From rogue_ldr@hotmail.com Fri Apr 11 18:42:35 1997 Subject: new story - The Finale 1/1 From: "Oscar Loka" -------- First of all, let me begin this story with an apology. Sorry to everyone out there who I have in this story (Chris Carter & Co.). I know the characters I wrote may be wildly different from who you really are. Apologies to the cast and crew of the X-Files, and to any and all Canadians. And fans aren't really that crazy, are they? Of course not. If there is such a thing as the Association of Canadian Fanfic Writers, my apologies to them. Sorry Will Shakespeare, I just had to quote you. And I hope the real series finale won't be like this... Anyone else who feels offended, forgive thy humble writer. Summary: Our favorite series is about to end... But not everybody's happy. Category: SH Rated R (language) The Finale By Oscar Loka Time: The near future. Location: A remote site in British Columbia. Dawn breaks. A sliver of golden sun pops up over the conifer-covered mountains, shedding light over the small clearing. We see inside a large, sleek, new-model trailer. Morning light begins to come in through the trailer windows, illuminating the inside. The light hits a man squarely in the face. He puts his hand up to shield it, covering it before we can focus on it. An anonymous hand pulls on a cord, closing the blinds. The man drops his hand. We can see his face. He is Chris Carter. Carter: All right, people. There's been a couple of problems. Now what we need is a big, big finish. Remember, this is THE VERY LAST episode of the X-Files to be ever made! Millions of loyal fans have been anxiously waiting and dreading this one, folks! Now come on, people, I need that burst of creativity now! I don't care what you do to get it, you can drink Yahe or whatever you need, but I want it now! Darin Morgan lifts his head, which was previously buried in his arms. He rubs sticky crap out of his eyes and lays his hands on the table. Morgan: Look, boss, we're all beat. I've tried to out-wack my wackiness one time too many and I'm turning out shit. And we're starting to read Internet fanfic stories for inspiration. (He gets up) DO YOU KNOW HOW DESPERATE THAT IS???? Pan right along table. We see a group of staff writers sitting glumly. One of them has a laptop with a blank screen. He starts entering a bunch of 'F's absent-mindedly. Staff Writer #1: Whoa there, Morgan. Calm down. This is not the time to be flying off the handle. Morgan: Sorry, boss. It's just that... HAVE YOU EVER TRIED TO READ THOSE FANFICS? I cover my eyes in horror at some of them. Morgan collapses back into his chair. The staff writers look blank-faced towards Chris Carter, as if searching for the briefest inkling of inspiration. Pan left towards the front of the trailer. We see Gillian Anderson and Bill Davis sitting at a small table, sharing a stale donut and playing Go Fish with a worn pack of cards. Davis: Got any eights? Anderson: (Shaking head slightly) Nope. Go Fish. Pan right towards rear end of trailer. David Duchovny and Nick Lea emerge. They look horrible. They have been up all night shooting a fight scene. Duchovny picks at a horrible-looking scab, which turns out to be a piece of painted rubber. Lea eyes Duchovny up and down. Lea: You look terrible. Why don't you go to the bathroom and get yourself cleaned up. Duchovny locks himself in the bathroom. Focus on door. We hear muffled gargles and bangs, and the sound of running water. The door opens and Duchovny steps out. Lea: Feel better now? Duchovny: Like a new man. Duchovny walks towards us while Lea replaces him in the bathroom. He leans against the built-in refrigerator and opens it. He takes out a bottle of Jolt Cola and sits down next to Chris Carter, putting his feet up on the table. Carter picks up a piece of paper and begins to scribble on it, but gives up and crumples it up. He tries to shoot it into the wastebasket but misses by a mile, and it lands among all the other crumpled-up pieces of paper. Meanwhile the writer with the laptop has filled the whole screen with 'F's. He looks hypnotized. Duchovny: So how's it going, Chris? Any progress? Carter: We're at an impasse. Everything hangs in the balance. The two-hour series finale's deadline is winding down and we're only done with one-third of the total shooting. The script is unworkable, the crew is getting pissed, and I almost got into a fight with the local union representative. Duchovny: Don't you just love