Part 59 "The Vast Darkness"
The unending light, a return home, a final showdown...
In the penultimate episode, Arthur, John & Lilith return to Addison in order to face off against Kayne once and for all...
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PART FIFTY-NINE: THE VAST DARKNESS
Transcripts made and edited by jack
CWs: gun violence, child/infant death, drowning, character death, sounds of gore/blood, body horror, brain trauma, assault, high-pitched ringing, suicide, discussion of parental death
(BEGIN Part 59.)
(A wooden creak. Blowing wind. Arthur exhales.)
LILLITH: Home sweet home.
(A wooden creak. Footsteps. A sad melody begins.)
JOHN: Larson’s mansion. It seems quite… different, since we last left.
ARTHUR: I’ll bet.
JOHN: Colder, bluer. The fading sun outside, through the stained glass above the door, gives the foyer an… otherworldly hue.
LILLITH (at a distance): Yes. This’ll do nicely.
ARTHUR: For what, exactly? Kayne won’t care whether we’re inside or outside or –
LILLITH: Look, time is what we’ll need, ultimately. I have to be out of sight and then attack from a distance. He can’t see me coming. These rooms and hallways offer plenty of ways to sneak around, to get to an advantageous position. Plus, I needed clothes, and I know they’ll fit me here.
JOHN: Besides, it was here, the Red Right Hand, or the mines. And I’d rather not return to the mines, if we can avoid it.
ARTHUR: Well, the memories here aren’t much better. Feels… lifeless.
LILLITH: I love it.
ARTHUR: Fair enough. Well, given how cold it is outside… at the very least, it’s shelter from the snow.
JOHN: How long has it been since we left the Dreamlands?
ARTHUR: Probably under an hour, I’d –
LILLITH: Not long at all. But I’m sure Kayne has sensed you.
ARTHUR (grimly): Of course.
LILLITH: Go get ready. I’m gonna find something to wear.
ARTHUR (perplexed): Get ready? How –
LILLITH: I don’t know. If all goes according to plan, this’ll be easy for you. Short and sweet.
ARTHUR: I don’t… I don’t understand. Look, even if my lighter is the opposite of Kayne’s darkness, I still don’t understand why that –
LILLITH: What makes you think there is anything to understand?
ARTHUR: Well, there must be a logic to this thing. (Lillith sighs.) T-There must be a way to –
LILLITH: We are talking about forces birthed from a metaphysical alien womb. (‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.) Nyarlathotep walks on land because he wishes to appear human, not because he relies on gravity. His form holds no space. No size. He is a thimble, and a planet, when he chooses to be. To define him is to taste air. To hold mist. To understand the emotions of a brick wall.
You are not in the same stratosphere of understanding as the forces you find yourself up against, Arthur. He was not, and is not, bound the way myself… and John are. Look, if it helps, you can pretend that lighter is a target-setter. If it makes you understand the concept a little cleaner, pretend it’s red paint. And I’m the arrow. (Arthur sighs.)
ARTHUR (weary): Alright.
LILLITH: Look. Honestly, kid. I’m not trying to be difficult. The Manager enlisted my help when he lost everything important to him. The lighter was his doing and I doubt he wishes to share what it is about that item that makes Nyarlathotep susceptible.
ARTHUR: Susceptible to what –
LILLITH (impatient): To whatever I wish to do to him! Death, primarily.
ARTHUR: So it makes him vulnerable? (Lillith sighs.) Look, if it is so important, why didn’t you tell me to use it back in England, in the forest? When you tried and failed to kill him the first time?
JOHN: She looks… annoyed. As if debating.
LILLITH: I am debating. (A short pause.) Fine, you want the honest answer?
ARTHUR: Yes.
LILLITH: Ego. I didn’t think I needed you. I didn’t think I needed the Manager. I had enough ire within from my time in prison to kill Kayne in ways you couldn’t imagine. That anger blinded me. But it won’t blind me again.
JOHN: What if it is?
LILLITH: How’s that?
JOHN: Killing Kayne? You said it before, but. Why kill him? Why not trap him?
ARTHUR: He’s – He’s right. This is… look, Kayne is – is far too –
LILLITH: I’m not discussing this. There are a million reasons why Kayne must die, and only one to imprison him, and right now? We don’t have time to discuss the reasons. Suffice to say, my hubris will not cause us to fail this time.
JOHN: As a last resort, then. If Arthur should die outright, or with the lighter lost in some way…
LILLITH (patronizing): Yes, if you utterly fail in all ways, I have options. But imprisoning someone as powerful as Kayne takes a great deal more effort.
ARTHUR: W-Well, how much effort? M-Maybe –
LILLITH: Can it! Look, I need clothes. And you two need to prepare.
ARTHUR: Prepare how?
LILLITH: I don’t know! However you want. You just get that lighter on him. (Growing further away.) I’ll do the rest. (Arthur huffs.)
ARTHUR: So you say.
LILLITH (barely audible): Yeah, yeah, yeah..
JOHN: She’s heading up the stairs to the left, towards Larson’s room. (A short pause.)
ARTHUR: Well.
JOHN: Well.
ARTHUR (happily): Welcome back.
JOHN: To the house? Or the home? (They both chuckle.)
ARTHUR: You put me through the ringer there, back in the Dreamlands.
JOHN: We were both through the ringer, believe you me. It was a struggle.
ARTHUR: But one worth having. And I’m glad you came back to me.
JOHN: We need to see this thing through. To the end.
ARTHUR: Agreed. (A short pause.) Well?
JOHN: I suppose, let’s look around. There may be something of use.
ARTHUR: Yeah. (A grunt of effort.) Upstairs? (Footsteps.)
JOHN: Sure. So. What’s the plan for the lighter?
ARTHUR: Am I being naive to assume we just… slip it in his pocket and that’s it?
JOHN: If he’s wearing a suit.
ARTHUR: Yeah.
JOHN: Not naive, no.
ARTHUR: It can’t really be that easy, can it?
JOHN: What’s easy about the road we’ve taken here?
ARTHUR: Very little.
JOHN: I hear what you’re saying. But if it is truly that simple, it doesn’t negate all that’s happened.
ARTHUR: Oh, you’re right.
JOHN: Right, here.
ARTHUR: Room by room?
JOHN: Might as well. (Wooden creaking.) Bedroom. Not one we’ve been in before. Do you want to take a look?
ARTHUR: Eh, why not? (The door shuts.)
JOHN: It’s not unlike the one we saw last time we were here, although no dead body in the bed. Thankfully. Move around a little bit. I’ll let you know if anything jumps out. Eh, visually.
ARTHUR: Do you think she’s being honest with us?
JOHN: No.
ARTHUR: Agreed.
JOHN: The question is… what is she lying about?
ARTHUR: Her obsession with killing Kayne.
JOHN: Yes, why?
ARTHUR: I want to say hate, but…
JOHN: But what?
ARTHUR (sighing): What happens when the Manager is the only Nyarlathotep left? (A thoughtful melody begins.)
JOHN: You mean…?
ARTHUR: If only one remains, one version across all worlds… look, Kayne’s goal was always to kill all of them, to become the most powerful one, a-and then use the Blackstone. And if Kayne is gone, then the Manager…
JOHN: So?
ARTHUR: Lillith told me that the Manager, before losing his daughter, before all of this… also wanted the Blackstone. Also wanted to put an end to this world.
JOHN: The Manager did?
ARTHUR: Even the best version of Nyarlathotep is no outright ally of ours.
JOHN: So killing Kayne…
ARTHUR: May only give the Manager what he wants. I-I-I mean, I mean, who knows?
JOHN: You don’t think…?
