Chapter Text
Usher Foundation Case #10101203: Statement of a monster going by "Battat", regarding the disappearance of his boss, Mr. Anthony Tenna. Statement given December 10th 2010. Statement initially lost due to file system restructuring in August of 2012, recovered and re-filed on April 12th 2015.
STATEMENT BEGINS
Look, y'all are my only shot with this. I know your reputation is dubious, but, I’ll take it over the alternative. My coworkers, they all think this is just a manic episode I’m having in the wake of our boss going missing. But it’s more than that, I know it is. They didn’t know him like I did. They didn’t see what I saw.
I am – or well, was – one of the lead producers of Mr. Anthony "Ant" Tenna’s TV Time. Have you heard of it? You probably haven’t. It was huge in the late seventies and up through the eighties but had a bit of a low period before the game show rebrand in the nineties. It was mainly notable for being the first Monster-hosted late-night talk show on prime time, and would inevitably be eclipsed in popularity by those that followed in its footsteps. But even so, Mr. Tenna still had one hell of a devoted audience. I mean, it was mostly older folks - but it was still impressive, even now.
He is- well... Was a charismatic monster. Larger-than-life on the screen, and in person too. And not just because he was so damn tall, either. He'd just... light up a whole room every time he'd start talking. He was so bombastic, and seemed to feel every emotion at ten times the intensity that a regular person would. Which means when he was happy, he'd practically fill the whole studio with that joy. And when he was angry or upset, we would all be aware of it, even several rooms over. And he got upset a lot more towards the end, I swear most of my - or well, our job between me and the other two producers - ended up being talking him out of his tri-weekly meltdowns. But despite that, we all just... Really liked him. I really liked him. Even when that light started to fade and things started to get really weird I just... I just wanted to help, but I didn't really know how. I still don't know if I even did anything to help or... Not like it matters now, though.
Things, so I've found from researching and talking to the older staff, started to decline going into the nineties. There was more competition on air for one, but he also lost his time slot to another Monster-hosted show when his ratings started to decline. So Mr. Tenna pushed for a rebrand after entering a business partnership with some human he'd been networked with, who would then become his new co-host. This guy, Spamton. G. Spamton, made it big during the dot com bubble, and for a time was one of the biggest names in that whole scene. His wealth in no small part contributed to his and Mr. Tenna's success, and helped get the show to move past its growing pains. It ended up doing even better than it did in the old days, and they even managed to get their time slot back. And watching back over what few of those episodes I can find, I can see why. Those two had insane on-screen chemistry. It was like they were born to host a game show together.
But, like all bubbles, it, of course, popped. Taking Mr. Spamton's wealth with it. And not long after that, he disappeared from all public records. There's no death certificates that I can find under his name, but the part that really... Really bothers me, is how Mr. Tenna absolutely refused to talk about that era of the show. It was like it never happened to begin with. I remember before I knew anything about Mr. Spamton at all, I asked Mr. Tenna about the huge gap in what I could find of the show's episode list. And he got this... Really strained look on his face, and his antennae started twitching in a way I had never seen before. And he told me in no uncertain terms that those missing episodes were none of my concern, and that I should just focus on my job at hand.
Which, how the hell else am I going to react to that other than to dig deeper? I've always been one to do that. I can never leave well-enough alone when it comes to stuff that really nags at me. I... Don't know if me doing that contributed at all to what happened. God, I hope it didn't. But it's too late to regret that now. What's done is done.
It's just, they worked together for years, had such a public facing friendship and closeness that is evident from the episodes I've got on tape, not to mention what the senior staff had to say about them. And yet, all physical evidence of it almost disappeared overnight with Mr. Spamton. It just didn't make any sense to me. The more I was able to dig and ask around, the more god damn questions I had.
Those tapes I mentioned, of their early episodes? I had to do some serious digging through Mr. Tenna's office whenever I got the chance to find them, and even then it only accounted for the first maybe, half of a season? And like I said before, in terms of the public archives, the rest of it is functionally lost media. All I can find of Mr. Tenna's show on the Internet Archive is from the time before and after Mr. Spamton was co-hosting. It's like someone was making an effort to make that era of the show disappear completely from public memory.
I've given all this background about the show and with the missing episodes and the disappearance of its old co-host because of just how bad things had gotten once I came on board to help four years back. If it wasn't obvious enough that the show had three producers by the end of it just to keep things running smoothly. It was me, Pluey and Jongler, and even with the three of us delegating it was easily the most stressful job as a producer that I'd ever had. It wasn't just the show itself that was in decline, it was also evident in the upkeep of its main studio. There was clearly a leak in the roof somewhere because there was water damage all over the place, and I'm pretty sure we had a mold problem by the end of it, if not from the start.
The place was also always just... Really cold. Like damp cold. We had the HVAC and Furnaces checked so many times but they were apparently in working order, but no matter what we did to adjust the thermostat, and no matter the time of year, the whole building had this pervasive chill to it. Which was, needless to say, really unpleasant, and we all tried our best to avoid spending more time there than we absolutely had to.
And then there was the show itself, which... Look, Mr. Tenna was still as charismatic as he'd been in the old episodes. He still put on one hell of a show. But as far as game shows go... It was rough. Really rough. Getting contestants hired on was always a struggle, and with how deep in the red we were, we didn't exactly have the budget for the kinds of prizes that would get contestants to sign on to begin with. That, paired with the outright shitty time slot we had, well... I'm proud of what we managed to pull together every week. But I think we all saw the writing on the wall with how little time we had left before we had the plug pulled on us. And we were all kind of bracing ourselves for it, because TV Time was Mr. Tenna's life's work, so none of us could imagine what he would do when things were inevitably shut down.
I remember I tried looking into if Mr. Tenna had any family after he had a particularly bad breakdown. I just wanted to see if there was anyone I could reach out to in order to, I don't know have them talk to him? Or maybe get him help? But as far as I could tell, he was no longer in contact with his parents or extended family. He did apparently have friends at some point - but it didn't look like they'd been in contact for several years. Jongler and I each tried to call them several times but every time we did it went straight to voicemail. I can only imagine there was some kind of falling-out, and they were purposefully ignoring the studio's number. So, of course, I tried calling from my own home phone, and a woman did answer that time - and I recognized her voice as Mrs. Toriel Dreemurr, from the voicemail message. I got about halfway through introducing myself and explaining why I was calling before she very politely but firmly interrupted me, and told me that she wished no further contact with anyone associated with Mr. Tenna. She asked me, again very politely, to not phone again, and hung up before I could say anything further.
I know none of it was any of my business to pry, and it is none of my business now to speculate. But even in the comparatively short time I worked with him, I cannot imagine Mr. Tenna doing anything to ever cause someone to go no-contact in such a way. He was over emotional, sure, but there isn't- wasn't a single piece of malicious chitin in his whole body. If he had caused such grievous hurt to that family to lead to them to cutting all contact - I just know it wasn't intentional on his part. I refuse to believe otherwise.
I... I eventually told Mr. Tenna about our attempts to call the Dreemurrs. I felt like I, I don't know. A part of me felt guilty about going behind his back, but I panicked at the last second and made up some shit about it being for emergency contact related matters. Which, I don't know why I did that, it's not like I was his personal assistant. I mean, we, Pluey, Jongler and I, we kind of were in an unofficial capacity? But that's besides the point. But I... I told him about what Toriel had said, and I... I asked him if there was anyone else we could call in case of a medical incident, or some other emergency.
I'll never forget the way he reacted to me telling him that. He just... got really quiet, for a very long time, and there was just this... Blankness that overtook him. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen from him up until this point. We must have been sitting there in total silence for nearly five minutes before he just went back to sorting through his paperwork, and dismissed me. No answer my bullshit question about emergency contact, just... Dismissed me.
It was after this that things really started to get... Really, really bad. I mean it was bad before but... There's a reason why I've chosen to come to you guys over the police. All of us around the studio just... Started to see less of Mr. Tenna. He used to be a regular sight in the break room and even the actor's lounge between shoots, but steadily over time he hung out at both less and less frequently, until he was only able to be found if you visited him in his office. Only then, for him to reject all attempts at inquiry whenever we knocked. Eventually the only time we would see him would be whenever he was coming out to record for the show. He was the same as he'd always been whenever the cameras were rolling, but... There was an emptiness now, behind his showmanship. And once the cameras were no longer rolling he would just... Disappear back into his office. None of us ever saw him leave, either - it turns out he'd started to take the back stairs out to avoid running into any of us entirely.
The water damage started to get progressively worse after we had that talk as well, as did the chill in the building. The contestants and any guests we were having on were starting to complain about it constantly, and of course the higher ups were on our asses about it. But while there was little we could do about it before, we were powerless against it now.
Airing reruns during the week was standard of course and we'd been doing so for the entire time I'd been working there, at least of the ones recorded from the past few years. But after we had a whole rack of stage lights fall from the waterlogged ceiling mid-shoot we were forced to air more during our regular weekly time slot as it was all repaired, which of course got the higher ups on our asses even more. We did our best to explain the situation but it of course just made things even worse for us. The end was so clearly in sight for the show, and all our jobs. I had a lot of people hand in their two-week notices after the stage light incident. Some just outright walked out and never came back. Pluey and Jongler and I did our damnedest to keep the sinking ship together, but there was effectively nothing we could do but wait for the other shoe to drop.
The night before we got issued our notice of cancellation, I'd finally worked up the nerve to just... Honestly, I still don't know what I was planning on doing. I just needed to see him, and to talk to him again face-to-face. It went beyond my duties as his employee, unofficial personal assistant or otherwise, but I was genuinely, seriously concerned about everything that had been happening, and about him! And I... I don't know. I don't know what I was expecting to find, or what I was even going to say. But nothing could have prepared me for what I did find.
On past nights when I'd attempted to enter his office to deliver paperwork, the door had been firmly locked. Leaving me to just knock, announce what I was bringing, and leave it in a stack outside of the door on the now frequently wet tile. Over time the papers had stacked higher and higher, and started to fuse together from the building damp.
As I approached his office that night, I saw one of the stacks had fallen over, the pages utterly soaked through from a flood from what I later discovered to be a broken pipe in one of the employee-only bathrooms further down the hall. I really should have gone and investigated it right then and there, but I was so laser focused on my desire to talk to Mr. Tenna that I fully ignored the water sloshing around my shoes as I stopped before his office door.
I reached up and knocked as per usual, only for it to just... Silently swing inwards. Unlocked, and unlatched. The room beyond was dark and silent, broken only by the steady flickering glow and canned chatter from his old tube television. I pushed it open further, some of the floodwater spilling over the threshold and into the room beyond.
Mr. Tenna was laying sprawled on his sagging couch, watching what I thought was an old recording of one of TV Time's earlier episodes. The light from the television had a bleaching effect upon everything it touched, washing out the colours of Mr. Tenna's vibrant dress jacket and tie and giving his already pale carapace a sickly pallor. I stepped into the room further and got a better look at the screen, and saw what he was watching was, in fact, an old home movie of a monster family I did not recognize. As I watched the family was sitting down around a Christmas tree, and I heard Mr. Tenna's voice laughing from the other room as whoever was behind the camera called for him and the others to join him. The footage was grainy and whoever was filming was having a hard time getting the camera to focus, something he was grumbling to himself in the moment.
I turned then to look at Mr. Tenna, who didn't seem to have noticed my entry. I called out to him, but he didn't react at all to my voice. Just kept laying there, staring glassily at the screen. If it weren't for the faint movements of his antennae and rising and falling of his thorax, I would have thought he was dead. I crossed the room in order to stand between him and the television, and I called to him again, waving a hand in front of his eerily blank face. His antennae twitched then, and his face slightly shifted in my direction. I asked him if he was okay, and he just stared at me, saying nothing. I must have stood there for five minutes in total silence with him before he very suddenly spoke up, and asked me something.
"Do you think anyone will remember me, when I'm gone?"