them Canadians? You know Chris, it is the series finale. How about shooting in a real location, huh? I got some fan from the South complaining about how cold it looks on screen, and frankly, I agree with him. Carter: Don't you get started with me, David. Besides, it's too late now. AND THIS SCRIPT! Who ever thought that this would even fly? What should I do? Duchovny: Give the fans what they want. Mind if I take a crack at it? Shoot across table. We see Carter & Co. in the foreground, and Gillian Anderson smiles thinly from where she sits in the background. Anderson: Don't overrate your writing abilities, Duchovny. Duchovny: Oh, ye of little faith. Suddenly, a rock crashes through the window. Everyone scrambles to the floor, the rock zinging past Darin Morgan's ear and causing him to fall from the chair. The trailer's occupants look around at each other, terrified. Carter: Everyone okay? Morgan: Oh yeah, just great. Morgan untangles himself from the chair, groaning. The other staff writers helps Carter to his feet, checking him over for injuries. Bill Davis shakes himself off and walks over to the trailer door. Davis: Look, all of you can just figure out what to do on your own. I need to get some sleep. In a nice hotel somewhere. Anderson: (Getting up) Good idea. Bye, everyone. Anderson reaches for the trailer door. She tries to open it, to no avail. The handle turns uselessly. Davis tries to open the door too, but he is also unsuccessful. Anderson: Hey Chris, what's wrong with this trailer door? I can't open it. Suddenly the trailer rocks, throwing everyone to the floor, like when the Enterprise gets hit hard in "Star Trek." Our view shakes viciously. Outside, a great commotion has arisen, as if thousands of people had gathered. They begin to shout in unison. Voices: Chris-Car-ter! Chris-Car-ter! We want Chris-Car-ter! Close-up on rock which crashed itself into trailer. There is a piece of paper tied around it with string. David Duchovny crawls over to it and unwraps the paper from the rock. It is a note, written hastily in large and angry capital letters. He reads it to the group. Duchovny: Chris Carter, this rock is for you. We have besieged your trailer; we will continue to surround you until you have acceded to our demands! Come out alone and we will negotiate. Carter: Negotiate? With who? Who are these people? Shoot across trailer. Nick Lea crosses over to a window and sticks his head up. Another rock crashes itself into the window but does not break it. Lea goes back down to the floor. Close up on his terrified face. Lea: There are thousands of people out there. Anderson: This is ridiculous. What could they possibly want? Let's just pick up the phone, call the police, and get out of here. Staff Writer #2: Uh, I'm sorry to freak everyone out like this, but our phone lines have been cut. (He holds up dead phone) We're stuck here and we can't call for help. Anderson: Okay, so let's use the cell phone. David, where's your phone? Duchovny reaches into his pocket but comes up with nothing. He sinks onto the floor and shakes his head. Duchovny: I think I dropped it when I was fighting with Nick last night. Where is yours, Gill? Anderson: You idiot! Mine is yours! There's only been one cell phone for the last couple of weeks when the props department had them all serviced. Duchovny: Geez, Ms. Anderson, is it that time of the month again? Anderson leaps across the floor to strangle Duchovny, but Bill Davis restrains her. Everyone sits down on the floor, confused. Duchovny retreats back to a corner, eyeing Anderson suspiciously. Pan around the room on the faces of the trailer occupants. They are confused and tired. Carter starts to fidget. Davis: This is no time for outbursts. We need to keep our heads together and think the situation through. Carter: You're right. Okay, so there's thousands of people surrounding our trailer. I'm sure that someone's going to spot them, and they'll wonder what's going on. We can yell for help and then we can get out of here. Staff Writer #1: Sir, don't you remember why you chose this remote location? There's no one around. The nearest town is twenty miles away. The possibility that someone is going to see this is slim to none. Morgan: NO ONE IS GOING TO FIND US, YOU HEAR? WE'RE GOING TO GET KILLED IN HERE! Darin Morgan is wild-eyed from one too many Jolt Colas. He is sitting in the midst of pieces of crumpled paper. His mouth is wide open and he is starting to foam. David Duchovny and Nick Lea struggle to hold him down and prevent him from eating the crumpled pieces of paper. Morgan kicks around wildly and the fearful staff writers edge away from him. Meanwhile, Gillian Anderson makes her way over to the refrigerator. She takes out a bottle of water and pours some into a cup. Focus on a small container marked 'Sleeping Pills.' Anderson's hand closes around it. We see her empty the pills into the cup. She crawls over to Darin Morgan and forces the mixture down his throat as Duchovny holds Morgan's mouth open. Within a few moments, Morgan is fast asleep. Everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief. Carter: Okay, we need to find out what exactly is going on. Apparently we are being held hostage inside this trailer. Let's find out what those people outside want. Any volunteers? He is met with a chorus of no's and shaken heads. Carter: Hey, who's the boss here? Now I'm the captain of this ship. David, you climb up towards the top hatch and see about those people. Duchovny stares at Carter with contempt, then gets up with the look of a man resigned to his death. Duchovny: Aye-aye, Cap'n. We shoot up from the floor at the ceiling. There is a small hatch-like opening in the roof. We see Duchovny being boosted up to the opening by Carter and Lea. Exterior. We close up on Duchovny's profile and pan around to his face. Shoot around, we see what he sees. Slowly go through 360 degrees. A sea of people had surrounded the trailer. They are a mass of drab-colored clothing moving slowly. Their breaths fog up the cold air under the grey Canadian sky. They hold various banners, some of which say 'GATB' or 'DDLSB' as well as other acronyms which we are not so familiar with. Their voices rise to a deafening roar as Duchovny emerges from the trailer's top. We hear a bunch of women scream. Women: Aaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!!!!! IT'S DAVID!!!!! The throng of women surge towards the trailer. We close up on the horrified face of Duchovny. The screams continue. Continue to pan around, closing on the faces of the crowd. We see a furtive movement. A man in a black leather jacket calmly reaches into his jacket and comes up with a gun. Reverse angle. We now close up on the man in the black jacket, looking from behind him into Duchovny's direction. He levels the gun at Duchovny and aims. Gun Man: Finally, you bastard. There ain't no way you're gonna escape this time... Duchovny sees him. His eyes go wide. Duchovny: Gun!!!! We hear the man's screams as a group of women overcome him. He is lost underneath the crowd as hundreds of women descend on his general location. Duchovny winces in horror. He continues to look around. Long shot towards a bunch of camera equipment. Another group had besieged it. We see a few cameramen and their assistants brandishing boom microphones and poles, valiantly trying to keep the crowd from smashing the camera equipment. Senselessly, they had begun rolling the cameras to document the madness. We see a small man trying frantically to keep his unit together. He is Assistant Director Tom Braidwood. Braidwood: Hey! Keep back! (He turns towards us) Carter!!!! What the hell is going on here!!!! Boom man spears a crazed fan in the groin with his microphone. The tide is turned back. The fans hesitate, then their leader walks up towards us. He is wearing a Beau Monde T-shirt. Beau Monde Fan: You can tell Carter to come out right now if he wants to see his camera equipment in one piece! Chaos reigns as the whole crowd echoes his sentiment. They begin chanting. Crazed Fans: Chris-Car-Ter! Chris-Car-Ter! A few boys with short-cut hair pick up rocks and hurl them towards the trailer. Some strike the trailer's wall, bouncing off harmlessly. Some sail over the roof, coming perilously towards David Duchovny's head. He ducks back into the trailer. Pan down from Duchovny towards group. Their faces are expectant. Carter: Situation report. Duchovny: FANS, Chris. We've been surrounded by FANS. They're armed and they're dangerous. They want you to come out there. They've almost seized our cameras, too. The situation is getting out of hand. Carter: What? Are you crazy? Anderson: Got any better ideas? Get out there before we all get killed. Carter: Nuh-uh. Duchovny: Look, Chris, they don't care! I saw a gun out there and people are stoning me! Now I want to get out of here! Carter: This is my fucking show! No one is going to