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: You don’t think that’s part of his plan, do you?
ARTHUR: Who, the Manager?
JOHN: What if all of this… is just one long con? One long and drawn out way to give the Manager… exactly what he wants? (‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.) If Kayne is dead, what happens to the Blackstone?
ARTHUR: I don’t know. You don’t think Lillith…
JOHN: I’m not even convinced Lillith would know this. What I’m saying is… perhaps we’re all being played. There’s nothing in this room. Nothing of note.
ARTHUR: Right, right. (A door opens and shuts. Footsteps.)
JOHN: Look, what does the devil do?
ARTHUR: Convince the world he doesn’t exist.
JOHN: If the Manager wanted the Stone and wanted to end all of existence… what better way to do it then…?
ARTHUR: To make us kill the final Kayne?
JOHN: Exactly. Then the Stone is his… and the last variant is out of the picture.
ARTHUR: I didn’t get that feeling from the Manager. Did you?
JOHN: No. But isn’t that exactly the way he’d want it to be?
ARTHUR: But then why save us? Why bring us back, why use us at all? It would’ve been easy for him to stand back and let Lillith kill Kayne, have her do the dirty work.
JOHN: Maybe. Maybe there’s still pieces we don’t have. I’ll tell you what, though. Believing that the Manager is doing this out of the goodness of his heart is a tough sell for me.
ARTHUR: Okay. Even if that’s the case… then what are our options?
JOHN: Uh, door.
ARTHUR: Oh. (A door opens.)
JOHN: Closet.
ARTHUR: Anything?
JOHN: You want to fight him with a broom?
ARTHUR: No.
JOHN: Then no. (A door shuts. Footsteps.)
ARTHUR: So what are our options?
JOHN (huffing): We could tell Lillith.
ARTHUR: I don’t know whose side she’s on right now.
JOHN: She does seem to be on the side of existence.
ARTHUR: Yes, I suppose, but I’m not convinced she’d buy it. And even if she did… you know, what could she do to stop it?
JOHN: We don’t kill Kayne.
ARTHUR: She doesn’t?
JOHN: No, she traps him instead.
ARTHUR: We tried that.
JOHN: But not since thinking about it this way. Look, I think it makes perfect sense. Even if she doesn’t believe the Manager has an ulterior motive… even if she doesn’t think that he would manipulate us… she must see the benefit to not having him be the last Nyarlathotep alive. Right?
ARTHUR: Right.
JOHN: We know she was imprisoned.
ARTHUR: The realm of darkness or shadows or nightmares o-or something.
JOHN: Maybe she knows how to send Kayne there.
ARTHUR: It’s risky.
JOHN: Door. (A door opens.) Bathroom.
ARTHUR: Head in?
JOHN: Sure, i-if you… (Footsteps. A door shuts.)
ARTHUR: There is another option.
JOHN: Which is?
ARTHUR: We delay putting the lighter on Kayne.
JOHN: That seems far riskier.
ARTHUR: Right, but! Lillith agreed that if I failed, she’d trap him. As a last resort.
JOHN: Did she, though?
ARTHUR: All I mean is… look, putting the lighter on Kayne is the Manager’s plan. And clearly he was very sparse with details about what it is and what it does.
JOHN: You felt its light, though. We both have. In the Dark World. I don’t get the feeling the lighter is… evil.
ARTHUR: No. No, I don’t either.
JOHN: I hear you. And I do think the Manager is… in a position to gain a lot, should Lillith kill Kayne. I agree, the lighter is clearly something of the Manager’s machinations and… and for those reasons, I-I do have doubts. I suppose, really, it comes down to how much you trust… Lillith.
ARTHUR: That’s a tough call.
JOHN: Didn’t she also say the Manager knew where the Obelisk was?
ARTHUR: But what if putting the lighter on Kayne… is the very thing that brings about the end?
JOHN: For all we know, Lillith is the Manager’s daughter, and we’ve been played from the get-go.
ARTHUR (sighing): We’re spiralling.
JOHN: Yes. But this is a good point to decide. Whose side are we on? If we trust Lillith, if you trust her intention, then we should speak with her. Tell her our fears about killing Kayne in regards to making the Manager the last Nyarlathotep and the power that it could bring.
ARTHUR: But that doesn’t discount the possibility that she could still side with the Manager, that she still chooses to kill Kayne. For all we know, she may be happy if the Manager is the last Nyarlathotep.
JOHN: Why?
ARTHUR: Why? Because she’s Nyarlathotep’s daughter, John! I… she still killed my parents, she still despises humanity. Our goals are aligned only in so far as stopping Kayne. Beyond that, we are nothing to her. I forgot that once and she made me regret it. (John sighs.) What happens after all of this? The Blackstone, the Waylay? The true intentions of the last living Nyarlathotep? I-It’s anyone’s guess. (He sighs.) Is it not possible the Manager offered her something for all of this?
JOHN: You’re right.
ARTHUR: It may feel like we only have one choice left. But I’m not convinced… even if we walked away from Kayne… that we’d be walking away from them. I trust that Lillith wants to prevent Kayne from using the Blackstone and the Obelisk. (He exhales.) But that is only as far as our goals align.
JOHN: Then we need to decide if we want to follow their plan… or our plan.
ARTHUR: What do you mean, we don’t have a plan?
JOHN: And it hasn’t hurt us before!
ARTHUR (gentle disagreement): Well…
JOHN: Much. (Arthur huffs in amusement.) I just mean to say… how many times have we been here? Even in this house? (‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.) We’ve managed to find a path forward, the best one we know how!
ARTHUR: So we just don’t use the lighter.
JOHN: Not right away, no. I think you’re right. I think, if we can consider all of this a possibility, then they have, too. And that makes them inherently untrustworthy. I’m not keen to follow blindly when so much is at stake. (Arthur exhales.)
ARTHUR: Or, all of this is wrong and we’re just… complicating matters. (Arthur huffs.)
JOHN: No matter what. I have your back.
ARTHUR (sighing): God damn it.
JOHN: What?
ARTHUR: It’s just – when do we start believing again? (A hopeful melody begins.)
JOHN: What do you mean?
ARTHUR: I don’t have… faith. Not in the way I was taught to. This… journey of ours, it’s taken us to the edge of it, really. You know, we’ve stood before the endless nothing, a Dark World filled with angry indifference and stared into the abyss with unfaltering purpose. We’ve watched our friends die, our enemies lost within the mud of their own pained histories… all the while, screaming for forgiveness. But where does this path lead?
JOHN: I… don’t follow, I…
ARTHUR: When do we start believing, again?
JOHN: Believing in what?
ARTHUR (shaky): Good. When do we stop doubting every intention, second-guessing every offer, looking for the Machiavellian intent behind every red apple?
JOHN: I don’t think we’ve lost our faith –
ARTHUR (passionately): But I have! We stand here in the home of our former enemy, with a different villain, to attempt to stop an even greater foe. And all the while, I can’t help but doubt every word, every offer! Every decision, searching for the intention behind it.
JOHN (interrupting): That’s not losing faith, Arthur. We have been manipulated. Lillith has absolutely tricked you and me, multiple times –
ARTHUR: But I don’t want to think that way!
JOHN: You want to be naive.
ARTHUR: No! I want to believe in goodness. I want my… faith back, my faith… in humanity.
JOHN: These forces, these… creatures… they’re not humanity.
ARTHUR: Aren’t they, though? I argued with Lillith tooth-and-nail and while her words spoke villainy, her actions… those made between her words… were actions of care. Mercy for Alia Shawl. Outrage at a loss of herself, defensiveness for what happened to Faroe, but –
JOHN: To manipulate you.
ARTHUR: She let me keep Faroe.
