From: Cerulean Blue Date: 5 Jul 1999 23:46:22 -0700 Subject: NEW "Evil Strikes Back!" NC-17 MSR by Cerulean Blue and Pinkus Evil Strikes Back! By Cerulean Blue and Pinkus ceruleanxf@hotmail.com and pinkus1013@hotmail.com Rating: NC-17 (crude) Classification: MSR, Angst Archive: oh, yes, please! We will be so honored! Summary: We all know that Mulder and Scully are perfect for each other, but what happens when their relationship is threatened by an evil force? Feedback: Oh we got some for our first story and we decided it's the best thing ever! Give us more! It's our second story and we're still really nervous! Author's Notes: To the Red-Headed Chick, The Big Apple, and Cuckoo Lady: your support and love and exclamations of encouragement were totally awesome! You're like the best friends we could ever have! May our art inspire you to create more mist and confusion. Mulder lay next to his Scully, panting like a dog after the most beautifully cosmic five seconds of his life. His flabby penis lay spent and exhausted in its furry cave. Mulder wanted his Little Fox to get some rest so he could sink in, once again, into the beautiful lagoon of a woman next to him. Beside him, Scully's bountiful breasts were burning brazenly from the heat of love that found its completion via puissant coitus. Even though she was in tiptop shape, she breathed heavily through her pink cotton candy colored lips, which were now swollen like balloons. She was most satisfactorily surprised by the insatiable appetite and size of her lover's throbbing man's gland, which rose like the phoenix at the sight of its nest. Mulder petted Scully's hair, like a little boy would do with a puppy. "How was I, babe?" "Amazing, wonderful, ravishing, exquisite, delicious, beautiful, and most comely!" she gushed. "Oh god," Mulder turned to spoon Scully beside him, wrapping his elastic body around hers as if she were a star in his soup. "I love those post-copulation moments," he sighed. "I love to feel your body next to mine. Why is it we waited for so long to just do it, Scully?" "I was afraid," she began. "Afraid to get too close to the man who already knew so much about me. But then I heard a Celine Dion song, which totally changed my life. Now, I know that I want nothing more than to be the mother of your spawn." As if to prove her point, she burrowed into the bed sheets, her tongue searching for her favorite hole - Mulder's belly button. "Celine Dion and Michael Bolton will have a concert together soon," Mulder reminded her. "Just think: the two of us, the voices of our favorite stars, and candles in an ever-endless night. Heaven will be no closer then than if I expired right now, laying next to you, my one and only true Chunky Monkey." Scully placed her head on Mulder's chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart transporting precious life fluid to his various organs. If she could, she'd perform CPR on him right then and there, just to make sure that this heart would go on. "I love you, Fox William Mulder, my booger bum." "I love you too, Dana Katherine Scully, my Chunky Monkey." The next day: Scully sat in the X-Files office, staring at the empty seat beside her. Mulder was pre-occupied at "Chokers and Chains," buying something special for his equally special, red headed dominatrix. She smiled happily, dreaming of the spankings her gloved hands would lovingly place on the succulent flesh of her booger bum. Yes, that bad boy was going to get what he deserved tonight! The door of the office swung open unceremoniously, and she jumped in happy anticipation of what she knew would be her life partner. But instead, a reptilian head appeared swathed in the clouds of vile smoke. She desperately wanted to cough and clear her lungs but she rather would have suffocated to death than admitted her weakness. "Agent Scully," he spoke, lighting a cigarette, which highlighted his Beelzebub-like eyes. "What the hell do you want, you Smoking Son of a Bitch?" Scully responded immediately. He ignored the righteous insult, as he always annoyingly did. "I have a proposition in which you may be interested," he said. "Shall we talk?" Scully stepped back, horrified. "I will not sleep with you, you dirty old man!" Cancerman threw his head back and laughed and laughed. "Well, it would be lovely, my dear lady. But tonight we will talk about the other sexual alliance of yours." Scully breathed a sigh of relief to herself. She could not imagine sleeping with Cancerman - someone that old would have to have certain malfunctioning and withered parts... "I have no idea what you are talking about," she empathetically said, emphasizing the statement by stamping her feet. Cancerman breathed in the smoke and then exhaled it through his nostrils as any fire-breathing monster would. "We had your apartment under surveillance for the last eleven years, and not only do you have some problems with interior decorating, but your taste in men requires some major improvement. I mean, Eddie van Blundht? What the hell was up with that? And that Jack Willis person... I never liked him much and I think he's now gay. And now, Agent Mulder. Don't you shop around, Agent Scully? Don't you ever just look and pick the best person for the job? Believe me, there are plenty of other fish, just frolicking in the sea, waiting for the right fisherman to pluck them out." Scully's eyes rolled back inside her head. Her world turned dark and black in the space of just a few seconds when she realized just where the old fart was going. "You want me to break up with the love of my life, don't you," she pronounced, feeling as if her heart was being shattered into a bazillion million plus infinity pieces, all flying through the room at the speed of love which was bigger than the speed of light. Cancerman ran a hand through his hair. "Agent Mulder has become too successful since you have joined the X-Files. Unless you want to see his naked, bullet ridden corpse staining the sofa in your living room, you will quit the FBI and move to Iran." Scully paused, unsure if she heard him correctly. "Iran? Why Iran?" He puffed on a cigarette, smiling an enigmatic, evil smile. "You will ask no questions, Agent Scully. You will just pack your bags, pour water on those dying flowers of yours, and leave the country." Scully's bottom lip quivered, and she nodded her acceptance. Suddenly! Mulder came into the office wearing nothing but a leather leash. "I am here, my Chunky Monkey! Ready for you to spank me!" he exclaimed. Cancerman sent some smoke in his direction, as if trying to cover up those body parts that he didn't really want to see. "Yes, Agent Scully," he said vaguely, "do that." "You!" Mulder said very loudly in a very loud voice. "You smoke- sucking son of a bitch, what the hell are doing here?" Cancerman smiled smugly. "I'm just leaving." He closed the door to the X-Files office, but not before sneaking a good look at Mulder's ass... or was it a leash? At Scully's apartment Later this evening Scully swept through her apartment like a Hoover vacuum, except she had arms and legs. She was trying very hard to find all those surveillance cameras that the evil bad messy person had talked about today, but all that she found were some torn old socks and her retainer from high school. "I can't believe this!" she cried, finally falling down on the floor, her feet beating the hard ground in misery. "Oh Mulder, Mulder, what shall I do?" As if on cue, her door knocked, and then her hunk of burning love in leather entered with wine, flowers, beer, Chinese food, and a dumb bell. "What did you need to talk to me about, Scully?" he asked, with that eternal worried look he always carried in his hazel, sometimes brown, sometimes gray eyes. His heart stopped beating when he saw his little redheaded earth angel lying prostrate on the floor. Falling to his knees, he wept with her - from the mind-numbing fear that he was going to lose her. Some sixth sense was telling him that something was wrong - he could smell the pungent evility in the air. "Why are you crying, my Chunky Monkey?" he cooed in her pearly ear. "I'm moving to Iran," Scully sobbed. "It's my true calling - I want to be a nun in Iran, god dammit! Now leave me alone, you..." she kissed him, and then pushed him away. "I have to go now. The nuns in Iran will be very, very upset if I am late." Water fell from Mulder's eyes - it felt like Niagara Falls had invaded his eye sockets. "Don't go, Scully," he whimpered. "I must," an exalted look appeared in her heavenly blue eyes as she contemplated the idea. After all, she could not imagine sleeping with any other man on this planet, and she might as well just bury herself. And serving God, any God, was at least somewhat more productive. "You will not see me again," she repeated, thinking of how Mulder would now be always safe, and no harm would ever come to him. Yes, she was being the best Chunky Monkey a friend could ever have. "Good bye." Mulder thought of all the times that they had had sex. Wow, it had been so great - and now, he knew certain parts of his anatomy would have to go into hibernation for a long time. He watched his one and only true love leave. "Good bye, Scully." Mulder's Apartment A few hours later Mulder sat on his black leather couch, huge cold tears running down his cheeks, racing against each other as if it were a competition to be won. Mulder didn't care about which tear won. He was staring at the equally cold black gun in his hand and thinking that the best thing for him to do right now would be to write the last will, seeing as soon - very soon - the speedy deadly bullet would fly out of this hole and pierce his skull. He tried to drown out his sorrows in alcohol - but the Coors Light failed to dull the sharp, hurtful feelings that pierced through his love- worn heart. Scully's sorrowful, bird-like voice kept circling like a doughnut in his head: "Good bye." He looked at the black metal object in his hand that delivered death. Oh god! Why live? Why continue this pointless, meaningless, stupid, moronic life? What good was he without his one and true soulmate? Everything else was absolutely pointless in comparison: the alien colonization would be a mercy in comparison to what he was being forced to endure in these endless moments of unearthly pain. The X-Files department was fading away into insignificant oblivion, for the paranormal would not have the same tangy taste without Scully. And he would never find Samantha so he might as well just give it up. Yes, he was going to give up. "Ollie ollie oxen free," he murmured to himself, like his stomach often did when he was hungry. He clicked the switch thingy on his gun to the correct position and raised the tube thingy so that it pointed at the thingy that was on top of his shoulders. Yes, that same thingy that now was thinking all these pointless idiocies. And just as he was about to pull the trigger, the phone rang. "Shit!" Mulder cursed. "I have to get this. Otherwise, I will never be able to commit suicide in peace!" He put away the gun, the black nothingness inside of it still attracting him with an animalistically magnetic force. "Good afternoon, this is Fox Mulder speaking, and how is your day?" he replied. "Agent Mulder," Skinner sounded grave and rough like a frizzly grizzly bear. "We need your help. There's been a bunch of people getting whacked by some psychic dude, and we know that only you - and only you - can find him." Mulder sighed dramatically into the phone. God yes, only he would be able to find them - because he was the best. He was the only agent who could crawl into the ears of serial killers and see what crap was written on the pinkish-gray folds of their brains. The black instrument of death was still appealing, but who could commit suicide when there were so many bad, messy, psychic people running around, all loose? Perhaps one of these awful people would be kind enough to end his misery by whacking him on the head or stabbing him in the heart or slitting his wrists or drowning him in butter or cutting his penis off or running him over with a rocket ship or striking him with lightning. "I'll do it," he whispered committedly. It mattered none because he was already but a dead man, with only half of his heart walking around and doing his job. Back in Iran The Monastery in Iran Scully looked in the mirror. Oh! She looked so beautiful in her saran wrap. Black and white really were her color - they were meat balls to the spaghetti of her hair and blue wine of her eyes. She said her prayers and stood horizontally in her bed to sleep. She tried to spoon against her pillow but it had no comfy holes or appendages with which to entertain her. She decided that she might like to masturbate but she knew that God said it was wrong, and she couldn't do it anymore as a proper servant of God. Oh! She missed Mulder so much, although she would never admit that herself, ever, in a million lifetimes, even if her life depended on it. She was with the heavenly father right now, and she was sure that Mulder was doing fine in the States, even if he had a penchant for getting gravely injured every ten days. Oh! She did like taking care of him, he always looked so beautiful and sexy wrapped in bandages, hooked up to IV, with nasal cannulas sticking out of his big cute nostrils that looked like the moon if you looked at them just right. She would sit by his bed, and hold his lifeless masculine hand, and dream of days to come that would find them living in the most beautiful state of sin ever known to man. But oh! Scully admonished herself - she was no longer supposed to think such lustful thoughts. Her immaculate body was now in the hands of one and only God. She was his bride. And she would belong only to him, for ever and ever as she lived forever more. And oh! There was nothing she could no longer do for Mulder. She promised Cancerman, and everyone knew that a promise was a promise, unless you crossed your fingers, which she didn't have the foresight to do at that very stressful time in her life. "Oh!" Scully exclaimed when there was a knock at the door. Scully walked vertically to get it. It was Mother Betsy, who quite coincidentally looked nothing like the Betsy Hagopian that Scully knew was now in heaven. She handed Scully her cellular phone. "Oh, honey, this phone's for you," she said. "Some guy named Skinny." "Oh, thank you Mother Betsy," Scully said. "Hello, Skinny." "Oh, Dana," the voice in the phone sounded familiar and Scully thought who it could be. "It's Skinner." "Wiener?" "No, Skinner!" "Time for dinner?" "No, it's Skinner!" "I'm a winner?" "It's Skinner! I'm worried about Agent Mulder. He has started profiling again, and some of the agents who are sleeping with him," he paused, "but not *with* him, you understand, cannot get their proper dosage of REM sleep because he is always bothered by nightmares so bad that he frequently wets the bed. There is only one common trait of all these horrible dreams: he wakes up calling for you, with his fingers outstretched, and his face all sweaty, and his clothing disheveled, and his sheets all wrinkled up." "Oh no!" Scully cried, thinking of her booger bum, wondering if he too tried spooning pillows and other hotel paraphernalia with any success. At least, lucky son of a gun that he was, he wasn't bound by any Nun rules against spanking the monkey. "Oh yes," Skinner responded gravely. "Come home, Agent Scully. I beg you from the name of all these poor agents and their mothers and fathers and unborn children. I want some sleep too, you know." "Oh but I can't," Scully replied. "I'm committed to serving my God. My God will see the suffering of your people and if they follow the Bible and if they offer their prayers and go to the sermons regularly and promise never to swear or use God's name in vain or have premarital sex - and attend Sunday Bible school...they should be just fine." "Oh," Skinner whimpered respectfully. "Of course, I see your point. Goodbye, Agent Scully." "It's Scully, the Bride of God," she hung up the