Post by fenris on Apr 21, 2006 21:42:38 GMT
Please be advised that this episode contains scenes of an adult nature, plus some mild bad language. I don't think there's anything that will shock a seasoned Hex watcher, But I thought I'd best warn everyone, just in case.
As always, any feedback will be gratefully received.
Episode #7: The Girl Who Wouldn’t Die.
Previously on Hex: brief clips from Episode #6 – Mary Warren pulling back her hood in 1808; Mary firing the crossbow; the crossbow bolt embedded in Rose; Ella pulling back her hood; Troy standing at the altar in the present; Gemma lifting her veil; Thelma reaching the front of the crowd and seeing Troy with his throat slashed and a knive buried in his chest; Catherine Cotton pulling the tape off of Leon’s mouth; Jo saying “You’ve have to look for his abductor elsewhere.”; Leon asking “Who are you?”; Midge saying “her name’s Catherine Cotton”; Mephistopheles saying “Miss Cotton is merely obeying orders”; Mary with her vivid hair and clothes stepping out of the shadows.
On-screen caption: Three years ago.
We’re on a platform on a London Underground station. The name of the station is identified on the wall as ‘Hobbs Lane.’ The platform is empty, and a train is just starting to pull away. As it does so, two teenagers – a boy and a girl – run onto the platform. Too late.
The train disappears into the tunnel. The teens watch it go. The boy turns to the girl. He’s wearing a studded leather jacket and jeans, and has several facial piercings. He shrugs.
“Just have to wait for the next one.” He says.
“My dad’s gonna kill me.” She mutters. “I’ll never make back on time.”
Her companion grins and points theatrically at her.
“You’re the one who insisted on staying for the encore. Told you we’d be late.”
She smiles and shrugs: “Great gig though, wasn’t it?”
A strong wind blows through the station from the tunnels, and the girl shivers. She’s just wearing a black sleeveless t-shirt, red and white trainers, and a red skirt that could be mistaken for a belt.
“You cold?” Asks the boy, and she nods.
He steps up to her and holds her. She rests her head sideways on his chest.
“How long before the next train?” She murmurs.
“Shouldn’t be long.” He tells her. “And it’ll be the last one. If it’s been cancelled, we’re walking.”
She giggles, steps away from him, and playfully punches him on the chest.
“Don’t say that.” She declares in mock-protest. “I –”
A sharp, high-pitched whine cuts her off. The two teens look down the platform, where the noise came from. The station lights are flickering. A couple of them burst in a small shower of sparks.
“Rob?” Says the girl, suddenly afraid, reaching back towards him without taking her eyes away from where the noise originated, “What –”
The sound occurs again, stronger this time, louder. As the girl and Rob watch, a section of the platform wall becomes distorted, and starts to twist in on itself, like a photo that’s being exposed to extreme heat. The station lights are flickering with increasing rapidity, and the air is filled with a heavy electrical hum.
“ROB!” Screams the girl, and the boy grabs her arm and they try to run to the stairs.
Before they can take two paces, flashes of energy start to spontaneously burst into life in the heavily electrified air all around them. Sparks erupt from the boy’s piercings and the metal studs on his jacket, and both he and the girl are knocked to the ground. As Rob clutches his face and howls in pain, the girl pulls her mobile phone out of her purse, yelping as she receives a shock from the purse’s metal zip. She gazes at the phone in bewilderment – the display is going haywire, flashing up a display of gibberish that’s appearing, changing, then disappearing so rapidly that it’s impossible to read. Smoke suddenly issues from the phone, and the girl screams and drops it as it burns her hand. The phone lands on the platform and the terrified teenager watches as the plastic buckles and melts.
The noise is intensifying. Still lying on the platform, the girl looks across to the distorted section of the wall – as someone steps out of it. The noise instantly stops, the rapidly flickering lights remain to normal, the bolts of energy in the air curl and blow away, fading into nothingness. The only sound that can is heard is Rob’s moaning. The girl stares transfixed at the figure on the platform: it’s a tall, slim young woman, dressed in clothing from another era: a dark brown ankle length skirt, a long-sleeved matching top that is buttoned up to just under her chin, and flat shoes. Her light brown hair is tied up in a bun at the back. The woman gazes about at her surroundings, notices Rob and the girl, and turns and walks towards them. As she walks, a visual wave of energy – like a wavering bar scrolling up a television screen – travels from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. As the wave of energy moves up the woman, it changes her appearance: the flat-soled shoes become black, high-heeled ankle boots. Her skirt vanishes from the hem upwards, revealing shapely legs now clad in black cobweb-patterned stockings, topped by a purple leather mini-skirt. The conservative buttoned-up top is replaced by a short, midriff-revealing black leather blousom with elbow length sleeves. Fingerless black leather gloves appear on her hands. The pulled-back hair and the bun is transformed into a bob hairstyle with sharp pointed bangs either side of her face. The woman pauses a second as she walks and glances down at her new apparel.
