Calling all Meat Fans of Markheim!
Here’s the link to the latest episode podcast. And in keeping with tradition, I am posting the script below the fold, ‘cuz I know how you just love to follow along, right?
Introduction
VOICE: I’m a Markheim. A sort of angel. But not the sort with wings and a harp and a halo. Markheims are the black ops. We do things other angels can’t... or won’t. Me, I’m a talker, Sub-archy: reverse curse. Upstairs pulled me outta retirement for a mission down in this soggy town. But when it was done I didn’t go back. I had questions. And the answers weren’t up above in the Fix. Now I’m walking neutral, half-fallen, in what we angels call the Show. But I gotta watch my back. ‘Cuz things can always get uglier.
Episode 6 Recap
EMCEE: Previously, on MARKHEIM...
[sfx: harbor bell, water lapping]
MARKHEIM: So how does a lowly Markheim dial up the Devil?
SMILEY: You asking me?
MARKHEIM: Where’s the lowest, foulest place in town?
SMILEY: Oh, the Metro dig. They tortured a big nasty metal worm to chew its way through Seattle’s guts under Capitol Hill.
MARKHEIM: Sounds promising.
[sfx: a Honey Pot door creaking open]
SMILEY: Ah, man. Don’t stick your face down in there like that.
MARKHEIM: It’s okay. Angels have a terrible sense of smell.
(Markheim talks directly into the toilet hole.)
There’s something happening here, Sam. Seattle’s starting to crawl with angels. Why do you think that is, Sammy? This is still your city, ain’t it?
Sam?
You know what? I couldn’t give the shit currently sitting in this portable shitter. You figure it out. I don’t care to ever see you again. DO ME A FAVOR AND STAY RIGHT DOWN THERE ROTTING IN THE HELL YOU CREATED FOR YOURSELF!
(Sounds of a hospital room.)
MARKHEIM: I heard you cut off your glowing hand but then they sewed it back on. Stank said it doesn’t burn any more.
DIDGE: No, it still burns. But now it’s so... beautiful, crisp. I’m not worthy of this pain. But Veronica says no one deserves it more
MARKHEIM: Who’s Veronica?
(Sounds of Mara choking)
MARKHEIM: Now do me a favor, Mara Demon-choker, with your beautiful strong hands on your own beautiful long neck, whatever you do, don’t squeeze.
(sounds of Mara choking)
You don’t think there was a Markheim in the room with Judas at the end?
Now listen closely, darling Mara. Do me a little favor. Tell Sam I talk to him or nobody. ‘Kay?
[sfx: bass riff]
EMCEE: And now, Episode 7 of MARKHEIM, by Paul Mullin.
Transition 1
VOICE: Smiley had helped me sneak away from my guards on the Harbor Steps, but after glowing Sam’s choker demon back down to hell, I figured maybe I could use some angelic protection after all. I headed back to the closest thing I ever had to a home just across from Hammering Man where the street becomes stairs. I could see them waiting for me. My three Doms.
Scene 1
MARKHEIM: Hello, ladies, sorry about that. We must’ve just gotten our signals crossed. But I promise from now on I’ll be goo—
(A vicious crackling. The abrasive noise quickly moves far away as Markheim begins to speak his thoughts, sounding like he’s talking from inside a coffin.)
VOICE: One angel holds my feet, while the other two each grab a a hand and touch my head. This closes a circuit, frees a seizure of light.
(Markheim screams. The electric crackling moves close again. Then just as quickly fades back.)
Bright white mass of penetrating brutalizing bliss. Light where light should never be, guttering up into me like embalming fluid.
DOM 1 (voice close, as if right up in Markheim’s ear): You reckon we’re fuckin’ ‘round, Markheim.
DOM 2: You think we can’t shine you down to Hell.
DOM 1: Reckon we ain’t authorized for that?
VOICE: And somehow, when she said it, I knew they weren’t. Authorized. They weren’t going to blaze me to Crisp. But... this light they had me broiling in—
DOM 3: Ow’s it feel, Markheim?
VOICE: I’d do anything never to feel it again.
MARKHEIM (speaking out loud now): I’m...
DOM 3: ‘e’s trying to say sumfink.
DOM 1: Speak up, Markheim.
MARKHEIM (gasped whisper): I’m sorry.
DOM 2: Sorry?
MARKHEIM: I’m heartily sorry for offending you. I will never leave again. I will always take you with me.
DOM 3: Oh, the Markheim’s sorry.
MARKHEIM: Please, please stop. I am. So sorry. I’ll do anything.
DOM 1: Ugh. Disgustin’. Let ‘im loose.
(Thumping sounds as they release him.)
VOICE: They dump me next to the fountain and withdraw to their posts. The sound of running water drags me down into a deep sleep. Which is a problem. ‘Cuz as I believe I’ve mentioned before, angels don’t sleep.
Scene 2
(Eerie moanings and chimes ringing. Sounds of Seattle’s sound garden. Sounds of a dog panting, yelping with delight.)
LIV: Oh, who’s a good boy.
MARKHEIM: Liv?... What is this place?
LIV: The sound garden.
MARKHEIM: I thought you were in Oregon.
LIV: I can’t be in two places at once? That’s rich, coming from an angel.
MARKHEIM: I see you got Black Francis back. Hello, Black Francis.
BLACK FRANCIS: Hiya, Mark. I love you.
MARKHEIM: You been a good boy?
BLACK FRANCIS: Always good. Always. I love you.
MARKHEIM: Oh, I love you too, boy. Wait.
BLACK FRANCIS: What?
MARKHEIM: He’s talking.
LIV: So?
MARKHEIM: He’s a dog.
BLACK FRANCIS: So?
MARKHEIM: This is a dream, isn’t it?
LIV & BLACK FRANCIS: So?
MARKHEIM: I told you. Angels don’t dream.
LIV: Maybe things are changing.
MARKHEIM: Change ain’t always good.
LIV: Never said it was.
MARKHEIM: Do you believe in evil?
LIV: Do you believe in sound?
MARKHEIM: Yes.
LIV: Okay. Are you ready?
MARKHEIM: Ready for what?
BLACK FRANCIS: Something’s coming.
LIV: Something wicked.
BLACK FRANCIS: This way.
MARKHEIM: What?
BLACK FRANCIS: He’s almost here. Can’t you hear him?
MARKHEIM: I can’t hear anything but this damned garden.
LIV: He loves gardens.
MARKHEIM: Who?
LIV: You’re oldest friend.
MARKHEIM: Oh shit.
LIV: Oh shit is right.
BLACK FRANCIS: He’s coming!
LIV: Yup. And he’s a little bit pissed.
Scene 3
VOICE: My eyes pop open. My heart is thumping. But there’s nothing in the night. Just the harbor steps and my guards. One at the top of the stairs. One at the bottom. And one stuck in the middle with me.
SAM (hollering from very far away): Markheim!
MARKHEIM (to himself): Shit.
SAM: Hello? Anybody home?
DOM 1: Oo’s that?
SAM (suddenly close): Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friends?
MARKHEIM (to the Doms): Don’t talk to him. Don’t even look at him. Just keep your heads down.
DOM 2: You want us to bow our heads to some Meat?
MARKHEIM: He ain’t Meat.
DOM 2: Some demon then.
DOM 3 (from farther away): Not bloody likely.
SAM: Aw, look at these darling Dominations. So fresh from the Fix they don’t even recognize me. What do they teach you up there anyhow?
DOM 1: Best get back to hell, brother, ‘fore we touch you up.
SAM: Oooh. This one’s spicy. Is she your favorite, Markheim? She’d be mine. These things are full of juice, you know. Just have to open ‘em right.
DOM 1: Go to hell, crisp trash.
SAM: I can’t go to hell, sister. I AM hell. Now give us a kiss.
(Sounds of kissing and Dom 1 trying to fight Sam off, but losing. Then sounds of sucking as Sam guzzles the glow out of her. Finally, sounds of something burning fast and furious: Sam smoking the remains down to the Crisp.)
SAM: Mmmm. Delicious. But, you know, the first drink always just sobers me up.
DOM 2: Shit, it’s Samael.
DOM 3: Bail out!
SAM: Freeze!
What am I supposed to do here, Markheim? Guzzle the glow from these two as well? Burn their shells to the crisp too? Is that why you called me?
MARKHEIM: I don’t want you to smoke anybody, Sam.
SAM: You don’t want me?
MARKHEIM: No, I’m not telling you what to do.
SAM: No? Oh well, thank you so kindly.
Come here, Gorgeous.
DOM: Please, Sar Samael. We were only following Raguel’s orders.
SAM: My replacement? That’s meant to mollify me?
DOM: We-- we’re simple Doms, Ha-Satan. We ain’t briefed to work wet.
SAM: And yet here you are. Oh so wet.
(Again the sounds of kissing, struggle, sucking, burning.)
SAM: Now that one. Whoo! That’s one’s going straight to my head. God DAMN I’ve missed that. Need to treat myself more often.
MARKHEIM: Please, Sam. I get the point. Don’t smoke ‘em all. It’s only trouble.
SAM: Oh, yeah. I’m the Prince of Darkness. I don’t want any trouble.
MARKHEIM: I’m begging. Let one go as a warning.
SAM: Oooh. Crafty. Don’t worry, Markheim. I’m not gonna smoke her.
MARKHEIM: Thank you.
SAM: You are.
MARKHEIM: What?
SAM: You know what to do. Put your lips on hers.
MARKHEIM: Sam.
SAM: Now.
(sounds of kissing. Struggle.)
Now suck.
MARKHEIM: (lips pressed) Don’t ask me to do this.
