Alex Reagan: Hello, Wayne Coats? I understand you have some shocking revelations about Richard Strand’s youth, secrets that he would refuse to tell me and details that he would be loath to have broadcast to the public, and I was wondering if you’d care to share all of those intimate details with me, my tape recorder, and our thousands of listeners!

Wayne Coats: Why, I’d love to tell you all about my childhood friend, Richie Strand! First, you have to understand that he was always the quiet type, never dramatic, never calling attention to himself. Second, you should know that he was absolutely fearless and totally loyal. Finally, you need to remember that he gained terrible psychic powers through some dark pact with an infernal entity intent on channeling the forces of the apocalypse through young Richie’s soul.

Alex Reagan: Could you go into a bit more detail about that?

Wayne Coats: Sure! See, there was this one time when some bullies knocked me down and tried to steal my bike, but Richie, who was like five years younger and outnumbered ten to one, stood up to them, never blinking, refusing to back down! Even when he was a kid the guy had cantaloupes the size of, well, cantaloupes.

Alex Reagan: No, I mean the inexplicable powers obtained through dark magics.

Wayne Coats: Oh, of course! Silly me. Well, you know about the Boy in the River, right Bobby Maimes, who was kidnapped and murdered in our home town? Well Richie had this terrible dream, a dream that showed him the ghost of a boy and a fork in a river, but that was all a metaphor. See, the ghost boy was a representation of our innocence, and the fork in the river was how our destinies were all being changed by this terrible event. But it was also pretty literal, because a demon named Tall Paul whispered terrible secrets into Richie’s ear while he slept, telling him how Bobby died and where the body was hidden.

Alex Reagan: So … PNWS boom?

Nic Silver: PNWS boom.

[PNWS Boom]

Nic Silver: Hi Alex! Great news! I’ve used my super sleuthing hacker skills to track down incredibly important information about Thomas Warren and the Exorcismatron 2000!

Alex Reagan: You mean you Googled his name and actually read what was on the second page of results?

Nic Silver: …anyway, I found out that Thomas Warren sits on the Board of Directors of a company called Lucaternica, which is a wholly-owned subsidiary of DevaCorp, and their most important product is …

Alex Reagan: Oh! I know! I know! Giant demon trapping machines used by shifty men in shady black suits performing bizarre exorcisms while supervised by incompetent medical professional!

Nic Silver: Close! They make pachinko machines!

Alex Reagan: …Are you sure MereKatnip doesn’t want to help with our investigation?

Alex Reagan: When you’re crawling up the blood-slicked precipice of some dark mountain, clawing at the very earth with your fingertips in the vain hope that you might one day see your loved ones again, any distraction could spell your doom. That’s why the staff and PNWS wear Bombas Socks. Visiting the shrine of some evil cabal of world-ending, child-stealing minstrels is bad enough, but having an annoying seam rubbing on the tops of your toes is just too much to bear.

Bombas Socks: cling tightly to the last vestiges of comfort while all you know and love is stripped away by the encroaching darkness.

Alex Reagan: For days, maybe even weeks, sleep evaded me. I would lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, begging and for any solution to my exhaustion, praying for a respite from my waking nightmares, but no answer came.

I fled to a secluded cabin far from my daily worries, hoping to escape the terrors hidden in the back of my own mind, but even there, even so far from home, so far from friends and family and foes, I found no relief.

That night, the terrors came again. Whispers in the darkness, hunting accusations of failure and warnings of certain, looming doom. And so I ran from my cabin and out into the forest, the roots reaching up to grab my ankles, the tree branches clawing at me like the gnarled fingers of a withered old woman.

And I heard them.

Black hounds chased me, fearsome not-quite-wolves with coats as black as pitch, slavering fangs as sharp as knives, and eyes are red as the fires of hell. Though I could not see them, I knew.

That’s why we’re proud to announce our newest sponsor, Bark Box. Each month, Bark Box selects the finest treats and toys for your favorite furry friend, and each shipment is guaranteed to delight your canine companion, whether you cuddle up with a sleepy puppy or run screaming in terror from the Barghest.

BarkBox.com: treats so delicious even the hounds of hell will momentarily abandon their quest to savage your tender, mortal soul.

Nic Silver: Alex! Great news! My super-clever hacker girlfriend taught me about this amazing new technology called a “web browser,” and I was able to use it to access something called a “Google,” and they helped me track down Thomas Warren!

Alex Reagan: That’s amazing, Nic! Is he hiding in a monastery in Russia? Holed up in a cave in New Mexico? Performing blasphemous rituals in a day care in Seattle?

Nic Silver: Worse! He’s giving a speech to the World Trade Organization in Vancouver! Oh, and the Googles also said that The Advocate is recruiting an army, a collection of the best and brightest minds, whose genius he will corrupt in order to bring about the end of days! And do you know who he’s targeting? Oprah Winfrey, Elon Musk, and … Richard Strand!

Alex Reagan: Holy shit, Nic! Strand knows Elon Musk! Do you think he’d let me test drive a Tesla?

Nic Silver: Um … there’s also this mysterious hacker in Maine that has a photograph of the General of the Armies of the Faceless Damned, but he only accepts visitors in person on Tuesdays at 11:15am.

Alex Reagan: So we’re going to Maine?

Nic Silver: Looks like!

Alex Reagan: Can we drive a Tesla?

Nic Silver: Damn it Alex, we already blew our entire budget installing hidden recording devices in Strand’s house. There’s no money for a Tesla!