“Interesting.” She murmurs.
The teenage girl tries to get to her feet, but the electrical shock she received has numbed her legs and made them non-responsive. Instead, she frantically starts to crawl away from the approaching woman. Reaching the girl, the woman simply steps around her and advances on Rob, who’s still in too much pain to realise what’s happened. Reaching down and clutching the front of the teenager’s leather jacket with one hand, the woman yanks Rob to his feet, and keeps hold of him. She’s taller than him, and has to look down in order to gaze at his damaged face – his piercings have smouldered and fused into his flesh.
“Very interesting.” She remarks.
“Wha – what? Help –” Sputters the stricken teenager.
“Show me.” She interupts, releasing her hold on his jacket, spreading out her fingers on both hands, and then clamping her hands on either side of his head.
As the terrified teenage girl watches, Rob immediately starts jerking and spasming, the woman holding him firmly as his eyes roll back and display only white. She actually lifts him a couple of inches off the floor, so his feet kick and twitch at empty air, barely managing to scuff the ground. Apart from a gurgling noise from deep in his throat, the young man makes no sound. Then it’s over, as suddenly as it began: the woman lets go of Rob’s head, and the teenager collapses onto the platform and lies still. Tears of blood have trickled out of both his eyes. The woman turns her attention to the girl.
“No.” Pleads the teenager tearfully as the woman crouches over her. “ Please. Don’t –”
“I still have gaps.” Says the woman, ignoring her. “Seek comfort in the knowledge that tonight you have witnessed a act of devine intervention.”
She starts to place her hands either side of the girl’s head. The teenager halfheartedly raises a hand to try to push one of the woman’s hands away, but is otherwise too scared to do anything except continue to plead.
“No. Please. Wait.” She whines, and then asks in desperation: “Who are you?”
“Mary Warren” Replies the woman. “Anointed One.”
Opening titles.
On-screen caption: The Present.
The interior of Ella’s basement flat. Thelma is perched on the kitchen counter and Mephistopheles is standing a few feet in front of her, facing Ella, who’s sitting on the arm of the sofa. Midge is in the chair by the desk housing the array of computers, but has swung the chair round so she’s also looking at their guest. Ella is still holding the envelope she found in the hallway, staring at the writing on it’s front.
“You’re not mistaken.” Announces Mephistopheles, addressing Ella. “That envelope and it’s contents were written by whom you think they were.”
Ella looks up and fixes him with a determined stare.
“Mary Warren died almost a century ago.” She declares. “I was there. I saw it happen, right in front of me.”
Perplexed, Thelma looks back and forth between Mephistopheles and Ella.
“Who’s Mary Warren?” She asks.
“Shall you tell them, or shall I?” Enquiries Mephistopheles.
Ella regards him coolly before answering Thelma’s question;
“Once they have gained enough experience, it’s customary for an Anointed One to take an apprentice, someone chosen by the forces of Heaven as being suitable to carry on their work, should the Anointed One fall in battle or tire of the fight. My father, John Dee, was the Anointed One before me, and I was judged worthy to be his apprentice. But usually, individuals capable of becoming an Anointed One are extremely rare, and can be born hundreds of years apart. I served as an Anointed One for two centuries until I was informed that an apprentice had been found for me. A young girl whose ancesters had belonged to the Knights Templer, and been founder members of the Illuminati.”
“Mary Warren.” Murmurs Thelma, and Ella nods.
Cut to the room where Leon is bound to a chair. Mary is slowly walking round him, talking as she does, only glancing at him when she wishes to emphase a point. Catherine Cotton is still standing directly in front of Leon, but has moved a few feet back, to make room for Mary’s circuit.
“It was 1785 when I first met Ella.” Remarks Mary. “When I was…chosen. Here was this tiny slip of a girl, who looked a few years younger than me, yet to learn that she had been fighting the forces of Hell and protecting mankind for over a century and a half before I’d been born…”
She pauses, stops walking for a second, places her hands to her chest and closes her eyes momentarily. Then she opens them and looks across at Leon.
“I has quite a crush on her, in the beginning. I’m sure you know where I’m coming from.”
Cut back to Ella’s flat (Note: throughout the rest of this sequence, the scene cuts back and forth between Ella and Mary, both talking at their respective locations).
“She was a good pupil.” Ella murmurs. “She learnt fast. Faster than I had, when my father had taught me. She mastered combat skills, became adept with the use of assorted weapons, and could perform elaborate and complex spells as though it was all second nature to her. And, more importantly, we were friends. We trusted each other implicitly.”
Cut back to Mary walking around Leon, talking;
“I’m not surprised she never told you about me. That’s always been Ella’s way. Don’t dwell on the past, just forge ahead, never look back. Pity though. The stories she could have told you about our adventures together.” Without breaking step, she gives him a hearty slap on the back of his shoulder. “It’s a good thing I’m here to fill you in. You see, I know where all the bodies are buried. Yessir.”
Cut to Ella in the basement flat;
“We killed people.” She states flatly. “That was our mission. We travelled the world, seeking out female descendents of Rachel McBain and the other members of the Medenham coven, and we killed them. It was like a perverse chase, in a way, between us and Azazeal. Almost a sport. If a girl had reached childbearing age, and he’d gotten to her first and impregnated her, we killed her to prevent the birth. If we found the girl before he did, we killed her to prevent him impregnating her. We took life after life, killing helpless pregnant girls and naïve, innocent virgins. Some of them were barely teenagers. They were practically still children. But Azazael” she spits out his name “liked them young.”
Cut to Mary, pausing in front of Leon and staring him at him directly, a semi-amused smile on her face;
“Ella and I were God’s assassins.” She declares simply. “We waded in blood.”
Cut back to Ella;
“The only consolation we had,” she murmurs, “the only excuse, was that this was God’s will. Our actions had His sanction. Sometimes that helped. Sometimes it made it worse. We were murdering children. And God approved.”
Ella pauses, collecting her thoughts before continuing;
“Like I said, only a rare kind of person can be an Anointed One. And not just because of the work. Immortality is…hard. Once you visit a place, you can never return for at least a century, so that anyone who might remember you has died, and there’s no-one left to realise that you haven’t aged. Even if you make a friend whom you can entrust with your secret, or dare to take a lover, you know that they will grow old and die. Eventually, everybody does. But you carry on, alone. Having Mary with me changed everything. Here was someone to join me on my path. To help carry the burden. To share my guilt. Each of us was all the other had. But we coped with the weight of immortality in different ways. I would shut down my emotions. I’d draw a veil over whole decades – entire centuries – of my life, periodically re-inventing myself and never looking back. Never allowing myself to wonder, or analyse, or regret. Mary coped by embracing the work, trying to take pride in what we did. For her, doing the job well became the justification for doing it. On some level, I think she even enjoyed it. I never judged her. How could I? Out of the two of us, she was probably the more honest.”
Cut to Mary, circling around Leon;
“It wasn’t all just chasing Azazeal around, you know.” She declares. “You see, wherever he was, his presence would knock the natural balance slightly off kilter, causing weird events to occur. Rainstorms of blood, poltergeist activity, showers of frogs, strange lights in the sky, weeping statues, that sort of thing. So whenever we heard of something un-natural happening, off we went. However, it isn’t just God who works in mysterious ways. The world can be a bizarre place, even when Azazeal’s not around. We encountered more than our fair share of otherworldliness that had nothing to do with the Nephilim.”
Cut back to Ella in the flat;
“We used to call them events of ‘high strangeness.’ And as He is a jealous God, we were instructed to eliminate those responsible, whether human or not. He wanted to maintain His monopoly on miracles.” She says.
Cut back to Mary;
“There was that night at Blythburgh church when we encountered Black Shuck. And the time when we camped out all night in Highgate cemetery in order to stamp out a vampire infestation. And we mustn’t forget the battles that Ella and I had with Springheeled Jack. And of course our little jaunt over to America, when we brought down the Aeronauts. Ah, happy times.”
Cut back to Ella;
“In 1915 we heard reports of someone using occult means to dispose of high ranking members of the British establishment. We investigated, but Azazeal wasn’t to blame. Instead it was an oriential master criminal, who controlled a vast underworld empire from his subterranean headquarters, deep under Limehouse. We found a way into his lair, fought our way through his underlings, only to find he’d escaped into the sewers. We pursued him, Mary taking the lead. But German zeppelins were bombing London that night. A warehouse directly above us received a direct hit. The tunnel collapsed in front of me. The last thing I saw was Mary being buried under a couple of hundred tons of earth and stone. I was found and pulled out of the rubble seven hours later.”
For the first time since she began talking, Ella looks up from the envelope she’s holding, and gazes at Mephistopheles: “Mary Warren is dead.” She declares.
