Part 40 "The Order" I

Part 40: THE ORDER
(I/II)

Transcripts made by Jack, K.M., Aebriel, larwuś 

CWs: assault, cults, mind control, heavy sounds of gore, blood, memory issues, choking/gurgling, wound trauma, neck injury, heavy coughing, mentions of body horror, eye trauma

(The sound of splashing water, like waves. A horn sounds. A melancholy piano melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR (whispering): This one?

 

JOHN: There are two men on the boat. 

 

NOEL (whispering): Yeah. Yeah, this one. Are you ready?

 

JOHN: Absolutely.

 

ARTHUR: Yeah.

 

NOEL: Wait for them to dock. 

 

JOHN: The ferry is arriving through the mist once again. The hanging lantern off the bow colors the gray fog surrounding… in a warm, golden hue. It’s coming in to drop them off. Like the others, they’re adorned in maroon robes and wearing masks. 

 

(The splashing water comes closer. An engine growls.)

 

ARTHUR: Are they different?

 

JOHN: Yes. Like the others, their masks are unique to both men and only cover the upper part of the face. They’re getting off the ferry, now.

 

NOEL: Quiet, now.

 

JOHN: Get behind the crates. We have one shot at this. 

 

NOEL: Make sure to wait for the ferry to leave.

 

JOHN: They’re approaching. (Footsteps.) They’re here! They don’t see us. We’re behind them. W-Wait! The boat is still here. (The engine fades into the distance.) Okay. Quietly, now. Forward. (Footsteps.)  More. A little closer. Noel has the one on the right, a little more left… yes! Here. A little… more… okay! Stand up. Silently. And… (An impact.) Now! (A grunt of determination, another impact.) Again, quickly! (Another impact. Arthur pants.)

 

NOEL: Drag him back! (They grunt and drag the bodies.) Well done, kid. For someone without sight, you did a damn good job. 

 

ARTHUR: We have practice.

 

NOEL: Get that guy’s robe off.

 

JOHN: Quickly. (They remove the robes. Metal clinks.) 

 

NOEL: You boys ain’t going nowhere.

 

JOHN: Noel is handcuffing their hands and tying their feet. Get dressed.

 

ARTHUR: Will they fit in the crates?

 

NOEL: I’ll make ‘em fit. You just get dressed. (He finishes tying them up.)

 

JOHN: Now that I can see it closely, the maroon colored robes is finely stitched with gold thread. There’s an almost invisible pattern on the back. 

 

(Noel grunts and moves the bodies.) 

 

ARTHUR: Is it the same for both?

 

JOHN: Hm. Yes, it looks like it. 

 

NOEL: Look at this guy, he’s a senator.

 

ARTHUR: The masks, though, are unique?

 

JOHN: So far everyone has had a different mask. (The creaking of wood.) Yours… yours depicts a bull with hands stretched out over… fire, I think. 

 

ARTHUR: Alright, well. (He grunts.) Noel?

 

NOEL: Yeah?

 

JOHN: He’s just putting on his mask as well. Which also seems to depict a bull. However, no fire. And the bull seems to be… carved in a more… positive depiction. Less… menacing.

 

NOEL: Here. (Something clinks.) 

 

ARTHUR: What’s this?

 

JOHN: A ring.

 

NOEL: They were wearing them. But look…

 

ARTHUR: I…

 

NOEL (awkwardly): O-Oh, right.

 

JOHN: It’s a symbol, similar to the medallion, but… on both rings, they’re the same.

 

NOEL: They’re the same. 

 

ARTHUR: Well, must be important.

 

NOEL: Exactly my thinking. 

 

JOHN: Good thinking.

 

ARTHUR: John says, good thinking. And I agree.

 

NOEL: Alright. Well, they’re stashed away. If they wake up, at all, they won’t be going anywhere for a long time. (Footsteps.) So. You guys ready to do this?

 

ARTHUR (exhaling): Yes.

 

JOHN: We both are. 

 

NOEL: Alright.  (They walk. A slow piano melody begins.)

 

JOHN: The grain terminal proper sits maybe eight or nine stories high. It’s a massive concrete building right here by the edge of the water. We don’t know where we’re heading. I can see this taking some time. We’re coming up on the entrance. Or, at least, an entrance. (The metal door creaks open slowly.) 

 

NOEL: Good luck.

 

ARTHUR: You, too. (The door shuts. They walk in.)

 

JOHN: The interior is quiet. It’s a large, open area with bins, machinery. A great deal of storage. Clearly it’s closed for the evening. I don’t see a night watchman. 

 

NOEL (echoing): Thoughts?

 

ARTHUR (echoing): It’s unlikely that we’re the last to arrive, so whatever we do, we don’t want to linger.

 

NOEL: Agreed.

 

JOHN: These people knew where they were going.

 

ARTHUR: Logically, there’s no way this society meets on one of these floors above us.

 

NOEL: Yeah, not with this much put into their outfits. 

 

JOHN: So… down?

 

ARTHUR: Exactly. Down. 

 

NOEL: Down?

 

ARTHUR: Is there a stairwell, or…?

 

NOEL: I’m sure. Eh… I’ll look over here. 

 

JOHN: He’s gone to the left, around some larger machinery. (A pause. They walk. A slow piano melody begins.) Are you… nervous? This feels… very… intense.

 

ARTHUR: Yes, yes. I… Feels like a lot is riding on this. We don’t know exactly how we’re going to get out, and how we’re going to achieve our goal, but.

 

JOHN (soothing): It’s alright. We’ll… We’ll do whatever needs to be done, to… accomplish our goal.

 

ARTHUR: I know. But you and I both know this… well, this may be a one way tick –

 

JOHN: No. Don’t talk like that. We wouldn’t be doing this if this was a guaranteed one way ticket.

 

ARTHUR: You’re sure? (Uncertain.) You… I guess.

 

JOHN: Killing Larson isn’t worth losing ourselves, o-or dying! 

 

ARTHUR (quiet): Okay. Okay. 

 

JOHN: We’ll find a way out. I promise. 