JOHN: She… what?
ARTHUR: I didn’t let her go, John. (‘Faroe’s Lullaby’ begins.) And I never will.
JOHN: I…
ARTHUR: She understood that. She understood how important Faroe is to me.
JOHN: You didn’t let Faroe go? I’m… I’m sorry. I think I understand.
ARTHUR: Do you?
JOHN: This journey, it’s taken so much from us. From you. Don’t let it take your faith.
ARTHUR: Let this be the time… let this be the place. I am through trying to outmaneuver these gods. I am tired of second guessing every intention.
JOHN: Without reason –
ARTHUR: And that’s it, isn’t it? These theories we’ve concocted, they’re possibilities without reason. Without tangible proof, merely… theories. That’s exactly the kind of distraction Kayne would relish.
JOHN: Agreed. So.
ARTHUR: So. For peace of mind, let’s share our theories with Lillith and perhaps… she can put them to rest.
JOHN: Okay.
ARTHUR: Oh, is there anything in here?
JOHN: Uh, it’s a simple bathroom. Vanity, sink. A tub. Nothing that would fit in the bag you found. (Arthur grunts. Fabric shifting.) Speaking of, where did you find –
ARTHUR: On the way to Carcosa. Found it in the sand, around a mailbox.
JOHN: Is it a…?
ARTHUR: A messenger’s bag, yes. I think maybe from the war.
JOHN: Alright. (Arthur sighs.)
ARTHUR: Yes. Let’s find Lillith. (Arthur grunts in exertion. Metal clicking.)
JOHN: It’s stuck.
ARTHUR: Feels… locked. (Rapid jiggling.)
JOHN: No, no. It can’t be. It…
ARTHUR: Why can’t it be? (An otherworldly whoosh. John reacts in fear.) What?
JOHN: The light. All the light… it’s gone.
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: Stop, stop! (The jiggling stops.)
ARTHUR: What do you mean, it’s gone?
JOHN: All the light from the window. It’s gone, Arthur. I can’t see a thing. It’s pitch-black. Get the lighter. Arthur!
ARTHUR: No. No, no. No no. We’ll just… just to light the lamp. Let’s keep the lighter safe.
JOHN: Right, right. Okay. Okay. (Metal clicking. The lighter flicks. An otherworldly whoosh.) What?
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: It’s filling the room with a pale yellow light, but… on the wall, on the far wall, it’s… projecting a shape. A-A window.
ARTHUR: A window?
JOHN: It’s appeared on the wall, as if it had always been there. Ringed in… polished gold and warm light. It’s… round. Ornate. With strange curls at the top and the bottom of the window. Where did you – ?
ARTHUR: We traded for it.
JOHN: There’s… There’s movement. Through the window, Arthur. I see a… figure, but they’re out of focus. Move closer. Carefully! I see… a street. It’s day. A man, walking. Quickly. Angrily, i-it’s… a city. New York? No. No, Arkham, I think.
ARTHUR: Arkham?
JOHN: He walks… he passes a man who throws a bucket of water on the street. He nearly steps in it, but moves out of the way, quickly. He turns his head to the right, as if hearing something on the other side of the road, h-he… the man is you, Arthur! Or a version of you.
ARTHUR: What is this? Who –
JOHN: You’re walking. Still walking, fast. Like you’re avoiding something, someone. A… A woman is following you. Angrily. She has… dark hair, her eyes are fixed upon you. I can’t hear her, but she calls you, a-and… and you stop. Arthur, it’s… it’s Faroe.
ARTHUR: Faroe? (A bittersweet melody begins.)
JOHN: She’s… older. A young woman, eighteen, maybe, s-she’s… she’s speaking to you.
ARTHUR: What about? What about!?
JOHN: I-I don’t know!
ARTHUR: Is this… Is this from one of the worlds, one of the realities you took me from? Perhaps one left that –
JOHN: She’s saying something, heated. You’re arguing, I think. I can’t tell, but… t-there’s a moment of calm. You’re crying. Scared, maybe, a-and she… wait, wait. There’s a man. Behind you! You can’t see him, but she does. He pulls a gun, Arthur! She runs to you – to protect you! He fires! Arthur!
ARTHUR (shouting): No!
JOHN: Arthur, he shot Faroe!
ARTHUR: No!
JOHN (panicked): H-He shot her dead, Arthur!
ARTHUR: No!
JOHN: Arthur, the lamp! (A commotion, the striking of metal. An otherworldly whoosh.)
ARTHUR: What – what was – bring her back!
JOHN: The window, it’s gone!
ARTHUR (frenzied): Bring her back! (The lighter flicks.) Light, you son of a bitch. Where is it?
JOHN: It’s gone.
ARTHUR: Where is it?
JOHN: The window is gone, Arthur, it’s just light now.
ARTHUR (overlapping): What was that?
JOHN: A-And…
ARTHUR: A reality? One that didn’t die in the Dark World, I-I…
JOHN: Arthur!
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: I don’t know where we are.
ARTHUR: Where are we?
JOHN: We are in… a tunnel.
ARTHUR: Faroe was…
JOHN: Listen, Arthur. You are right. Asking you to let go of Faroe was foolish and selfish. But you still need to focus on now. If you’re going to keep her in your heart… then do not lose yourself. (Arthur exhales.) For all we know… this is Kayne’s doing.
ARTHUR: Even the window?
JOHN: Even the window!
ARTHUR: Right. Right.
JOHN: You are stronger than this.
ARTHUR (calmer): I am. I am, alright.
JOHN: It’s a stone tunnel. One way.
ARTHUR: What about the door?
JOHN: A dirt wall.
ARTHUR (exhaling): Right. (Footsteps.) These… tunnels?
JOHN: Like the ones beneath the mansion.
ARTHUR: Real? Or an illusion?
JOHN: Does it make a difference? The tunnel opens ahead. A-And… (Sudden.) W-w-w-wait! Stop! (Pebbles fall.)
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: It’s… open. A cavern before us, massive. And a sheer drop. There, there’s… nothing.
ARTHUR: What’s at the bottom?
JOHN: I don’t know.
KAYNE (faraway, echoing): I do! (He cackles.)
JOHN: Kayne.
ARTHUR: Where are you? Show yourself!
KAYNE (closer): Why would I do that? Oh! So you can slip that little lighter into my pocket? You boys sure talk loud. (He cackles.)
JOHN: What lighter?
KAYNE: So! You’re working with my daughter, now? I told you she’d like you. But I think you bet on the wrong horse there, boys! (Faux simpering.) After all… how could you trust such a mischievous little monster!
(Shifting rock.)
JOHN: The wall behind us, it’s moved up! We’re at the edge of this…
KAYNE: So. Are you going to jump?
ARTHUR: What’s below us?
KAYNE: Faith! Trust in humanity again, remember? Trust me, I… I can catch you.
JOHN: Arthur, I can’t see what’s below us. Or anywhere. We are on the edge of this abyss. Nothing i-is all around us.
KAYNE: Well, you hold on. Or let go.
ARTHUR: That’s not a choice! You’re… you’re pushing us into the abyss!
KAYNE: Huh. You know, you’re right. Let me see if I can get two different answers out of the same question! (Shifting rock.)
JOHN: Oh! The wall behind us… it’s… receded. And the tunnel, it… it seems to lead back to the bathroom.
KAYNE: Below you… letting go. Behind you… holding on. Which will you do?
ARTHUR: This isn’t even a question, you…
KAYNE: I want you to make the choice, nonetheless.
JOHN: What do you mean ‘it isn’t even a question;?
ARTHUR: He wants us to let go. He wants us to fall. (Falling pebbles.)