phone. Back in the United States: Mulder prowled around the victim's apartment like a caged lama ready to be released into the wild after too much captivity. Everyone called the killer "Jo Jo the Yo Yo Man" because of the way a yo yo was used to decapitate and disembowel all the victims. Mulder squinted, trying to look into each of the victim's possessions and what secrets they held in the midst of their ingredients. "A-ha!" he exclaimed in a victory that was now at the touch of his fingertips just like the popcorn seed in his fingers. "The killer's first name is Jake, he lives alone with his mother, he likes to eat Pop-tarts for breakfast, only..." here Mulder paused in disgust, unable to get past his own revulsion. "He likes to dip them in gravy." The agents around him gasped, too stunned to move. "He shops around in children toy stores and buys yo-yos that he uses to commit his unspeakable crimes. He likes the color blue and he is fifty- four years old. He has a cat named Misty and he thought Austin Powers Two was better than the first one, and he thought that the small guy should have been called Mini-Tumor. He doesn't smoke, but he likes to light the cigarettes and burn small holes in the clothes of everyone around him. And then when the night falls down upon the doomed city, he walks the streets with an evil otherworldly gleam in his stalker's eyes and yo-yos innocent sweet people to death." "Aaaahhhhhh!" some impressionable young girl screamed and ran out of the house, waving her arms in the air. Mulder paid her no heed, because he was lost in the mind of the most crippled monster that ever visited this poor planet. God dammit, when would this insanity end? Was there no humanity? Was there no compassion for fellow man? Mulder dropped the popcorn seed from his fingers, his energy spent like lunch money on beer. But wait! He leaned over to examine the bowl more closely. God dammit! It was a Tupperware bowl! The answer had been staring then in the face, laughing at them like a cheap cartoon where animated elephants beat themselves up. He held the bowl within his fingers. "His full name is Jake Charles Heinybottom the Fourth." The Tupperware bowl fell like a cheap cigar, and Mulder walked out the door. The girl that ran screaming out of the house earlier gave another howl and plunged the knife deep within Mulder's chest as he walked by her, unseeing and unhearing so he couldn't protect himself anyway. He crumpled to the ground like so much meat in the boneless bag as the fiendish girl's wig fell off and everyone who had eyes could see that she was a man! And then she ran, ran, and ran some more like a wild animal that knows it will be caught soon but it's still got some killing to do. Skinner gasped! The horror! The killer was a midget! And a transvestite! He looked back to Mulder who was panting like he had just had the most strenuous sex of his life, but in actually was gasping because one of his lungs probably had been stabbed like pork often is when it is incorporated in shish kabobs, which are often made during barbecues. Skinner was at a loss as to what to do. If he reached for his gun, the killer could run the one hundred yards that was separating them and stab him. All of the other agents were at a loss too. How would they find this awful killer lost in the huge city? They had nothing to go on! Just think how many midget transvestites prowled the streets every day, disguised as normal people? They would have to arrest everyone in sight and force them to take off their wigs. Mulder knew that he had to stop the terrible person from committing any more black crimes. The pain was spreading, engulfing his loins and spearing all of his body parts and tickling his underarms. But still through some inhuman exercise of his probably dying body he reached for his gun ever so slowly and whipped it out and released the fateful bullet that stopped the running midget in its tracks. The midget died. And then Mulder prepared to finally enter that great white tunnel where he would be reunited with Samantha and his father and then there he would wait for Scully and Skinner and Scully's Mom. Oh, and his own mom who probably would still be just as mean and awful in the great white beyond as she was in this life. And then he would be happy. Damn, he wished all these people would just hurry up and die! Back in Iran Scully was having the most beautiful dream of her life, where Jack Lemmon was giving her the most luxurious foot rub she had ever had. Then in the distance, she had seen Mulder reaching out to her, his face straining as if he was constipated, blood that was the color of red streaming down his chest, like a river having a temper tantrum. She gasped, throwing the bed sheets away, knowing that the dream was a sign, and more proof of their psychotic connection with each other. Her naked body longed to be spooned and forked against that of her lover. But he was far, far away, and there were too many obstacles between them, and she knew with a fatality that they would die before they saw each other again and were able to hug and kiss and have the most mind-blowing sex of their lives as angels in heaven. And then the phone was ringing and she was reaching for it hoping that it was Mulder anyway because though she told him "Goodbye forever," he had to know that she still loved him and