 

ARTHUR: Okay. Yes. Yes, you’re right. (They walk.)

 

JOHN: I think there’s a stairwell up to the right, here. Yes. Huh. 

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: It only goes up. 

 

ARTHUR: It only goes… up. Okay.

 

JOHN: If this is a secret society, unlikely their location would be so easily stumbled upon.

 

ARTHUR: Agreed, but we can’t spend time searching every nook and cranny.

 

JOHN: Of course. 

 

ARTHUR: Hm.

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: What about an elevator?

 

JOHN: Yes, there’s an elevator over – near the back of the room. 

 

ARTHUR: Psst! Noel! 

 

NOEL: Yeah? (Approaching.) What’s up?

 

ARTHUR: Elevator.

 

NOEL: It’s worth a look. 

 

JOHN: It’s a fairly basic utilitarian elevator. A metal grate rather than a door protects its passengers from the moving floors. Other than that, it seems unremarkable. 

 

NOEL (disapproving): Eh… 

 

(Arthur pulls the metal grate open.) 

 

JOHN: It’s quite run-down in here. The floor is solid metal, but it feels far too messy for the caliber of people they expect to attend this meeting.

 

NOEL: I don’t know, kid.

 

JOHN: There are buttons, here, leading to the floors above. Though, one is missing.

 

NOEL: This doesn’t look like the way to head down, kid. Let’s keep looking.

 

ARTHUR: Wait. Which button is missing?

 

NOEL: Huh?

 

JOHN: I don’t know. One to twelve are listed…

 

NOEL: Thirteen, I suppose.

 

ARTHUR: Can we press it?

 

JOHN: Press the hole the button is gone from?

 

NOEL: It’s fairly small. My finger wouldn’t fit, but I can jam something in… about the size of –

 

ARTHUR: The rings?

 

JOHN (enthused): Almost exactly the size of the rings!

 

NOEL (proud): Well, look at you. (He chuckles.) Yeah, let me try. (A metal click.) I don’t feel anything being pushed, or…

 

JOHN: Damn.

 

NOEL: Hey, it was a clever idea, though.

 

ARTHUR: Wait. Try turning, as well. 

 

(Another metal click. The elevator groans and whirs to life. A quick piano melody begins.)

 

JOHN: We’re moving! Arthur!

 

NOEL (shocked): Well, fuck me! You keep up that level of smarts and we stand a chance at getting out of here alive.

 

JOHN: We’re heading down.

 

ARTHUR: We have every intention. 

 

JOHN: We’re heading underground, fairly deep. The elevator is descending past the foundation. And beyond. The walls now resemble unearthed stone and mud. 

 

NOEL: One way in. Let’s hope it’s not just the one way out. 

 

ARTHUR: Hm. 

 

NOEL: Whoa.

 

JOHN: The walls have changed again. They’re no longer natural stone, but… white marble. A clean, intricate design that surrounds us. The elevator is slowing down. (The elevator rolls to a stop.)

 

NOEL: Alright.

 

JOHN: Elevator doors lie just beyond the grate this elevator used. They’re opening. (Doors slide open.)

 

NOEL: Shall we? (He grunts and opens the grate. They walk, their footsteps echoing.) 

 

JOHN: The elevator exits to a long, beautiful hallway. Marble covers the floor and ceiling, while the walls are adorned with large paintings with gold trim.

 

ARTHUR: What do the paintings –

 

(Noel abruptly shushes him and clears his throat. A brief horror sting plays.)

 

JOHN: Down the hall! A member stands before large double doors. He’s a fair distance away. I don’t think he can hear us. Still. The doors at the end of the hall seem to be the only way forward. He’s… leaning on a small… (Footsteps, at a distance.) He’s gotten up! (A door opens.) He’s heading through the door. (A door shuts.)

 

NOEL: Sorry, but I didn’t think you saw him.

 

ARTHUR: What was he doing?

 

NOEL: I don’t know, he was writing something. 

 

JOHN: There’s a small table by the double doors he was bent over.

 

NOEL (whistling): These paintings.

 

ARTHUR: What are they?

 

NOEL: This one is a… like, a bright light. Beneath, a group of men seem to be… I don’t know, ready to catch it.

 

ARTHUR: That seems apt. 

 

NOEL: Yeah, except… what it’s falling from. It’s not a place, or the stars. It looks like… a being. 

 

JOHN: We need to keep moving. 

 

ARTHUR: Right, we can’t dally.

 

NOEL: Yeah. Yeah. (Footsteps.)

 

JOHN: The large double doors here where the hallway ends are covered in ornate carvings. Depictions of stars and planets. All cosmic matter.

 

NOEL: Constellations and the like. I recognize only a few. 

 

ARTHUR: The Fallen Star, indeed. (Wood creaks.) 

 

JOHN: A small table here that the man was using has a few objects on it. There’s a stack of parchment cut into strips. A quill… and a fairly large wooden box, carved as ornately as the doors, made of white wood. The box has a thin slit in the top of it, presumably to drop the parchment in.

 

NOEL: A guestbook?

 

ARTHUR: No, this is different. It’s like a… ballot box. 

 

NOEL: You think they’re voting on something?

 

ARTHUR: What are the carvings on the box of?

 

NOEL: There’s a creature of some sort, holding a plate filled with fruits, and… an hourglass, and – and a bleeding heart.

 

JOHN: The creature seems to be eating them, too. Or about to.

 

ARTHUR: Hm. Is there a way into the box? Can we see what was written?

 

NOEL (fiddling with it): No way I can see. 

 

JOHN: Let’s just head in.

 

ARTHUR: No, we can’t just head in. This could be the difference between revealing ourselves as imposters or getting out alive.

 

NOEL: Oh, uh, whoa-whoa-whoa. Agreed. 

 

ARTHUR: Could we… turn the box upside down and shake out the last response, or… or wait until someone else came along?

 

JOHN: Well, that would be equally unwise. (Arthur sighs.)

 

NOEL: Okay, hold on. Did this guy write on the top of the pile?

