From simnfeld@ix.netcom.com Sun Mar 09 22:35:48 1997
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: NEW: "Consume" Teaser/04  PG
From: simnfeld@ix.netcom.com(Simonfeld)
Date: 10 Mar 1997 04:35:48 GMT
--------
Title: "Consume"
Author: Simonfeld
Email: simnfeld@ix.netcom.com
Rating: PG
Type: X
Archive: Sure!
Spoilers: Takes place after "Momento Mori", but makes no mention of any
prior episodes except "D.P.O" (as far as I can remember). No spoilers,
though.

Posting: I'm posting one part a day over 5 days. The story is seperated
into a teaser and four acts, just like a regular episode (there are
even commercial breaks). This isn't meant to be a script, though - just
a story.

Summary: Mulder's unconventional investigation into a series of
disappearances and inability to divulge his theories to Scully may cost
his partner her life.

Comments: My first time posting, so don't get mad if I did something
wrong - I'm new at this. Let me know if there's something awry with the
formatting, etc. Comments are muchos appreciated (so I know whether to
keep writing or to stop before I hurt anyone :)

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and the whole X-Files thing belong to Chris
Carter, 1013 Productions, and the execs at FOX, who all deserve
monuments in their honor for leaving me alone about using these
characters. This is just for fun, not profit.

--------


Cran Nowe, North Carolina
12:45 am	
March 11

	
	From above, the city of Cran Nowe was a sea of lights. Towering 
skyscrapers that seemed to defy the very laws of physics stood
cluttered together, windows glowing in the black night. Between them,
tiny dots that were moving cars processed silently like ants through
the brightly lit streets. There were so many small dots of light that
the top of the city seemed like a reflection of the starry sky above.
Small clouds of steam came up from between the buildings, and planes
and helicopters flew gracefully through the air. 
	
	From below, the starry sky above was barely visible through the
tops of the enormous skyscrapers, each of which stood tens of stories
high. The night air was cold and filled with the sounds of running
motors, car honks, and pedestrians walking quickly across the street
and chatting away. The streets were packed with cars, each of which
crawled along at a few miles an hour. Neon signs from every building
and countless street lamps kept the roads even brighter at night than
they were during the day. Even at this late hour, the city was teeming
with action.

	From one the less-attractive looking buildings emerged a small
black woman dressed in a suit with a dress. She clutched her pink purse
tightly as she joined the crowds of people walking down the sidewalk to
their cars. Only this woman needed to catch the late bus. Her name was
Tayan, and after walking down the crowded street for about a minute,
she broke away from the pack, turning right and heading down a dark
side road towards the bus stop.
	
	The air was still and quiet as Tayan Harris walked quickly down
the deserted street, arms crossed to save heat in the chilly night. The
sounds slowly faded away, until there were no distant sirens, no car
honks that usually dotted a Cran Nowe night. The apartment buildings
next to her, towering high in the dark night, were silent, despite the
fact that many of the windows had light in them. Tayan's elongated
shadow danced across their cracked and dirty walls as she walked by.
The bus stop was a few yards ahead of her. Gosh, she hated being out
this late in a city this big. But tonight was different. There was 
something odd in the air (and it wasn't the smog), something not quite
right, a wisp of something unnatural. Where were the cars, the usual
hustle and bustle of the inner city, drunk drivers and gang riots? The
street was silent, empty, spooky. It was as if she was the last person
on Earth, even though she'd just come from a busy main street.
	
	She had worked overtime tonight. Man, she hated her boss. She had
only been there for two weeks (moved in three weeks ago), and already
he was screaming at her to finish that damn Abra document. Plus, the
coffee tasted bad. Tayan finally reached the bus stop and sat down,
putting her back against the smiling face of an Amsterdam Al ad, which
was barely readable behind the "RACE" and "XIV" spray-painted over it.
It was just a bench -- now the muggers could sneak up from behind if
they wanted to. Her stomach felt queasy. Calm down, she told herself.
Just because you're new to town doesn't mean all the criminals know.
	

	She pictured the man --  balding, bucktoothed, and drunk, with a 
narrow head and glazed eyes -- rushing up to her and pulling her into
the alley behind. His shirt had stains on it, and they were the last
thing she would see before he slit her throat and took her wallet, or
worse...
	
	Snap out of it, Tayan. She was crying in her mind. Why did she
imagine all these horrible things when she least needed them? She was
scared already -- she didn't need to make it worse for herself. This
was so unlike the suburbia she had grown up in. Deserted shells of cars
lined the street, and a brown and crusted newspaper blew down the road.
She could read its headline: "MAN KILLED IN CHAPEL"
	
	They're so uncaring, Tayan thought. The people. Why was everyone
so cold? Everyone was nice in her hometown. She wanted to be nice, but
this city life breeds it out of you. Stop worrying, Ty. Soon you'll be
in the comfort of your apartment, snuggled in blankets and without a
care in the world. Yeah, right. That's what all the people say in those
horror movies say right before the monster kills them. She smiled.
	
	All the lights on the street flickered.
	
	Tayan's head shot up, her smile a memory. She was shaking so hard
that she pulled her coat closer over her. Why were there no cars? In
fact, she didn't she anybody. In a city this big, you would think
somebody would be walking down this street. Oh, cut it out Tayan, she
thought. A minute ago you didn't want to see anybody. She released her
pink purse from her hands and put it next to her when she noticed she
was clutching it. What was taking the darned bus so long?	
	
	She heard footsteps...
	
	"You know, it's dangerous to be out this late," said a man who
was walking his dog. 
	
	"Then what are you doing out here?" Tayan shot back. The man 
laughed and kept walking. Tayan wished he would come back -- now she
was alone again. The feeling of unreality came back, along with a touch
of loneliness. It was as if she was the only person in the world.
Everyone else was asleep, everyone she had known long ago. What was it
about the night that made her think things like that, that made her
feel so alone? She looked down the street, but the man was gone. What
was taking the bus so *long*? 
	
	The lights flickered again.
	
	Already on edge, Tayan gasped and stood up. She didn't want to
sit in a vulnerable position, waiting for someone to mug her. She
turned around to make sure no one was sneaking up from behind. All she
saw was an alleyway between the apartment buildings next to her. She
couldn't see down it, though, since it was pointing at an angle. All
she could she was one wall and an overflowing dumpster. 
	
	Tayan craned her neck and studied the street around her. No one
was coming.
	
	As she sat down on the bus stop bench again, Tayan checked the
alley behind her again, just to be safe. There were shadows on the wall
of the alley. Tayan saw them move forward a little. It was someone out
to get her! She stood up quickly, her healthy twenty-four year old
knees shaking and barely able to support her. The shadows moved again,
all of them. They seemed to dance along the wall, slithering blackness
seeping towards her, as her shadow had done when she had been walking
down the street. The shadows were moving in wave-like motions.
	
	"W-Who's there?" Tayan asked in a shaking voice.
	
	The whole wall was soon covered in a dark shadow. Tayan leaned
over to look down the alley, but it was too dark. Where was the
bus??????
	
	With a loud snap, all the lights on the street went out. 
	
	It was pitch black. The sound of the lights turning off hit Tayan
in the chest, and the realization was carried to her brain seconds
later. Terror. Tayan couldn't see a thing. She stood up on shaking
knees, unprepared for attack but wanting to know when it was coming.
Her head was hot -- she could hear her heart beating as if it were
right next to her brain. Where was her night vision? She couldn't see
the buildings around her anymore, it was so dark. But this was no
darkness, the only rational thought in her head told her. This was like
ink, an inky darkness swirling around her. Thick black choking darkness
filling the air. She couldn't see the bus stop anymore!
	
	"W-w-who......who are you? Hello?"
	
	Silence. Nothing but darkness -- not even a breeze on her face.

	"P-please. Go away. Leave me alone......please!"

	Still nothing. The silence was even scarier than if she had
actually gotten a response.

	'H-H-HERE! TAKE MY WALLET! ANYTHING! JUST DON'T HURT ME!" Tayan
shrieked. She walked backwards, at first slowly but then 
more quickly. She had to run. But there was no where to go! She
couldn't see anything anymore! "HELP!" she screamed, but her voice
seemed to be muffled by the  blackness. She became disoriented - which
way was up? She learned a second later when she fell down, head
throbbing. She had stepped into it - everything was black. She couldn't
see anything, as the darkness swirled around her, consuming her. She
rolled in an attempt to escape, from what she didn't know. She was
alone. Alone in the dark.

	Swoop.
	
	HONK! HONK!
	
	The bright headlights of the bus splashed light across the dark
street, focusing on a single rose which lay on the road where Tayan had
been lying a minute before. All the lights on the street turned back
on, and the flies returned to swarming around the lamp posts. The bus
drove over the rose without stopping, since the nearby bus stop was
empty.

				(fade to X-Files intro)

Disclaimers n' things: (see the teaser post). The song "Thanks Bro" was
recorded by Filter and belongs to Warner Bros. The song "Blind" was
recorded by Silverchair and belongs to Epic Records.  I didn't get
permission to use either song, but take my word for it, they are very
good. Go buy them today. :)

    I'm still not sure if I'm posting this right, so let me know if I
screwed up (not an unlikely situation). Please let me know what you
think of the story, too: simnfeld@ix.netcom.com

--------

Washington D.C
March 11
7:22 AM

	The golden sun shone from a lazy blue sky above the morning
commute. Cars of all colors traveled seamlessly through the city
streets, past towering skyscrapers and low-lying parks. One car pushed
its way up an incline and pulled into the parking lot of a large
apartment complex. Dana Scully stood in the outer alcove in the
building, clutching a small suitcase and yawning in the crisp morning
air. She made her way over to the car, threw her bag in the trunk, and
climbed into the passenger seat.  

    "Only one bag?" Mulder teased.	
	
	"When you're given ten minutes to pack, sometimes you forget your
bathing suit." She smiled. 
	
	"Ooh."
	
	"You're looking awfully frisky this morning," Scully commented.
"Did the Knicks actually win a game?"
	
	"That'd be an X-File in itself. But if I'm looking frisky this
morning, it's because some people actually wised up and handed us a
case I've been eyeing for two months." Reaching over, he picked up an
X-File he had put between the two front seats and handed it to Scully.
	
	"No slide projector this time, so the photos will have to do," he
said. Scully opened it and saw a picture of what she thought looked
like a rose on a basketball court.
	
	"That's a rose on a basketball court." stated Mulder
matter-of-factly. Thanks for the enlightenment, thought Scully. More
photos of roses -- some on benches, sidewalks, and grass. 

    "What happened?" Scully asked.
	
	"Seven missing persons cases is what's happened, latest one
occurring last night. Seems people have a knack for vanishing into thin
air in Cran Nowe. Ever been there?" 	
	
	"No, but I guess I'm going to now, aren't I?"
	
	"Yup" Mulder smiled. "Actually, it's seventeen missing persons
cases in the past twelve years that have followed that pattern, the
rose."
	
	"A rose is a pattern?"
	
	"They're left in place of the vanished person. That first rose
you saw on the basketball court is where a janitor disappeared twelve
years ago."
	