“I’m afraid that’s not the case.” Murmurs Mephistopheles. “Although I’m no longer welcome in Hell, and I’ve not set foot in Heaven since the war, there are parties in both camps who owe me enough favours to enable me to keep in the loop, regarding what’s going on. The truth is that Heaven had doubts about your suitability as an Anointed One long ago. You were deemed a little too… individual. There was potential for rebellion within you. Mary however, was more to their liking. But Heaven was concerned that if she remained with you, it would soften her, blunt her edge. So when an opportunity arose in 1915, they seized their chance. Mary would have been killed in that cave-in, but Heaven suspended her in a moment in time – the split second before the collapse would have crushed her. And she was kept there, while you and the rest of the world continued on. Five years ago, you eventually rejected Heaven’s guidance, as it was always believed you would. A period of debate followed – you may be either pleased or annoyed to know that some in Heaven thought you deserved a second chance to return to the fold. But the decision was finally made to release Mary by bringing her forward to the present day.”
Ella looks as though someone’s punched her in the stomach. Her entire world has just turned upside down.
“When did this happen.” She manages to ask.
“Three years ago.” Replies Mehistopheles. “Where the sewer once stood is now Hobbs Lane underground station.” Thelma catches Midge’s eye and nods towards the computers. Midge wordlessly swings her chair round and starts tapping away on the keyboard as Mephistopheles continues: “However, there was an unforseen problem. Although her body was suspended in 1915, her mind had remained active, cut off from all outside stimulation. She’d received no sensory input for almost a century.”
“Wait a minute,” Interupts Thelma, “you’re saying that her mind was basically stuck in a void, cut off from everything, and she wasn’t able to see, hear or touch anything for nearly a hundred years?”
“Yes,” says Mephistopheles, “until Heaven reunited her mind with her body and released her.”
“My God.” Breathes Ella, gazing across the room, not actually looking at anything, just managing to come to terms with what she’s hearing. “It must have driven her insane.”
“Actually, it’s believed she went completely insane, then full circle back to total rationality, several times during her time suspended.” Comments Mephistopheles. “Unfortunately, at the time she was released, she was at the bottom of the curve.”
“I’ve got something.” Reports Midge. “News report about Hobbs Lane station, just over three years ago. Teenage boy and girl found. The boy had died of a brain hemmoridge, the girl was in a coma.” She taps away for a few seconds. “The most recent report I can find after that states there’d been no change in the girl’s condition, and brain damage had been confirmed.”
“Mary had been out of circulation for almost a century,” explains Mephistopheles, “she extracted from their minds the information she needed about the modern world.”
Thelma looks at Ella;
“I didn’t know Anointed Ones could do that.” She says.
“We can’t.” Murmurs Ella.
“Miss Warren’s psychic powers have expanded and considerably grown in strength as the result of almost a century’s isolation.” Comments Mephistopheles. “While her sanity spent those decades spinning round on a carousel, her subconsious mind had no outside influences to distract it, so it turned inward, and worked constantly on developing it’s abilities.”
“So what can she do?” Thelma enquires.
“Her telekinetic abilities are far stronger than any Anointed One who preceded her.” Reports Mephistopheles. “She also now has substantial telepathic powers, and impressive pyrokinetic skills. In addition, she’s capable of mentally dominating practically anyone she comes in to contact with.”
“You mean hypnosis?” Asks Thelma.
“Of a fashion.” Replies Mephistopheles. “Suffice to say that if she chooses, she can control people like puppets.”
“You say she rejoined the present three years ago.” Queries Ella. “What’s she’s been doing since then?”
“As your associate has confirmed,” Mephistopheles murmurs, nodding towards Midge, “upon arrival she extracted information from the first people she encountered. Unfortunately, a pair of teenagers weren’t the ideal choice, but beggars can’t be choosers I suppose. If nothing else, it gave her sound knowledge about music downloads, brand name fashion, reality television celebrities and whatever else the youth of today obsess over. She knew that trying to obtain further information would have left a trail of victims for the authorities to puzzle over, so rather than risk drawing attention to herself, it’s believed she then laid low for several months, adjusting to the 21st century. She resurfaced after being contacted by a representative from Heaven, who informed her that an apprentice had been found for her.”
“Catherine Cotton.” Realises Ella. “It was Mary who broke her out of the asylum in America.”
Mephistopheles nods.
“This business about having apprentices is a bit Sith, isn’t it?” Comments Thelma.
“So why did Catherine and her hired muscle gatecrash the wedding and kidnap Leon and the bride?” Asks Midge.
It’s Ella rather than Mephistopheles who answers. For her, all the pieces have fallen into place;
“Heaven doesn’t want me around anymore. I’ve proven to be disobedient, and therefore surplus to requirements. He is a jealous God, and He particularly doesn’t like being ignored, and that’s precisely what I’ve done for the last five years.” She smiles sadly, resignedly. “Mary’s here to kill me.”