 

ARTHUR: What do you mean? Maybe. 

 

NOEL: Oh, let me see. (He grunts and scratches his pencil across the paper.)

 

JOHN: Noel has taken out a pencil. He’s… lightly drawing on the top of the pile, scribbling…

 

ARTHUR (realizing): Brilliant!

 

JOHN: Brilliant?

 

ARTHUR: John is confused.

 

NOEL (laughing): Well, my friend. The guy before us wrote on the top of this pile, and pressed hard enough, he’ll leave an imprint of what he wrote, which means… we at least have an idea and thankfully…

 

JOHN: He did. (Reading.) ‘The birth of my son’.

 

ARTHUR: The birth of my son?

 

NOEL: What the hell?

 

JOHN: Why would he write that? 

 

ARTHUR: I have… no idea. What could that mean? 

 

NOEL: It’s an event. One he wouldn’t want to forget, I presume. Something that meant something to him, but… 

 

JOHN: Why offer to write such a personal thing?

 

ARTHUR: Offer? It’s an offering plate. (Faroe’s Song starts to play.) He’s… offered this, as… a memory? 

 

NOEL: A memory.

 

JOHN: To lose?

 

NOEL: Look, maybe it’s just a gesture. Something to say you’re… I mean. Look, maybe this is just a way to gain more insight into the members, to extort them, or... something more… human, you know?

 

ARTHUR: Or maybe it’s a memory you won’t get back. 

 

NOEL: Maybe. (A small pause.) That’s a positive memory, though. I suppose that matters. You don’t offer the bad ones. (He sighs. Paper flips, and he starts to write.) 

 

JOHN: Noel is grabbing a parchment and writing something down.

 

ARTHUR: Well, that was quick.

 

NOEL: Hey. We don’t have time to waste. This is it, kid. (The paper rustles.) Done. Your turn. 

 

JOHN: Our turn.

 

ARTHUR: Did you… offer something that’s –

 

NOEL: Look, I don’t know what kind of knowledge these people have. What kind of insight. But… memories are only memories until you’re dead. I gave them one. A good one. And you should do the same. Quickly.

 

ARTHUR (sighing): Alright. 

 

(Scribbles against paper.)

 

JOHN: Knowing… (Surprised.) Oscar? That’s the memory? (A sad piano melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: Yeah.

 

JOHN: He meant… He meant that much to you?

 

ARTHUR: I suppose he did. 

 

JOHN: Arthur, I… look, I’m… sorry. (Awkwardly.) I’m sorry that the first friend beyond me had to be someone you never… really got to say goodbye to. (Footsteps.) I’m sorry that –

 

NOEL: Done?

 

ARTHUR: There.

 

NOEL: Let’s move. We don’t want anyone to come in behind us.

 

ARTHUR: Right, yes. (Paper flutters.) Done. 

 

(More footsteps.)

 

NOEL: You ready? This is the point of no return.

 

ARTHUR: I know.

 

JOHN: I’m ready.

 

ARTHUR: We’re ready.

 

NOEL: You got your .45 loaded? 

 

(Metal clicks.)

 

ARTHUR: Yes. Yours?

 

NOEL (scoffing): Always. 

 

ARTHUR: Alright. 

 

NOEL: See you on the other side. 

 

(They walk and push open the doors. Faroe’s Song begins to play. Inside is the sound of muted conversation. The doors shut behind them. Footsteps.)

 

JOHN: We’ve entered into a large, lavishly decorated ballroom. Members of the Order fill the floor in front and around us. There are maybe… thirty… no, fifty members here, all in different masks, but wearing the same robes. High above us, an elaborate chandelier hangs, white and gold with… creatures shaped into the arms that support the candles. Crystals hang from it, though they look raw and unprocessed, despite reflecting the candlelight vividly. The floor… marble, like the outside, but a pattern in maroon tile seems to be at its center, though the amount of people here make it difficult to see.

 

NOEL (whispering): This way, come on.

 

(They walk.) 

 

JOHN: Noel is moving us through the crowd. Stay on him! Left. Here. Yes. Surrounding the ballroom is a balcony with a centerpoint that protrudes out, overlooking the ballroom floor. The rest of the surrounding balcony is draped in shadow. I think there are paintings up there on the second floor, but… (Shocked.) Oh! 

 

ARTHUR (whispering): What?

 

JOHN: There are more people up there, too. Cloaked figures… I can’t see their faces, but. There are maybe… eight of them, all overlooking the ballroom floor in the darkness. (Glass clinks.) And…

 

NOEL: Here.

 

ARTHUR: What is it?

 

JOHN: Oh. Noel has handed you a glass of… champagne, perhaps. (It fizzes.) 

 

NOEL: Needless to say, don’t drink it.

 

ARTHUR: Of course.

 

NOEL: But you know. Fit in. (They clink glasses.) 

 

JOHN: The crowd of men in masks seem to be milling around the ballroom floor. Some are speaking to each other in small groups, others are admiring the ballroom and circling the other side of the balcony, but they all seem to be… waiting. 

 

ARTHUR (whispering): What are we waiting for?

 

NOEL: I don’t know. (At a distance, a door opens, followed by applause.) But I think we’re about to find out. 

 

(Multiple glasses clink together. A round of applause erupts.)

 

JOHN: One of the two sets of doors on the balcony overlooking the ballroom have opened. Two men are walking out, and… (Disgusted.) Oh! 

 

SPEAKER: Welcome! (John makes a startled noise.) Welcome, once again, brothers. We gather here as the moon waxes crescent to once again offer a necessary sacrifice. Our voluntary oblation… a powerful gesture and one we offer willingly for the gifts we have been granted in return. 

 

(A round of applause) 

 

JOHN: Arthur, the… the man in the back is wearing a mask with a mule’s head and peacock tail on it, but the other, he – !

 

SPEAKER (cutting him off): For generations, our Order has seen members rise in ranks… both in political office, and as titans of industry. As influential statesmen and Wall Street moguls. Each of us has been blessed by the Fallen Star to seek out what we dream and through it, have achieved our greatest desires. Hail the Fallen Star. 