come down here and hold me hostage on my own fucking ground! Lea: Well they are holding us hostage! Carter: Okay, okay, let's all calm down. We close up on Chris Carter. He is exasperated. Then his face brightens. He sees Bill Davis. The others see Davis too. Bill Davis eyes the rest of the group suspiciously as he slinks back into a corner. We close up on Davis' face. Davis: What? Carter: I got it. Let's throw Bill to the crowd, and while they're busy tearing him apart, we'll get out of here. Davis: You crazy son of a bitch! Gillian Anderson comes up in front of Chris Carter and slaps him silly. Anderson: Listen, Carter, if anyone is going to be thrown into the crowd, it's you! Now let's not get any more stupid ideas into our heads! Carter: It was only a suggestion. Staff Writer #2: Sir, have you been drinking that green crap Morgan has in the refrigerator? Carter: Yeah.....Why? Staff Writer #1: Oh. No reason. Duchovny: All right, people. Now the fact remains that we're still being surrounded. We need to negotiate with these people, so we can get out of here. People who hold hostages usually have a reason to do it. Anderson: A rational reason? Duchovny: In this case.... no, I don't think so. But there has to be a reason. Lea: Any more bright ideas, people? Davis: Let's get Gillian up there. They'd never throw rocks at a woman, right? Lea: Don't be so sure.... they are FANS, after all. Anderson: Okay, I'll do it, you bleepin bunch of cowards. We shoot the top of the trailer from above. Anderson emerges through the small opening. We hear the crowd go wild and the they were hushed, silent. We close up on her face. Her mouth drops open as she surveys the mad crowd. Suddenly, a young man bursts through the crowd. We close up on him as he pushes his way through the mass of people towards the trailer. Pressed up against the trailer, he looks up at Gillian Anderson and his eyes are filled with tears. Crying Man: Oh, my queen, thou hast finally emerged! Wilt thou but command me, and I shall be thy eternal servant! A group of other men pull him back into the crowd and he disappears as the whole crowd shifts itself like a large protoplasmic organism around the trailer. Some men under the 'GATB' banner begin to go wild and they move the crowd into spontaneous yelling. Anderson has to cover her ears as the noise reaches intolerable levels. Long shot around the whole set. The crowd has gathered tightly around the trailer. The sky is growing grayer. As we pan around, we see that Braidwood's outpost has been overrun, the crew tied up in duct tape and fans have begun to take over the equipment. Pan left towards the end of the road. A grey Ford Crown Victoria pulls up. Screaming fans surround it and start to rock it back and forth. A man struggles to get out through a window and he stands on the roof of the car, looking down at the crowd. He is Mitch Pileggi. Pileggi: Carter, you bastard! What have you done this time?! Pileggi turns towards us, his grey coat flinging about in the wind. We see him lose his balance and fall into a bunch of women as the fans rock his car back and forth. The women cover his bald pate in kisses as he screams. He disappears behind the car to a fate we know not what. Anderson: STOP! WHAT DO YOU ALL WANT? The crowd falls into silence as they part. Like Moses striding down the Red Sea, a man in a black coat and hat walks down the middle. He is accompanied by a woman in a white outfit, and two mean-looking men, also in white. Underneath his coat, we see a white T-shirt with the acronym 'ACFAW' stamped on it. He stops where Anderson can see him. He takes a bow. ACFAW man: Miss Anderson? Where is Chris Carter, for it is he that we wish to speak to. Anderson: He is inside. Why have you gathered all these people here? ACFAW man: We have demands. Demands which Chris Carter must meet. Please, bring him up. A roar of hisses rise from the crowd as they hear Chris Carter's name. They begin chanting again. Crazed Fans: Chris-Car-Ter! Chris-Car-Ter! Close up on ACFAW man. He silences the crowd with a look. Cut to Gillian Anderson. She balances herself on the roof of the trailer, looking down into the opening. We shoot down and see David Duchovny's grinning face. Anderson leans down into the opening. Anderson: Duchovny, if you try to look up my skirt one more time... Duchovny: I wasn't, I swear! Lea: Don't worry, Gill, I'll throw him into the crowd for you. Anderson: Look, the fans want Carter out