End of Part One.
As always, any feedback will be gratefully received.
Episode #7: The Girl Who Wouldn’t Die.
Previously on Hex: brief clips from Episode #6 – Mary Warren pulling back her hood in 1808; Mary firing the crossbow; the crossbow bolt embedded in Rose; Ella pulling back her hood; Troy standing at the altar in the present; Gemma lifting her veil; Thelma reaching the front of the crowd and seeing Troy with his throat slashed and a knive buried in his chest; Catherine Cotton pulling the tape off of Leon’s mouth; Jo saying “You’ve have to look for his abductor elsewhere.”; Leon asking “Who are you?”; Midge saying “her name’s Catherine Cotton”; Mephistopheles saying “Miss Cotton is merely obeying orders”; Mary with her vivid hair and clothes stepping out of the shadows.
On-screen caption: Three years ago.
We’re on a platform on a London Underground station. The name of the station is identified on the wall as ‘Hobbs Lane.’ The platform is empty, and a train is just starting to pull away. As it does so, two teenagers – a boy and a girl – run onto the platform. Too late.
The train disappears into the tunnel. The teens watch it go. The boy turns to the girl. He’s wearing a studded leather jacket and jeans, and has several facial piercings. He shrugs.
“Just have to wait for the next one.” He says.
“My dad’s gonna kill me.” She mutters. “I’ll never make back on time.”
Her companion grins and points theatrically at her.
“You’re the one who insisted on staying for the encore. Told you we’d be late.”
She smiles and shrugs: “Great gig though, wasn’t it?”
A strong wind blows through the station from the tunnels, and the girl shivers. She’s just wearing a black sleeveless t-shirt, red and white trainers, and a red skirt that could be mistaken for a belt.
“You cold?” Asks the boy, and she nods.
He steps up to her and holds her. She rests her head sideways on his chest.
“How long before the next train?” She murmurs.
“Shouldn’t be long.” He tells her. “And it’ll be the last one. If it’s been cancelled, we’re walking.”
She giggles, steps away from him, and playfully punches him on the chest.
“Don’t say that.” She declares in mock-protest. “I –”
A sharp, high-pitched whine cuts her off. The two teens look down the platform, where the noise came from. The station lights are flickering. A couple of them burst in a small shower of sparks.
“Rob?” Says the girl, suddenly afraid, reaching back towards him without taking her eyes away from where the noise originated, “What –”
The sound occurs again, stronger this time, louder. As the girl and Rob watch, a section of the platform wall becomes distorted, and starts to twist in on itself, like a photo that’s being exposed to extreme heat. The station lights are flickering with increasing rapidity, and the air is filled with a heavy electrical hum.
“ROB!” Screams the girl, and the boy grabs her arm and they try to run to the stairs.
Before they can take two paces, flashes of energy start to spontaneously burst into life in the heavily electrified air all around them. Sparks erupt from the boy’s piercings and the metal studs on his jacket, and both he and the girl are knocked to the ground. As Rob clutches his face and howls in pain, the girl pulls her mobile phone out of her purse, yelping as she receives a shock from the purse’s metal zip. She gazes at the phone in bewilderment – the display is going haywire, flashing up a display of gibberish that’s appearing, changing, then disappearing so rapidly that it’s impossible to read. Smoke suddenly issues from the phone, and the girl screams and drops it as it burns her hand. The phone lands on the platform and the terrified teenager watches as the plastic buckles and melts.
The noise is intensifying. Still lying on the platform, the girl looks across to the distorted section of the wall – as someone steps out of it. The noise instantly stops, the rapidly flickering lights remain to normal, the bolts of energy in the air curl and blow away, fading into nothingness. The only sound that can is heard is Rob’s moaning. The girl stares transfixed at the figure on the platform: it’s a tall, slim young woman, dressed in clothing from another era: a dark brown ankle length skirt, a long-sleeved matching top that is buttoned up to just under her chin, and flat shoes. Her light brown hair is tied up in a bun at the back. The woman gazes about at her surroundings, notices Rob and the girl, and turns and walks towards them. As she walks, a visual wave of energy – like a wavering bar scrolling up a television screen – travels from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. As the wave of energy moves up the woman, it changes her appearance: the flat-soled shoes become black, high-heeled ankle boots. Her skirt vanishes from the hem upwards, revealing shapely legs now clad in black cobweb-patterned stockings, topped by a purple leather mini-skirt. The conservative buttoned-up top is replaced by a short, midriff-revealing black leather blousom with elbow length sleeves. Fingerless black leather gloves appear on her hands. The pulled-back hair and the bun is transformed into a bob hairstyle with sharp pointed bangs either side of her face. The woman pauses a second as she walks and glances down at her new apparel.