	"How do they know it's supposed to -- oh" Scully was about to ask
how they knew the rose was a sign of a crime, but the next photo
answered her question. A digital clock that displayed the time and
temperature to passing drivers  had the words, "Bill Setag is dead"
written on it. "Was the first person to disappear a man named Bill
Setag?"
	
	"You're catching on." Mulder teased again. "Whoever's taking
those people enjoys rubbing it in the noses of the local PD. At least,
that's what *they* think." Mulder gave her a look to indicate he had a
different opinion. "They get one of those messages about a day or so 
after each disappearance. It's how they made a connection with the
roses."
	
	Scully paused, then asked the inevitable: "So what's the X-File?"
	
	"I knew you would ask that. A city as large as Cran Nowe has it's
fair share of urban legends, many of them about these disappearances.
Stories of ghosts, demons, serial killers, and living darkness, that
kind of thing. Cran Nowe PD requested our involvement to help break 
through these uh, 'myths,' and get to the FACTS!" Mulder shouted as a
car cut him off at the intersection, nearly hitting him. The other car
honked as Mulder swerved madly, spilling the contents of the X-file and
his precious bag of sunflower seeds all over Scully. As he regained 
control and kept driving, Mulder looked over at Scully and saw her
pressed to the side of the car, glaring at him under the flaming red
hair that was clinging to her face.
	
	"Something wrong?" Mulder grinned.
	
	"You want me to drive?" asked Scully.
	
	"No, I'm fine." said Mulder, as if nothing had happened. He was
actually in a good mood today, nothing a near car accident could break.
He liked the morning sun, the hustle and bustle of the early weekday
morning. Almost made him forget the terrible things he had witnessed in
his life. Not enough things, though, he reminded himself. Oh well,
right now there was another truth awaiting him. Another truth was
waiting Cran Nowe.
	
	Scully sighed and began scooping up all the spilled papers. As
she did so, she noticed a black-and-white photo sticking out under a
pile of reports. She picked it up and examined it. It was a picture of
a brick wall, with the words "SCOTT PHILLIPS, YOU ARE MINE" written in 
dripping blood. "These disappearances, Mulder -- have they ever found a
body?"
	
	"No. Not even of the people who vanished ten years ago."
	
	"Well, whoever's doing this is definitely demented."
	
	"Or whatever."
	
	Scully sighed again. She wanted to tell him that the stories
running amuck in Cran Nowe were, like most myths, not only
unsubstantiated but completely fictional. 
	
	"I know you think that the majority of those myths are not only
unsubstantiated but completely fictional, but some of them parallel our
case. Each of the disappearances took place in complete darkness. And I
don't mean all the lights are out, Scully, I mean just blinding
darkness. No night vision. People nearby at the time of the crimes have
reported it. They say it's unnatural. Oddly enough, stories of killers
who lurk in complete darkness have circulated in Cran Nowe for 
decades."
	
	"It could just be a smoke screen." Scully offered.
	
	"We'll see." Mulder said as he pulled into the parking lot of the
airport.


Crime Scene #1
Edison Avenue, Cran Nowe
11:21 A.M

	Police officers were searching alleyways and checking circuit
breakers as Mulder and Scully pulled up alongside the crime scene. The
bus stop was cordoned off by a yellow "POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS" tape.
A young-looking detective climbed underneath it and headed towards
Mulder and Scully. He had short brown hair and a fair amount of stubble
growing on his tanned face. Unlike most of the other detectives
standing around, his eyes had a hint of boyish mischief behind them.
Like all the other detectives, he was wearing a trench coat.
	
	"Detective Vets?" Mulder asked, extending his hand.
	
	Vets shook it. "Detective Samuel Vets, tired-as-hell detective
extraordinaire at your service. Glad you could make it on such short
notice, bla bla, bla, let me give you the fun filled tour." he said in
a heavy New-Yawk City accent. They followed Vets to the middle of the
road-blocked street, where a rose lay.
	
	"This is where the rose was found. So concludes the fun-filled
tour. Emergency exits are at your left." Scully bent down and stared at
the rose. 
	
	"We got the rest of those back at the station if you think you're
Sherlock Holmes and can solve this case with a couple 'a roses." said
Vets. "Which, unfortunately, none of us are."
	
	"What time do you estimate the crime took place?" Scully asked.
	
	"Well, the last city bus drove by here at about 12:50 am, around
the same time blackouts were reported in the area. Oh, and people heard
screams at 12:50, so I just put 2 and 2 together. That's police
training for ya." Vets said with a smile.	
	
	A bleak, gray overcast hung over the city. Mulder could see cars
whizzing by at the nearest intersection. Graffiti adorned much of the
cracked walls of the nearby buildings. Mulder assumed this wasn't the
upper class neighborhood.
	
	"In a city twice the size of  New York, I'm surprised we even
find these roses intact." Vets mused. 
	
	Scully stood up and asked, "Have there been any leads at all,
detective?"
	
	"None whatsoever." Vets replied as Mulder walked away. "Where's
he going?"
	
	"Mulder mentioned that the city has its own explanations." Scully
said.
	
	"Yeah, there's a load of crap floating around out there. Get used
to it." Vets smiled to put her at ease. "You don't believe that stuff,
do you?"
	
	"No," said Scully. "From what little evidence we have, I'd say
this case is just a criminal who knows his way around power lines."
	
	Vets laughed. "You're my kind of officer!"
	
	The crane's engine whirred as a city power line inspector was
lowered to the ground, next to Mulder. "Did you find anything?" asked
the FBI agent.
	
	"No. Weirdest thing. We got a flood of reports last night of
power outages in this area. I checked every damn line and connection
there is, and nothing's wrong. I hate it when this stuff happens. Who
are you, by the way?"
	
	"Marty Mulder."
	
	 The inspector got out of the crane lift he had been standing in
and walked back towards his car. Mulder furrowed his brow in thought.
Unless Darren Oswald was in town, he had no idea what was going on.
	
	"Mulder!" Scully said from behind, walking towards him. He turned
around. "There's a witness Vets thinks we should talk to."



Cranberry School For the Underprivileged
Cran Nowe, NC


	The agents climbed up the steps to the school's entrance. "Hey,
look Scully -- plant life!" Mulder said, pointing to the leafless
bushes in front of the school. The school's entrance was just 
a few feet from the sidewalk, with stairs leading to it, like many of
the other buildings on the busy street. The buildings were all joined
together like Siamese twins.  None of them were very high, compared to
the nearby skyscrapers that seemed to cut into the murky overcast sky.
The bushes were the first plants the agents had seen since their plane
landed.
	
	Through the dirty and cracked glass doors at the entrance lay a
long hallway. There were no windows save the doors that the agents had
just come through. Lockers lined the yellow walls. Mulder and Scully
walked along the dirty tiled floor to the nearest classroom. Scully 
knocked on the door, and a man with thinning brown hair opened it.
	
	"Are you the FBI agents?" he asked just as Scully held up her
badge. "Oh, guess so." He smiled nervously. "Come on in -- I've got to
keep an eye on the students." He stepped back and opened the door
wider. Mulder and Scully walked in, with every pair of eyes in the
class fixed on them. The preteen students were behind painting easels,
watching intently as Scully and Mulder sat down next to the teacher's
desk in the corner. The room was brighter than the hallway, mainly 
because all of its three windows were open, exposing the street and
passing cars. The windows themselves were too dirty to see through. 
	
	"Just keep drawing, kids. This will only take a minute." the
teacher said to his class.
	
	"Mr. Bricker," began Scully. "Last night you saw Tayan  Harris at
a bus stop, is that correct?"
	
	"Yes, the police told me I was the last person to see her alive."
Mulder got up and started meandering around the classroom.
	
	"Well, we don't know for sure if she's dead or not." Scully said,
angrily noting Mulder's absence. "What were you doing?"
	
	"Walking my dog. I was walking my dog."
	
	"At one in the morning?"
	
	Bricker laughed. "I know, it's odd, but I couldn't sleep, so I
decided, 'why not?'"
	
	"Did you notice the power go out?"
	
	He nodded. "Yeah, it was about 12:50 or so when everything went
black. I had to stop walking after awhile because I couldn't see a
thing."
	
	"Were you on Edison Avenue at the time?"
	
	"No, I had turned onto Welsborrough Drive. Sorry."
	
	"That's okay. When you say it was dark, were the lights just off,
or was there another source of darkness?"
	
	"Well, I just couldn't see anything. It's not like when you're
standing with no lights on, it was like.....I don't know, I just can't
describe it, Agent Mulder." he said to Scully.
	
	Mulder walked along the side of the rows of children, lost in
thought and only half-aware of what he was doing. He was pondering how
Tayan could have vanished when a particular picture caught his eye. It
mainly interested him because it was the only good picture being
painted by one of the students, but something else struck him. It
showed a woman, knees bent and screaming as a whirlwind twirled around
her body and extended its arms into the clouds. At the woman's feet was
a rose. 
	
	"That's a pretty nice picture." Mulder said as he kneeled next to
the student who was painting it, a small black kid who looked roughly
12.
	
	"Thanks." he said in an uninterested voice.
	
	"What's it of?" Mulder inquired.
	
	The boy shrugged. "I dunno."
	
	"What's this guy doing?"
	
	"I dunno. Dancing?"
	
	"Dancing?" Mulder asked with a chuckle.
	
	 "I don't know what he's doing. I just made it up."
	
	"Who's she?" Mulder pointed at the woman.
	
	"Some lady."
	
	"Why is there a rose near her feet?"
	
	"I dunno."
	
	Mulder realized this was going nowhere and stood up. Scully shook
hands with Bricker in the corner and motioned for Mulder. The two
walked back outside to the hall. 
	
	"Well, so far I've really enjoyed this little trip to Gotham
City," said Mulder in a sarcastic voice. 
	
	Scully wasn't smiling. "Why did you get up during the interview?"
she asked.
	
	Mulder shrugged as he pushed open the glass front door, turning
the silence in the air into the whirr of cars and chatter of
pedestrians. "I thought you could handle him. He looked pretty
manageable to me." Mulder said in the same not-so-serious voice.
	
	"You also left while Detective Vets was briefing us."
	
	"I was investigating." Scully wished he would cut out the
sarcasm.
	
	"Well, what did your 'investigation' turn up?"
	
	"I saw a pretty neat picture and talked to a guy in a hard hat."
	
	"Uh-huh. Do you have a theory, or should I just throw mine out?"
	
	"Shoot."
	
	"I think somebody is combining their knowledge of power lines
with a few canisters of gas to get to these people, under the guise of
a supernatural serial killer."
	
	"That's possible," said Mulder, crossing the street with Scully.
"But I think that until we get any hard evidence, we should get a few
other opinions on this matter."
	
	"By doing what?"
	
	"Just ask the good townsfolk." said Mulder, as a car whizzed by,
nearly hitting him.
	
	"This is one hell of a parking space you found by the way,
Mulder." said Scully, stepping on to the sidewalk and walking towards
their car, which was a few blocks down the road.


Rayson Street
Cran Nowe, NC
4:10 p.m.


	Josh Vlaming was looking for a parking space, and he needed one
bad. His copy of "The Rapture" would cost him another five bucks if he
didn't get to the video store in the next ten minutes. He swore and
honked his horn in anger. Traffic was so bad it was as if he wasn't 
moving at all. Every inch of curve was filled with a car....except for
the area with the "No Parking" signs, he noted in excitement. He would
only be five minutes -- no way he could get a ticket that fast. He
struggled to push his car through the muddled rush hour mess,
reminiscing about riding on bumper cars and wishing he could bump into
the station wagon in front of him. He finally got to his intended
parking spot, turned the engine off, and looked up at the sign above 
his car. It was barely readable under the dried blood that was on it.
	
	.....blood?
	
	"Holy piece of..." Josh opened his car door and walked up to the
sign to get a better view. It was blood all right, and this was no
parking sign. He tapped a man walking by him.
	
	"What the hell do you-"
	
	"Look!" Josh pointed at the sign. The man's angry expression soon
melted into that of surprise.
	
	The blood-soaked sign read, "TAYAN HARRIS MUST DIE"



Cran Nowe, NC
7:01 p.m.


	The overcast sky grew darker and darker. Night was approaching.



Castro Tunnel
Just outside Cran Nowe, NC
10:13 p.m.


	"I need to get out" said the singer on Brandon's car radio. He
was driving home from work in Cran Nowe, thanking the higher power that
there absolutely no traffic that. He was 25 and proud of it -- the last
thing he wanted was to grow old. His car was his pride and joy, and he 
would handle the commute from his hometown to Cran Nowe if it helped
him pay the car insurance. It was a red 96 Nissan, he had told his
friends over and over again. Two airbags. Stereo. The comfiest seats in
the world. He loved his car; he hated his job, and he hated the 
commute. Luckily, the normally jam-packed freeway was completely empty.
His eyes still hurt from plunging from the blackness of night driving
into the harsh green lights of the tunnel. The walls of the tunnel were
tiled and dirty with patches missing. Overhead lamps lit the place. 
	
	"There's something wrong around here." The song on the radio
continued. You got that right, Brandon thought.. No cars. Something was
wrong, but Brandon liked it
	
	Outside the tunnel, a man dressed in a robe and painted as a
skeleton looked up into the sky, then turned and entered the tunnel.

	"I have no doubt....we're all going to die from fear." The song
began to pick up, with the second guitar coming on and drums got a
beating. It made Brandon even angrier that his car chose that minute to
stall.
	
	In fact, the whole tunnel seemed to stall, as the harsh lights
all went out along with his headlights and plunged him into the same
darkness he had been in while driving outside. Brandon kicked his
precious gas pedal on his precious car, but the vehicle refused to
move.
	
	"Damn you!" he said to the car. Then a thought struck him -- why
did the car go off along with all the tunnel lights? He fumbled about
in the dark for the glove compartment, found it, and clicked on his
flashlight. At least that still worked. 
	
	He sat in his car, waiting for it to start up again. He really
didn't want to have to push it home. Brandon put a foot up on the
dashboard, waving his flashlight around the silent car for 
entertainment. His car had better....
	
	....oh no....
	
	Brandon remembered something he heard at work a long time ago. It
couldn't be, he thought. Impossible. That was just a stupid story -- 
and why would he, of all people, be singled out? A lump began to grow
in his stomach, as if all his nervousness was having a party in there. 
Brandon looked back through his rear window and sighed with relief when
he could still see the mouth of the tunnel. See, it wasn't THAT dark!
	
	But still.......
	
	Claustrophobia got the better of him, and Brandon quickly got out
of his car. At least there was no traffic, no one to honk at him or
throw bottles at his baby, er, car. Brandon recalled all he heard,
about serial killers and monsters. His co-workers were making all that
crap up, he had thought. It was just a stupid urban legend. Get back in
your car.
	
	But standing there in a darkened tunnel, all alone, Brandon began
to wonder if the stories he'd heard back in the city had a ring of
truth after all. He debated whether to get out of the tunnel or stay
with his car until it started up again. Maybe he could leave and...go
find a payphone! Yes, he would go find a pay phone and call for a tow
truck before some big bad monster came and ate him....

	He began to walk down the tunnel, then quickened his pace. Soon
he was running. Screw the damn pay phone -- he just wanted to get out.
It seemed like a dream. These days he was more afraid of getting a
scratch on his car than getting eaten up by zombies. But all of his 
urban sensibilities melted away as his primal instincts took over, and
his instincts said to get the hell out of this death trap before it was
too late. 
	
	But it already was too late.
	
	Dark mist swirled in front of him, making the scant night-vision
he had worthless. He was blind. Brandon pushed on, the sound of his
sneakers hitting the hard street reverberating down the tunnel. He was
becoming disoriented -- he didn't know how far down the floor was, 
how far away the tunnel exit was. His feet hit the ground sooner than
he expected them to. Dizziness and confusion were pulling him down, but
he refused to stop running. Brandon was bent over to keep from falling,
wheezing as his healthy young lungs tried to keep him breathing. 
	
	Darkness was the enemy, Brandon reminded himself. That's what
they had said.
	
	With a loud snap, all the lights in the tunnel came back on, and
the darkness vanished as if it were never there. The sudden brightness
struck Brandon's eyes, and he fell down screaming and clasping his wet
eyes in pain. His legs kicked and tried to find footing so he could 
stand up, but Brandon was in too much pain. Now he really was blinded.
He hoped it was just temporarily.
	
	As Brandon lay moaning and shielding his eyes, a thought came to
him. The lights were back on. The darkness was gone...and he was still
alive! He must not have been the intended victim after all! That happy
thought gave him the strength to stand up, and he opened his eyes. 
His vision was blurry, but he could make his way down the tunnel. 
	
	As he was walking back to his car, feeling like a fool, he
noticed something odd. Or 
rather, he heard it. It sounded like something strumming. It was...a
guitar. 
	
	"Taking a chance now...." said his car radio. The car must have
started when the lights came on, and now he was hearing the radio. "I
took mine...." He liked this song. 
	
	"You left me hanging there...." As he walked, Brandon noticed a
chalk body outline on the floor of the tunnel. He could see much better
now, and he slowed down to look at it. Looked as if the guy died in a
pretty grisly position.
	
	"Out on a line....."
	
	The lights died.
	
	"NO!!" he shouted. Brandon couldn't see anything again! He ran
toward his car, the same feelings of terror and paranoia returning.
	
	"You've got all those other things..."
	
	The car had been a trick to lure him back. His baby had been used
against him. Brandon's face got warm from anger.
	
	"I've just got this one thing...."
	
	BAM! Something large smacked into Brandon with such force that he
was thrown headfirst against the windshield of his car, smashing it. He
screamed, and felt something grab his ankles. Brandon dug his
fingernails into the hood of his car, but something was pulling him 
backward. His fingernails peeled up red paint as he was dragged.
Brandon lifted one hand and grabbed hold of his hood ornament. He was
being pulled backwards too hard...the ornament was coming out. He held
on for dear life, watching in horror as the hood ornament slowly bent 
upward, until finally snapping out of place. Brandon was pulled,
screaming, into the darkness behind him. His voice reached a high and
wailing pitch as he was attacked in the dark, while the Filter song on
his car radio kept playing.
	
	"Thanks a lot..."
	
	Brandon's screams alternated between high and low, the only sound
coming out from the black hole in front his car. Then his voice choked
up, and his screams dissipated.
	
	"Way to go...."
	
	Brandon's flashlight, which he had been clinging to the whole
time, came flying out from the darkness, landing next to his rear
wheels and rolling along the pavement until a bony hand picked it up.
It was the man dressed as a skeleton, and after collecting this trophy
he turned and walked out of the tunnel, blackness still clinging to
everything.
	
	"Bro....."
	
	The lights snapped back on, and the regular flow of traffic
poured into the tunnel. Brandon was gone, a single rose lying in the
chalk body outline on the floor. Above, one last light flickered back
on.

				(fade to commercial)
   

     -------------------                     ----------------------
-------------------            End of Post      -----------------------
Disclaimer/Information: See the teaser post. 
                        The Arch Deluxe belongs to McDonald's, and is a
                        mighty tasty burger despie Vets's lukewarm     
                        opinion.

    Sorry this is late - I did a major rewrite before posting it. I'm
still not all that satisfied with it, due mainly to my cramped writing
style.

email: simnfeld@ix.netcom.com

---------


Crime Scene #2
Castro Tunnel
11:21 p.m.


	"Well, isn't this nice?"
	
	Blue and red lights from silent police sirens flashed along the
tunnel walls. Normally a hub of intense traffic jams, the tunnel had
been barricaded off and dubbed a "crime scene".  Dozens of officers
were crouched around, dusting for fingerprints, blood, hell, even a
fleck of a spit if only to shed light on what had happened.  Vets
rolled his tired eyes at the futility of inspecting the scene. He was
missing Letterman for this.
	
	"What happened?" he asked with a yawn, approaching the two FBI
agents.
	
	 Mulder turned around and smiled weakly at Vets. "More fun,
detective." he said, pointing at the chalk body outline on the floor.
There was a rose in it.
	
	"Any evidence?" Vets asked hopefully.
	
	"Well, we identified the victim to be Brandon Anthony Tupper.
That's his car." Scully turned and gestured toward the red car further
down the tunnel.
	
	"Nice machine." commented Vets.
	
	"Yeah, but he won't be picking up any chicks anytime soon."
Mulder said. Vets laughed at the lame joke.
	
	"Those are his initials." Scully motioned at the chalk body
outline on the road, which had the letters 'BAT' written in it.  "I
guess they rubbed it in our noses early this time."
	
	"Obviously taken down with little struggle, seeing as there's no
blood." mumbled Vets. Scully nodded in agreement.
	
	"Possibly poisoned with cyanide, morphine, maybe an Arch Deluxe."
	
	"Or digitalis" piped up Mulder. Scully gave him that 'let's not
go through that again' look. Mulder piped down.
	
	"Is that all?" Vets asked.
	
	"Unfortunately" Scully sighed. "We still know nothing." She
peered at Mulder out of the corner of her eye to see his reaction.  His
face remained set in stone.
	
	"So do you big-shot FBI agents have a theory?" Vets inquired,
obviously kidding. Scully waited to let Mulder answer. He was silent.
The alternating red and blue lights continued to dance across the
trio's faces, none of them saying a word. 
	
	"Guess not." said Vets, and turned to speak to an officer who was
calling his name.
	
	When he was gone, Scully asked, "So do you have an idea?"
	
	Mulder looked to the side. "No." Although there was constant
talking and shouting of crime scene hustle and bustle in the
background, Mulder's silence was the only thing Scully could hear.  She
turned her attention back to the rose on the street. 
	
	"Do you think there could be some special significance to the
rose, other than a marker?" she asked.
	
	"Maybe," drifted Mulder's voice. 
	
	Scully, white latex gloves firmly covering her hands, picked up
the rose and turned it, looking at it from all angles, being sure not
to breathe too hard on it.  It was in good condition. 
The bottom of it didn't look as if it had been plucked from a garden. A
few thorns - Scully counted two. They weren't very sharp - there was no
chance of cutting her fingers on them.......wait a minute
	
	"Mulder!" Scully craned her head around, but he was gone. She
sighed angrily. 
	
	"Let me know if you find anything. And try to find out if the
Mets lost!" Vets ordered another detective. He turned and walked back
to his car, but was intercepted by Mulder. "Did you find anything?"
Vets asked.
	
	"No, but I was wondering if you could answer a few questions of
mine." Mulder said, putting his arm around Vets's shoulder and leading
him away from the crime scene. When they were beyond earshot, he asked,
"Do you know anything about myth......about this," Mulder gesticulated
randomly, trying to find the right words. "This....monster that takes
people and leaves a rose in their place?" 
	
	Vets started to chuckle. "You mean the boogie man?" 
	
	"No." Mulder rolled his eyes, then looked back at Vets.
"Something I heard about yesterday in a bar, this.....I mean a monster
or a spirit that uses darkness as some kind of a shield, and takes its
victims...." Mulder trailed off when he saw Vets's amused expression. 
	
	"I know, it's a maddening case," Vets said. "But seriously, do
you have a theory?"
	
	"That is my theory." Mulder said bluntly.
	
	Vets paused, this time in shock. Slowly, he raised his
brown-sleeved arm and patted Mulder on the back. Looking him straight
in the eye, Vets said, 
	
	"Get help." 
	
	And with that, he walked away.
	
	Mulder, face hot with embarrassment, mused at the irony of his
short-sightedness. Here he was, an Oxford grad, big-shot profiler, and
he hadn't had the foresight to realize what an idiot he must have
sounded like. He didn't care if Vets thought he was crazy,
but........what if he told Scully? Mulder got nervous, especially when
he saw Vets re-enter the crime scene and head straight for his partner.

	
	"Hey, you won't believe what your-" started Vets as he walked
towards Scully, but she didn't seem to hear him. Talking fast, she
asked, "You don't happen to have a picture or any of the actual flowers
from other crime scenes here, do you?" She sounded impatient.
	
	"Yeah, why? Did you get an idea?" Vets forgot all about crazy
Mulder.
	
	"Mulder mentioned there were ten other disappearances like these
ones back in the 80's." said Scully, looking Vets straight in the eye.
He nodded in agreement, focused on every word she was saying.

	"Well, I noticed this rose..." Scully's voice trailed off as she
rubbed a white-gloved thumb over one of the blunt thorns. "...has only
two thorns. If this is the same pattern we saw last time, that means
two other people may vanish."
	
	"I see what you're getting at," Vets said. "It's like a
countdown?"
	
	Scully nodded.

	Vets  laughed. "I'll be damned! We are working with Sherlock
Holmes!"


Cheap & Neat Motel
8:01 am


	Mulder came out of his motel room, walked a few feet down the
hall, and stopped in front of Scully's room. He was about to tape a
note to the door when he re-read it, sighed, crumpled it up, and walked
away.


Cranberry School  For the Underprivileged
8:55 am


	As Mulder ascended the stairs to the front doors of the school,
he tried to think of a good excuse to explain to Scully why he had left
without her. Telling the truth wasn't an option. And nobody takes an
hour to pick up the morning paper. This was going to make her pretty
angry, especially after she had just complained to him about ditching
her at the crime scene last night.
	
	But at least Vets hadn't said anything to Scully. He had agonized
the whole car trip back from the crime scene, waiting for her to dig
into his pathetic demon theory.  But it never happened. Now he would
have to be twice as careful, though, making sure never to give her any 
idea what he was thinking. And that was why he had come alone.
	
	Mulder made his way down the long, dark hall, and knocked on an
orange classroom door. Even *he* couldn't believe he was doing this. As
the wavy silhouette of Bricker approached through the foam glass,
Mulder's heart raced and he began to realize what a loon he was going
to seem like. Then Bricker opened the door, and as the draft hit
Mulder's face he stopped worrying and started talking.
	
	"Can I talk to a student of yours?" he asked. Once again, all
eyes of the children were fixed on him. Somebody was in real trouble.
	
	"Um...sure. Who?" Bricker asked, motioning for Mulder to come
inside. He looked at all the children, and his eyes met those of the
student he wanted. Mulder pointed to the kid he had talked to the day
before, who had been painting the fantastic picture (which was now
being displayed on the wall along with all the others the class had
drawn).
	
	"Him." said Mulder to Bricker.
	
	"Eddie!" commanded Bricker. Eddie Ocelot stopped breathing, and
his head started to tingle. Oh, crap! Shaking slightly, he stood up.
"This man wants to talk to you." 
	
	Eddie got very, very scared. He knew what this was about. It was
about the damn picture. The picture he should never had drawn, the
picture that was about to get him in serious trouble. Sweating, he
approached his teacher and the FBI agent.

	"Why don't you talk in the teacher's lounge?" Bricker suggested
in a low voice, opening the classroom door. As Eddie was ushered out,
he turned and caught the stares of his classmates. They were glaring at
him.

	Bricker led the two down the hall to a door marked, appropriately
enough, 'Teacher's Lounge'. 
	
	Mulder was struck by the drabness of the room. The carpet and
walls were gray, the chairs were black, and the table was brown. 
Mulder took a seat opposite from Eddie, in front of an empty mug with
dried coffee stains on the bottom. Bricker stood behind Mulder's
shoulder. All we need is a single light bulb burning in between us,
thought Mulder, and we've got an interrogation room. Or an
interrogation lounge.
	
	"Eddie," Mulder said in a friendly voice. "Do you remember the
picture you drew yesterday?"
	
	"You mean the lady?" asked Eddie innocently. You sound so fake,
he thought.
	
	"Yeah, that's the one."
	
	"I remember it."
	
	"Can you tell me more about it?"
	
	"Well........Mr. Bricker said for us to-"
	
	"No, I mean can you tell me more about what it was of?"
	
	"Oh...." Eddie paused, trying to think of an answer. "It was
just.....I dunno, some lady and a big tornado. It wasn't really of
anything."
	
	"The tornado had a face, didn't it?"
	
	"Yeah." Eddie looked to the side in an effort to convey
confusion.
	
	"Why did you draw it?"
	
	"Because Mr. Bricker told us to."
	
	"I mean, why did you draw that in particular?"
	
	Eddie shrugged. "I couldn't think of anything else to draw."
	
	He's scared, thought Mulder. Eddie's shrug had convinced him.
He's lying, and he's scared of something.
	
	"Are you all right, Eddie?" he asked.
	
	Oh no. Oh no. He knows. I'm a dead man. He knows. Eddie glanced
up at the ceiling, and noticed how dark it was in the room. The corners
were barely visible.
	
	"Y-yeah. Why?" 
	
	Mulder gave Eddie his friendliest look. "You just seem sort of
scared. You can relax - I'm not going to arrest you." He smiled to show
it was a joke. Eddie's eyes just got wider.
	
	"Did you make up the picture, or did you get the idea for it
somewhere else? From a book,  maybe?"
	
	"I made it up." Eddie replied in a hurried voice. 
	
	Like a bloodhound on a scent, Mulder realized he had something
here. Somewhere hidden inside this scared body was a clue. Now if only
he could get him to stop lying.
	
	"Is that true, Eddie? Are you being honest with me?"
	
	"Yes!" Eddie said forcefully.
	
	"Edward!" said Bricker. 
	
	"W-what?"
	
	"You don't sound like you're being honest, Edward"
	
	Eddie glanced back up at the dark ceiling. 	
	
	"I am. Yes I am!" His voice was shaking.
	
	"Eddie-" began Mulder.
	
	"Look, why am I being asked about this?" Eddie half-shouted., and
suddenly wished he hadn't. 
	
	"Edward!" scolded Bricker.
	
	"It's just a picture!"
	
	"I think you may know something about a few local disappearances.
I don't suspect you of-"
	
	"I don't know anything about no disappearances! Why would I
know?"
	
	"Eddie-"
	
	"I didn't do anything!"
	
	"Eddie!" Mulder said harshly.
	
	"No!" Eddie stood up from his chair. "Why you asking me all this
stupid crap?"
	
	"Eddie!" Bricker walked quickly around the table, heading for
where Ocelot was standing.
	
	"No! You..." 
	
	Eyes blazing, Bricker reached out his arm and - was too late.
Eddie had made a mad bolt for the door and was out in a second.
	
	"HEY!" shouted Mulder, running after him. He charged out the
door, but the squeak of his heels reverberated down an empty hall.
Turning, he saw a staircase next to the lounge door leading up. Mulder
ran, taking the stairs two at a time.
	
	Turning around the corner, Mulder nearly pulled out his gun by
instinct but stopped his hand halfway. He was standing in a carbon copy
of the hall below, once again empty. Undaunted, he ran, twirling his
head in every direction in the hope of seeing Eddie stealing off past
him. No such luck. Even the extra light from the open windows lining
one wall wasn't helping. 
	
	Mulder slowed down as he walked down the hall, checking each
door. 5......6......GIRLS.....7......BOYS.....
		
	The bathroom door flew open and Mulder barged in, gun drawn. His
reflection in one of the mirrors, barely discernible under graffiti,
showed a man searching each dirty stall, to no avail.

	Mulder came back out into the hall, and a little girl who had
been walking back to her classroom screamed  and dropped her books at
the sight of his gun. He put it back in the holster and held his hands
up, smiling "It's okay! I'm a good guy! I'm nice!" The girl continued 
shrieking. 
	
	As Mulder tried to calm the girl down, Eddie Ocelot emerged from
the girl's bathroom and crept down the stairs on the opposite side of
the hall, doubly thankful nobody had been using 
the toilets.


Precinct 1, Cran Nowe
1: 12 pm


	"He said what?" asked a senior officer who was sitting at a
conference table across from Detective Vets.
	
	"He said that a-" Vets started laughing and could hardly talk.
"A-hehheh....GHOST! " The three other officers sitting near him were
doubled over in hysterics, one of them banging his fist on the table to
control himself.
	
	"M-m.....HAHAHA.....M...heh...M-Maybe he thinks the tooth fairy
did it!" laughed one of them. 
	
	"Somebody call the ghost busters!" 
	
	"Or maybe just Bellevue!" Now all five men were shrieking with
laughter, nearly deafening Scully as she opened the door and walked in.
"Did I miss something?" she asked, smiling despite her deep anger.
	
	The men managed to  gain some control over themselves, and Vets
waved his hand to signal Scully to sit down. "I guess you've talked to
your partner?" he asked, still smiling. "Spooky Mulder."
	
	"Actually, no I haven't," Scully said icily, raising her eyebrows
and looking down.  "I haven't seen him all day." She slapped her
profile down on the table, which she had been forced to write herself
since Mulder wasn't anywhere to be found that morning.
	
	"Is this your profile?" asked the senior officer, whose name was
Detective Larraghty. 
	
	"Yes, sir."
	
	"Is it about a human?" asked the man sitting next to Vets. The
others chuckled.
	
	Having no idea what they were talking about, Scully said,
"Yes.....why wouldn't it be?"
	
	Vets looked stunned. "You mean you haven't heard the boy genius's
story?"
	
	"Are you referring to Mulder?" Scully asked suspiciously. How
could they know something she didn't?
	
	"Um...yeah." 
	