here. There's a guy here that looks to be the leader. He demands that Chris get out here. Carter: I'm not going out there, you hear? I'm not! Duchovny: Looks like he's not. Anyway, it doesn't seem to be the best idea in any case. Those fans are liable to tear him apart. Tell me what else is going on. Anderson: They've tied up some of the crew. I saw Mitch Pileggi try to go in, but the fans got him. Lea: Poor Mitch. Carter: Did you ask them what they want? Anderson stands back up on the roof. We see the silent, expectant crowd. Mitch Pileggi's car has been turned over and set on fire, some kind of blazing effigy. Pileggi is nowhere to be seen and a column of black smoke reaches into the air. We see a few fans putting the fire out with extinguishers. Finally, Mitch Pileggi is carried forth onto the front of the trailer. He is tied in duct tape. He is thrown into a pile on the ground. The duct taped bodies of Tom Braidwood and a young lighting specialist joins him shortly. Anderson: Are you the leader of these fans? ACFAW man: That I am. Anderson: Can you control them? ACFAW man: I cannot guarantee that for you. Anderson: Then Carter cannot come out, for fear that the crowds will injure him or worse. ACFAW man: A fair assessment. We will negotiate. You will relay our demands to him? Anderson: I will. ACFAW man: This is what we want: For lo these many years, the X-Files have provided countless hours of entertainment for us. That we appreciate and will honor, and we praise both Chris Carter and his writers for a quality show, as well as the actors. Anderson: Thank you. ACFAW man: But now it is all coming to an end. And one complaint sticks in our collective mind: All the episodes are done, and the story is finished, and we shall see these hundreds of stories as reruns. But we feel that it is... incomplete. For years he has led us on, played us like puppets on a string, promising and teasing, yet never fulfilling. And now we are at our final episode, the series finale. Our demand is simple, and simple to meet. WE DEMAND THAT THERE BE A MULDER/SCULLY ROMANCE! The crowd goes wild, driven into madness by the voice of their leader. They start to chant. Crazed Fans: MSR, MSR, MSR.... ACFAW man: Thus say I and thus say us all. Resolve the UST. It's as simple as that. We are tired of championing this cause. It was apparent that he will not do it, and so we have come. On this we offer him a simple choice. Come up with a script that successfully resolves this issue, and you shall all go free. You have two hours. Do not this, and this will be your fate. (Points out his hostages, Mitch Pileggi and Tom Braidwood and the poor lighting specialist.) Will you yield, and this avoid? Or guilty in defence, be thus destroyed? We see the ACFAW man turn around and leave, and the crowds take up his space, waiting expectantly. They are silent now as we pan around and see their faces. Grimly, they wait. Anderson lets out a dejected sigh and climbs back into the trailer. We focus on Chris Carter's face, a man awaiting his fate. Carter: Well? What did they say? Anderson: There was this guy who's supposed to be their leader. He wears a shirt with the word 'ACFAW' on it. Carter: Did you say ACFAW? Anderson: Yeah. What's wrong? Carter: I was afraid of this... I've crossed paths with those crazies before. Duchovny: Excuse me, but who exactly are these ACFAW people anyway? Staff Writer #2: You don't want to know them. They're the Association of Canadian FAnfic Writers. Duchovny falls back onto the floor, laughing his head off. Duchovny: Fanfic writers? Are you kidding me? Staff Writer #1: Oh, I'm not. They're among the most rabid fans out there. It doesn't surprise me that they would pull something like this. I think we should just give them what they want before they kill us all. Carter: Just exactly what do they want? Anderson: They said you have two hours to come up with a script for the series finale that has a Mulder/Scully romance in it. Do that or they crack this trailer open like an egg and tie us up in duct tape and do god knows what. Carter: What?! I AM NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING, I TELL YOU! I refuse to be held hostage and mess with my own creation! Nick Lea and Bill Davis converse quietly in the background with Duchovny, while Anderson, Carter and his staff writers try to revive Darin Morgan and get started with their script. We shoot down at them from the ceiling, getting a close-up