“Interesting.” She murmurs.
The teenage girl tries to get to her feet, but the electrical shock she received has numbed her legs and made them non-responsive. Instead, she frantically starts to crawl away from the approaching woman. Reaching the girl, the woman simply steps around her and advances on Rob, who’s still in too much pain to realise what’s happened. Reaching down and clutching the front of the teenager’s leather jacket with one hand, the woman yanks Rob to his feet, and keeps hold of him. She’s taller than him, and has to look down in order to gaze at his damaged face – his piercings have smouldered and fused into his flesh.
“Very interesting.” She remarks.
“Wha – what? Help –” Sputters the stricken teenager.
“Show me.” She interupts, releasing her hold on his jacket, spreading out her fingers on both hands, and then clamping her hands on either side of his head.
As the terrified teenage girl watches, Rob immediately starts jerking and spasming, the woman holding him firmly as his eyes roll back and display only white. She actually lifts him a couple of inches off the floor, so his feet kick and twitch at empty air, barely managing to scuff the ground. Apart from a gurgling noise from deep in his throat, the young man makes no sound. Then it’s over, as suddenly as it began: the woman lets go of Rob’s head, and the teenager collapses onto the platform and lies still. Tears of blood have trickled out of both his eyes. The woman turns her attention to the girl.
“No.” Pleads the teenager tearfully as the woman crouches over her. “ Please. Don’t –”
“I still have gaps.” Says the woman, ignoring her. “Seek comfort in the knowledge that tonight you have witnessed a act of devine intervention.”
She starts to place her hands either side of the girl’s head. The teenager halfheartedly raises a hand to try to push one of the woman’s hands away, but is otherwise too scared to do anything except continue to plead.
“No. Please. Wait.” She whines, and then asks in desperation: “Who are you?”
“Mary Warren” Replies the woman. “Anointed One.”
Opening titles.
On-screen caption: The Present.
The interior of Ella’s basement flat. Thelma is perched on the kitchen counter and Mephistopheles is standing a few feet in front of her, facing Ella, who’s sitting on the arm of the sofa. Midge is in the chair by the desk housing the array of computers, but has swung the chair round so she’s also looking at their guest. Ella is still holding the envelope she found in the hallway, staring at the writing on it’s front.
“You’re not mistaken.” Announces Mephistopheles, addressing Ella. “That envelope and it’s contents were written by whom you think they were.”
Ella looks up and fixes him with a determined stare.
“Mary Warren died almost a century ago.” She declares. “I was there. I saw it happen, right in front of me.”
Perplexed, Thelma looks back and forth between Mephistopheles and Ella.
“Who’s Mary Warren?” She asks.
“Shall you tell them, or shall I?” Enquiries Mephistopheles.
Ella regards him coolly before answering Thelma’s question;
“Once they have gained enough experience, it’s customary for an Anointed One to take an apprentice, someone chosen by the forces of Heaven as being suitable to carry on their work, should the Anointed One fall in battle or tire of the fight. My father, John Dee, was the Anointed One before me, and I was judged worthy to be his apprentice. But usually, individuals capable of becoming an Anointed One are extremely rare, and can be born hundreds of years apart. I served as an Anointed One for two centuries until I was informed that an apprentice had been found for me. A young girl whose ancesters had belonged to the Knights Templer, and been founder members of the Illuminati.”
“Mary Warren.” Murmurs Thelma, and Ella nods.
Cut to the room where Leon is bound to a chair. Mary is slowly walking round him, talking as she does, only glancing at him when she wishes to emphase a point. Catherine Cotton is still standing directly in front of Leon, but has moved a few feet back, to make room for Mary’s circuit.
“It was 1785 when I first met Ella.” Remarks Mary. “When I was…chosen. Here was this tiny slip of a girl, who looked a few years younger than me, yet to learn that she had been fighting the forces of Hell and protecting mankind for over a century and a half before I’d been born…”
She pauses, stops walking for a second, places her hands to her chest and closes her eyes momentarily. Then she opens them and looks across at Leon.
“I has quite a crush on her, in the beginning. I’m sure you know where I’m coming from.”
Cut back to Ella’s flat (Note: throughout the rest of this sequence, the scene cuts back and forth between Ella and Mary, both talking at their respective locations).
“She was a good pupil.” Ella murmurs. “She learnt fast. Faster than I had, when my father had taught me. She mastered combat skills, became adept with the use of assorted weapons, and could perform elaborate and complex spells as though it was all second nature to her. And, more importantly, we were friends. We trusted each other implicitly.”