JOHN: So we head back.
ARTHUR: Exactly.
KAYNE: Or! Is that what I want you to do? After all… I gave you the choice.
ARTHUR: The illusion of choice.
KAYNE (frenziedly): What is an illusion, anyway? Does a disappearing bunny not still make you sad? Does your heart not ache reading a sad, sad story? Do you not scream when the bullet rips through your daughter’s forehead? (He cackles.)
ARTHUR (darkly): You…
JOHN: Don’t let him get –
KAYNE: Even illusions can cause real pain.
ARTHUR: This choice is an illusion. One of your games, and I am choosing not to play.
KAYNE (told-you-so): Another illusion of choice! (Falling pebbles.)
JOHN (worried): Arthur, Arthur!
ARTHUR: You want me to let go.
JOHN: What are you doing?
ARTHUR: Let’s let go.
JOHN: Arthur! Jesus! (Arthur grunts in effort. Kayne cackles. Rushing wind. Arthur makes noises of fear.) We’re falling!
KAYNE: The boy really and truly let go! All that baggage, all that growth! Look at his arc, his character development, his transformation!
(John and Arthur roar. A loud impact into water. Arthur grunts in pain.)
JOHN: God damn it. (Arthur spits.)
ARTHUR: Where… Where are we? (Water splashing. Arthur breathes heavily.)
JOHN: A swamp.
KAYNE: Not just any swamp! The swamp. (A sad melody begins.)
ARTHUR: The…? (Kayne cackles.)
JOHN: The carriage. Antoine. Where Kayne appeared.
KAYNE: Where we were reunited! After your English campaign… what heroism, what sacrifice!
ARTHUR: Another illusion.
KAYNE: I am not my daughter, kitten! This is not a nightmare. I am the three ghosts: future, present… and past.
ANTOINE: M’lord?
ARTHUR (softly): Antoine.
JOHN: Antoine.
ARTHUR: Are you…?
ANTOINE (scared): What… what has happened, m’lord?
JOHN: Jesus, Arthur, he’s… he’s where we… left him, b-before… before he…
ARTHUR: Why are you doing this?
KAYNE (accusatory): You wanted to let go!
ARTHUR: How on Earth is this letting go?
KAYNE: Well, how isn’t it? You let go and now you’re here.
ARTHUR: You brought us here!
KAYNE: No no no no no! You brought you here. This was your journey. I just wanted the Blackstone. Now, you want to dig it out again, or…?
ANTOINE: M’lord? What do you mean, ‘dig’?
JOHN: No! Kayne.
ARTHUR: I-I don’t understand. Why are you… what do you want?
KAYNE: What I want? You know what I want!
ARTHUR: No I don’t! You have the Stone. You’ve everything you need.
KAYNE (frustrated): Not everything. Not yet. I am sure she knows… she’s been fucking with me since the very start. I see that now. Though… why she bet on you, I still don’t see that wager paying off. (He hums.) But I’m betting… that she told you.
ARTHUR: She bet on me ‘cause I can stop you.
KAYNE: You can stop me!? (He cackles.)
JOHN: He’s… He’s close. Closer than… I still don’t see him, though.
KAYNE (much closer): Keep those eyes peeled.
ARTHUR: I can. She knows it. And I know it.
KAYNE: You know it? Oh, I hear that tremble in your throat. You’re facing off against forces you can’t even comprehend, little one.
ARTHUR: Then… show me. Enough games. You’re like your daughter, bringing me through memories and –
KAYNE: I told you. They’re not memories.
ANTOINE: M’lord, I don’t understand. (Faraway shifting. Metal clanking. A sad melody begins.)
SIR VALE: Arthur. What are you doing back so soon?
JOHN: I…
SIR VALE: Where is Alia?
JOHN: Sir Vale.
ANTOINE: M’lord?
KAYNE: Alive in this world!
ARTHUR: Enough of this.
KAYNE: Of this? Oh, oh, oh. Of this! Right, right, right, right, right.
SIR VALE: You…
ANTOINE: I don’t understand.
SIR VALE: Arthur.
ANTOINE: Why…
(Two impacts. Antoine and Sir Vale make noises of pain. Sounds of gore. Thumps.)
JOHN: Sir Vale!
ARTHUR: No! Why? Why kill them? Why…
KAYNE (condescending): If you have to ask, then you don’t deserve an answer!
JOHN: Sir Vale and… and… both of their heads… have…
KAYNE: You know, you were standing right there when you said it, you know. (An otherworldly whoosh. Arthur’s voice.) ‘I never should’ve opened that damn book.’ (An otherworldly whoosh. Normal voice.) Remember? Want to see what it’s like? (‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.)
ARTHUR: What it’s… like? I… (Kayne huffs.)
KAYNE: We’ll have to skip over the ghost of Christmas present. Lillith is being slippery anyway, so. Are we going with ‘Lillson’ or ‘Willith’?
JOHN: If we never met…
KAYNE: To the future! (A fingersnap and an otherworldly whoosh. John grunts in pain.)
JOHN: We’re… We’re on a street. Outside Arkham, maybe, a-a suburb. Snow is… falling. Thick white flakes… we’re looking in on a house. (Footsteps through snow.) Through a large bay window in the front room.
(An otherworldly zap. John reacts in surprise.)
KAYNE (cockney): Evening, governor! ‘Tis a brisk and chilly one. Best get inside! (He giggles.)
JOHN: Kayne is perched on the roof, looking down. Bathed in shadow. I can’t… see anything, his face is hidden – (Kayne shushes him. John sighs.)
KAYNE: The action is in the house, corncob.
JOHN: It’s… (He sighs.)
ARTHUR (whispering): What? Tell me.
(Muted sounds of a radio: festive tunes.)
JOHN (somberly): It’s Christmas. You’re… there. Faroe… is there, too. She’s maybe… ten. Sitting on your lap as you carve the turkey. Oscar is there. And Noel. And Daniel… even Marie is there, though she’s in a wheelchair. You all look so… happy. More than that, y-you all look like… like family.
ARTHUR: An illusion.
KAYNE: And yet. It pricks the heart. Doesn’t it? (Footsteps through snow.)
JOHN: I’m… not there.
KAYNE (simpering): No. You’re not. And all these people still ended up together, and somehow! Faroe is alive. What magic is this?
ARTHUR: It’s just that. It’s magic, it’s not real.
KAYNE: Oh, but it can be. Infinite worlds, Arthur! Sure, maybe this one is just a projection… perhaps this one is a heart-tugging Norman Rockwell portrait, but! Reality doesn’t have to be far from this. I promise.
JOHN: Arthur.
ARTHUR (angry): What does any of this matter? Your plan is to end all of it, to stop –
KAYNE: Oh no no no no, Artie! Oh. That’s just my wager.
JOHN: That’s what you told us you –
KAYNE: Listen. If you want to be all hum and glum about my bet, so be it! But my truth is to kill Azathoth, ascend to his role, and reshape reality. You’re the naysayer who thinks it can’t be done. But have you even heard the odds?
JOHN: What does it matter?
KAYNE: What if I told you… the odds? The honest-to-god odds of me succeeding and replacing Azathoth… were better than one-in-two. Better than a flip of a coin. You still have that coin, right?
ARTHUR: No, I don’t.
KAYNE: No? Here. Catch. (Sound of a coin being flipped.)
JOHN: You caught it. (Kayne laughs.)
ARTHUR: So even if that’s the case… this doesn’t exist, it…
KAYNE: Says who!? I can carve out a little slice of life for you. Hell, my cosmos will be infinite. I could see to having a whole planet where this is a reality.
ARTHUR: Like it is now.
KAYNE: Only better. A literal heaven on earth!