 

ATTENDEES (in unison): Hail the Fallen Star! (A round of applause.)

 

JOHN: Arthur! This man, the man speaking, he’s wearing a mask, but… it’s horrid! Unlike any of the others!

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

NOEL: Ssh!

 

SPEAKER: Many of you were made aware that tonight would be historic, but know not the reason why. Understandable. And please, allow me to illuminate what will mark tonight in the annals of our Order’s history.

 

(A round of applause.)

 

JOHN: His mask, it’s less a mask and more a… a creature, Arthur! A large mollusk that covers the upper half of his head! The creature’s tendrils have wrung themselves into his ears and eyes, gouging them out, dried blood dripping down his cheeks!

 

SPEAKER (simultaneously): For those amongst you who are… (Unintelligible, under John’s voice.) For too long, we have moved away from our past. From our beginnings, deviated from the goal our Order set out to achieve.

 

JOHN: On the front is a large green eye! It searches the crowd as he speaks, as if it were his own!

 

ARTHUR: Are you seeing this?

 

NOEL (confused): What?

 

ARTHUR: What’s on his head?

 

SPEAKER: From its inception, our brotherhood was never only about personal wealth, or to become tycoons of industry. It was about the search for something greater: the Fallen Star.

 

NOEL: His mask? It’s a helmet with horns coming out. What are you talking about?

 

JOHN: What? (A suspenseful music sting. Firmly.) That is not what I am seeing!

 

SPEAKER: Almost ten years ago, our Order was blessed by the finding of a star. But since then, we have grown stagnant, fat, and content. Uninterested in the pursuits our forefathers have laid out for us. We have grown lazy. We have lost sight of what this Order stands for. 

 

JOHN: Arthur, this creature on his head… its otherworldly gaze searches the crowd. (Rising suspenseful music.) If Noel can’t see it, it’s clearly something –

 

SPEAKER: Silence!

 

JOHN (at a loss): Is he… can he… hear me?

 

GRAND VIZIER: I hear you. Hold your tongue. (A horror sting.) As your Grand Vizier, I have failed you, and I have failed this Order. And so, tonight, I officially step down as Grand Vizier and appoint my replacement. A true believer in our Order… a true believer in our cause… one who truly deserves the title and will bring us all to new heights. 

 

JOHN: The man behind him, in the peacock mask, Arthur. He’s stepping forward and… (Footsteps.) Removing his mask! It’s… 

 

GRAND VIZIER: Wallace Larson.

 

(Gasps arise from the audience.)

 

JOHN: It’s Larson, Arthur!

 

LARSON (politely): Why, thank you, Grand Vizier!

 

NOEL: Is that him?

 

ARTHUR: Yes. Be ready.

 

LARSON: Good evening, esteemed members! Brothers… senators… and, well. Friends. 

 

CULTIST 1 (calling out): What kind of joke is this?

 

LARSON: I see you’re all excited to once again eat, drink, and be merry. All accomplishing little of what our forebears originally set out to achieve.

 

CULTIST 2: This isn’t how we do things!

 

CULTIST 3: He’s not even wearing a mask!

 

(Polite applause from the audience.) 

 

LARSON: Ah, yes. I think the… theatrics can be spared. For me, at least, they’ve grown a little stale. I don’t find them nearly as charming as I once did when I was a child. When my forefathers helped found this Order centuries ago, back when our meeting place was carved from the stone of a mountain. When our pursuits were less selfish, less petty, less… monetary. Back when we had our faith. 

 

But you have all lost your faith. (Boos arise from the audience.) You have forgotten what our Order stands for, what our purpose here is.

 

CULTIST 1: Nonsense! I’ve heard quite enough from you. (Applause from the audience.) 

 

JOHN: A man from the crowd is shouting up to the balcony. It seems the crowd is growing restless.

 

CULTIST 1: You are not our Grand Vizier! You have not been elected and therefore we do not recognize your authority here! (More applause.) 

 

LARSON: Brothers! We have here an example of our loss of faith.

 

CULTIST 1: Nonsense, Larson! Your archaic mindset may be something you wish to uphold, but we do not! (More vigorous applause, with cheers.) 

 

LARSON (theatrically): Archaic? You wound me, Luther! 

 

JOHN: The man is taken aback for a moment. He’s rattled by Larson saying his name, despite wearing a mask!

 

LUTHER: Enough of this!

 

LARSON: No, please, Luther. Speak your mind. 

 

LUTHER (scathing): What you and the Grand Vizier may feel do not reflect us! For a long time, Wallace, you have tried to push your beliefs on many of us and frankly, we find your perspective childish. (More vigorous applause, followed by cheers.)

 

LARSON: Childish! Is that so?

 

LUTHER: Monsters, magic, gods! The power of the Star is undeniable, but you filled your head with fairy tales! You speak of our goals to be wealthy as a waste, but they are at least tangible! Your faith is not tangible here! (Applause.)

 

LARSON: Well. Luther. (Footsteps.) I am so glad you said that. (Suspenseful music, along with eerie unintelligible whispers.) Allow me to… re-ignite your faith. (John gasps in fear.) 

 

NOEL (scared): Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. 

 

JOHN: Arthur… 

 

ARTHUR: What? What, Spit it out!

 

NOEL (in horror): No. No.

 

(A faint, unearthly howl. The audience reacts in shock and fear.)

 

JOHN: Arthur, it’s… the King in Yellow, Arthur! (Arthur gasps in surprise.) 

 

NOEL: Oh, God.

 

JOHN: He’s emerging from Larson, like a shadow! Elongating from the darkness behind him, but not bound to just shade… the tatters of his yellow cloak move and float like… tentacles! Slowly, freely, as if underwater! He fills the balcony with his presence. He seems to be… coming from Larson, but… somehow appearing over the crowd! It’s… I-It’s… 

 

NOEL (fearfully): Oh, no. N-No. 

 

KING IN YELLOW:  Ignorant. Foolish. Mortal. 

 

LUTHER (demanding): What is this? Larson, what is this?