	 Getting down to business, Vets reached forward and Scully handed
him the profile.
	
	"Did Agent Mulder help you write this?"
	
	"I'm sorry to say, no." 
	
	Surprised, Vets looked up. "He didn't?"
	
	"He wasn't at our motel this morning, and he's not answering his
cell phone."
	
	"Then where the hell is he?" asked Larraghty.


3:12 pm


	"...you ain't nuthin but a hound dog...." came Elvis's voice from
Mulder's rental-car radio.
	
	The last of the students had left the school, and yet there was
still no sign of Eddie Ocelot. Sitting in his car across the street,
Mulder began to have second thoughts about waiting out there. He had
been sure Ocelot was hiding somewhere in the school, but now apparently
he was wrong. To make matters worse, he had missed his appointment with
Vets to go over a profile of his and Scully's suspect. He was never
going to hear the end of it. Not that he deserved to, he thought. He
couldn't understand why he couldn't just tell Scully what he thought.
He'd had no problem with Vets, but he couldn't - wait.
	
	Eddie Ocelot crawled out of the leafless bushes in front of the
school. Across the street, Mulder smiled in vindication. Ocelot looked
around, then began to walk down the street. Mulder started the car and
followed him. He was really going out on a limb here, but he had a
feeling Eddie would take him right where he wanted him to. Apparently
he had fooled Eddie, who must have seen him drive away shortly after
the "chase".  Little did he know, thought Mulder, that I just drove
around the block and then came back.
	
	The air was cold, as it usually was. Walking swiftly, Eddie
pulled his jacket tightly over him.  He passed a group of teenagers who
were sitting on the steps of a building, listening to a fingernails on
chalkboard rap song. The awful din was taken over by the cacophony of
nearby motors, car honks, and yells. And it wasn't even rush hour yet. 
	
	Ocelot turned and walked down a surprisingly vacant street,
unaware of the black Taurus that was following him some twenty yards
back. Eddie found the right building, looked around once more, and
stepped inside.
	
	Mulder parked and waited for fifteen minutes, taking note of the
address. He wasn't sure if this was what he was looking for or not. In
fact, he wasn't even sure WHAT he was looking for. But before he could
check it out, he'd have to regroup with Scully. Turning his cell phone 
back on, he began to shudder at how mad she was going be. Oh well. He
shouldn't have ditched her in the first place. 
	
	Getting bored, Mulder checked out his surroundings. He was on
Daddo Avenue - he could read the sign despite the multiple "Live 105"
stickers covering it. There was one parked car further down the street,
looking like it had been there since caveman times. Nothing much else, 
except for a few empty newspaper racks. One of them had a crumpled-up
bag of Chee-tos in it.
	
	He had reached 77 bottles of beer on the wall when the double
brown doors of the building Eddie had gone into opened, and the boy
emerged on to the street. Looking around once more, Eddie crossed the
street and rounded the corner.
	
	Turning on the ignition, Mulder began to call Scully's cell phone
number, then stopped and turned his phone off again. He still hadn't
thought of a good excuse.


Ra Boulevard
Cran Nowe, NC
March 12
11:01 pm


	As soon as he heard the click of the apartment door closing,
Eddie jumped out of bed and turned on every light in the house. The
brightness hurt his eyes, which minutes before had been wide open in
his dark bedroom, during a successful attempt to fool his mother he had
been asleep. Now, with her gone to the night shift at a plastics
factory, he was alone in the apartment. He hoped it stayed that way.

	To add some more light, and to soothe his sudden loneliness,
Eddie turned on the TV. Eugene Blakeslee of the ten o'clock news stared
back at him, reporting about the fatal shooting of a young girl that
morning. Eddie hit the mute button and went back to his bedroom,
trembling. He wanted to cry.

	Maybe he should leave, walk around outside for a few hours. But
he'd probably get himself killed that way, too, he thought with a
smile. Besides which, his legs were like cement, fear holding them
down. He began to shake uncontrollably, so he reached over and felt the
switchblade on his bedside table. Its form made him feel a bit better.

	But he was still lonely. His mother was away at work, and his
father was.....who knows where? He didn't even know who his father was.
Which left him no one to turn to but himself. The burden of knowing he
was probably going to die alone and afraid tonight left him feeling 
helpless. He could hear the sounds of an intense traffic jam six
stories below through his open window, but despite all the people who
were down there he still felt as if he was the last person on Earth.
	
		* * *

	Six stories below, Scully was fuming in her bus seat. How could
there be a traffic jam in the middle of the night? But that was just
the straw that was breaking the Scully's back. And the fact she was
riding back to her motel in a BUS proved it.

	Mulder had ditched her. The meeting had been delayed. She learned
Mulder had been not telling her things again. And now she was sitting
behind a bum in a bus. That was her day in a nutshell. And she was
about to crack.
	
	If she'd had her curse box with her (which was sitting happily in
the rental car), Scully would have been in debt. She couldn't believe
after three years Mulder was still withholding information from her and
going off without her. The last time this happened the planets had been
the ones to blame, supposedly. But now there were no cosmic syzygies,
there was just Mulder running around town with a stupid theory and not
answering his cell phone. Vets had told her about Mulder's demon idea
right before he and the other officers were called to make an arrest. 
She had to wait in that conference room for four hours until they came
back. In the meantime, she had done a lot of contemplating about
Mulder. And the results made her angry. 
	
	The bus had moved about four inches in the past ten minutes.
Spewing obscenities, Scully got stares from the old lady across the
aisle. Then all the lights on the street went out, and she couldn't see
her anymore.

	   * * *

	Eddie had curled up in his bed and was shaking like a California
quake. Why had that stupid FBI guy asked him all those questions? It
wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that he should have to die because of that
stupid guy! He had gone and asked for forgiveness, hadn't he? Shouldn't
that be enough? Eddie began to cry in sorrow for himself.  But there
was no guarantee he would die. He hadn't really told that guy anything.
And maybe he would spared......maybe it was all a load of crap his
friends had made up to scare him.
	
	While Eddie lay on his bed quivering, all the lights on the
street went out.

	* * *

	Everyone on the bus was groaning, including Scully. A power cut?
Then a thought dawned on Scully. No, it couldn't be, she thought. Then
she heard a scream and knew it was.

	* * *
	
	It was Eddie who had screamed.
	
	He rolled ungracefully over and fumbled for his switchblade. With
the handle in his clenched fist, Eddie pulled the sheets off him and
stood up, banging his knee on the drawer. He couldn't see anything.
Eddie stumbled into the empty corner of his room, shaking like he was 
having a seizure. Tears streamed down his face, which he couldn't see
past the end of. The sounds of traffic below had stopped.
	
	In his head, Eddie saw his friends on the playground, just like
they had been the day they let him in on a little secret. Billy, that
blond kid, was in the middle, staring him in the eye. What had he said?
	
	'Be afraid.'
	
	Eddie was afraid. His knees seemed to give out, and he longed to
kneel down, but he forced himself to stand.
	
	'He comes to getcha in the night.'
	
	Well, Eddie thought, feeling the hard wood of the corner behind
him - at least he can't get me from behind.
	
	* * *

	"Open the door!" Scully showed her badge to the bus driver, and
he squinted to try and see it. "I'm a federal agent, open the door!"
Wide-eyed, the driver opened the door and Scully raced out. In the
swiftly dying light she could make out the buildings next to her, and
entered the one she figured the scream had come from. Whirling her
flashlight around, the beam caught the face of a fat, angry-looking
black man.
	
	"Who's screaming?" Scully asked as the man covered his eyes from
the harsh light.
	
	"That - that Ocelot kid. Eddie. Sixth floor!"
	
	Scully managed to find the stairs and began to run as fast as she
could to the sixth floor.

	* * *

	The hand wielding the knife was shaking, but Eddie continued to
hope he could put up a fight. Raising his switchblade higher, Eddie
looked around without moving his neck, but there was nothing to see. He
was alone in an abyss. 
	
	'Dark. Darkness is the enemy', his friends had told him.
	
	Where was it, he wondered? Slithering around the sink? Crawling
across the floor? Flying over the fridge? Don't kill me, he begged in
his mind. I'm just a kid!
	
	'He kills you. He doesn't care who you are. No mercy.'
	
	Seconds before he would have collapsed on the floor crying and
shaking, a shape appeared from behind Eddie's head and slowly wrapped
around it, cupping his mouth. Eddie wasn't even aware of it. He was
just aware of the warm feeling his pants had suddenly taken on.
	
	It happened fast. The shape pulled backwards and caused Eddie to
fly, head over heels, through where the corner of the room should have
been. But it wasn't there anymore. Eddie screamed as he was pulled down
deeper into the darkness by an enemy he couldn't see. 
Deeper....deeper....
	
	"AAAAAAaaaaUUUUUUUUuuuuGHhhhhhh......"
	
	'No mercy, man.'

	* * *

	Bursting through the door, Scully fumbled through the sixth story
hallway, groping the walls with her hands as she tried not to fall
over. Her flashlight was of little help. She hoped she wasn't too late
as she rounded a corner - and came face to face with a man dressed like
a skeleton.
	
	Scully gasped. "FEDERAL-"
	
	The skeleton man slapped down her gun down, and then smacked her
across the face. She regained her balance after stumbling for a second,
but the skeleton just punched her again, much harder, in the back. She
yelled and fell to the ground. Grabbing her hair, the man hit her 
across the face one more time. Scully choked on the blood in her throat
and squirmed wildly to get up, as the man above her kicked her in the
stomach repeatedly.
	
	When the beam from her flashlight shined on her face, the man
stopped. She saw him through teary, blurry eyes, looking down at her.
He was studying her. A few seconds passed, then the man raised his
foot, and brought it crashing down on her face.
	
		(fade to commercial)

  <><><><><><><><><><><><> End of Post <><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Disclaimer/Rating/Etc: See the post marked "'Consume' Teaser/04"

WARNING: The following section contains a scene that could be          
         interpreted as police brutality. 

email: simnfeld@ix.netcom.com

Have fun.

----------------


Crime Scene #3
Ocelot resisdence
30 minutes later	


	Mulder got off the elevator and proceeded into the hall. The
lights were all back on, and he could see the paint peeling off the
walls. A police officer walked past and nodded to him. Mulder was too
preoccupied with his own thoughts to nod back. He'd left Scully on her
own, and now she had been attacked. As he approached the open door to
the victim's apartment, he felt his stomach getting tight. He *really*
didn't want to confront her.
	
	Inside, the light was dazzling - every lamp and overhead light
was activated. The carpet was a dark yellow, and the orange sofa Scully
was sitting on was giving off a glare that hurt Mulder's eyes. Dozens
of officers were swarming around the apartment, talking, checking,
taking photos. But all Mulder could see was Scully, sitting on the sofa
with a bandage on her head, stained red with blood. 
	
	Trench coat swaying, Mulder walked over to Scully, who looked up
at him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking. Was she mad?
	
	"Mulder, where the hell have you been?"
	
	Crap.
	
	"You weren't even returning my calls. I had to have that meeting
with Vets and company on my own."
	
	"I......was...."
	
	"What?"
	
	"Um......"
	
	"Investigating a magic demon?" 
	
	"What?"
	
	"Vets told me you think the boogie man is taking these people."
	
	This was worse than Mulder could have imagined. He longed to
punch Vets right then.
	
	"Well?" 
	
	"Oh, God...." Mulder sat on a coffee table in front of her and
put his face in his hands. He didn't know what to say; he just didn't
know.
	
	"My head is fine, by the way." remarked Scully.
	
	Mulder looked up, paused for a moment, and said, "Scully - I'm
sorry."
	
	Scully paused.  "Where have you been?"
	
	
	"I......questioned somebody. About the, um, demon. It was the
only thing I could think to do..." said Mulder, standing up. He
couldn't believe Vets had said that to her. 
	
	"Why do you think a demon is doing this?" Scully's voice had no
emotion in it at all. Mulder couldn't ascertain what was going on her
mind.
	
	"It was......it was a stupid idea. Forget it." Mulder actually
felt embarrassed. Why was he so humiliated now? He'd suggested crazier
things to Scully before without thinking twice about it. Why was he so
ashamed?
	
	Scully looked at him for about a minute without saying anything.
The constant hustle and bustle of the nearby officers helped to relieve
the thick tension that lay between them. Mulder looked down at the
floor. "Are you all right, Scully?"
	
	"I'll be okay."
	
	More silence. This was one of the worst discussions he'd ever had
with Scully. He longed to jump out the window into the noisy street
below, or run out the room and never come back. *Why* had he been so
stupid? Demon of darkness indeed. Sometimes you're a complete idiot,
Fox. 
	
	"So that's it?" asked Scully. 
	
	"Scully...." Another pause. "I'm *so* sorry. I never should have
left you.....I should have told you where I was going......no, I should
never have considered this idiotic idea in the first place." Mulder sat
down on the couch. His voice had gone from timid to angry in a few
seconds. "God, why the hell did I get that stupid idea? Complete piece
of sh....." Mulder, who had been talking to himself mainly, found his
voice choking and stopped talking. Scully tilted her head a bit and
looked at him again. Her eyes had lost some of their anger.
	
	"Did you find anything?" Mulder asked after a moment. "Anything
correct, er, true....." He couldn't find the right words.
	
	"Well, aside from my profile that I had to write on my own, I
didn't really find anything. Oh, wait - I did discover the importance
of the rose in these crimes."
	
	Mulder looked up, interested. "What would that be?"
	
	"It's sort of a countdown, or a checklist. The thorns on the
side, that is. Every time someone disappears, their rose has one less
thorn than it's precedent."
	
	"Good job, Scully." said Mulder, sincerely impressed.
	
	"I also saw the kidnapper." Mulder looked at her, but she
continued before he could say anything. "He had his face painted like a
skeleton - he's the one that did this to me." She made a motion toward
the bloodied bandage on her temple.
	
	"I'm lucky he didn't kill me - he had a knife."
	
	Mulder stood up and looked at her. He felt........strange. Here
was his partner, Scully, who had discovered many things about the case,
and then there was him, who had been gallivanting after demons. The
only word he could think to describe his emotions was awe. 
	
	After a few more moments of silence, this time marked with much
less tension, Mulder glanced at the wall behind Scully. It was yellow,
like the floor, and had some framed pictures on it. One of them he
recognized instantly.
	
	"Scully........who was the victim tonight?"
	
	"I don't remember, hold on." She walked over to Vets, who was
conversing with another officer in the kitchen. Mulder stood in place,
staring at the picture of Eddie Ocelot on the wall. What was going on
here?
	
	Scully came back a minute later. "A boy named Edward Ocelot, 12
years old."
	
	Her words hit Mulder like punch in the face. He stopped
breathing, and felt his knees getting weak. He took a few steps toward
the wall and stared closer at the picture. Eddie, dressed in a white
collared shirt, smiled back at him, teeth exposed. 

	"What is it?" asked Scully.
	
	Mulder swallowed hard, and choked out, "I talked to him today.
Eddie."
	
	"What? Where?" 
	
	Mulder didn't hear her; he just kept staring at the picture. It
was his fault. It was all his fault. Eddie.....had died because of him.
Vanished. 
	
	"Mulder?"
	
	Was it because of him? No - yes. No! It couldn't be. There was no
monster. No monster.....but why Eddie? Was it because of him? Had
someone been watching him as he questioned Eddie that afternoon? Is
this why Eddie ran?
	
	"Mulder, are you okay?" 
	
	A pause. "Scully, did this boy....." Mulder stopped himself
before he could finish. How was she supposed to know?
	
	"What, Mulder?"
	
	"I talked to him today. About the, uh, boogie man. I saw a
picture of his when you talked to Bricker. It was of this....thing. And
a woman, with a rose at her feet. I thought maybe he knew something
about it." He looked at her to see her reaction.
	
	"You thought a twelve year-old boy was involved in a string of
kidnappings?"
	
	"No! I-" Mulder got defensive again. "I thought maybe he'd heard
a story, like the ones I mentioned to you a few days ago."
	
	"And you think he was singled out because you asked him what was
going on?"
	
	Mulder looked her right in the eyes. "That's not a very good way
of putting it, but yes, I think he was killed because I talked to him."
	
	"Kidnapped."
	
	"Whatever. I doubt we'll find a body."
	
	"Well, did anyone hear you talking to him?"
	
	"Bricker was in the room-"
	
	"Oh?
	
	"-but I don't think he did it."
	
	"Why? He's been at one of crime scenes, and now he's got probable
cause to kidnap Eddie."
	
	"That's pretty flimsy evidence."
	
	"And a painting in a classroom isn't?"
	
	"I.....I don't believe that anymore. I told you."
	
	"I'm sorry. But I'm keeping Bricker down as a possible suspect."
	
	"That's 'possible' Scully. He's only remotely connected to two
out of nineteen disappearances.."
	
	Vets walked up to them. "We're about ready to clear out - I just
have to call this boy's mother. My favorite part of job." The sarcasm
was evident.
	
	Mulder bit his tongue to stop from throttling Vets right there.
"I just want to check out his room first."
	
	"Sure."
	
	Most of the officers were clearing out. Scully looked up at
Mulder, and the two of them headed toward the bedroom.


Kayman Lane
Cran Nowe, NC
1:10 a.m.


	The street was dark as the police car casually rode down it.
Inside, officer Davison rubbed his eyes and kept staring out the window
at the endless stream of unmowed lawns and old sports equipment lying
in darkened driveways. His partner, Becksby, was handling the 
monotony a bit better. Becksby had been on the night watch for ten
years. This was Davison's third night. 

	"Keep your eyes open for drug dealers on this next street,"
Becksby said. "I've had a few run-ins over the years. Residential areas
like these are starting to become a market for them."
	
	Davison glanced at his balding partner and nodded. Whatever.
	
	"Wait - what do we have here?" Becksby asked. Davison lifted his
head and looked out. A few yards down was a man, sitting on his knees
on the sidewalk, drawing into it with chalk. When the headlights of the
squad car hit him, he looked up, wide-eyed, and suddenly darted toward
the nearest house, hopping the fence.
	
	"What the hell?" asked Davison.
	
	"Get out now and follow him. I'll drive around the block and try
to trap him. Go!"
	
	Davison got out and ran across the street as the squad car
started picking up speed, its sirens wailing on. The car rounded the
corner just as Davison climbed over the fence the fleeing man had gone
over.
	
	The man they were trying to catch wheezed as he ran at top speed
through the wet grass of backyard. He tripped on a sprinkler and
grunted as he hit the ground, suppressing the fall with his hands. He
got back up with only a few grass stains on his pants, but his fall had
allowed Davison to nearly catch up with him. The man scrambled to hop
over the fence separating one backyard from the other. He clawed and
finally managed to pull himself up and over, landing in a heap in a
pile of mud on the other side. Picking himself out of the mud, he saw a
Rottweiler waking up and growling at him
		
	Davison was having better luck. He went like a dart through the
first backyard and hopped the second fence with infinite ease. There
was a slight squelch as he landed on the other side, his feet sinking
into the mud, but he was running again in no time.

	In the dim light of the backyard, Davison could make out swings,
a tree, and a Rottweiler, but no sign of the man he was chasing. The
Rottweiler clawed at the foot of the tree and barked. Looking up into
the branches, Davison could see the man he was chasing. He jumped out
of the tree, but made a bad landing and lay writhing on the grass in
pain. Davison casually walked over to him, just as the flashing red and
blue lights from the squad car began to appear above the fence.
	
	Unable to help himself, Davison pulled out his club and beat the
man over the head, just as Becksby came into the yard.

	"Cuff him!" he yelled. Davison slapped handcuffs on man, who kept
lying on his stomach, eyes wide open. He was panting.

	"You gonna tell us why you were running?"
	
	The man just kept wheezing.
	
	"Well?"
	
	Nothing.
	
	"Okay then. You have the right to remain silent...."
	
	A minute later, the squad car came around the same corner they
had first seen the man on. When Becksby drove past the spot the man had
been drawing on, his headlights revealed something sticking out of the
cement.

	"Go see what the hell he was doing." he ordered Davison.
	
	Davison walked over to the sidewalk and shined his flashlight on
it. One of the squares had a picture of Eddie Ocelot on it, and a giant
cleaver knife was sticking out of it.
	
	
Daddo Avenue
2:00 a.m

	
	Mulder parked at the end of the street and looked at the building
he had seen Eddie go into earlier. Scully would have come with him, but
the police had arrested somebody who might know about the kidnappings.
Now he was alone again, and wondering why he was even doing this. I
thought you didn't believe something paranormal was involved, he said
to himself. But he did. He couldn't shake that feeling that something
was amiss. He had felt like a fool in front of Scully, which was one of
the most surprising things of all. That look she gave him when talking 
about the "boogie man" made him shudder in embarrassment when he
thought about it. 
	
	So what was he doing here now, when he'd said that he didn't
believe any of this anymore? Without Scully around it was easier to
believe. The building he'd planned on entering sat there, in the bluish
moonlight, totally deserted. It was probably condemned. If he didn't go
check it out now, he'd probably never come back. After all, this was as
close to a lead as he could get. It's either go in there and discover
something or don't go in there and let someone else die.
	
	A few minutes later he was standing in front of its double-doors.
To his surprise, they wasn't locked. He opened them a tad, pushed one
of them in, and quickly pressed against the wall, waiting for it to
open all the way. When the door stopped creaking open he paused, drew 
his gun, took a deep breath, and whipped around the doorway, shining
his 2000-candlelight power flashlight down the hall. It was totally
empty. The five-foot wide hall was musty and covered in cobwebs. Dust
drifted through the air, visible because of the moonlight shining in 
through the windows above the door. At the end of the hall was another
door. Mulder closed the door behind him and walked quietly down the
hall, gun in front of him. When he stepped on a doormat at the end of
the hall the floor creaked.
	
	The next door wasn't locked either. Mulder kicked it open and
stepped forward, his gun pointing out in front of him, and his trench
coat flapping in the breeze. This room was a stark contrast to the
rotting old hall he'd just come from. It was dark and cast in blue
moonlight, but the furniture was all modern and almost grotesquely
clean. The walls were white instead of wood. A counter in the corner
had a polished top, and the chairs, tables, and bookshelves were
spotless. But that wasn't what caught Mulder's eye. It was the wall on
the opposite side of the room - it curved inward instead of being
completely flat. Mulder walked up to it and felt along with it with 
his hand. It was obviously hollow, like there was a circular room
behind it pushing its way into this one. 
	
	There was a wooden staircase in the corner. Mulder climbed under
the rope around it and went up all three of its steps. The door it led
to was locked. 
	
	Stepping back into the hall, Mulder wondered who he'd have to
kill to get a search warrant. This time when he stepped on the doormat,
he noticed the creak. Staring at it, Mulder got an idea and grasped to
corners of the mat. Pulling it towards him, he unearthed what was 
underneath it and smiled. Jackpot.

	

Cran Nowe PD,  Precinct 1
2:09 a.m.


	"We're going to ask you one more time, Mr. Simon - why did you
run?"

	Vets' tired voice reverberated around the gray interrogation
room. A small tape recorder whirred in the middle of the table, a
single light bulb burning over it. Scully and Vets sat on one side of
the table in the dim light, the latter with his head in his hands
trying to stay awake. The man who had been arrested earlier sat on the
other side of the table. His black hair was short, and his cold eyes
rested in a pale, unmoving face, which had a large bruise from the club
he'd been beaten with. He was wearing an unfashionable brown shirt.
	
	"Mr. Simon? All three of us are tired, and I for one don't want
to spend all night in an interrogation room. Tell us why you ran and
maybe we'll get you some peanuts or something." Vets said in
desperation.
	
	Pierce Simon looked up from across the table and said, in a light
voice, "I ran because I thought you were going to arrest me. Which you
did."
	
	"You were vandalizing private property. Why?"
	
	Pierce was silent.
	
	"Mr. Simon," said Scully, sitting forward, "What do you know
about Edward Ocelot?"
	
	"Who?"
	
	"Edward Ocelot." she said more forcefully. "You were drawing an
exact likeness of him into the sidewalk at the middle of night and fled
from officers who saw you. Why were you drawing that picture?"
	
	"Why don't you guys just give me a fine and I'll be on my way?
I've already got a wound from that club you beat me with."
	
	"We're not letting you off that easy," Vets said, "because you
were drawing a picture of a kidnap victim and stuck a knife in it. Tell
us why the in the living hell you did so I can get out of here." He was
starting to get mad.
	
	"I don't even know who this tiger kid is."
	
	"Ocelot," corrected Scully.
	
	"Whatever. I've never heard of him."
	
	"This guy's just as innocent as OJ," Vets muttered to Scully. She
turned towards him and whispered, "I'll take care of him. Just get some
sleep - I can handle him."
	
	"Thank God." said Vets, standing up. "Why don't you try asking
him about this whole dark demon thing?" he joked as he walked out.
Pierce's head shot up, his eyes coming to life and quivering as Vets
shut the door behind him.
	
	"What?" asked Scully.
	
	"Oh.....nothing." Pierce relaxed back into his chair and stared
up at the light bulb. "Are we about through?"
	
	Scully suddenly got an idea. What the heck, she thought, we're
not getting anywhere anyway.
	
	"Mr. Simon," said Scully, staring at the tape recorder and
feeling a little embarrassed. "I'm from out of town. You wouldn't
happen to be able to tell me anything about a certain man or monster
that lives in the dark and leaves roses in place of people?"
	
	Much to her surprise, Pierce didn't laugh. He looked scared. 
	
	"No."
	
	So much for that, thought Scully as she sighed. She stood up and
walked towards the door. "You'll be staying here overnight. Maybe
you'll feel like talking in the morning."
	
	Pierce looked at her and suddenly smiled. "Good night," he said.
"Dana."
	
	Scully stopped and turned her head slowly to look at him, shadows
dancing across her face. Vets must have said her first name while he
was in the room. She walked out, and Pierce sat back in his
uncomfortable chair, looking at the light bulb again. It flickered.
	
	"Sleep tight."


2:11


	Mulder processed down the dark stone steps, his deluxe flashlight
leading the way. The steps were steep and the ceiling was low, forcing 
him to bend backwards to get down the stairs. It reminded him of a game
of "How low can you go?" he had played while at Oxford. Too bad Phoebe
wasn't here.
	
	He had found a trapdoor under the doormat leading to those cold
steps. Remarkably, they were clean, like many people had come down here
lately. Not a cobweb in sight. There was a flickering light at the
bottom of the steps that was probably made by candles. He couldn't hear
anybody at the bottom, so he hoped he wasn't walking in on some
meeting. That reminded him....Mulder stick his gun forward.
	
	At the bottom of the stairs, Mulder looked forward, then up, then
higher up, as his mouth slowly opened. Now he knew why that wall was
shaped oddly in the room above. He had entered an enormous underground
chapel whose circular ceiling hung several hundred feet in the air. The
wooden walls were lit from the candles around an altar. Some
stained-glass windows built into the wall showed images of different
men and monsters. One of the windows' designs matched the painting
Eddie Ocelot had made in the classroom. Mulder was struck
simultaneously by awe and fear. There was something about this ghastly
underground chapel he didn't like. He felt so small - the ceiling was
easily five stories above him. 
	
	The centerpiece of the altar was a large skeleton dressed in a
black robe. There was a cow's skull in the hood, it's horns protruding
through the fabric. A small table in front of it had several small
articles on it, and a tall stone with words etched in it. Mulder looked
at the items on the table. It reminded him of Tooms's little garage
sale. There was a cup, a pen, a switchblade, a pink purse.......Mulder
covered his fingers with his coat and opened the purse. Rummaging 
through the materials inside he found a driver's license. Tayan Harris,
it read. Age 24.
	
	The stone slab in front of him was about three feet high. There
were names carved into the gray rock. Buddy Robinson......Eric
Yeltz.....further down the list he found Tayan Harris......Brandon
Tupper.......Edward Ocelot.....and one last name barely readable under
layers of minuscule pebbles. It was the tenth name - the tenth victim.
	
	In the clean room above, the locked door opened and a man dressed
a skeleton came out.

	Mulder brushed away the pebbles with his thumb. He could make out
a D written in the rock. Brush brush. DAN. Dan who? He took his
fingernail and dug around the next letter, knocking away the debris.
Not DAN -- DANA. For the middle name, he cleared way the first two 
letters. DANA KA........DANA KATH........DANA KATHER.......
	
	The skeleton man made his way into the hall and noticed the
trapdoor lying wide open.

	A thought most vile struck Mulder. He decided to screw the middle
name and took to the last name, brushing with increased panic. DANA
KATHER...... SC. DANA KATHER...... SCU. DANA KATHER.....SCUL.
	
	"NO!" shouted Mulder, standing straight up. "The next victim's
Scully!"
	
	As he said that, he heard the trapdoor at the top of the stairs
swing shut, and the light it had cast into the room vanished. A few
seconds later the candles all blew out and Mulder was left standing in
the dark, his flashlight shining against the wall. He was trapped.

		(fade to commercial)

*************************END OF POST***************************
Disclaimer/Rating: See the teaser post.

Note to archivers: I said in the subject line that the story is 4 parts
long, but counting the teaser it's actually 5. If you're missing a
part, e-mail me and I'll send it right over. :)

Let me know what you think when you're done: simnfeld@ix.netcom.com

Enjoy.

------------------


Police Department, Cran Nowe
March 12
2:30 am


	Pierce sat in his cell, waiting patiently. The bars were rusting,
but very strong. He was the only prisoner at the moment. The fact that
there was no one guarding the room insulted him. Wasn't he dangerous
for them, he wondered? Just wait until his friend showed up....
	
	The cell room was bright. All the walls and bars were painted a
creamy-white color, and the lights shining overhead made the glare
unbearable. Pierce couldn't stand all the light. He was growing
impatient.

	Then, without warning, the overhead lights clicked off, and the
room was bathed in darkness.

	"About time," Pierce muttered.

	Outside, a police officer casually walked past the door to the
cell room. He glanced up to look through the window in the door, and
noticed that the lights inside the room were off. Wondering what was
going on, he opened the door and walked in. The room was made up of a 
single hallway with cells on either side. Pierce was being held in the
one furthest down the hall and to the right. The cop walked in, and the
door slammed shut behind him. He couldn't see a thing.

	"Is there anybody in here?" the officer asked in a quivering
voice. He felt along the wall for the light switch, flipped it, but
nothing happened. 

	"H-hello?"

	SCREEEECH! The door to Pierce's cell quickly slid open, sparks
shooting out from either side as the metal bars glided across the stone
floor. It stopped with a loud clang and Pierce stepped out into the
hall, a few feet away from the police officer.

	"Hold it right there!" shouted the officer, sticking his gun
forward but having no idea what he was aiming at. "Just stay there!
Don't try to escape!"

	There was a quick swoop followed by a tearing sound, and the
police officer fell the floor in pain. Something had slashed open his
cheek in the dark. As he lay against a wall holding his bleeding cheek,
he looked up and saw Pierce standing over him.

	 "DON'T KILL HIM!" Pierce boomed in a suddenly deep voice. "HE'S
NOT THE ONE." 

	The officer started to sob, and the overhead lights clicked back
on. When the officer looked up again, Pierce had vanished.


Daddo Avenue
2:33 am


	Mulder wasted no time. He whipped his cell phone out of his
pocket and dialed Scully's number, pointing his flashlight at the
number pad so he could dial. 

	Beep beep beep. "We're sorry," the operator said through a sea of
static, "but you have dialed an invalid number. Try again."

	Mulder dialed again.
	
	Beep beep beep. "We're sorry, but you have dialed an invalid
number..."
	

Cheap & Neat Motel
Cran Nowe, NC
2:35 am

	
	Scully's cell phone sat on her motel room bedside table, fully
operational. Scully herself was in the adjoining room, dressed in a
bathrobe and getting one last drink before going to bed. The only light
in the room came from the TV screen.

	"This is Hollywood Tonight's Julia Boxer here on the set of
'Liar, Liar', the hilarious new comedy from star Jim Carrey....," the
cheery woman on the TV said. Scully took a sip of water, chewed up the
ice in her mouth, and turned the TV off. The room was now completely 
dark.

	"Calling it a night, Agent Scully?" 

	Scully jolted in surprise and felt along the coffee table for her
gun, fumbling desperately. She found it and pulled it out of its flask,
whirling around and trying to guess where the voice had come from.

	 "Where are you? Step out where I can see you!" 

	"Don't be so scared, Agent Scully!" Pierce's voice seemed to be
coming from everywhere at once - the bathroom, the lamp, the picture on
the other side of the room. 	
	
	"I said step out where I can see you!"
	
	Behind her, Pierce lit a match and held it up to his face. He was
standing in the hall dividing the TV room from the bedroom. Scully
whirled around and pointed her gun directly at him. He was about five
feet away. 
	
	"Hands in the air! NOW!"
	
	Pierce smiled. "What's the matter? Are you afraid of the dark?" 
	
	" I SAID HANDS IN THE AIR!"
	
	"I really don't think so."


2:36 am


	Mulder, acting on reflexes, mad a dash for where he thought the
staircase was. He ended up tripping over the first step. Scrambling,
Mulder tried to amble his way up the darkened stairs, but his progress
was hindered by constant trips and slides. Finally reaching the top, he
looked up and realized he could see through the spaces of the
floorboards above him. A man's eyes stared back at him. His face was
painted like skeleton. Thin rays of light lay on Mulder's face as he 
looked up through the floor. The man soon stood up and placed the
carpet over the trapdoor, making Mulder blind again. 

	"Federal agent! Open this trapdoor!" Mulder yelled, but he could
hear the man walking away. 

	"Open the....." Mulder realized it was helpless and started
throwing his weight against the trapdoor above him. It wouldn't budge.

	 Growing desperate, Mulder slapped his hand against his waist and
felt around for his gun. Gripping it in sweaty fingers, he took aim for
the trapdoor's lock. BANG! BANG! The wood was chipping away and falling
into his eyes, but the lock wasn't moving. BANG! Still nothing. 
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! RATTLE! The lock burst into pieces. Mulder
threw the hatch open, tore down the hallway, and flew down the steps to
the street. There was no sign of the skeleton man.

	Getting in his car, Mulder noticed the overcast sky was getting
darker. Not much time left, he assumed. His car sprang into action and
tore down the empty road. Mulder held tightly on to the steering wheel,
causing his hands to hurt. He had already gotten Eddie killed - he was 
damned if he was going to let the same thing happen to Dana.

	Dana.

	The thought of his partner made him push down harder on the
accelerator. It was all starting to make sense to him now. The first
seventeen victims had been killed by random chance, probably for the
reason of keeping everyone who knew about whatever was doing this in 
fear of being next. Eddie had been killed because Mulder had pumped him
for information. The timing of Eddie's death had been bugging Mulder -
why did he die only a day after the previous victim, while all the
other disappearances had been several days apart? Now he knew. It was
his punishment. Eddie's death occurred shortly after the latest
disappearance because he needed to die - which meant that Scully was
probably going to be killed sooner than later. As the pieces began to
snap into place, Mulder started to sweat. It didn't help that he had
just driven straight into a traffic jam.

	His partner was in grave danger, and here he was in a traffic
jam. Swearing, Mulder honked his horn and tried to push his way
through, but to no avail.  How the *hell* could there be a traffic jam
in the middle of the night???? In desperation, Mulder kicked open the
car door and ran down the sidewalk.  He had about a half mile to go,
but that wouldn't stop him. 

	"What in the hell?" yelled the man who had been in the car behind
him. He stepped on to the sidewalk over to Mulder's car. "Where are you
going?" he yelled angrily at the running agent, who was already a
hundred yards away. "Son of a bitch!" He kicked Mulder's taillight, and
it shattered. Now he felt better.


2:38 am


	"This is where it all ends. This is-"

	"Shut up!" Scully said, grabbing Pierce by the shoulder and
turning him around. He was too surprised to react. Scully shoved him
against the wall and pushed her gun into his back.

	"I wouldn't do that, Dana. You'll make me drop this match, and
then there will be no light."

	"I told you to shut up," said Scully. "Now give me the match."

	Pierce shook his head.

	Scully cocked her gun. "This is your last warning. Let go of it."

	"You can't threaten me," Pierce said, "especially since your gun
isn't even loaded."

	"Yes it is, Pierce - and I'm going to give you three seconds to
hand me the match until I blow your head off. One....."

	Pierce didn't move.
		
	"Two....."

	"Three!" Scully pulled the trigger.

	Click.

	"It won't fire. You can't stop what's about to happen."

	Scully pulled the trigger again. Nothing. 

	"I know you want to put up a fight, Dana, but it's useless."

	Before she could reply, Pierce turned around and pushed her a few
feet backwards. Scully made a break for the door, but the doorknob
wouldn't turn.

	Pierce yawned. "Are you about done?"

	Scully turned around, but the only thing she could see in the
dark room was Pierce's face, which was a few inches from the match he
was holding. She couldn't even see the digital readout on the VCR. 

	"You can't run, Dana. You're trapped. You might as well face it."

	Scully began to feel along the coffee table with her hand.

	"I'll be totally honest with you," continued Pierce, "'I'm not
even supposed to be here tonight. But I couldn't resist - I wanted to
see the tenth victim die firsthand."

	Scully didn't respond - she just kept groping along the coffee
table.

	"I know everything about you. I know you were born on February
23, 1964, for starters"

	Scully's fingers wrapped around the object she was looking for.

	 "Heard you had a pretty good family. Nice brothers, although I
couldn't really find out much about them. Cute sister. Good old Mom,
and your Dad, Captain Scully. What a guy."
	
	Scully stood still, trying not to breath. She had to wait for the
right opportunity.

	"Didn't he used to read you Moby Dick? You called him Ahab, and
he called you Starbuck. Sweet, sweet guy. Not proud of you at all, of
course, but a sweet guy."
	
	Scully felt her face get hot with rage, but she remained
motionless.

	"You know what else I know about him?"
	
	A pause.

	"I know that he's.......DEAD!" 
	
	Another pause. Scully was seething with anger, but she wasn't
ready to make a move just yet.

	"....University of Maryland, a B.S in physics, did your residency
in, uh....what was it?......forensic medicine if I'm not mistaken?"
		
	Scully swallowed hard.

 	"I know all about you, FBI Agent 2317-616. You were recruited out
of medical school, weren't you? Met a nice guy named Jack Willis.. I
wonder what happened to him? He wouldn't be......DEAD, would he?"
	
	Scully bit her tongue to stop from screaming.

	"Mulder's your partner now, ain't he? Don't know so much about
him. You know who I do know a lot about, though?"
	
	Silence.

	"Missy! Sweet gal, ain't she? Too bad she's DEAD. Shot in the
head by, uh,  Louis Cardinal or something like that. What a great shot
that guy was! Hit her directly in the head. Splat! Blood flying on the
wall, the life blown out her pretty head. It must've been hell, getting
that brain matter out of the carpet. It sure can stain-"

	"AUGH!!!!!" Scully roared at the mention of her sister, and threw
the object she had been clutching. It was the glass that she had been
drinking out of. It hit Pierce directly in the face, causing him to
drop his match and fall to the floor. Scully ran over to him to inflict
more pain, but he stuck a leg out and tripped her in the dark.	

	"Nighty-night, Agent Scully!" he said through clenched teeth as
he stamped out the match with his foot amidst shards of glass.

	The room was now completely dark. Scully lay on the floor,
listening very carefully. There was nothing but silence...


2:44 am


	Mulder came panting through the door of the Cheap & Neat Motel,
never losing his speed. It was *dark*. The air was colored a thick
black. Where there was empty space, there was darkness. Darkness that
was impossible to see through. But Mulder hardly even noticed. He ran
through the lobby, throwing the light, the precious light, of his
flashlight across the room. He finally found the stairs, but found
maneuvering up them impossible. Until he closed his eyes. With his 
eyes closed, Mulder regained all of his coordination. He walked
perfectly up the stairs, and went into the hall, never opening his
eyes. The disorientation caused by the dark had no effect on him 
like this.
	
	Mulder ran over to where he thought Scully's room was. He could
hear movement inside, a struggle. "SCULLY!" he yelled, but no reply
came. Mulder put his back against the wall behind him, then ran as fast
as he could and flung himself against the door. Nothing. SMACK! SMACK!
It budged a little. Mulder's knees had resigned by now, but he was
adamant. With one last fly, he hit the door and made it fly open,
swirling on its hinges and hitting the inside wall. His flashlight beam
cut across the room in less than a second, but it caused all the
commotion inside to stop.	

	Suddenly, the door swung shut at such a speed that it hit Mulder
in the face and caused him to fall backwards against the wall behind
him. Ironically, he didn't drop his gun.

	"SCULLY!" he yelled one last time, but his voice was faint and
his gasps for air prevented him from saying anything else. He was
beaten.

	All the lights in the hall came back on. The brightness stung
Mulder's eyes, but he turned the doorknob with his eyes closed and
walked in. In the center of the room lay a burnt match, shards of
glass, a rose, and Scully.

	"Mulder!" she gasped, and stood up. Mulder opened his eyes,
amazed and relieved at the same time. Scully's face was white. 

	"Scully!" He ran over to her and helped her up, and she hugged
him breathlessly. 

	"Are you all right? What happened?" he asked.

	Scully let go and looked around the room. "There was a man here
who was arrested earlier tonight. He knew something about Ocelot....he
was saying something about how I was the tenth victim. Mulder, he knew
everything about me!"

	"What happened to him?"

	Scully suddenly realized Pierce was missing. Looking down the
room into her motel bedroom, she noticed her window was open. "He must
have gone down the fire escape!" Scully ran into the bedroom and looked
out the window, while Mulder simply looked down at the rose on the
floor.

	"I don't think so, Scully."

	Scully came back in. "What do you mean?"

	"I think I know what's been going on."

	"What? That Pierce killed all those people?"

	"No......I think Pierce was just a member of some cult. A cult
that worships the monster Eddie drew. Maybe they don't worship him, I
don't know. They believe in him, anyway, and for some reason he comes
every ten years to kill ten random people. Just to remind everyone who
he is." Scully just stood there, too overwhelmed to take in Mulder's
latest theory. She just picked up her gun and sat down in a chair
behind her. .
	
	"This is too crazy." she said. "I can't believe it."

	"I found something." Mulder replied. "Some kind of a temple, with
items from nine of the victims."

	"Where?"

	Just then, a man dressed as a skeleton walked into the room. He
jumped when he saw Mulder, since he was simply expecting to come in and
take something of Scully's to put in the temple. He grabbed a knife out
of his belt and prepared to stab Mulder. Scully reacted without
thinking, pointing her gun at the man and pulling the trigger.

	BANG!
	
	The man was thrown backwards into the hallway, blood pouring onto
floor. Scully stared at the body, wide eyed. Her gun had just fired.
	

	
Daddo Avenue
2:59 am


	Firemen scrambled about, trying to control the roaring fire that
by now had consumed an entire building but didn't seem to be spreading.
They sprayed madly at the flames, but there was no hope of recovering
anything from the building.	

	One fireman ran up to his boss. "This fire's outta control. We
might be able to put it out, but anything that was in there's gonna be
turned to ash by now. Hope there wasn't anything important in there."

	A small crowd of spectators stood across the street, watching as
the condemned building burned to the ground. One of the spectators, a
young man dressed in a plaid shirt, shook his head sadly. "Guess we're
going to need a new temple," he said to an old woman next to him. She 
turned to look at him after a second, smiling politely.

	"What's that?" she asked.

	The man just stared at her for a few seconds, while the light
from the fire danced across his face. He smiled and shook his head. 

	"Nevermind."

	Inside, the last of the items on the altar burned. The stone slab
with all the victims' names remained. The final slab - the one Scully's
name on it - suddenly broke into pieces, revealing a new name
underneath it.

		PIERCE MURPHY SIMON

	The smoke from the fire slowly drifted up into the sky. The
overcast was gone, and the smoke was soon consumed by the starry sky.

			
                    EXECUTIVE PRODUCER
                         SIMONFELD