JOHN: It’s bullshit.
KAYNE: So cynical!
ARTHUR: What makes you think we would ever believe you? What have you done that is honest?
KAYNE: Everything I’ve done is honest! Are you really going to tell me that anything I’ve done was a surprise?
ARTHUR: I-I… I can’t tell what your goal is here! Why bother? We’ve nothing to offer you.
KAYNE: I told you, I don’t have everything I need!
JOHN: What else is there?
(Two otherworldly zaps.)
KAYNE (at a distance): Can I trust you to talk in person?
JOHN: He’s across the street. Wearing a black robe, like…
KAYNE: Like the ghost of Christmas future! (Footsteps through snow.)
JOHN: His face is still hidden.
ARTHUR: Why are you hiding your face?
KAYNE: Don’t worry about it. Now we can talk, man to man! With the street between us. Can’t have you putting that lighter on me just yet. Not until I know what it does.
ARTHUR: I’m here. I’m listening.
KAYNE: My plan only works if I have the last two lines crossed off my list.
ARTHUR: And they are?
KAYNE: Finding the obelisk… and killing the last Nyarlathotep. (John hums. Arthur huffs.) Now! I’m betting you know where one of those two things are, but maybe not both. So. What do you say? You tell me where my little doppelganger is, and I’ll create a world for you. For Faroe… for Daddy… for Johnny… for every little spark of joy in your life.
(A sad melody begins.)
ARTHUR: Is it really that… picturesque?
JOHN: It’s… heartwrenching. Perfect. Right down to the crystal glassware.
ARTHUR (sighing): Well then, Kayne. First off. Fuck you.
JOHN: Well said.
ARTHUR: If you think this is even a choice for me, you have so… misunderstood who you’re up against.
KAYNE (unimpressed): Up against?
ARTHUR: Shush. It’s my time to talk. See, I’ve seen your colors. I’ve watched your dance. I’ve been seated during each and every one of your grand entrances and exits, your overtures and annoying little rants. And let me now say what I think you so desperately need to hear: no.
See, I’ve met your daughter. I know her intimately. And I’ve seen what makes her tick. And I see it in you now. A little child who’s never been told no. My grand journey brought me full circle, to understand that in the end, it’s the limitations that make us who we are. And sweetie… you really need to put some rails on that ego.
It’s okay to deny yourself every once in a while and if you can’t do that… then I happily will. No. You don’t get the answers. You don’t get the meaning, you don’t get the location of anything. And if you come to me, if you try to lay those fingers on my brain, I will slip this lighter into your pocket, and then you’ll really see what it feels like to get fucked six ways from Sunday.
(A short pause.)
KAYNE: Wonderful! Anything to add there, banana peel?
JOHN: No. And the name’s John, asshole.
KAYNE: Touche.
(Otherworldly whoosh.)
JOHN: We’re back in the bathroom.
ARTHUR: Where is…?
JOHN: I don’t see him.
ARTHUR: The tunnel?
JOHN: Gone.
ARTHUR: The door? (Attempts to open a door.)
JOHN: Still locked.
ARTHUR: Why?
(Metal squeaking. The sound of pouring water.)
JOHN: The bathtub. Arthur…
ARTHUR: I hear it.
JOHN: We can’t…
ARTHUR: We won’t. (Sounds of splashing. Distant voices.)
JOHN: Jesus Christ. There’s someone in it.
ARTHUR: Don’t describe it.
JOHN: Arthur, don’t!
ARTHUR: God – God damn it! (Splashing water. John and Arthur grunt in exertion.)
JOHN: We’re at the tub.
ARTHUR (panicked): I’ve got her.
JOHN: You’ve grabbed her.
ARTHUR: I’ve got her.
JOHN: She’s… she’s drowning, Arthur.
ARTHUR: No no no, I have her. I have her.
JOHN: She’s still… sinking.
ARTHUR: No no no no no.
JOHN: Arthur! Her head, it’s –
ARTHUR: No no no no, I’m not letting go. I have her.
JOHN: It’s not coming above the water!
KAYNE (faux innocent): Are you not letting go?
ARTHUR (anguished): God damn it, Kayne! (Kayne cackles.)
JOHN: Arthur! She’s sinking in the tub. (Arthur makes noises of fear.) She’s drowning, Arthur!
KAYNE: Now, are you still gonna let go? Pretty easy when it’s just your life, eh? (Kayne cackles.)
(Running water. Sounds of distress. Arthur gasps wildly.)
JOHN: Arthur! You need to let go.
ARTHUR (straining): I… I can’t. I’m… I can’t…
KAYNE (theatrically): Let go, Artie! Let go!
JOHN: Arthur!
KAYNE: Let her go!
JOHN: Arthur, listen to me.
ARTHUR: I can’t!
JOHN: This is why I said it, I-I know… you love Faroe, but you’re only… killing her. Keeping her in your arms, she’s… she’s drowning, Arthur. Y-You’re just… you’re watching her drown, over and over again.
ARTHUR (hysterical): I can’t… I won’t, John… she’s… she’s my life.
JOHN: But if you don’t let go… you’re only killing her again.
KAYNE (dramatically): Let go! Let go!
JOHN: Let go.
ARTHUR: I’m drowning her?
JOHN: Yes.
ARTHUR: I can’t… I-I…
KAYNE (passionately): Let go, Artie.
ARTHUR: I can’t get her out of the tub. (‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.) I can’t.
JOHN: No.
ARTHUR: And if I let go… she’ll drown just like she did…
JOHN: You are only prolonging both of your pain by holding on. You can’t… change this.
ARTHUR: Alright, alright. Alright. I know what I have to do. (Sudden splashing.)
JOHN: A-Arthur… what are you…?
KAYNE (surprised): Hey… hey now! What are you doing?
JOHN: Arthur!
ARTHUR: I may not be able to pull her out…
JOHN: Get out of the tub!
ARTHUR: But I can get in with her.
JOHN: Arthur! (He growls in frustration. Kayne cackles. A sad melody begins.)
KAYNE: Wild, man!
JOHN: Arthur!
ARTHUR (tearfully): I may not be able to change what’s happened… but this time… I will not let her be alone. You’re not alone, honey. Daddy’s here.
JOHN (yelling): Arthur! (Kayne cackles. Water splashes. Sounds of running water grow distant. Sounds of bubbles.)
KAYNE: She sinks further, further!
JOHN: Arthur, you… you have her. The tub grows in size, it’s… it’s massive, under here. But you’re still holding her.
KAYNE: How long will he hold on?
JOHN: A-Arthur, you will drown! (Sounds of distress, underwater.) This isn’t how it ends. This isn’t how it needs to happen, A-Arthur! (Louder.) Arthur! (Unintelligible whispering. Sounds of water movement. John grunts.) Yes! There! Let her go. Let her… (Arthur surfaces. John groans as Arthur coughs up water.) Arthur. Jesus, I… I’m so sorry. You… but she was taking you down, taking us down, Arthur.
ARTHUR (overlapping): No. No, she wasn’t.
JOHN: She was drowning us.
ARTHUR: That wasn’t Faroe, it was… it was Kayne, and…
JOHN: I know. I know, but still, it…
ARTHUR: S-She whispered.
JOHN: What?
ARTHUR: I heard her, John. I didn’t let go of her because of…
JOHN: What do you mean?
ARTHUR: You didn’t hear it? Hear her?
JOHN: No, I…
ARTHUR: I-I was holding on, content to hold on. (Emotionally.) I couldn’t let her…
JOHN: I know. I know, I…
ARTHUR: But, but… but then I heard… her, John. I heard her voice in my ear.
JOHN: Arthur…
ARTHUR: She whispered, John.
JOHN: What did she say?
ARTHUR: She said… ‘not now’. She said it has to be… colder.
JOHN: Colder, w-what does that – ?
ARTHUR: I-I, I don’t know!
JOHN: Arthur, Kayne has been…
ARTHUR: This wasn’t him!
JOHN: But there’s no way to know for sure –
ARTHUR: No. I… I could tell, John. I could feel it. I could feel… her. (He exhales.) Her light.
JOHN: Alright. (Arthur sniffs.) What does it mean?
ARTHUR: She’s spoken to me before, I’ve heard her voice, I… it was, I…
JOHN (gently): Okay. Alright.
ARTHUR: Where… Where are we? (Sounds of shifting.)
JOHN: I don’t know. It’s pitch-black.
ARTHUR: The lamp…
JOHN: Left on the floor of the bathroom.
ARTHUR: Fuck.
JOHN: I can’t see.
ARTHUR: Alright. (Fabric shifting.)
JOHN: It’s the other pocket.
ARTHUR: Oh, yeah? What’s this, then? (The lighter flicks. He chuckles.)
JOHN (surprised): Oh. Fair enough.
ARTHUR: It’s okay. (The lighter flicks, again and again. He huffs.)
JOHN: What?
ARTHUR: It’s not lighting.
JOHN: There’s always a first time.
UNKNOWN MAN (muffled): Hello?
JOHN: A voice. I can’t see anything.
UNKNOWN MAN: Hello? Are you there?
ARTHUR: Who… Who’s there?
DETECTIVE NOEL (surprised): Arthur?
JOHN: Noel? (Footsteps.)
ARTHUR: Noel. Noel!
JOHN: Straight ahead! (Louder footsteps. Sound of light impact.)
DETECTIVE NOEL: Jesus fucking Chr –
ARTHUR: Where are you? I can hear you, but-but –
DETECTIVE NOEL: I’m on the other side of the wall. Arthur, Jesus Christ. What the fuck happened?
ARTHUR: What happened to you? Where… Where are you? Where are we?
JOHN: Wait, wait, wait.
DETECTIVE NOEL: Wait, hold on. (Noel continues, muffled under John.)
JOHN: Adam Frye. The King borrowed his voice, why wouldn’t Kayne –
ARTHUR: H-Hold – stop, stop. What – what?
JOHN: This must be another trick.
DETECTIVE NOEL: Arthur! (Arthur exhales.)
ARTHUR: What’s something that… what… what’s something only you and I would know?
DETECTIVE NOEL (intense): God damn it, it’s me! He’s gonna take you away from here.
ARTHUR: T-this doesn’t make any sense. Why would he keep you alive? Why… why now, why here?
JOHN: It’s another trick.
ARTHUR: John’s right –
DETECTIVE NOEL (desperate): God damn it, Arthur! My name is Charlie, I… I thought maybe Roland was the voice in your head, I-I picked you up at 8:45 for Red Hook –
ARTHUR: No, no no. You –
DETECTIVE NOEL: I was late. (Arthur exhales.) I knocked on Marie’s door at 8:57.
(A light melody begins.)
ARTHUR (awed): Noel.
JOHN: It is him! (He breathes deeply.)
ARTHUR: Where are we? Where are you?
DETECTIVE NOEL: Threshold, Arthur! Threshold! (An otherworldly zap. Arthur reacts in pain.)
JOHN: No! (He growls in aggravation.)
ARTHUR: God damn it.
JOHN: Kayne.
KAYNE: Breathe easy, boys! He’s alive. (John huffs.)
ARTHUR: Why? Why did you keep him alive?
JOHN: He’s… we’re in a… I don’t know, a-a –
KAYNE: The Grand Operahouse! You know, I saw our mutual friend Collins in the nosebleeds as a young lad here! And I just thought… that’s where I want to perform. (Footsteps.)
JOHN: He’s on stage. There’s a… a set behind him, a… a house set, like a living room. But it’s… covered in blood, Jesus Christ.
KAYNE: A failed stage production. A little… benevolent feature I orchestrated with some friends. (Conspiratorially.) But they took ‘break a leg’ a little too literally! (He cackles.)
JOHN: He’s standing to the side, his face still hidden beneath a black hood.
ARTHUR: Where is ‘Threshold’? Where is Noel, I…?
KAYNE: Is that really what you want? Because if so… then we can make our deal right now. Your ‘fuck you’ speech landed. But now that you’ve touched the reality of how dark I can make your days… surely you’re more open to a deal, right?
JOHN: The blood on the set, it’s… old. Months, maybe a year, I…
KAYNE: That’s enough.
ARTHUR: I told you that –
KAYNE: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Look. Just do me a favor. From one father to another. Just… consider my offer. Seriously. Consider telling me… about the other Nyarlathotep.
ARTHUR: You can’t be serious.
KAYNE: Deadly. Look! I can pull everyone up on this stage and kill them one by one. Maybe you can’t see Antoine and Sir Vale’s heads explode… but I can buy you a bib for the splatter section I can make here. I can use that stick all day long! But I do grow tired of it.
ARTHUR: You don’t seem tired of it.
KAYNE (amused): No! Who am I kidding? I’m ravenous! But… truth be told, and I’m a little embarrassed to say, I’ve chewed through a lot of… meat, if you catch my drift. I got to keep some of your peanut gallery alive.
JOHN: Until you destroy everything.
KAYNE: Just think about it! That’s all I’m asking. Take a moment… sit down… and discuss. Choices, remember? Just be sure that you don’t want to tell me. If I never even give you a chance to decide… what kind of host am I? I’ll be back. (A snap and an otherworldly zap.)
JOHN: He’s gone.
ARTHUR (bitterly): He’s never gone.
JOHN (confused): He wants us to what?
ARTHUR: To decide whether or not to tell him about the location of the – (He cuts himself off.) Of Nyarlathotep.
JOHN: Alright. Is there any harm in considering?
ARTHUR: What is there to consider?
JOHN: Nothing. But if that’s what he wants… I don’t want to see… Marie on that stage, o-or…
ARTHUR (sighing): Fine. (He sits in a chair.)
JOHN: So, do you want to tell Kayne about the last Nyarlathotep?
ARTHUR (sighing): I-If we did, maybe he’ll spare some brutality.
JOHN: Right. Right.
ARTHUR: But it would still only be in the short-term. I can’t… (He exhales.) I mean, no, I-I don’t… I don’t understand the play, here. (A mysterious melody begins.)
JOHN: I don’t understand much of what he does.
ARTHUR: That’s not true, not entirely. His motivations may have started out nebulous, but… they’ve become quite clear, for the most part. So why leave us? Why offer a choice if he knows we’re not going to make –
JOHN (interrupting): What is he distracting us from?
ARTHUR: He’s nowhere?
JOHN: I don’t see him.
ARTHUR: He’s capable of putting us in a box and tossing us into the ocean. He isn’t keeping us here.
JOHN: He doesn’t need us distracted, he doesn’t require anything of us. Other than to…
ARTHUR: To think about the other Nyarlathotep.
JOHN: Why?
ARTHUR: Why would he want it… why would he want him on our minds? (Wooden creaking.) No, wait, we – (Sounds of an impact. Arthur seethes in pain, John roars. High-pitched ringing. Sounds of gore and blood.)
JOHN: Arthur!
KAYNE: God, you’re just a clever little rat, aren’t you? (He cackles.)
ARTHUR: What is he –
JOHN: He’s behind us! (Arthur gasps in pain. Kayne hums in pleasure.) His fingers, they’re… they’re through the back of your head! I can feel – (He roars.)
