: I think I see a light up ahead. If we’re lucky, the treasure’ll be close by.
Miriam: Yes! I can’t wait to see the look on that smug suit’s face when we get there first!
Liza: Why are you two so obsessed with outdoing each other? Yeah, Carlton’s a little stiff and honestly a little bit of a jerk, but I don’t get why you hate him. Or why he doesn’t like you.
Miriam: I don’t hate him.
Liza: Are you sure? Because you aren’t exactly nice to him.
Miriam: Look, it’s not just about him. I don’t...like his type, that’s all.
Liza: What type?
Miriam: You know: self-righteous, snarky, wildly opinionated, all business…
Liza: Right, because that doesn’t sound like anyone else you might know.
Miriam: What are you saying?
Liza: I’m saying that you guys are actually really similar. That’s why I don’t get why you hate each other. I thought “birds of a feather flock together.”
Miriam: I guess it turns out they don’t. Do you have anything else you want to tell me about my relationships?
Liza: No, but I’d like to talk about the fact that there’re only two of us, but I can see three shadows on that wall over there.
(Footsteps are heard, circling.)
Miriam: Shoot—Whoever’s in here better quit while they’re ahead! Because I’m a darn good shot, and I have a—What the hell is this thing called again?
Liza: One-Person Arsenal?
Miriam: Right—a One-Person Arsenal, and I am dying to use it!
(Miriam tries to pull the trigger, but nothing happens.)
Miriam: Oh crap.
Liza: What’s going on?
Miriam: It’s stuck.
Liza: It’s stuck!?!
Miriam: What, am I speaking “Old Welsh!?!” Yes, it’s stuck!
(Liza and Miriam are both knocked out. Cut to Carlton and Elliot.)
Carlton: Hey, kid.
Elliot: Erm, do you still mean me? To be candid, you don’t appear to be more than...thirty years old? So then, why would you call me—
Carlton: I dunno. Just a habit, I guess. I was keeping an eye on people younger than me for most of my life...and I’ve still got five years on you, or at least I “technically” do.
Elliot: Oh? I mean, erm...what are you implying?
Carlton: What I’m implying is—Yesterday, when you were making a total idiot of yourself in front of Liza—
Elliot: I don’t recall doing anything that humiliating, but—
Carlton: What I wanna know is, you told her that you were “technically” twenty-three years old.
Elliot: And, erm, what exactly is wrong with that?
Carlton: You could've just told her you were twenty-three. Why put the “technically” in front of it?
Elliot: Erm, I don’t know. Unusual faux pas on my part, I suppose? Oh, would you look at that, we seem to be falling behind. Wouldn’t want to keep the rest of the group waiting!
Carlton: Kid, you also have multiple medical degrees, can read a language that hasn’t been around for hundreds of years, and have freaky healing powers. You’re really not gonna dodge my suspicion here.
Elliot: Alright…Well, erm, suppose then, that I told you that the reason for those capabilities you just mentioned was that I was actually an otherworldly entity, and that I am much older than I look?
Carlton: How much older are we talkin’?
Elliot: Erm, give or take...one thousand one hundred and fifty years?
Carlton: What!?!
Elliot: Shh! Would you mind possibly keeping quiet? I am not sure how thin these tunnel walls are, and I would greatly appreciate it if no one else from our party heard about this.
Carlton: Why?
Elliot: I’d, erm, rather not say.
Carlton: Yeah, well, that certainly explains the number of degrees. Only somebody with an insane amount of time on their hands would be dumb enough to go through college that many times.
Elliot: It was actually more out of necessity—knowledge marches on, degree requirements change accordingly, erm…I will admit this wasn’t the immediate reaction I had expected from you at this juncture.
Carlton: What the hell are you to be alive this long ki—oh, I guess you’re not really a kid, are you? But, you can’t blame me for thinking that—you don’t exactly look your age, do you?
Elliot: That was what I was expecting. And, I’m afraid that it might require a somewhat lengthy explanation. You see, erm, for every, I’d say fifty years that I am alive, I only appear to physically age about one year—
Carton: Yeah, but why? How about you answer that question?
Elliot: Well, it’s really just a matter of genealogy...considering that, I was born of, that is to say I have a parent who is, well most would call them…an angel.
Carlton: Wait, you’re an angel? So is this, like, a situation where you’re supposed to protect the town from evil or something? Because if I’m being honest with you, kid, you look like a light breeze could knock you over, and I don’t think that would send infernal enemies the best message.
Elliot: No, I’m not an angel. I was just...how do I put this—begotten by one?
Carlton: Can angels even have kids?
Elliot: Not exactly, but—
Carlton: This probably would’ve been some useful exposition back when we were all talking in that library—
Elliot (in a spooky voice, at first): ENOUGH! Ahem, please excuse me…There’s your reason for why I am uneasy to discuss this with anyone. When describing my parentage, well…
Carlton: Well?
Elliot: Well, it is common knowledge that in many cases, to be born, one often has to have two parents, and, erm, my other parent, is...something else.
Carlton: Whaddya mean “something else”?
(The sound of someone being hit and falling to the ground. No other response.)
Carlton: Kid? Where’d you go?
(Footsteps close by.)
Carlton: Hello!?! Who’s there!?! Show yoursel—OUGH!
(Carlton is hit over the head and blacks out.)