 

LARSON (proudly): A re-kindling of faith, Luther! A re-kindling of faith!

 

JOHN: The King… grows taller. Looming over the crowd, his robe fills the space and brings an ominous amber hue to the ballroom. (Scared.) Jesus Christ, Arthur! What the fuck! How? 

 

ARTHUR: I-I –

 

KING IN YELLOW: Speak to me! If you so doubt your faith. 

 

LUTHER: I… Larson, you flaunt your power like a child!

 

JOHN: The King looms over the man! His yellow cloak made of shadow.

 

KING IN YELLOW: Power. (Unintelligible whispers.) You know nothing of the word. 

 

(A soft whoosh, and all falls silent, aside from quiet murmurs from the crowd.)

 

JOHN: The man is frozen in fear. He’s… moving. (Luther makes noises of fear.) The crowd parts for him. With a pained expression on his face, he’s walking towards a pillar, a stone column that supports the second story balcony. (The crowd gasps.) He’s… He’s… 

 

(A grunt, a gasp, and a spatter of gore.)

 

ARTHUR: Fuck!

 

JOHN: He’s driving his head into the stone!

 

NOEL: Oh, God. 

 

(Multiple, repeated impacts and sounds of gore. The audience reacts in terror.) 

 

JOHN: Over and over again! Blood is being drawn from his skull! Painting the light marble of the pillar in red! 

 

NOEL: Fuck.

 

KING IN YELLOW: I am the King in Yellow. Your Order… once had a meaningful, worthy purpose. And now… it lay in shambles. Your desire for earthly pleasures mean nothing to me. To a great… Old One. You will follow us and those who do not… (Ominously.) Shall pay with their lives. 

 

(A rippling, unearthly noise, like a distorted groan. The audience gasps.)

 

JOHN: The King is receding into Larson, shrinking back down into the shadows of the balcony, slipping away inside some unseen pocket in Larson. (Unintelligible whispers, a faint whoosh, and then all is silent other than the frightened noises of the crowd.) Arthur, what the fuck is happening? How is… is that… Yellow? H-How did he –

 

ARTHUR (stressed): I-I don’t know, I don’t know! I suppose he… when I got you back, I was…

 

NOEL: That was him.

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

NOEL: That was him. The King in Yellow. Now you know.

 

JOHN: Jesus fucking Christ. Larson looks exhausted. He’s stepping back for a moment. The robed figures in the darkness on the second balcony haven’t stirred. 

 

ARTHUR: Y-Yes, look, we need to –

 

NOEL (shushing him): Wait! Wait.

 

GRAND VIZIER: My hope is you all now see how we have strayed from the light, how much we have lost due to our shaken faith. Tonight, we will enter a new age in this Order. An age of enlightenment and true power. 

 

JOHN: How are we going to stop Larson if the King is inside of him? (Footsteps.) Larson is stepping forward. He still looks quite worn, though… it’s clear he’s trying to hide it. 

 

LARSON: I’m so sorry about the needless waste of life. (He pants.) But as you all saw, we no longer have room for those without faith. I have grand plans for our Order. Things beyond your wildest dreams. (A delicate version of Faroe’s Waltz begins.) Tonight… is but the first step. I am elated that you will all take it with me. Please, please. 

 

(More lightheartedly.) There’s still room for levity. We have… strayed, of course, but we have no interest in eliminating all pleasures. So please! Enjoy yourselves. Enjoy a drink as you always have. And soon, we will enter the Canaanite room, and begin what I believe to be a very special ritual. Enjoy yourselves! Enjoy! (Footsteps and doors opening.)

 

JOHN: Both Larson and the Grand Vizier are leaving through the doors behind them. Different doors. (The door shuts. More footsteps.) The second balcony is clear, s-save the robed figures which seem to be following the Grand Vizier out through the door on the left. (The door shuts again.)

 

NOEL: Oh my god.

 

ARTHUR: What is going on here? H-How can we –

 

NOEL: Take a breath, come here. Away from everyone else. (Footsteps.) Come on. This way.

 

JOHN: Noel is pulling us to the side. Here! 

 

NOEL: Yes, look. I was taken aback, too. But that just means two for the price of one, right?

 

ARTHUR: Right, right.

 

JOHN: Noel looks nervous. Unsure. I don’t think he believes we will succeed anymore.

 

ARTHUR: Two for the price.

 

JOHN: I don’t know if I disagree.

 

NOEL: If killing Larson means we kill that…  

 

ARTHUR: Yeah.

 

JOHN (uncertain): Killing… Yellow.

 

NOEL: Look. I don’t know. But what are our choices right now? We can’t leave. After that display, I’m sure they’ve ensured no one else is going to leave. Alive, at least.

 

ARTHUR: Right, okay.

 

NOEL: We knew what we were getting into. Everything dies. Everything. 

 

ARTHUR: Right. 

 

NOEL: Let’s follow Larson. Get up to the second balcony through those doors over there. To the right of you.

 

ARTHUR: Okay. (Footsteps.)

 

JOHN: Wait.

 

ARTHUR: Wait.

 

NOEL: What? 

 

JOHN: The Grand Vizier. I-I think he could… hear me. 

 

ARTHUR (to Noel): What about the Grand Vizier?

 

NOEL: What about him?

 

JOHN: We could follow him instead.

 

ARTHUR: What if we followed him?

 

NOEL: Why?

 

ARTHUR: Well, he could hear John. John said he wore a mask.

 

NOEL: They all did.

 

ARTHUR: No, no. A-A horrid mask. It seemed like a-a creature was bound to his flesh. Perhaps there’s… perhaps Larson is controlling him somehow. It would make sense, such a change in leadership. It doesn’t come without some sort of coercion.

 

NOEL: Okay.

 

JOHN: Perhaps he knows more than he’s letting on.

 

ARTHUR: He may know more about what’s going on. He may be able to answer questions. Like… what this ritual is going to be.

 

NOEL: Look, we’re here for Larson, kid.

 

JOHN (insistent): The Grand Vizier may help us end Larson! 