Cut back to Mary walking around Leon, talking;
“I’m not surprised she never told you about me. That’s always been Ella’s way. Don’t dwell on the past, just forge ahead, never look back. Pity though. The stories she could have told you about our adventures together.” Without breaking step, she gives him a hearty slap on the back of his shoulder. “It’s a good thing I’m here to fill you in. You see, I know where all the bodies are buried. Yessir.”
Cut to Ella in the basement flat;
“We killed people.” She states flatly. “That was our mission. We travelled the world, seeking out female descendents of Rachel McBain and the other members of the Medenham coven, and we killed them. It was like a perverse chase, in a way, between us and Azazeal. Almost a sport. If a girl had reached childbearing age, and he’d gotten to her first and impregnated her, we killed her to prevent the birth. If we found the girl before he did, we killed her to prevent him impregnating her. We took life after life, killing helpless pregnant girls and naïve, innocent virgins. Some of them were barely teenagers. They were practically still children. But Azazael” she spits out his name “liked them young.”
Cut to Mary, pausing in front of Leon and staring him at him directly, a semi-amused smile on her face;
“Ella and I were God’s assassins.” She declares simply. “We waded in blood.”
Cut back to Ella;
“The only consolation we had,” she murmurs, “the only excuse, was that this was God’s will. Our actions had His sanction. Sometimes that helped. Sometimes it made it worse. We were murdering children. And God approved.”
Ella pauses, collecting her thoughts before continuing;
“Like I said, only a rare kind of person can be an Anointed One. And not just because of the work. Immortality is…hard. Once you visit a place, you can never return for at least a century, so that anyone who might remember you has died, and there’s no-one left to realise that you haven’t aged. Even if you make a friend whom you can entrust with your secret, or dare to take a lover, you know that they will grow old and die. Eventually, everybody does. But you carry on, alone. Having Mary with me changed everything. Here was someone to join me on my path. To help carry the burden. To share my guilt. Each of us was all the other had. But we coped with the weight of immortality in different ways. I would shut down my emotions. I’d draw a veil over whole decades – entire centuries – of my life, periodically re-inventing myself and never looking back. Never allowing myself to wonder, or analyse, or regret. Mary coped by embracing the work, trying to take pride in what we did. For her, doing the job well became the justification for doing it. On some level, I think she even enjoyed it. I never judged her. How could I? Out of the two of us, she was probably the more honest.”
Cut to Mary, circling around Leon;
“It wasn’t all just chasing Azazeal around, you know.” She declares. “You see, wherever he was, his presence would knock the natural balance slightly off kilter, causing weird events to occur. Rainstorms of blood, poltergeist activity, showers of frogs, strange lights in the sky, weeping statues, that sort of thing. So whenever we heard of something un-natural happening, off we went. However, it isn’t just God who works in mysterious ways. The world can be a bizarre place, even when Azazeal’s not around. We encountered more than our fair share of otherworldliness that had nothing to do with the Nephilim.”
Cut back to Ella in the flat;
“We used to call them events of ‘high strangeness.’ And as He is a jealous God, we were instructed to eliminate those responsible, whether human or not. He wanted to maintain His monopoly on miracles.” She says.
Cut back to Mary;
“There was that night at Blythburgh church when we encountered Black Shuck. And the time when we camped out all night in Highgate cemetery in order to stamp out a vampire infestation. And we mustn’t forget the battles that Ella and I had with Springheeled Jack. And of course our little jaunt over to America, when we brought down the Aeronauts. Ah, happy times.”
Cut back to Ella;
“In 1915 we heard reports of someone using occult means to dispose of high ranking members of the British establishment. We investigated, but Azazeal wasn’t to blame. Instead it was an oriential master criminal, who controlled a vast underworld empire from his subterranean headquarters, deep under Limehouse. We found a way into his lair, fought our way through his underlings, only to find he’d escaped into the sewers. We pursued him, Mary taking the lead. But German zeppelins were bombing London that night. A warehouse directly above us received a direct hit. The tunnel collapsed in front of me. The last thing I saw was Mary being buried under a couple of hundred tons of earth and stone. I was found and pulled out of the rubble seven hours later.”
For the first time since she began talking, Ella looks up from the envelope she’s holding, and gazes at Mephistopheles: “Mary Warren is dead.” She declares.