KAYNE: Oh, powerful as I may be, I just can’t read that little mind! (Fiercely.) Now I need you to focus on what I want.
(Sounds of gore. Arthur struggles.)
JOHN: He’s in the seat behind us, Arthur. You can – (Multiple thumps. John grunts in pain.)
KAYNE: Whoa there, little guy! (He cackles.)
JOHN: Yes, Arthur! (More thuds. Sounds of a struggle.) We’ve rolled out of the seat backwards, and are – (Kayne grunts.) On Kayne! You, you –
ARTHUR: I know what to do.
JOHN: He, he has –
KAYNE (breathless): Jesus, you’re squirmy, just – just sit still! (An impact. Arthur reacts in pain. High-pitched ringing, sounds of gore.) There, there. Ah. The Manager. Is it?
JOHN: Now, Arthur! (Multiple thuds. Arthur pants quickly. Kayne cackles.) We’ve gotten some distance. Kayne sits in the theater seat, his hand… red with our blood, but…
ARTHUR: Oh, God. Oh, my head. Oh, my…
KAYNE: Don’t you worry, Artie! My fingers may have been massaging that hippocampus, but I didn’t leave any holes!
JOHN: There’s no blood on the back of your head. His fingers entered but left no mark.
KAYNE: Everything I needed, I got without tearing your head off! See –
ARTHUR: You just wanted me to think of the Manager. You just –
KAYNE: Needed for him to be top of mind! Literally. (He cackles.)
JOHN: God. His face, Arthur, it’s… it’s been revealed. He’s… he’s…
KAYNE: Not immune… to the Blackstone’s effects. No.
JOHN: Arthur, upon Kayne’s face is a sinister smile. A devilish, cracked grin that spans the length of his head from ear to ear. His teeth are jagged… his lips, cracked with blood and splitting his eyes, are –
KAYNE: You think that even a being as powerful as me wouldn’t be affected by his own creator’s gifts! And yet… no one is immune from Azathoth’s influence!
ARTHUR (in horror): My God.
KAYNE: Well, not yet. But soon.
JOHN: His black cloak hangs unmoving.
KAYNE: I suppose I don’t need this any more. Vanity, thy name is Kayne!
JOHN: He drops the cloak altogether and… rises. Floating above the audience seats…
KAYNE: So! The Waylay. What a name.
ARTHUR: Kayne! You can’t, listen to me.
KAYNE: Oh, I can! And I will. See, you may not have faith in my wager, but boy, has my resolve never been stronger! I knew you’d think of the last Nyarlathotep when given the chance, just enough to tell me who he is and where he’s hiding! I knew I could get you to change your answer on the same question because, well, my dear, you are so predictable! (Growing more frenzied.) Your entire species, your goal on this earth, I’ve seen it over and over and over and over and over again! There are no moves I haven’t seen coming.
JOHN: He’s floating in the center of the room. The chairs beneath have all disappeared .He’s looking down from above and - and… Alright, Arthur. (Seriously.) Everything’s in place.
ARTHUR: We’re good?
JOHN: We’re good.
KAYNE: What’s that?
ARTHUR: You’re right, Kayne. We’re awfully predictable. You saw all this coming.
KAYNE: From a country mile away! (He giggles.)
ARTHUR (slyly): Except for what I just slipped in your pocket.
KAYNE: What’s that, now?
JOHN: He’s all yours, Lillith.
KAYNE (surprised): Lillith?
LILLITH: You always were a terrible father.
KAYNE: Oh, really?
(‘Faroe’s Song’ begins. A large impact. Kayne reacts in pain. Otherworldly sizzling noises. Kayne’s noises grow more distorted.)
JOHN: Look up, Arthur. She’s at the balcony. I felt you slip the lighter into Kayne’s pocket. She’s directing this… beam, this energy that’s lighting Kayne up with a strange… glow. An almost… pure white. (Kayne roars, distorted.) A bright beam of light is growing from inside Kayne. From his pocket, the light that covers his body… it splices him into little pieces, and…
(A final, loud impact. Broken pieces clatter on the floor. High-pitched ringing. Sounds of rubble.)
ARTHUR: Is, is he…?
JOHN: He’s gone. (Arthur gasps.) Arthur! (Arthur chuckles in relief.)
ARTHUR: Oh, God.
JOHN: Jesus Christ, Arthur. How did you…?
ARTHUR: I hoped, I-I only hoped that Lillith would be there. Waiting, like she said. And that you would give me the sign.
JOHN: And when you pushed back, when you tumbled into Kayne, you…
ARTHUR: I put the lighter in his pocket. (He chuckles.)
JOHN: Well, Lillith. (Calling out.) Lillith!
(Footsteps.)
LILLITH (breathless): Well. I wasn’t sure you had it in you.
ARTHUR: Me neither, to be honest!
JOHN: I knew you did.
ARTHUR: So, so wait. What now?
JOHN: W-Well, that makes the Manager… the last Nyarlathotep alive. Right?
LILLITH: Yes.
ARTHUR: Right. Listen. If he’s the last… you told me that he was… that originally, he wanted to end the world, as well. To do the same thing that Kayne was going to do. Can we trust that?
JOHN: Given that we don’t know where the Blackstone is, either.
LILLITH: Yes. Yes, we can trust the Manager.
ARTHUR: How much?
LILLITH: Let’s not keep talking about the odds. It’s much better than a flip of a coin, put it that way.
JOHN: Right. (Realizing something.) O-Oh.
LILLITH: Look, he could’ve double-crossed me at any point. Hell, he could’ve sought out Kayne.
JOHN: Uh.
LILLITH: He had all the information Kayne wanted. For better or for worse, he is on our side. Besides. With the Manager being the last of his kind –
JOHN (overlapping): Wait.
LILLITH: – It gives a unique benefit to the Blackstone, one I hadn’t mentioned.
ARTHUR: Which is?
JOHN: Wait. Where is it?
LILLITH: Those effects that corrupted Kayne…
JOHN: Wait, wait. Where – ?
LILLITH: They’re permanent, but only because he –
JOHN (more intently): Wait!
LILLITH: What?
JOHN: Where’s… Where’s the coin that Kayne gave you?
ARTHUR: What?
LILLITH (urgently): What do you mean, he gave you a coin?
JOHN: I thought you put it in your left pocket.
ARTHUR: No, no, t-the lighter was in my left… pocket.
(Faraway, a lighter flicks.)
JOHN: No. The lighter was always… in your right pocket.
(A second lighter flicks closer.)
ARTHUR: But I… I put the lighter… in… (The lighter continues to flick.)
KAYNE (at a distance): Oh! Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just remarking at this lovely lighter. I mean, it’s… this one isn’t yours! This one is mine. See? (The lighter flicks.) Look familiar? No? How about now? (An otherworldly zap. A coin hits the ground.)
JOHN: It’s the coin. He changed it. I-In your pocket, he… he made the coin feel… and look… like a lighter. I didn’t even notice, w-we still have ours. (Closer, the lighter flicks.)
KAYNE: Tut tut, now! Don’t blame yourself, Marigold. (Footsteps. Growing closer.) It wasn’t your failed plan! Was it? Daughter o’mine? (Lillith pants. Kayne laughs. Violently.) Cat got your tongue? Such… a… letdown!
You just… had to kill me, didn’t you? Oh. Have you learned nothing? Vengeance will only get you so far! You have to let things go, my dear! Right, Artie? Let go! Well, I suppose that’s still too hard for you, too. We’ll get you there. Next time I ask, though, you better be a hundred percent! Okay? Oh, gosh. And how’d you like that little scene? (Mocking.) I know humans so well. Oh, really? Bet you didn’t see this coming. Oh, no, you got me! Bwah! (Fake dying noises.) Yay, yay! (He cackles.) Oh, come on, guys! You’re all so quiet. So shocked. That’s not fun. (Arthur breathes shakily.) Anyhoo! I suppose this act is over! Tear it down, boys!