 

ARTHUR: I know, I know.

 

NOEL: Look. If you want to follow the Vizier – (Arthur sighs.) I’ll back you up. But I think Larson is the target. Regardless, we can’t stay here. We need to move while the room is active, so whichever you choose, let’s move. 

 

ARTHUR: Okay. Okay. Let’s. 

 

(A sad piano melody begins. They begin to walk.) 

 

JOHN: Noel is leading us to a set of doors under the balcony to our left. Most of the other members are busily talking amongst themselves, some angrily, others terrified.

 

ARTHUR: I don’t blame them.

 

JOHN: Arthur, what the hell happened? How did Yellow and Larson end up together? Are they like us? Is Yellow trapped?

 

ARTHUR: I don’t know. I… I suppose so. 

 

JOHN: This is dangerous, Arthur. He has the ability to… he drove that man to break his own skull! Does he remember? He called himself the King in Yellow! 

 

ARTHUR: He must remember. At least some. Especially if he remembers all that… that ability to seep into another’s mind! In which case, he must be trapped, then. No way would he allow himself to be bound to Larson. 

 

JOHN: Larson pulled Yellow out like a magic trick to all the crowd. 

 

ARTHUR: Yes. Yes. I remember Yellow. Near the end, he already… he already felt like he was greater than the need for flesh. Killing them, it won’t be easy –

 

(Unintelligible whispers briefly rise.)

 

JOHN (distorted, fiercely): You’re so sure you can kill the King in Yellow! 

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

NOEL: Quiet, now. (John huffs.)

 

ARTHUR (surprised): You’re angry!

 

(Noel shushes him.)

 

JOHN: We’re out the door. (Arthur tries to speak, stops.) To the side. 

 

(The door opens.) 

 

NOEL (whispering): It’s clear. Let’s go. (They walk inside, shut the door.)

 

JOHN: This hallway is lavish. Similarly decorated to the ballroom. There are a number of doors leading off in either direction.

 

NOEL: Alright, the balcony was this way. The vizier went left, so. 

 

ARTHUR: Good. We’re on the left side, then.

 

NOEL: Him, then?

 

ARTHUR: Look, Larson clearly has a very, very powerful friend.

 

NOEL: Manipulative and deadly. I wonder who’s playing who in that scenario.

 

(Unintelligible whispers continue.) 

 

JOHN (distorted): Stop!

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN (confused): What… What is this? Who… (Echoing.) Arthur! There’s a man in front of us. A cultist! 

 

NOEL: Let’s go.

 

JOHN (barking): Arthur, freeze!

 

ARTHUR: W-What do you – Noel…

 

JOHN: Arthur, listen to me. He’s wearing a mask.

 

NOEL: What’s wrong?

 

ARTHUR: H-Hold on. What are you talking about, John?

 

JOHN (dazed): Where… Where are we? I…

 

ARTHUR (stressed): Jesus.

 

NOEL: What?

 

JOHN: I...

 

ARTHUR: Nothing, just… give me a moment.

 

NOEL: Sure.

 

ARTHUR (firmly): John. We are in the Order of the Fallen Star. Come on, now. This is Noel. You can’t be doing this to me now.

 

JOHN (at a loss): I…

 

ARTHUR: Detective Noel, he’s been helping us.

 

JOHN: I… I know, I…

 

ARTHUR: We’re so close now, John. You just need to hold it together a little longer, okay?

 

JOHN (with effort): I… I can feel him. Arthur. 

 

ARTHUR: Who?

 

JOHN: The… The King. 

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN: That… That’s… I think that’s what I’ve been feeling, this… pull.

 

ARTHUR: His pull? Your memory… you mean.

 

JOHN: I think that’s what’s… I feel as though I am in… two places at once. 

 

(A soft piano melody begins.)

 

ARTHUR: Okay. Okay, but… I need you here, now. (Beseechingly.) Stay here, okay? I need you. 

 

JOHN: Right. Right. O-Okay. 

 

NOEL: Are we good?

 

ARTHUR: Yes, sorry. 

 

NOEL: Listen, kid. I mean it when I say this King is the real deal.

 

JOHN: Noel’s stopped walking. He’s looking us dead in the eye.

 

NOEL: Look, I get that you want to know everything before putting a bullet through Larson’s head, but. (He sighs.) Look, he just upped the ante. I’m not willing to hesitate. (Noel breathes shakily.) If we get the chance… (A slow piano melody begins.) I can’t. I won’t even consider the…

 

ARTHUR: What’s wrong?

 

NOEL (desperately): I will not be another prisoner to that… (With emotion.) To that monster! You understand?

 

ARTHUR: Of course. 

 

NOEL: Look, I am all in. If I get the chance…

 

JOHN: He’s talking about killing Larson. Killing the King as soon as he sees them. Arthur, we –

 

ARTHUR: Listen. You’re not going to become a prisoner of his again. I promise. 

 

NOEL: You swear?

 

ARTHUR: Noel. (Intently.) I’ll… I promise. 

 

JOHN: Arthur, you can’t have him firing at Larson the minute we see him! If Larson dies… we… may not be able to find this stone.

 

ARTHUR: Look, I understand you’re ready to throw everything you can at ensuring the King dies tonight. But we can’t afford to be playing Wild West this far in.

 

NOEL: I am not playing –

 

ARTHUR: I‘m saying… we’ve gotten this far because we took our time. We thought things through…

 

NOEL: And took the –

 

ARTHUR: And kept cool heads. Believe you me, I have my own fight with Larson. I have my own reasons for wanting to watch the light dim from his eyes. (He sighs.) But this isn’t about just you and just me. This is about far more than that, now. We came here tonight with the intention to bring this Order down, by finding whatever this ‘star’... this vizier talked about was.  And yes, killing Larson. But I never dreamed, never even comprehended the fact that he may have the King in Yellow inside of him.

 

NOEL: I know, I know. I hear you.

 

ARTHUR: We’re not just dealing with men anymore. Men and their little plans. (He breathes heavily.) We’re dealing with a god.

 

JOHN (emphatically): Yes. 

 

NOEL: You’re right. And we’re not alone. 

 

ARTHUR: No. No, we’re not. Even though it only looks like there are two of us here. Keep a cool head. In all moments. We have to. 

 

JOHN: He seems to be calmer. More thoughtful. Seeing the King… it awakened something in him I hadn’t seen or even perceived before. A deep-seated fear.

 

NOEL: Okay, you’re right. Let’s find this vizier. 

 

(They walk.)

 

JOHN: He’s walking forward down the hall. I think we’re looking for the stairs. 

 

(A door clicks.)

 

NOEL: Let’s not forget, though. Those people followed him. (Arthur sighs.) He won’t be alone.

 

ARTHUR: Right. Robed figures, not masked.

 

JOHN: No. Their faces were shrouded by their hoods.

 

ARTHUR: Okay. 

 

NOEL: Here. (A door squeaks open.) Stairs up. (The door shuts. They climb.)

 

JOHN: I think I see the door the Grand Vizier took from the balcony. There’s another across the hall, and one straight ahead.

 

NOEL: Ah, he came this way. Opposite the way Larson left, so. Unless he went downstairs… 

 

ARTHUR: Yeah. 

 

JOHN: Noel is heading to the door opposite, which most likely leads deeper in.

 

NOEL: Let me listen. (A long pause.) Nothing. (The door squeaks.)

 

JOHN: Noel has entered. Quickly! (A click.) We’re in a large room with rounded corners. Rectangular in shape. There are chairs everywhere, all facing the center. In its center is a…

 

NOEL: What the fuck is that.

 

(A mysterious piano melody begins.)

 

JOHN (at a loss): I… I don’t know. An object. 

 

NOEL: God damn it.

 

JOHN: A large, bizarre looking object sitting in the center of this room on a slightly lowered floor. As if… As if this were an amphitheater. (Footsteps.) Noel is approaching it.

 

ARTHUR: Wait! Keep your distance.

 

JOHN: He’s stopped. Arthur, this object is roughly the size of an automobile, with almost the same footprint. It’s… gray and black, covered in spindly, large tube-like spines that run its length and connect to what appear to be cylinders of dark green liquid. There’s a sealed basin at its center and a six-foot platform lay at its mouth. (Paper rustles.)

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

NOEL: Hey, psst!

 

JOHN: Noel is calling you over to the side. (They walk. Paper continues to rustle.) Yes! This direction. 

 

ARTHUR (whispering): Yeah?

 

NOEL: What does John make of these?

 

JOHN: There’s a small table here against the wall. With what look like blueprints laid out. 

 

ARTHUR: Can you make heads or tails of –

 

JOHN: It’s a machine.

 

ARTHUR: A machine for what? 

 

NOEL: Machine? (The door clicks.) Hey! Someone’s coming! (Suspenseful music starts.)

 

JOHN: Hide!

 

ARTHUR: Where? The desk?

 

JOHN: No!

 

NOEL: Psst! The pillar!

 

JOHN: Yeah, one of the pillars! (The door opens, followed by footsteps and muted conversation.) The back! (Arthur grunts in effort.) Here, here! Stand still, don’t move! (The door clicks again.) The room is set up like an observation room, chairs all around point towards the machine in the middle. Only these pillars block lines of sight between the rows of chairs. Noel is hiding behind one of them across from us. I think I saw three men enter. The Grand Vizier and two of the robed figures. They were acting almost like guards. I –

 

GRAND VIZIER (at a distance): Leave me. 

 

JOHN: I think… (More footsteps, and a door clicks.) He seems to be dismissing them. I think the Grand Vizier is in this room alone! (Slowly approaching footsteps.) He’s coming. 

 

ARTHUR (whispering): Okay. Okay. (A long pause.) Grand Vizier! (A metal click.) 

 

NOEL: We would like to talk.

 

JOHN: Yes, Arthur! Noel has his gun to the back of the Grand Vizier’s head!

 

NOEL: Have a seat.

 

JOHN: The Grand Vizier is being led by Noel at gunpoint to a chair.

 

NOEL: Sit, sit! 

 

(The chair scrapes against the floor.)

 

JOHN: Noel isn’t fucking around! He’s aiming the gun right at the vizier’s temple! (Metal clicks.) His mask, Arthur, it’s… it’s just as horrific as I first saw. It’s almost… feasting on him. I-I, I don’t know what it is! 

 

ARTHUR: Uh –

 

GRAND VIZIER: It is a mask.

 

JOHN: He can hear me! (The chair squeaks.)

 

GRAND VIZIER: Of course.

 

ARTHUR: He can hear John.

 

GRAND VIZIER: John? You are not ‘John’. 

 

NOEL: Oh, yeah? Who is he, then?

 

GRAND VIZIER: You are the K –

 

JOHN (abruptly): Silence! 

 

NOEL: Cat got your tongue?

 

ARTHUR: Just – (He breathes hard.) Watch the door, for a second. (Footsteps.) This isn’t why we’re here. What is this mask you’re wearing? Answer me. (Metal clicks.)

 

NOEL: Speak up, now.

 

JOHN: Answer.

 

GRAND VIZIER: It is a Mask of Temperance. A gift from the Elders. 

 

ARTHUR: The Elders?

 

GRAND VIZIER: Such a gift they were. Brought by the King for us. They hold such command of biological principles and genetic engineering. Their intellect surpasses even the most gifted minds on Earth by a hundredfold.

 

JOHN: What does this mask do?

 

GRAND VIZIER: My memory… deductive capabilities… and psionic abilities have been greatly enhanced so that I may communicate with them. 

 

NOEL: What is ‘tempered’ about that?

 

JOHN: Answer him.

 

GRAND VIZIER: I no longer serve my own will but the will of the Elders… and their Masters. 

 

ARTHUR: Who are the Masters of the Elders?

 

GRAND VIZIER: I am speaking with one. 

 

NOEL: What? Who’s John? (A brief horror sting.)

 

JOHN (angrily): Do not answer him!

 

ARTHUR: After! What is this… What is this machine?

 

GRAND VIZIER: This is a machine like the Mask of Temperance that was built by the Elders to separate two entities that are bound together, giving the trapped soul a new vessel while keeping the host intact. 

 

ARTHUR: Wha…

 

(Faroe’s Song begins to play.)

 

NOEL: Jesus.

 

JOHN (shocked): To… to separate?

 

NOEL: Larson and the King in Yellow. They’re going to separate them.

 

GRAND VIZIER: Indeed.

 

ARTHUR: Why?

 

GRAND VIZIER: They are dying. 

 

JOHN: Dying?

 

GRAND VIZIER: Yes. Larson is being consumed by the power the King now wields, while the King… is fading. 

 

ARTHUR: Fading?

 

JOHN: I… am I fading as well?

 

GRAND VIZIER: Of course. (Footsteps.)

 

NOEL (whispered, to Arthur): You think this machine actually does that? 

 

ARTHUR: Why not? They built this mask, this organic machine that controls this man! 

 

NOEL: Then this ritual must be to separate the two.

 

ARTHUR: The King and Larson.

 

NOEL: Which means we need to kill him before that can happen.

 

ARTHUR: Or… during.

 

JOHN: During?

 

ARTHUR: If this ritual leaves him exposed… on a slab! 

 

NOEL: Okay. We just need to blend in. 

 

ARTHUR: Exactly. (He huffs.) These members are wealthy elites, they’re not going to stand in our way.

 

NOEL: Fuck, they may even help us, based on the reaction out there.

 

JOHN: But the King is…

 

NOEL: Now. (Metal clicks.) Who’s the voice in his head?

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

JOHN (furiously): No!

 

GRAND VIZIER: The voice…

 

NOEL: Don’t you want to know? Who’s the voice in Arthur’s head?

 

JOHN: Do not tell him!

 

ARTHUR: Noel, it –

 

NOEL: He knows something! He knows what’s going on. Tell me. 

 

GRAND VIZIER: You are not aware?

 

ARTHUR: Noel, it’s –

 

(The Grand Vizier starts to laugh.) 

 

NOEL (urgently): Is it Roland? Tell me!

 

ARTHUR: Noel, we…

 

NOEL: Is it Roland!?

 

ARTHUR: Look, it doesn’t… (Noel cuts him off.) Can we…!

 

(A loud bang at a distance.)

 

JOHN: Arthur! The doors have all opened. 

 

ARTHUR: Fuck. Fuck!

 

JOHN: The robed figures have entered, surrounding us! (Many footsteps.) They’re quickly moving into the room!

 

NOEL: I’m not going!

 

JOHN: Noel still has his gun drawn.

 

ARTHUR (cautiously): Put it away. Calm, cool head.

 

JOHN: They’re filling the room, all of them in robes, around us, behind us! The Grand Vizier is standing, walking to the doors on the far side of the room, and…! (A final door opens. Slow, steady footsteps.) Larson has entered. 

 

LARSON (at a distance): Well, there you are! (The door shuts. He approaches.) I was sure you were going to follow me. I had a little scene set up and everything. Alas. ‘The best laid schemes of mice and men go oft awry.’ I see you’ve spoken to our Grand Vizier, or should I say… former Grand Vizier. 

 

JOHN: The Grand Vizier is standing next to Larson, now. Noel is going for his gun. (Worriedly.) Arthur, he may –

 

(Metal clicks.) 

 

LARSON: Uh-uh-uh! Not so quickly, friend.

 

JOHN: One of the cultists behind has a gun to Noel’s head! 

 

LARSON: I believe you’ve met, if only briefly.

 

(The rustling of fabric.)

 

COLLINS: Well. Hello there, boyo. (A slow string version of ‘Peggy Gordon’ briefly plays.)

 

ARTHUR: Butcher.

 

LARSON: He was quite eager to be here, I’ll have you know. (Arthur sighs.)

 

COLLINS: Fancy the three of us, together again.

 

NOEL: Hello, Mr. Collins. 

 

JOHN: Noel left his gun holstered. (Footsteps.) Arthur, Larson is walking towards us! He’s stopped, just before the machine. 

 

LARSON: I hope the Grand Vizier illuminated you on the nature of this elaborate machine before me.

 

ARTHUR: This isn’t going to end well for you, Larson!

 

LARSON: Hah! Hear that, Mr. Collins? I feel like our boy has once again greatly underestimated his foe.

 

ARTHUR: What do you want me for, then? You have your machine! You… have your followers, you…

 

LARSON: Ah, yes. The vizier did his… job well, but failed to mention what I suppose he could not have known. Not that it would matter much. With that mask on, he’s quite the obedient little doggy. Isn’t that right?

 

GRAND VIZIER: I serve my masters.

 

LARSON: Seems like you two are the only ones in this room without a cause.

 

NOEL: Oh, we have a cause.

 

LARSON: Hah! No, what the Grand Vizier failed to mention was that this machine… well, it isn’t for me. No, no. This is for you, Arthur. You and that little voice inside your head. 

 

(A slow piano melody begins to play.)

 

JOHN: What?

 

ARTHUR: What?

 

LARSON: The game is over, Arthur. It’s time to lay down and roll over. 

 

ARTHUR (shaken): You… t-this will…

 

LARSON: Separate you? Yes. Much to the benefit of other present parties. 

 

ARTHUR: But…

 

LARSON: Once separated, you… well, you will be you again. And your little friend there will be… with me. Until such a time as I release him. Back to where he belongs. 

 

JOHN: Never. Arthur, we cannot even entertain the…

 

GRAND VIZIER (simultaneously): Never. Arthur, we cannot even entertain the…

 

LARSON: Aw, thank you, vizier! Is that what our mutual friend is saying in there? (John sighs.) No more secrets. Not amongst friends. 

 

GRAND VIZIER: He is silent once again.

 

LARSON: So, Arthur Lester. I have but one question before the decision is made for you. Call it your one chance to do this the easy way. Do you come… willingly?

Continued Part 40 "The Order" II