“I’m afraid that’s not the case.” Murmurs Mephistopheles. “Although I’m no longer welcome in Hell, and I’ve not set foot in Heaven since the war, there are parties in both camps who owe me enough favours to enable me to keep in the loop, regarding what’s going on. The truth is that Heaven had doubts about your suitability as an Anointed One long ago. You were deemed a little too… individual. There was potential for rebellion within you. Mary however, was more to their liking. But Heaven was concerned that if she remained with you, it would soften her, blunt her edge. So when an opportunity arose in 1915, they seized their chance. Mary would have been killed in that cave-in, but Heaven suspended her in a moment in time – the split second before the collapse would have crushed her. And she was kept there, while you and the rest of the world continued on. Five years ago, you eventually rejected Heaven’s guidance, as it was always believed you would. A period of debate followed – you may be either pleased or annoyed to know that some in Heaven thought you deserved a second chance to return to the fold. But the decision was finally made to release Mary by bringing her forward to the present day.”
Ella looks as though someone’s punched her in the stomach. Her entire world has just turned upside down.
“When did this happen.” She manages to ask.
“Three years ago.” Replies Mehistopheles. “Where the sewer once stood is now Hobbs Lane underground station.” Thelma catches Midge’s eye and nods towards the computers. Midge wordlessly swings her chair round and starts tapping away on the keyboard as Mephistopheles continues: “However, there was an unforseen problem. Although her body was suspended in 1915, her mind had remained active, cut off from all outside stimulation. She’d received no sensory input for almost a century.”
“Wait a minute,” Interupts Thelma, “you’re saying that her mind was basically stuck in a void, cut off from everything, and she wasn’t able to see, hear or touch anything for nearly a hundred years?”
“Yes,” says Mephistopheles, “until Heaven reunited her mind with her body and released her.”
“My God.” Breathes Ella, gazing across the room, not actually looking at anything, just managing to come to terms with what she’s hearing. “It must have driven her insane.”
“Actually, it’s believed she went completely insane, then full circle back to total rationality, several times during her time suspended.” Comments Mephistopheles. “Unfortunately, at the time she was released, she was at the bottom of the curve.”
“I’ve got something.” Reports Midge. “News report about Hobbs Lane station, just over three years ago. Teenage boy and girl found. The boy had died of a brain hemmoridge, the girl was in a coma.” She taps away for a few seconds. “The most recent report I can find after that states there’d been no change in the girl’s condition, and brain damage had been confirmed.”
“Mary had been out of circulation for almost a century,” explains Mephistopheles, “she extracted from their minds the information she needed about the modern world.”
Thelma looks at Ella;
“I didn’t know Anointed Ones could do that.” She says.
“We can’t.” Murmurs Ella.
“Miss Warren’s psychic powers have expanded and considerably grown in strength as the result of almost a century’s isolation.” Comments Mephistopheles. “While her sanity spent those decades spinning round on a carousel, her subconsious mind had no outside influences to distract it, so it turned inward, and worked constantly on developing it’s abilities.”
“So what can she do?” Thelma enquires.
“Her telekinetic abilities are far stronger than any Anointed One who preceded her.” Reports Mephistopheles. “She also now has substantial telepathic powers, and impressive pyrokinetic skills. In addition, she’s capable of mentally dominating practically anyone she comes in to contact with.”
“You mean hypnosis?” Asks Thelma.
“Of a fashion.” Replies Mephistopheles. “Suffice to say that if she chooses, she can control people like puppets.”
“You say she rejoined the present three years ago.” Queries Ella. “What’s she’s been doing since then?”
“As your associate has confirmed,” Mephistopheles murmurs, nodding towards Midge, “upon arrival she extracted information from the first people she encountered. Unfortunately, a pair of teenagers weren’t the ideal choice, but beggars can’t be choosers I suppose. If nothing else, it gave her sound knowledge about music downloads, brand name fashion, reality television celebrities and whatever else the youth of today obsess over. She knew that trying to obtain further information would have left a trail of victims for the authorities to puzzle over, so rather than risk drawing attention to herself, it’s believed she then laid low for several months, adjusting to the 21st century. She resurfaced after being contacted by a representative from Heaven, who informed her that an apprentice had been found for her.”
“Catherine Cotton.” Realises Ella. “It was Mary who broke her out of the asylum in America.”
Mephistopheles nods.
“This business about having apprentices is a bit Sith, isn’t it?” Comments Thelma.
“So why did Catherine and her hired muscle gatecrash the wedding and kidnap Leon and the bride?” Asks Midge.
It’s Ella rather than Mephistopheles who answers. For her, all the pieces have fallen into place;
“Heaven doesn’t want me around anymore. I’ve proven to be disobedient, and therefore surplus to requirements. He is a jealous God, and He particularly doesn’t like being ignored, and that’s precisely what I’ve done for the last five years.” She smiles sadly, resignedly. “Mary’s here to kill me.”
End of Part One.