wanted him and God could never serve as his substitute. "Oh Dana," Skinner wept into the phone pitifully like a child that was spanked by his disciplining mother. "Mulder is dying." "Ahhhhhhhhhh!" she screamed into the phone. "I'll be right there, come hell or high water." She packed her bags, vowing that she would be the bravest red headed puppy that the Earth had ever seen. "Mulder, my booger bum," she whispered to herself, crossing the courtyard, pretending that she was Maria in the "Sound of Music" except the fact that she was in Iran and didn't have seven children to look after. Mother Betsy waved in the window after the receding figure of her best nun but Scully didn't see the desperation of a good Nun Mother because the only person she ever cared about was Mulder, her booger bum. Back in the States The Hospital in the USA "I'm telling you, Mr. Skinner, the patient's lung is in very, very bad shape." He pulled out some x-rays and loaded them on the viewer. "See this red gunk here? That's mucus. This green stuff here is blood." Skinner looked at the x-rays. "What are you saying? How much longer does he have to live?" The doctor looked at his watch. "I would say twenty minutes, barring a miracle." "Oh no," Scully gasped out loud and ran down the hall to the room where her lover was probably dying as she spoke. The way was really really long and she knew she wouldn't reach it in time. Only twenty minutes to say everything that she wrote in her diaries for years! She knew he would die probably right in the middle of her sentence! When she opened the door, she saw that there was a flat line on the important monitor attached to Mulder's bed and his eyes closed and his palms turned upward. And she knew that now she wouldn't have time to even begin. Still, she cleared her throat and started. "Mulder, I love you, I've always loved you and I will love you for the rest of my life which hopefully will be mercifully short. I will be a Juliette to your Romeo! I will be a Yoko Ono to your John Lennon only I will actually kill myself! I will be a Peggy to you Ted Bundy if they decided to make a suicide pact! I only left because the..." she stopped here forgetting the proper way to address the Smoking Son of a Bitch. "Yeah... that fire-breathing lizard... told me they would kill you if I didn't go to Iran but now that I found out that you were dying it didn't matter anymore. Damn them for trying to come between us. Because every night in my dreams, I see you. I feel you... and my heart..." she sniffed - big fat tears on the verge of spilling down her cheeks which felt like the cotton in toilet paper, "will not go on, if you die, Mulder!" A tear fell from her eyes, landing on his lips, where the salt water rolled lazily across the breathing apparatus tube that will helping Mulder breathe and was an apparatus. There was a beep, and Mulder's eyes opened! Scully clapped her eyes together, and tears rolled down her hands. "Oh Mulder!" Mulder reached over, pulling the ventilator tube out himself so that he could issue his three favorite words. "I love you." "I love you too, my booger bum! I promise that I will never be a nun again in Iran." Mulder sat up in bed, clasping Scully's fingers in his hand, loving the feel of her cuticles against his fingerprints. "I swear to you, Scully: they will never separate us again." His soft, ammonia-tasting lips touched hers, and Scully relished in their taste. "And there will never be a need, my love," she responded with a lot of love. Skinner and Maggie watched them from the doorstep and seeing so much love, they began to kiss and hug and they soon realized that their tongues were intertwined and they knew that they had to stop because they were in a public place which every USA hospital is but they couldn't stop because when love is in the air, who can help it? The End We noticed that there are a lot of really weird people who call themselves noromos. You might say that they are the spawn of the devil, but we won't be so crude. Still, just think what these evil people would do if they had written our cool second story! Would you like an ending such as this: Mulder and Scully went their separate ways after Mulder recuperated from his injuries. They worked as partners in the FBI again and they investigated the X-Files every day and they cared for each other a lot but in the brother and sister sort of way. They never kissed or had mind-blowing sex. They were meant for each other but only in the platonic way. And when the Cigarette Smoking Man realized that Scully had betrayed her true calling back in Iran and broke her promise, he knew that he had to fulfill his. So he dispatched two killer units who went into the X-Files office and though the first unit perished in the crossfire and only wounded the well-trained agents, the second unit was a surprise and actually finished the job. So Mulder and Scully were buried in separate plots in Arlington Cemetery with Walter Skinner, Margaret Scully and Teena Mulder attending the funerals in respectful silence. They didn't even try to comfort each other with hugs. They just stood there. Now do you see what we mean when we say that MSR is the way to go? We sure hope so! Let us know what you thought! 'Cause feedback is like Chunky Monkey to the booger bum, baby! Yeah! Ceruleanxf@hotmail.com and pinkus1013@hotmail.com