of each one's desperate face. Lea: Do you really trust Carter's writing ability right now? Davis: I don't. It took him the last three months to come up with the script for this series finale, and it's on the fifth rewrite. I don't know what he can do in two hours. Duchovny: We have to take matters into our own hands. We have to get out of here. Lea: How? It's like one against a thousand if we go out there. And all we got are these (holds up prop gun) pieces of crap. Davis: We can't sacrifice one of us to the crowd, can we? That's out of the question. Duchovny: We need a major distraction. But you're right, there's just too many of them. We're sitting ducks inside this trailer waiting to be broiled or something. Lea: I don't think Carter's gonna do it. He'd rather die than make an MSR show. Duchovny: Yeah, but I don't wanna die along with him, agreed? We see a blur. Finally it focuses, and we stare up into the face of Chris Carter. Cut to the face of Darin Morgan, lying on the floor of the trailer. Morgan's tongue is hanging out. Carter: Darin, we've got a problem. Morgan: What? Carter: Fans have besieged our trailer. They demand a new script for the series finale that has an MSR in it. They're desperate and they're not stopping for anything at this point. Morgan: What are you gonna do? Carter: I need a good way to sneak out of this. I'm going to make them a script. But I'm not going to shoot it. I'm going to get the series canceled before the last episode airs. Anderson: You can't do that. They'll kill you. They know where you live. Carter: Then help me, dammit! I need a script and I've got two hours to do it! Anderson: Okay, people, so here's what we do: We're all going to help Chris write his fucking script so we can all get out of this hell-hole! Who's with me? Staff Writer #1: Let's rock. We see Chris Carter typing furiously on the laptop while the others scribble on pieces of paper. Darin Morgan has a large bottle of green goo next to him, which we see him swig from time to time. He has a large evil grin on his face as he writes. We fade in and out of each member writing, interspersed with shots of the clock as the two hours run down. The second hand crosses the twelve o'clock mark and Carter looks up at us, his face expectant. Chris Carter: It's brilliant. David Duchovny: Of course it is. It's insane. Gillian Anderson: It'll never work. They're going to kill us. Nick Lea: That was the strangest script I've ever worked with. Bill Davis: I may restart smoking after this madness. Staff Writer #1: It reads like a fanfic. Staff Writer #2: America will never forgive us. Darin Morgan: He he he he he. Time: 10:00 pm, Pacific Standard Time. Sunday. Location: A home in Southern California. We see a few friends sitting on the couch. Their faces are lit by the flickering blue of the television. We pan around to the television. It displays a black screen. White text appears on the screen: EXECUTIVE PRODUCER CHRIS CARTER. The screen fades out and a few commercials play. Friend #1: That was... strange, to say the least. Friend #2: Pure crap. I was gypped. Friend #3: Yeah. What a gyp. Chris Carter will fry for this one. Friend #4: Oh, what are you saying? It was good. Carter did not give in to the temptation to start an MSR situation. Friend #2: You liked it? You liked it? You, you arrogant bastard you! Only a handful of people like you non-relationshippers could have liked that. Friend #3: That sound you're hearing now? It's the sound of millions of disappointed fans groaning in rejection. Friend #4: Well it's all over, folks. You're not going to see it again. And that sound you're hearing now is of money exchanging hands. Because I won. Friend #1: Only bastards like you could be happy. We shoot the television again. Mark Snow's creepy music comes out of the speakers. Credits roll on screen: WRITTEN BY CHRIS CARTER, ET AL.......... FILMED ON LOCATION IN BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA. The screen goes blank and the Fox Eleven News At Ten comes on. But wait. The screen flickers and the credits roll backwards and we come to the last scene. It is different. We see Mulder and Scully alone in a room. They stare at each other, not speaking. She smiles and they kiss. They disengage briefly and start taking each other's clothes off. Mulder looks at the camera and he smiles. Mulder: Happy now? Mulder reaches for an unseen light switch and snaps it off. Everything goes black. the end.