(Sounds of groaning wood and stone. Destruction.)
JOHN: The… the stage… the living room set i-is… falling over! The whole theater is… a facade! (Continued sounds of destruction. The sound of wind.) We’re… We’re outside. Outside of Larson’s mansion, we’re still in Addison. On the ice. The lake outside his mansion. You… me…
LILLITH: God damn it.
JOHN: And Lillith. Kayne stands barefoot between us… in a black suit, maybe 30 feet away.
KAYNE: You know! I still may give you that Earth, Arthur. Why not? This family of ours seems to have a bond with you. Eh, Lillith? You’re her favorite, and I… well, I can’t get enough of you! (He makes frenzied noises.) You’re like… catnip to me! You know, it hurt killing you in England. It really did. So! I’m gonna take a page out of my own parenting handbook. I don’t want to be a do-what-I-say-not-what-I-do type of daddy, so instead of killing you all, something I so desperately want… I am going to let my vengeance… go. I have what I want. And I know where I need to go. So you two, or three… you just… enjoy from the ice. Okay?
LILLITH (livid): Kayne…
KAYNE: Yes?
LILLITH: I… you…
KAYNE: Speak up, dear.
ARTHUR (dazed): Huh.
KAYNE: Nothing? Ah. You, who were always a disappointment. So long. And Artie! Sorry that the final act of this play will have to be without you. ‘Till the next eternity! (He cackles. An otherworldly zap. John and Arthur gasp.)
JOHN: He… He’s gone.
LILLITH: Bastard!
ARTHUR (angry): You.
LILLITH: Me? Me what?
ARTHUR: You just had to try to kill him, didn’t you?
LILLITH: How dare you turn this on me! You’re the idiot who couldn’t tell his left pocket from his right!
ARTHUR: Did you need this lighter to trap him?
LILLITH: Yes! It wasn’t a case of killing him or trapping him. Both needed you to do your fucking job!
ARTHUR: Really?
(A short pause. Ice cracks.)
LILLITH: I don’t know! Maybe. I know killing him would’ve worked if you hadn’t –
JOHN: Arthur!
ARTHUR: I knew it. Would trapping him have worked without the lighter?
LILLITH: I don’t know! Okay?
ARTHUR: Great. Fucking great! (More ice snapping.)
JOHN: Arthur, careful! The ice isn’t strong.
LILLITH: Oh, fuck you, Arthur Lester. You dare to make this my fault! This is not about me.
ARTHUR: It is about you! You fucking… villain! Couldn’t you satiate your bloodlust in other ways?
LILLITH: That wasn’t about bloodlust, you idiot!
ARTHUR: It’s always about murder with you! You… killing Vale… killing Antoine!
LILLITH: For the last time, I did not kill them!
ARTHUR: You are so full of shit! You despise him. You couldn’t even stand up to him. You coward.
LILLITH: You shut your fucking mouth before I break your jaw clean off your face! (She huffs.)
ARTHUR (sarcastic): Well. I’m glad you’re disproving your need for violence.
LILLITH: Fuck you! This failed because of you.
JOHN: Enough! Both of you.
ARTHUR: Of me!? You needed to kill Kayne, you needed to kill Vale. Just like you needed to kill my parents. ‘Cause you are a monster.
LILLITH: Killing your parents… was the greatest kindness I gave them.
ARTHUR: How!?
LILLITH: Because it spared them. From him. (A sad melody begins.)
ARTHUR: What?
LILLITH (sighing): I… picked you. You are my favorite. I knew I needed someone. A human. A lure for Kayne and I chose you, partly because… yes. Your parents were followers of mine. And partly because you were… well, a good fit. I knew… once Kayne started becoming obsessed with you… that he would torture your parents mercilessly. Without end, without remorse. Forevermore, if it meant understanding you one-percent greater. I killed them because I knew it would prevent him… from ever laying a finger on them. I killed them because they were good followers of mine… and they deserved a better end… than at the hands of Kayne.
ARTHUR: I don’t believe you.
LILLITH: I don’t care if you believe me. It’s the truth.
JOHN: I believe you.
LILLITH: Well, I’m glad.
JOHN: And you should too, Arthur. We’ve come this far. We need to start believing in each other, right?
ARTHUR (sighing): Fine. Fine. I’m sorry. So what now?
LILLITH: I don’t know. He’s going to head to the Waylay. He’ll turn the place upside down to find him –
ARTHUR: Because the Manager knows where the Obelisk is.
LILLITH: But the Manager won’t be there. But I can’t travel like Kayne can, so we can’t get there. (She shivers.) God, it’s cold.
ARTHUR: You can’t get there.
LILLITH: No.
ARTHUR: But we can.
JOHN: What?
LILLITH: How?
ARTHUR: This water is cold. Colder than…
JOHN: Arthur, it…
ARTHUR: We die.
JOHN: Arthur. We have no idea if that would work! We have nothing to prove that the Waylay is still there, or that the mechanisms that brought us there in the first place are still in place!
ARTHUR (insistently): Yes, we do. Faroe told me.
LILLITH (puzzled): Faroe?
JOHN: Arthur.
ARTHUR: I know, I… I can feel it. That’s what she meant, John, that’s what she was saying. Well, Lillith? What do you think?
LILLITH: I say try it.
JOHN: Arthur, I –
ARTHUR: John, trust me. Better yet… trust Faroe.
JOHN: Fuck it. Let’s do it. (Ice cracking.)
LILLITH: Alright, look. I can get to the Obelisk.
ARTHUR: How?
LILLITH: It’s closer than I care to admit. Once I let the Manager know, he can… activate it. It’ll let Kayne know where it is, and… and then I’ll be ready.
ARTHUR: To do what?
LILLITH: To trap him, this time. (‘Faroe’s Song’ begins.)
ARTHUR: You’re sure?
LILLITH: Yes. He’s right. You’re right. Besides… even though I trust the Manager, he’s still a Nyarlathotep, and I don’t want him to be the last one alive.
JOHN: Agreed.
ARTHUR: Okay. So you’ll be there to trap him. When the moment is right.
LILLITH: Which moment is that?
ARTHUR : I am going to put this fucking lighter in his pocket. The right lighter, this time.
LILLITH: You’re sure?
JOHN: We can do this.
LILLITH: Alright. Then I’ll be waiting out of sight at the Obelisk. You’ll have to find a way to get there. Don’t let him leave the Waylay until I’m ready. Not until he senses it.
ARTHUR: Well, how do we keep him there?
LILLITH: Shouldn’t be too tough. He can’t resist you.
JOHN: When will we know that the Obelisk is activated?
LILLITH: You’ll know. You’ll sense it, too.
ARTHUR: Alright.
(The sound of ice cracking.)
LILLITH: Well, I better hoof it, then. I have miles to go… and well, this ice isn’t exactly stable. See you at the end. Boys.
ARTHUR: Yeah. See you there.
JOHN: So long… Lillith. (Lillith giggles, at a distance.) The ice is, uh… it shouldn’t take much to break through. You ready for this?
ARTHUR: You know the answer to that. (Nervous chuckle.)
JOHN: Yeah. Alright. (Ice cracking.) This is going to hurt.
ARTHUR: I know. But… this too shall pass.
(Ice cracking, a grunt of effort, and the sound of water. Unintelligible whispers rise up.)
FAROE: Goodbye, Daddy.
(A final click, followed by static.)
(END Part 59.)