My nerves were so rattled by this point that I honestly didn't know what to say. The water was spilling further into the room, far enough in to get the couch skirt wet. I didn't know what really to say so I just kind of assured him that yes, of course people would remember him. He had such an incredible legacy with his show, after all. At that the blankness of his face broke a little, and he got this look of grief that I had never seen from him, even when one of our senior staff members passed away a few years back.
"But will they remember me?" He asked then, one of his segmented hands pointing towards the screen behind me. I turned around and stared at it. At this family and a younger Mr. Tenna in happier times. They were now all sitting around the Christmas tree, the younger Mr. Tenna kneeling next to the large pile of presents in a gaudy Christmas sweater as he teased whoever it was that was behind the camera about 'stealing his job'. I once again didn't know what to say, so I just... Admitted out loud that I did not know who these people were. The videotape came to an end as I did, the screen overtaken by solid, piercing blue.
The quiet that overtook the room was all-consuming, broken only by my shaky breathing. I don't know how long I stood there, staring at the television screen, before I eventually turned around to check on Mr. Tenna. But when I did, he was gone.
You have to understand me on this. I did not hear him get up and leave. I did not hear him do anything at all. He was just gone, as if he'd never existed to begin with. By that point someone else had discovered the flooding and was yelling their head off about it, but it was all so distant amidst the roaring terror in my ears as I stared at that empty couch. I don't have a clear memory of what happened after that. Apparently someone came in at some point during the cleanup process, and they found me just sitting on the floor shell shocked and soaked through the ass with floodwater.
Nobody has seen him since. But it's worse than that. Nobody remembers him at all. Everyone for sure knows that our boss cut and run of course, but nobody can tell me his name. I tell him Mr. Tenna's name and they just stare at me blankly with zero recognition. I press them about it, demand them to tell me who our boss was, then, if not Mr. Tenna. And they all just shrug. They tell me they were never close with the guy. That they never got around to learning his name. Some say they never bothered at all. My fellow producers, they don't remember him either. They give me the same god damn blank look when I try and tell them anything about Mr. Tenna. I think they think I've had some kind of nervous breakdown.
But I remember him. I god damn remember him. Why is it only me that does? I know I'm not crazy. I still have the old tapes, I can still find those old episodes online. He did exist. I know he did. I worked for him for four years, I refuse to believe I hallucinated his existence for that entire period of time.
I can't trust my coworkers with discussing this further. It's why I had to come to you people. You must have the answers for why this happened. It can't be anything but the supernatural that did this to Mr. Tenna. I don't even know where to start with what it could be, but that's where your expertise lies, doesn't it? I have nowhere else to turn. Please, I need answers. I can't stand being the only one that remembers.
STATEMENT ENDS
(compiled research notes, collected on scattered Usher Foundation issue letter note paper, dated from original date of statement)
- All attempts at contact with the Dreemurr family as per details provided by Mr. Battat have gone nowhere, as the household evades any attempt at reaching out either via phone call or mail.
- The late night talk show turned game show "TV Time" does exist and was cancelled two weeks before statement was given after over 30 years of being on-air, though the name "Mr. Anthony "Ant" Tenna" makes no appearance in any official media documenting it or its history.
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- Episodes uploaded to the Internet Archive as well as from one of the Tapes Mr. Battat provided do, however, include this name in the title, and a monster resembling that described in Mr. Battat's statement is present as its host.
- The studio for TV Time has since been foreclosed on and marked as condemned due to the extent of the water damage present in all parts of the building. As per our own inquiries, it would appear there was no obvious source to blame, which has baffled all involved.
- As per Mr. Battat's own research, no record of someone named Spamton G. Spamton can be found after 2001. He is listed among notable up-and-coming businessmen in a few finance magazine articles from the mid-late 90's, but beyond his presence in later seasons of TV Time, nothing else about him can be found.
- Further contact with Mr. Battat has been unsuccessful, as he appears to have moved across the country and did not leave a point of contact with his previous landlord.
- Potential primary influence of Forsaken and to a lesser extent Choke, as per manifestations described.
- No further actions to be taken.
(a smaller piece of issue letter note paper, tucked in to the front of Case folder)
"Modern investigation of this Statement as of August 6th 2016, as per its connection to Case #01230612 can be found within its folder for future reference." - Allison