SAM: I’m not asking.
(sounds of struggle, sucking, desiccation.)
Now light her up.
MARKHEIM: I’ve never smoked anybody before.
SAM: No? But you glowed my choker to the Crisp.
MARKHEIM: Sam, I’m sorry. She... had attacked me prior and—
SAM: On my orders.
MARKHEIM: Sam, please. I’m trying to walk neutral here.
SAM: You called my name into a shitter. You glowed my choker. She’ll be useless for weeks. But somehow I’m supposed see you as neutral.
MARKHEIM: I’m walking a very fine line.
SAM: I’ll say. Now finish this one and I’ll call it good.
(Sounds of burning.)
Good. See? Now we can talk like gentlemen.
MARKHEIM: You’ll be on the brink of war with shit like this.
SAM: Is that what you wanted to talk about? War?
MARKHEIM: There’s too many angels in this town. I’m tripping over them, Sam. Ever think maybe someone is trying to draw you off-sides?
SAM: Keep talking.
MARKHEIM: “Pick a city Sam’s got indifferent infrastructure in. Flood it with angels, of all sorts and sizes and competencies. See if he jumps.”
SAM: Why would the Fix wanna draw me into open war? After a such a long peace?
MARKHEIM: Maybe it’s just a splinter in the Fix. Someone looking to make a move.
SAM: Who?
MARKHEIM: Who knows? An arch, likely.
SAM: That would narrow it to seven. Michael?
MARKHEIM: I doubt it. He doesn’t get out much lately. Mostly stays put and binges bliss.
SAM: Raguel? The Dom said they were his.
MARKHEIM: Maybe, but he wouldn’t do it alone. He’s got a bit of a stink on him, being your replacement.
SAM: Nice.
MARKHEIM: Just saying.
SAM: Unh-hunh
Gabriel?
MARKHEIM: I wouldn’t begin to pretend to read Sar Gabriel.
SAM: Yeah.
MARKHEIM: What about Iophiel?
SAM: You kidding?
MARKHEIM: No chance she’d fudge the rules?
SAM: Kid, she is the rules.
MARKHEIM: I know that you... two... got history.
SAM: Stick to what you know, Markheim. Run down this theory of yours and get back to me with anything you find.
MARKHEIM: What about my neutrality?
SAM: You’re here at my pleasure, Markheim. Which it ain’t exactly been, I gotta tell ya, since you got here. Your rent on sitting neutral just went up: information, on a regular basis, payable to whomever the fuck I send to collect it.
You’re right: there are too many god-damned angels down here. From now on you’re the only one gets a free pass. We see ‘em, we smoke ‘em. That’s my new rule. You can pass it along.
MARKHEIM: What if that’s just the war they want?
SAM: You think I’m afraid of a war? With every spin of the Show, the odds on my side just keep getting better,
MARKHEIM: Maybe that’s what they’re afraid of. Demons can reproduce; angels can’t. The number of Fix forces is just that: fixed; while the Host of Hell is ever increasing. Maybe someone’s looking to fight while the odds are still good.
SAM: Hunh.
MARKHEIM: Yeah.
SAM: Yeah. Well, maybe you better find the fuck out for sure, hunh? You’re the last one I gotta remind, right? Things can always get uglier.
MARKHEIM: No. I remember.
SAM: Good. I’ll be in touch.
Episode 8 Preview
EMCEE: Next time, on MARKHEIM...
[sfx: Westlake Park, sounds of a protest]
MARKHEIM: Is that Didge up there?
STANK: He doesn’t go by “Didge” anymore.
MARKHEIM: That’s some suit he’s got on.
DIDGE (over the bullhorn): Many of you knew me by the street name. But I’m wanna tell you today. “Didge” is dead. I’m someone new. Someone stronger. And I’m here for you. To fight.
[sfx: Pike Place Market, in distance]
POW: You need to not come back here. This ain’t a game. Markheims ain’t had clearance to work wet in over a century.
MARKHEIM: I’m walking neutral.
POW: There ain’t no fucking neutral, Markheim. Like the meat said, you gotta serve somebody.
MARKHEIM: Tell Iophiel I need to parley.
[sfx: Harborsteps]
LIV: I’m mad at you. You were supposed to look after Black Francis.
MARKHEIM: I did. And then I lost him when I— I had to take care of something. It’s been a long time, Liv. No one thought you were coming back. What happened in Eugene? Your step-father?
LIV: Oh, he’s dead.
MARKHEIM: Yeah?
LIV: Yeah. Shot himself. I guess he was cleaning his shotgun and it went off in his face.
MARKHEIM: Oh.
LIV: I was the only one home when it happened.
MARKHEIM: Oh.
EMCEE: That’s all in the next Episode of Markheim… and don’t forget...
SAM: Things can always get uglier.
(End of Episode.)
Copyright © 2013 Paul Mullin
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