Egypt - 3,600 Years Ago

En Sabah Nur: Okay, time to take over this new body, gain a mutant healing factor, and rule the world forever as an immortal god!

Ridiculously Competent Egyptian Guard: Time to enact my clever plan, which will destroy your massive temple and bury you beneath several millions of tons of rubble!

En Sabah Nur: But wouldn’t this plan require that you somehow modify the very structure of the pyramid I built with my mind in the after credits scene for X-Men: Days of Future Past, then quarry several multi-ton missile-boulders, and secretly position them on the missile-boulder-launching tubes you would have also needed to construct under my omnipotent nose without my noticing?

Ridiculously Competent Egyptian Guard: How about you shut up and take a nice long nap?

En Sabah Nur: Whatever.

Nic Silver: Okay, so there are few possibilities. One, Keith Dabic is a confused, scared, mentally unstable boy who has created an elaborate conspiracy around an urban legend that we just happened to feature on our show. Two, Keith is being held prisoner in an evil Russian monastery, captive to a dark and secretive group of demon worshiping monks who plan to use evil music to usher in the end of days, and are sending us cryptic emails in order to lure us onto their turf so they can murder us as tribute to their fell lord.

Alex Reagan: Holy shit Nic, you’re right!

Nic Silver: Good, I’m glad you can see how silly …

Alex Reagan: So I’m going to need a plane ticket to Bulgaria, a black catsuit, a climbing rope and grappling hook, a translator with special forces training, and a fake passport.

Nic Silver: [sigh] I’ll go set up a Patreon.

Nic Silver: Hi Alex! So I have a couple of concerns. Your insomnia is only getting worse, you’re apparently trying to summon the Fell King of the Goats in your sleep, and this afternoon Paul Bae found you in the breakroom, clutching a butcher knife and slathered in thick, red liquid, the words “RED RUM” scrawled on the wall behind you. Now, my friend at the coroner’s office tells me that the liquid was just tomato soup, but this still raises a few important questions.

Alex Reagan: Please, like you didn’t disappear into the Seattle forests for a week, only to emerge from a cabin that’s masquerading as a TARDIS, covered in very real blood, none of which was your own, and missing all of your companions, except for the crazy lady you went looking for, who had chopped off her own arm and offered it to you as an evening repast?

Nic Silver: Alex, we talked about this. What happened inside the Breach stays inside the Breach. Because if it doesn’t, SuperGlobalEvilCorp LLC will send a goon to my house and cut off my foot.

“I … can’t do this.”

Alex hit the wall at the exact same time I did. I was this close to writing the episode off. I’m glad the opening was just a joke.

“The coroner ruled it a suicide!” “What about the buckets of blood sprayed liberally across the south-facing wall, as if painted by a demon-possessed Lowes Home Improvement Specialist using a brush formed from the pelvic bone of a virgin and the fine hair of twice-murdered children?” “That sometimes happens in suicides!”

“What about the missing family, who reported feelings of looming dread, had video tape showing their home might have been invaded, and had documented evidence that the nanny was going to sacrifice their child to Marad Al Marad, known to his friends as”He Who Slays Innocents Whilst They Slumber!" “Probably just on vacation!”

“I’m still having trouble sleeping! Mostly because I keep waking up and finding Amalia standing over my bed, clutching a butcher knife, her eyes glowing with the dull fires of some long lost hell dimension!”

“The … Song of the Oompa Loomps?” “Close enough. Here’s an excerpt: Oompa Loompa doopity do! I’ve got another demon for you! If you are wise, you’ll listen to me! Do not repeat his name times three!”

“Hi Alex! Richard Strand here. Would it be cool if I dropped by the office and throttled Amalia until she revealed where my wife is? Thanks!”

“Squarespace dot com! You should! Sell your soul to Malkezidek!”

“Knock once for yes, twice for no, there is no hope of escape and I should just consign myself to the sure and certain doom set to befall me!”

“Hi, is this Tannis?” “Yes!” “NICK! HOLY SHIT NICK! I FOUND TANNIS! ALL OF YOUR QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED!” “No, Alex, that’s Tanis with one ‘n’. I’m looking for Tannis with two ’n’s. I know, right? What are the odds? A mysterious, oddly capable prophet and the mysterious, oddly cloudy prophecy share a startlingly similar name?”

“Hi Alex! Richard Strand here. Fuck this whole Scully routine. Let’s go find some demon-worshipping, wife-kidnapping, baby-eating, and most importantly, spooky-recording-on-your-cell-phone-leaving, devil-cult monks!”

“Hey Alex, I think you might have a small typo on page fifteen of your–” “GO FUCK YOURSELF NICK YOU LECHEROUS DEMON POSSESSED RUSSIAN SPY FUCKING ASSHOLE.” “–script.”

“Um, Amalia? Why are you standing over my bed chanting while I sleep again?” “Not to be worrying, Alexandra! Am certainly not whispering incantations selling soul to devil! Back to sleep now!”

“Hey Richard? About this tape labelled”Cheryl?" “WHO TOLD YOU ABOUT MY PORN COLLECTION? I mean …”

Alex Reagan: Last season, we discovered that Coralee Strand, Richard Strand’s long-lost and presumed-dead wife, was alive, well, and living in Tahoe, and that Sexy James Bond, the mysterious stranger who stole Richard’s DNA and forced me to change my underwear, is actually a mysterious billionaire named Thomas Warren. My producer, good friend, and unhinged lunatic Nic Sliver helped me think all of this through: