From bobdobbs@flash.net Mon May 12 07:04:11 1997 Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: GhostNet (1/3) From: Zachary Carleton -------- REVISION UPDATE - MAY 1997 XFILES FANFIC ARCHIVISTS: Please remove any other versions of this story from your archives. PLEASE ARCHIVE! Title: GhostNet (1/3) Author: Robin Starveling Rating: PG (Language and Adult Situations) Classification: X - X-Files Spoilers/Timeline: This tale should have no direct links to other episodes. However it is assumed to be taking place some time after the third season, perhaps before or during the fourth. Keywords/Misc Descriptions: This is a "plotter" story, not a "shipper." There is NO romance. It deals with Ghost Hauntings & the Internet. The Lone Gunmen appear briefly in this story Point Of View: 3rd Person Limited; lending towards Scully's perspective Inspiration: GhostWatcher Website http://www.flyvision.org/sitelite/Houston/GhostWatcher/ Summary: Scully recieves a mysterious email, and convinces Mulder to help her investigate the possible disappearance of a friend she made on the Internet. DISCLAIMERS: The following contains characters owned by Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. The intent is fan fiction. It is my understanding that Carter and 1013 are under legal restraints NOT to accept unsolicited ideas or manuscripts and this is not written to be considered for the series. If ideas or concepts contained herein are found in similar X-Files episodes in the future, I publically relinquish any rights to seek legal action against Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen or related organizations and corporate entities regarding my publically expressed USENET Newsgroup post. This is for entertainment purposes only. I give my permission for this to be sent to newsgroups & archives as long as this header stays with the work. Events and characters below are fictitious. Any similarity to persons or events living, dead or undead are purely coincidental. Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. The Earth Is Flat. Feedback of any sort is appreciated. Please write to bobdobbs@flash.net if you have the inclination. ______________________________________________________________________ ______________________________________________________________________ "True love is like ghosts, which every- body talks about and few have seen." - Francis, Duc de La Rochefoucauld. 1613-1680 Ghost Net a short story in tribute to The X Files by Robin Starveling _____________________________________________________________________ She felt stupid, and if Mulder could see her now, he'd probably be laughing at her. She sat in her apartment staring at the monitor. It had been a rough four years and all attempts to have any semblance of a life were each tossed aside in favor of the latest lead on an X-File or some other crazy thing that she was duty-bound both as a special agent of the FBI and as a close friend to Fox Mulder to investigate. It had taken its strain on her. She needed something to take her mind off it now and then. So, reluctantly, at the request of her long friend Ellen, she sought a way to interract with people in a way that could work into her unpredictable, hectic schedule. Singles groups were out because they met regularly, and she hated making up excuses all the time. She had attempted and failed dating men traditionally, because she would have to stand them up by the third or fourth date, and again, she hated making up excuses. Then one day it hit her. Actually she may have gotten the idea from something one of the "Lone Gunmen" said about conversing with people on The Internet. "You really should try it," Frohickie said to her, looking at her a bit farther south than she was comfortable with. She moved her head down quickly so that his eyes met hers, with a disconcerting frown. He looked away, "I mean on the 'Net know one knows who you are." "Well they do-" interrupted Langly, who was rifling through magazines to show Mulder what he said was clinching proof to Roswell, "-or rather, they can. The thing is most hackers are more interested in taking on corporate entities, and won't try to learn about you specifically unless you give them reason. Here ya go Mulder." As they left the Lone Gunmen office, no closer to a solution to their present case than when they arrived, Mulder looked at her questioningly, "you didn't take what they said about the 'Net seriously, did you?" "You kidding? Who has time for that? Besides I'd be afraid to wake up one morning, look in the mirror, and see one of those Lone Gunmen types staring back at me." "They're not all like that, Scully. The Internet has people from all walks of life participating in it. It's perhaps the most successful experiment in social contact ever orchaestrated by the military or the scholastic community." "You sound as if you're a regular, Mulder." "You kidding? Me, a computer geek? Not on your life." _____________________________________________________________________ That was some time ago, and she dismissed it until being alone in her apartment with nothing but cold Butter Pecan ice cream to keep her company began to annoy her. She already had a connection to the Internet as D_Scully@FBI.gov. However, that being rather obvious to its origins, she privately created a separate account with a commercial Internet Service Provider, hoping it would offer her proper anonymity for experimenting. Using "Starbuck", an old nickname her father had for her, she played with the letters trying to come up with a pseudonym that she thought would be nicely inconspicuous. After discovering and discarding options like "Stuck Bra", "Stark Cub", "Scab Turk" and "Turk's Cab" the decided on "Subtrack" hoping it would leave nothing at all to the imagination whatsoever as to her identity. With the ISP's name at the end of it, "subtrack@cais.com" seemed like an email for a librarian or an accountant as easily as someone in the FBI. It was actually a little exciting she thought, having the opportunity to be someone else for awhile; someone who wasn't faced with government cover-ups or strange phenomena. She could turn off that part of her brain overworked trying to keep Mulder's more spacey theories in check. She could be herself for awhile. She hadn't been "online" as the others in there called it for long. She rarely had time, but she could slip into an Internet Relay Chat channel or post on a newsgroup and read the responses at her leisure, and she was automatically welcomed into the conversation. No credentials. No suspicious questions. No concern. When online, she made a point to go to places which dealt with subject matter as far away from her line of work as possible. Places she was interested in but had never had time to explore, or hobbies and interests she put to the wayside years ago. She could catch up on knowledge of things she thought she had to ignore for the rest of her life. In many ways it was very relaxing, and made her feel free. Two days after her first time online, Frohickie sent her an email saying "welcome to the net, doctor Scully," which almost scared her away for good, but he and the other Lone Gunmen set up a different connection for her, and showed her despite her reluctance just how this new connection would offer her better security. "How did you know?" She asked angrily when she confronted them at their office, the first time she ventured there without Mulder. "Well hell, doctor! You paid with your own credit card, for one thing." Byers gave her a thin smile and tapped his head with his finger disapprovingly, "gotta use your head if you don't want people to know." "Ya don't wanna use a local provider either," Langly told her, "That's way too obvious. It's how we found you." They didn't get the anagram. They didn't know about Starbuck being a nickname. Ironically however, they did take the liberty of changing Subtrack to another anagram; that of StuckBra@jiminy.net. This angered her at first but she relented to it. "No one is going to suspect that a federal agent would even think of using a name like that," Frohickie said. Then he went on to list the number of government people he has discovered who DO, "but no one's going to suspect it. Trust me." They kept the knowledge from Mulder and everyone, and swore to secrecy. She had to admit the way they described HOW they protected and secured her identity was compelling. In the end she relented that though these boys were Mulder's type of contact, and she felt a bit uncomfortable around them, they were okay in her book. "And you have my promise," said Byers as she left their office, "if these boys whisper a word of this to anyone, I'll have them shot." He gave her a smile, but she could never tell.. Of course he's kidding, she thought. _____________________________________________________________________ A year had passed and she was sitting there reading her email, staring at a curious message from a curious name: trust@no_one.edu. The edu told her it _might_ have originated from a college, but it could have just as easily been crosstransferred through a school, and originated somewhere else. To: StuckBra@jiminy.net From: trust@no_one.edu Subj: A~%^*$)#::TIG+_==/////////////097574//// ______________________________________________ Something up your alley. http://www.whisper.org/~Austin/GhostNet/ This is actual. Verified. Investigation is required. - a friend ______________________________________________ Attempts to write back to the address in form of reply were returned. As she suspected, there was no such address. She couldn't take this to the Lone Gunmen. Maybe it was a crank by them and letting them know how it bugged her would just entertain them. She certainly couldn't take it to Mulder. How would she explain how she got it? How would she explain "StuckBra"? She decided to check out the website and decide from there where she would go. The Website's index page opened with "Hear things that go bump in the night? I do. It's my house. Something is here and I don't know what it is. "That's where you come in. If you can check out the cameras I have positioned here by clicking on the links below, and write and tell me what you see, then maybe together we can get a glimpse as to what is making the sounds, so I can get some sleep. "Thanks for clicking by. MsGhostNet." It's gotta be a hoax, she thought. Some kind of prank. Out of curiosity she clicked on the links below. They were simple black and white pictures of various parts of this person's house. Mostly places where humans wouldn't normally be. Closets, the basement. Out of the way places. The pictures never changed no matter how often she reloaded the page. Yep. Just as she thought. It's gotta be a joke. But what did the message mean? The return address was obvious. It was someone who knew her connection to the FBI and the XFiles. She was certain of that. It was unmistakable. She doublechecked the Lone Gunman's work herself. There was no way to trace Stuckbra to Dana Scully. She was careful never to venture into subject matter that even remotely related to her work. That was easy. Her explorations on the Internet were an attempt to get away from that so it came naturally. She reloaded one more time before giving up the ghost, and that's when she saw it. ______________________________________________ They stood there in the basement of the FBI building, where Mulder had shown Scully the preliminary information of countless X-Files. Mulder was excited beyond words; like a schoolboy on the first day of summer. "Where did you get this jpeg, Scully?" "Uhm," she hated making up stories, "a friend." Mulder looked up at her. Suddenly the excitement disappeared from his eyes, "you can't tell me?" "Please don't ask Mulder. It's embarrasing." "I sent it to be examined. Granted computer graphics are pretty hightech nowadays, but everything checks out. There's no evidence of tampering. If this is a fake, it's nothing that can be done commercially. Did you get it through a government contact?" "Please don't ask." "Okay! okay. Can you tell me where this place is? Looks like a basement. Man if this really is a ghost, Scully. Wow!" "I-I think it's somewhere in Texas. That's just a guess. Austin, Texas I think." "You think? Come on, Scully. We've known each other a long time. "Okay. I got the address from the woman who owns it. It's Austin, Texas." "If you're bound by government protocol you know what I think about that." "It's not government protocol it's just..." "Okay. I'll drop it." "I've emai- uh, I mean contacted the person who owns the house. She's expecting us." "Then what are we waiting for? Let me get some equiptment and I'll meet you at the airport. Texas you said? You buy the tickets." ______________________________________________ She had expected to meet MsGhostNet there. They stood before a three story house set on top of a hill, on the outskirts of Austin, Texas. MsGhostNet didn't advertise her address on the website for obvious reasons, but when Dana wrote her using her D_Scully@FBI.gov account, Rebecca was happy to offer her the address and was looking forward to their meeting. She seemed like a sweet woman. Scully had found herself a bit nervous while on the plane. This would be the first time she had ever met anyone who she learned about using her StuckBra account. "I-I've seen this house before," Mulder said as he was pulling his equiptment from the trunk of the car. He stopped and stared long and hard at it. Here it comes, thought Scully sullenly. The front page of the GhostNet website showed a picture of the outside of Rebecca's house. Mulder must have seen the site before. "Yeah. Looks just like the house in Psycho, doesn't it?" He laughed and grabbed the rest of the things, "I could use some help here, Scully." She had been staring at the house too, and suddenly realized she was just standing there looking at it like a jerk. She shook off the shivers up and down her spine and grabbed a couple of the dark cases that Mulder brought with them. "What is this stuff, Mulder?" "Oh, just cameras, sound recording equiptment. Movement detectors. A few fun toys from the boys upstairs. You know, the normal ghostbusting inventory." "You're not taking this very seriously," they started walking up the steps. "Well, we don't have much to go on. Like I said that jpeg didn't _look_ like a forgery, but you're not saying much, and there's no other evidence. I have to admit Scully I am a bit sceptical." "Huh. That's a switch." "But you have humored me on more than one occasion. This seems important to you. So I'm going along. Besides, I've been meaning to test some of this equiptment. See what it can do." They approached the front door. Mulder rang the bell. No bell. He knocked on it. They waited around until the equiptment got too heavy for either of them to carry, and they set everything down on the large porch. "Rebecca??" Scully called out hesitantly. "Who's that?" "She owns the house." "Oh." "Rebecca!!" They knocked on the door again. Mulder tested the knob. The door was locked. "Maybe she went to the store for some wolvesbane or something." "Mulder!" He fought down a grin, "Sorry." He looked around, "This place is way off the beaten path. Lots of estate space but no security or anything. Either this Rebecca bought the place for a song, or she's rather well off." A low rumbling sound came from somewhere above them, and they both curiously stepped off the porch to get a glimpse above it. All the curtains were drawn in the second and third stories. The place had been very well kept. Recently painted and the roof had been recently shingled. However, it reminded Mulder of a stained frying pan. Once you really burn something into a pan, no amount of cleaning and scrubbing will get it off. He felt like something strange had happened here once long ago, and despite the attempts to clean this house, it still had that eerie impression about it. "The house feels almost alive, Scully." "Oh don't you start." The front door squeaked open slowly. They were both easily twenty feet away from it now on the walkway towards the house, and had been looking for the source of the rumbling. It was pitch dark beyond the door. They both looked at each other. "That was locked. I'd stake my stamp collection on it." "Mulder you don't have a stamp collection," Scully walked towards the front door, climbed up the steps to the porch. "Just the same, it was locked. I tried to open it." They picked up their equiptment and went inside. Mulder tested the inside of the door for a light switch. He found one, flicked it. No light. "Breakers could be out." She set the equiptment she was carrying a few feet into the foyer, out of the way of the door, then started rummaging through the things looking for a flashlight. "Maybe your Rebecca doesn't believe in electricity?" "Oh she uses electricity." "You're sure?" "She has to. I contacted her over the Internet." "Maybe she wasn't at this house when you 'spoke'. Maybe she owns more than one." "No. This is where she lives." She turned on her flashlight. It didn't work. She banged on it with her hand. "Maybe the breakers are out on our flashlights too?" She said mockingly. She put the flashlight back in the case. "Well we brought all this junk from D.C. and none of it is going to be useful without a generator or something. We'll check out the house after our eyes adjust. You head upstairs. I'll check out the basement." "NO!" Scully stood up from the equiptment and faced Mulder, who she could barely see from the light from the doorway. "We stay together, alright? No splitting up in here." "Is there something about this house you're not telling me?" "No, I just don't want you going into the basement alone." "There's something weird about the dark in here. We need to turn on the lights." He lifted his hand and looked at it in the light of the doorway. The light seemed to literally fade into the dark. He looked at where the light from outside should be casting a shadow behind him, but it was just dark. "It's like something is casting shadow in here, shadow that's stronger than the light outside." They heard sounds coming from inside the house. Dana called for Rebecca once again, but only got echoes of her voice in return. The sounds seemed like a rumbling. "It's an old house," she said, "maybe it's just settling." "You saying that to me, or just so you believe it?" The sounds stopped. They stood there in silence. Then suddenly just as Mulder got the inclination to walk back outside, the door slammed itself shut. He attempted to open it, but it wouldn't budge. "Hmm. How predictable." "Predicatable?" "Well Scully, haven't you ever watched horror movies? I think this is where we hear the voice of Satan telling us to burn in hell or something like that. If the lighting was better, I'd expect the walls to start bleeding." "Help me!" The voice was feminine. It came from upstairs. "Is that Rebecca?" Mulder asked as he saw Scully scale up the stairs bounding three at a time. Her gun was already out. Guess her eyes had ajusted to the dark, thought Mulder, "Hey! Whatever happened to us staying together?" He ran after her. They got to the second story and the pleas for help sounded like they were coming from beyond one of the closed doors down the hall. Scully motioned for Mulder to check the ones on the right. She checked the ones on the left. Each door opened to a dark room, and the continued pleas didn't sound like they were coming from any of them. They got to the end of the hall. It was the only door left, and it was locked. "Hmm," said Mulder, as the pleas for help continued, "Predictable." Scully was already in standard position to the side of the door, she looked at Mulder and though it was dark, he could make out her expression, motioning for him to kick the door open. He obliged, pulling out his gun at the same time. He folded down to his knees, aiming the gun into the room, Scully spinned into the doorway and aimed the gun in above him. They were both almost blinded by the slightly better lit room. There was a tinge of an uncomfortable smell but neither could place it. In the room was who they could only guess was Rebecca. She sat there staring at them with horror, sitting in a rocking chair in the center of the otherwise empty wood panelled floor. There were no noticable restraints keeping her in the chair, yet she appeared to be resisting and trying to stand up out of the chair. Behind her were three large windows with the late afternoon sun shining in, all three windows had white curtains drawn over them. Mulder noticed a puddle on the floor below the chair, and suddenly realized what the slight odor was. Urine. "Don't step into the room! Which one of you is Scully?" "That's me. Now just calm down." "You haven't been stuck in this chair for a day and a half! Don't tell me to calm down!" "I'm Scully, this is agent Fox Mulder. My partner." "Hmm. Cute. Hi. Sorry for my lack of self control, but I had to go before this happened to me." "Perfectly understandable," Fox almost successfully avoided a grin. Were he in this situation, he'd find himself giving a dry witty remark to stave off the embarrassment too. He liked this lady already. "What happened?" asked Scully. "You want the short form, or the expurgated version?" Mulder stepped into the room, "Short form." "DON'T enter the room!" Suddenly a force that neither Mulder nor Scully actually saw pushed Mulder back into the hallway, knocking Scully on her butt. Then the door screamed shut, clamping on Scully's right leg. Scully screamed and tried to push the door open. Mulder got back on his feet, ignoring the bruises caused from flying twenty feet through the air, and gave a flying leap at the door. Using all of his weight, he forced the door open and landed back into the room with a quick duck and tumble, avoiding breaking his neck but landing on his spine. Scully pulled away her leg, and the door immediately closed itself shut. TO BE CONTINUED... -- Operation Cobweb http://www.flash.net/~bobdobbs/xfiles From bobdobbs@flash.net Mon May 12 07:04:30 1997 Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: GhostNet (2/3) From: Zachary Carleton -------- REVISION UPDATE - MAY 1997 XFILES FANFIC ARCHIVISTS: Please remove any other versions of this story from your archives. PLEASE ARCHIVE! Title: GhostNet (2/3) Author: Robin Starveling Rating: PG (Language and Adult Situations) Classification: X - X-Files Spoilers/Timeline: This tale should have no direct links to other episodes. However it is assumed to be taking place some time after the third season, perhaps before or during the fourth. Keywords/Misc Descriptions: This is a "plotter" story, not a "shipper." There is NO romance. It deals with Ghost Hauntings & the Internet. The Lone Gunmen appear briefly in this story Point Of View: 3rd Person Limited; lending towards Scully's perspective Inspiration: GhostWatcher Website http://www.flyvision.org/sitelite/Houston/GhostWatcher/ Summary: Scully recieves a mysterious email, and convinces Mulder to help her investigate the possible disappearance of a friend she made on the Internet. DISCLAIMERS: The following contains characters owned by Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. The intent is fan fiction. It is my understanding that Carter and 1013 are under legal restraints NOT to accept unsolicited ideas or manuscripts and this is not written to be considered for the series. If ideas or concepts contained herein are found in similar X-Files episodes in the future, I publically relinquish any rights to seek legal action against Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen or related organizations and corporate entities regarding my publically expressed USENET Newsgroup post. This is for entertainment purposes only. I give my permission for this to be sent to newsgroups & archives as long as this header stays with the work. Events and characters below are fictitious. Any similarity to persons or events living, dead or undead are purely coincidental. Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. The Earth Is Flat. Feedback of any sort is appreciated. Please write to bobdobbs@flash.net if you have the inclination. _____________________________________________________________________ "And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray 's In deepest consequence." - William Shakespeare's Macbeth Act I Scene iii Ghost Net a short story in tribute to The X Files by Robin Starveling _____________________________________________________________________ Dana Scully sat there in the darkened corridor, hearing silenced which seemed almost tangible, and the darkness felt almost like a stranger looking at her in a crowded subway a few seconds longer than an attractive girl would find comfortable. The fact she suddenly found herself alone, with her partner on the other side of a door that refused to budge, almost overwhelmed her mind more than the pain in her leg. She had unwittingly used it as a doorstop, and now it screamed at her for such abuse. Mulder had practically flown over her head, in a flying leap to force the door open and free her leg. Now he was trapped inside with Rebecca, the one they had come to ask about the possibility of her house being haunted, and now apparently they were meant to resuce from unknown forces. She tried the door again. Locked. "Mulder!" No response. "Rebecca!" More silent than a tomb. She turned herself around and braced her back on the door to the right of the one at the end of the hallway. Using her good leg, and with a loud grunt, she tried to kick the door open with her heel. She tried again. Finally, through the pain she drew the two legs together, and kicked with both of them. Nothing. Nothing that is instead of an increase in the pain of her right leg. She knew it wasn't broken, being a medical doctor she could tell that in an instant. However, it had seen much better days. "Mulder! Rebecca!" She kicked again. Then again. A few moments later, when she realized her kicks were getting weaker and doing no good, she decided to try to stand up. As she stood up the lights came on immediately. Blinding her and making her lean against the opposing wall. She turned back to the door at the end of the hallway, and tried it again. It wasn't locked. It opened easily. Mulder would have said that was predictable, She thought. She threw the door open, and in it was an empty rocking chair. The windows behind it were shut. Locked. She limped around the room for any sign of Mulder or Rebecca. Nothing. She called for them again. Nothing. "Well!" She finally said out loud to herself. "Just like Mulder. To leave not with the girl what brung him." She limped out of the room and headed downstairs. _____________________________________________________________________ "Scully!! Scully can you hear us!!" Mulder was still face up on the floor, afraid to move. Would be nice if Scully _could_ hear him. He'd like to know whether or not his back was broken before he tried standing up. The pain from the landing was excrutiating, and the wind had been knocked out of him for a second. He had flown into the room like Superman. Then he noticed the wood panelled floor rushing towards his face, and curled up into a tumble like his academy training taught him. However, though he saved himself from breaking his neck, he hit the floor hard on his back, and felt more like a rag doll now than a Superman. "Need help up?" Mulder looked up to see a frazzled, curly red haired woman staring down at him. Her pants still had a stain around the groin, but otherwise she looked kinda cute. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea to move." "I saw. Landed on your back. Good move." "Thought you were stuck in the chair." "I was." Then the lights came back on, not that there were very noticable in the sunlit room, but they did make the shadows in the room go away. "Here. Take my hand." She helped him up, but Mulder could tell it was quite a task for her. Her legs seemed to move like jello. She used the nearby wall for support. "You haven't stood out of that chair in how long?" "A day and a half. It kept me in it. Every time I tried to get up it would push me back down." "What is it?" "My roommate." "Does he pay half the rent?" "No. And I want him evicted." _____________________________________________________________________ After checking out the house for some sign of Rebecca or Mulder, Scully limped her way into the foyer. The equiptment was still there, and now that the electricity was back on, she thought maybe she could use it. She attempted at first to take it all back up to the second floor, since that was where they had experienced the phenomenon. However, she couldn't lug anything up those stairs with her bad leg. She decided to set it all up in the foyer, and hope for the best. It took her a few hours, and a few brief respites due to the leg, but she got it all hooked up. She didn't know what any of it did really, and there were no manuals. She wasn't even sure if she hooked it up correctly. Most of the equiptment's plugs and connections only went one way. It was like putting together a jigsaw puzzle. She had alot of experience over the years with this kind of equiptment, so where the connections were not obvious, she used educated guesses. Since nothing blew up when she plugged it all into the wall, she had to assume she got it right. She tried the front door again. Still sealed shut. She had looked for other exits but though she found almost a half dozen doors that went to outside, none of them would budge. She was trapped here. She sat down on the stairs and inspected her right leg. The inflammation and discoloration was worse. Were this leg on a patient's body, she would tell them to stay off of it for a few days and then she'd do a series of X-rays. However, not having that luxury, she opted for the next best thing. Scully limped into the living room and grabbed a couple throw blankets and many pillows, then dragged them back into the foyer, throwing them into the center of the area. Next, she repositioned all the equiptment, so that the readouts and monitors were facing in towards the center, making a circle of instruments. Finally, she took all the microphones, video cameras and other probe oriented equiptment and aimed it all at the stairs. By this time it was well after dark outside. She left all the lights on in the house, and then placed herself in the center of the equiptment. Her plan was to remain awake all night and watch the readouts, but after propping her bad leg up on a chair above her heart, and realizing that she needed Mulder to explain to her what all the readouts were saying, she quickly fell unconscious. Exhausted. Then the lights went back out. _____________________________________________________________________ "Wh- What's going on?" Mulder rubbed his bruised back with the back of his left hand. Fortunately, the sting was going away, but he was going to look up a chiropractor if they ever got back to Washington. "I don't know but it's my house. I want these people out of it." They were at the top of the stairs, and down below the equiptment was gone. They were looking down on what appeared to be a costume party. Dozens of people in the foyer or walking in or out of the various surrounding rooms. They were all wearing clothing dating back over one hundred years. Some were even wearing uniforms that Mulder knew from his examination of older photos in the X-Files to be from the Confederate Army. Rebecca flashed her hazel eyes at Mulder, "You know these people?" "No. They wouldn't have fit in our rental car." One of the people below looked up and noticed them, "Look everyone! The host and hostess of our party!" Brief cheers and various greetings shouted from the throng below to Rebecca and Mulder, who looked at each other surprised. "I do hope Madame Ferguson is feeling better!" "We're still waiting on your servants!" Said a man dressed in burgundy, "Is it not supposed to be the other way around?" This brought chuckles and guffaws througout the room. "Do come down and join us!" Mulder looked at Rebecca and shrugged. "Take my hand, Madame Ferguson?" "You sure this is a good idea?" "I haven't the slightest, but in situations like this in the past I've learned to play along." "You have experienced this before?" "No I must admit not this," Mulder led Rebecca down the stairs, "But Scully and I have run into alot of hard to explain things." "You two work for the FBI. I gathered that from her email address, but what branch?" He made a grand gesture towards the crowd below them, "_This_ branch," he gave her a dry smile. As they reached the bottom the crowd surrounded them happily, each seemed to want to talk to them about twenty different things at once. Is Madame alright? Have you thought about joining the war against the north, Mister Ferguson? I love your house Madame. My my Mister Ferguson, who's your tailor? Where can I get lovely cufflinks like that?" "Pardon me," Mulder said, testing a theory, "My name is Poppycock. This here is Lucille Ball. We're oranges and bananas." "Mister Ferguson. Such bold statements against the federal government." "Yes, my friends. I think we've found our guiding light." "What are you doing?" Rebecca asked him, trying to stay with him though the ladies of the crowd were leading her away. "Doesn't matter what we say or do, this is an event replaying itself from the past." "What??" The ladies took her hands and started escorting her into the sitting room. "Don't worry about it! Just go along! Remain calm!" _____________________________________________________________________ When she awoke, Scully found herself sitting in the dark. Her clothes seem to have been replaced with clothing that she couldn't recognize. She had a wig on her head, and the chair appeared to rock. Oh great, she thought. Behind her were three windows, each dimly lit from the moon outside. She could sense something else in the room, but couldn't see anything. There was a low grumbling sound coming from the ceiling. She sat there a long time in the dark. Attempts to get out of the chair failed. She couldn't tell if it was because her right leg was numb and may have affected her cognizant control of her faculties, or if she was physically strapped to the chair somehow. The low grumbling sound coelesced before her, and in the dim moonlight she could almost make out a humanoid figure. "Mulder? Is that you?" The voice was low and sounded like distant thunder. "No." "Wh-who are you?" "No One." "...my name is Scully." "You are Madame Winter." The words came slow but were more human now, easier to understand. "No, you seem to misunder-" The force hit her hard in the face, then with a wisp of air, moved about the room to somewhere behind her. "You are Winter." "Alright. Alright." She tried to move her hand to her face to inspect the damage. She felt blood trickle from her nose. She couldn't move her hands from the arms of the chair. "I'm Winter. Can you let me go please?" "No." "What do you want?" "To rest." "What's stopping you?" "No One." Scully thought for a moment. "Trust?" "No One." "Oh my God." "This is up your alley. This is actual. Verified. Investigation is required." "You sent the message? How did you know?" "Trust No One." _____________________________________________________________________ The evening was strange. Mulder spent much of it saying random statements, entertaining himself while the corporeal entities about him made up from what he said whatever they wanted. It was like being in the middle of a play, and not knowing what the lines were, but everyone else going along. He occasionally tried to excuse himself to see how Rebecca was doing, but would be politely but firmly placed back into his chair. People came up to him asking for favors or support for various things, and no matter what he said they were thankful and happy and moved away to make room for others. He examined the corporeal entities for signs of ghostly existence, but they all looked uncannily real. They didn't seem to mind that instead of old clothes he was wearing a modern day suit. In fact they admired his clothing as if it was just like theirs, but with a better tailor. "So we Fergusons are rolling in the dough, are we?" "Ah, Mister Ferguson you are a unique wit." "I really need to get back to Rebecca." "Just a few more. These people have been waiting to see you for a long time." "She was ill earlier, correct? I really need to see how she's doing." "Alright, but hurry back." They made room for him to move, and tentatively he got out of the chair and stepped away. He got the feeling this was more in keeping with the events that were replaying than because he wanted to leave. "Oh am I glad to see you!" Mulder stepped into the sitting room and saw Rebecca fully clad in a most breathtaking outfit circa the Civil War. "Frankly my dear Rebecca - " "Oh stuff it. What was your name again? Thank you ladies!" The other corporeal entites fussed over them both and happily left the room. For the moment, they were alone. "Mulder's my name. Stick to that. In fact make a point to remind yourself of your time period. Where you were born, who you are, things like that. I think this place is trying to pull us into it's little world." "What's going on?" "A classic haunting. My dear Rebecca you are the proud owner of a house haunted by a party taking place during the Civil War." "That guy upstairs who kept me in the rocking chair was not part of a party." "Maybe he's the party pooper. I'm sure he'll show his face soon." "How do you know?" He didn't. "I- uh, it just makes sense. Apparitions who haunt establishments are documented in previous cases as spirits who for one reason or another are unable to let go of the living world. There was something that happened in this house which your 'roommate' can't let go of. Some horrible event which the spirit has to rectify with itself before it can move on." "Are you just pulling stuff out of your butt or do you actually believe all this?" "You believe as much as anyone, Rebecca. Or should I say MsGhostNet?" "Sc-Scully said she would never tell you." "She's not the only one with an Internet connection. I scanned your website several months ago. I thought it was just a gag. But the house looks just like the picture on your website." He stepped over to see what was going on with the party. Things had gotten strangely quiet outside of the sitting room. "Apparently it's real." "Up until a few days ago all I heard were weird sounds. I got used to them after awhile, and put a bunch of cameras in various parts of the house I can't frequent. Places I thought the sounds came from." "Like your basement?" "and the attic and a few closets. Then I had them set to send pictures to my website twice a minute. Asked people to check the place out and see if they saw anything out of the ordinary. I never imagined it was all leading up to this." "In that day and a half you were up there, did the spirit ever show you anything or say anything to you?" "At night when it was dark he would repeatedly say to me that I was something Winters, but I had trouble understanding him." "Where'd the party go?" "What?" He stepped into the foyer. Everyone in the party was standing up and in painful silence were staring at the top of the stairs. "Oh my God." "M-Mulder??" At the top of the stairs stood what appeared to be Dana Scully, dressed in a beautiful lavender and sapphire dress of the time period. Apparently her leg was still in pain because she leaned heavily to her left, using the bannister for balance. "Scully!" "The thing in the hall says to call me Madame Winter." "Scully! Look at your hand!" She looked down and was startled to find the pigmentation of her hand had turned from the pale light skin since her birth, to an incredibly dark brown color. She looked down at Mulder, noticing that the others in the room besides he and Rebecca had looks of utter shock and hatred. "My face too?" Mulder nodded. "Wow. I'm black!" _____________________________________________________________________ TO BE CONTINUED... -- Operation Cobweb http://www.flash.net/~bobdobbs/xfiles From bobdobbs@flash.net Mon May 12 07:04:52 1997 Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: GhostNet (3/3) From: Zachary Carleton -------- REVISION UPDATE - MAY 1997 XFILES FANFIC ARCHIVISTS: Please remove any other versions of this story from your archives. PLEASE ARCHIVE! Title: GhostNet (3/3) Author: Robin Starveling Rating: PG (Language and Adult Situations) Classification: X - X-Files Spoilers/Timeline: This tale should have no direct links to other episodes. However it is assumed to be taking place some time after the third season, perhaps before or during the fourth. Keywords/Misc Descriptions: This is a "plotter" story, not a "shipper." There is NO romance. It deals with Ghost Hauntings & the Internet. The Lone Gunmen appear briefly in this story Point Of View: 3rd Person Limited; lending towards Scully's perspective Inspiration: GhostWatcher Website http://www.flyvision.org/sitelite/Houston/GhostWatcher/ Summary: Scully recieves a mysterious email, and convinces Mulder to help her investigate the possible disappearance of a friend she made on the Internet. DISCLAIMERS: The following contains characters owned by Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. The intent is fan fiction. It is my understanding that Carter and 1013 are under legal restraints NOT to accept unsolicited ideas or manuscripts and this is not written to be considered for the series. If ideas or concepts contained herein are found in similar X-Files episodes in the future, I publically relinquish any rights to seek legal action against Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen or related organizations and corporate entities regarding my publically expressed USENET Newsgroup post. This is for entertainment purposes only. I give my permission for this to be sent to newsgroups & archives as long as this header stays with the work. Events and characters below are fictitious. Any similarity to persons or events living, dead or undead are purely coincidental. Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. The Earth Is Flat. Feedback of any sort is appreciated. Please write to bobdobbs@flash.net if you have the inclination. _____________________________________________________________________ "As I would not be a slave, so I would not be a master. This expresses my idea of democracy. Whatever differs from this, to the extent of the difference, is no democracy." - Abraham Lincoln "I've got a plate in front of me with nothing on it. All of us at this table are all of us diners? I'm not a diner until you let me dine. Then I become a diner." - Malcolm X Ghost Net a short story in tribute to The X Files by Robin Starveling _____________________________________________________________________ "HATE." The room swirled with light and darkness, and Mulder stood there holding Rebecca as a great force or wind ran the gamut of the room. Scully stood at the foot of the stairs, holding tight to the bannister, but the wind knocked her away, and she plummeted down the steps. "Hey! I played your game!" Scully yelled defiantly as the throng of people dressed in Civil War uniforms reached out towards her, catching her and pulling on her, hatefully. Someone spit on her, and they started ripping at her clothes. Mulder and Rebecca both tried to push their way into the throng of corporeal entities but were unable to get to Scully. "HATE." The lights flickered and spinned, and the force of wind knocked Mulder away from the crowd, towards the door. Knowing it would be locked anyway, he pulled it open, and to his surprise there was a chance for escape. "Rebecca run!" He looked at Rebecca who stood dumbfounded as red flickers of light played on her face. Reflected in her eyes was a cross. Mulder looked out into the night. There, at the bottom of the hill where Scully and Mulder had parked their car one hundred years into the future, was a twenty foot tall burning cross. "HATE." The lights came back on. Mulder saw Rebecca turn black before his eyes. Then he looked down at his own hands. "Hmm.." he said, "Predictable." "HATE." "Cut it out!" Scully crawled to the top of the crowd, her once beautiful sappire and lavender dress now in shreds. The crowd started heading towards the door, carrying her with them. Mulder slammed the door shut. "That's quite enough of this." "HATE." "Don't move people." Mulder stood there defiantly at the door. "Scully, don't show hate. Rebecca, I know you're mad about your house but don't show any hate. That's what this thing wants. We're not going to give it." "HATE." "This is the nineties!" Scully ripped off the wig on her head. "I don't know who you are or what you're trying to do, but this Winter person you're talking about died over a century ago. Maybe because I'm white you're trying to take out the hate you felt for people when you were alive out on me. I'm sorry. I didn't do anything to you." Silence. Dana looked down at the throng below her, now frozen in time. "Can ya let me down please?" They disappeared. Scully landed on her butt. Mulder and Rebecca rushed to her side. The lights returned to normal. the party disappeared. All that remained of it was the clothes the women wore, and their change in pigmentation. Rebecca sighed, "Glad that's over." "It's not over." "What do you mean?" "We're still black right? The spirit still has other plans for us. Scully?" Still wincing from the pain, "Yeah?" "Where'd you put the stuff?" He helped her up. "You're standing on it." "Here in the foyer?" "Uh huh." "That means we're inside the house." "Well I could have told you that." "No, I mean we're IN it. This whole thing, the party, the costumes the pigmentation, it's all a part of" "The ghost?" Rebecca mused. "Yeah. We need to get back into that room. The one upstairs with the rocking chair. That's the focal point. That's where he transported us here. That's where we can go back." "This whole thing is absurd, Mulder." "Don't even start with your 'There must be a logical explanation' crap, Scully. You're the one who did the Lena Horne impersonation first." "Fine, we'll go back to the room. Can you help me though? I can't feel my leg any more." Rebecca and Mulder each took an arm and helped Scully up the stairs. Then they slowly appoached the door at the end of the hall. "Hmm.." mused Mulder. "What? Predictable?" "No. Too easy." He opened the door. Inside they saw a complex looking room filled with computer equiptment. Electronic gizmos the whole works. Computer monitors, CPUs, several modems and extensive sound system, surrounded by carpeted walls. "My stuff!" Rebecca stepped into the room and did a once over of her equiptment. "Wow. You could start a war with all this." "This is the central point of my work. I do computer multimedia for companies. My website is just a hobby, and an attempt to explain why my house creaks. The thing with an attitude made all this disappear when he trapped me in the rocking chair." "Why bring it back now?" Scully found a mirror and examined herself. She looked pretty good. When this was all over, she was going to look into going to a tanning salon. "Maybe he feels sorry for what he did?" "It isn't a he," said Mulder. "I think the spirit inhabiting this house is Madame Winter." "How do you know?" "I don't. You two stay here. I'm going down to the basement." "No way! We're not breaking up." "It's okay, Scully. You two stay together. I'll be right back." ____________________________________________________________________ The sun had come up and no sign of Mulder. Rebecca and Dana passed the time by using the Internet equiptment, at first to make sure everything was back to normal, but then after awhile just to play. They were fast becoming friends, but they were both concerned about Mulder. "Should we go down to check up on him?" "He said to wait here. But he's your partner." "I can't leave you up here alone." "Let's at least change clothes first, I'll let you borrow some of mine. I think we're about the same size. They changed clothes in a room down the hall, and then went to the top of the stairs. At the bottom, Mulder was looking over the equiptment. Suddenly, Rebecca grabbed for her chest. "Rebecca!" Scully grabbed for her shoulders, but her hands went through them. "Scully get down here quick. I can't hold her for long." Scully stepped away from Rebecca, who was fading from her sight. She rushed down the stairs. "What are you doing to her!?" "I've rigged up the probing equiptment to send out varying waves of energy. I got the idea when we witnessed the energy that ran around this place last night, then created material like clothes, changed pigmentation. This creature is able to effect energy and matter." "Mulder! She can't be the ghost! She's been with us the whole time!" "Scully, this whole house is the ghost. She's just a representation of it." "PLEASE. NO. I. WANT. TO. LIVE HERE. LIVE NOW!!" "You gotta let go!" "NO! HATE!" All the equiptment suddenly started to crackle and overload. Mulder rushed to unplug it, and when he turned around, he saw Rebecca's spirit jump from the top of the stairs and enter Scully. "NO! HATE!" Mulder was thrown across the room, but he didn't recall hitting the floor. He was unconscious long before then. ____________________________________________________________________ The room was dark. He pushed off with his feet. He was rocking. "Hmm.. Predictable." There was another body in the room. The smell of the perfume told him it was Scully, but it didn't sound like her. "You can't exist in her body, Rebecca Winter. It's not going to work out." "We are here." "Let Scully go!" "We will exist here. We will live now. We were meant to live now. here. together." "You died over a hundred years ago Rebecca. Yes those people were cruel. Back then it was a crime to be born black in a white man's world. That still happens sometimes. Sometimes it's a crime to be a white man around blacks. But that is going away. We don't enslave each other any more." "We know. That is why we must live now." "Your time is over. Let go." "NO." The pain which seared across his face felt like a hot iron. The force almost sent the rocking chair reeling back, but it didn't. "Scully and Winter are one now. When the sun rises again we will go. We will be as one. We will live now." "Scully! Fight her! Talk to me!" "We are one trust." "One trust of what?" "trust." "Scully?" "We are one are not who we are trust we." The lights came on. Mulder sat there staring at Scully, a dark shadow looming all around her. Scully stood, feet firmly planted on the wood panelled floor, her right leg no longer apparently damaged or bruised. She was shaking, like in a seizure. Occasionally her eyes would roll back in her head or glaze over, but they would always go back to looking at Mulder. She was stark naked. "It's taking everything you have to get into her mind isn't it? You don't have any energy left to concoct civil war clothes or make false computer equiptment. She's fighting you. You two aren't one! Let go of her!" "HATE." "Let me out of this chair! You keep fighting her, Scully, I'll fight her this way. Don't hate. Love her. She can't help who she is! But don't give up!" "NO. I. WANT. NOW." Mulder started rocking the chair back and forth, this time purposefully trying to knock it over to it's side. Maybe if he could break the chair somehow it would give him the leveredge needed to break free of Rebecca Winter's hold. Scully was shaking all over, and the black energy was swirling all around her like a thick fog. "Fight it Scully!" He rocked back and the chair's back fell to the ground. The shock enabled Mulder to break free of the chair and with a backwards somersault he spinned back to face Scully. The shaking stopped. The pigmentation softened. Mulder noticed the darkness of his skin was gone too, and the dark swirls surrounding Scully's naked body coalesced into her eye sockets. "Scully?" "We are one." "Get out of her please. Your life was robbed from you. Don't rob hers. That doesn't make you any better than the ones who hurt you." "We will share together, Mulder. Mulder. You know we are very fond of you." She took a step towards, Mulder. Instinctively, he pulled his gun out and aimed it at her. Them. The shaking was starting again. Scully's eyes kept rolling back in her head and then rivetting back to Mulder. She was breathing heavy and Mulder could sometimes see expressions of pain in Scully's face. "You will not shoot us." She took another step. Mulder shot at the floorboards beneath Scully's feet. "It's my guess it's taking everything you have to share that body. If I introduce some major pain into it, you'll be forced to let go. I don't want to test that theory because I don't hate you. I don't want to hurt you, but you're hurting her. Please. Just let go." "We are one." Another step. Mulder aimed for the shoulder. Tears came out of his eyes. Scully screamed like a banshee demon, and a black force of energy streamed out of her mouth and eyes, encircling the room, then returning back into Scully's spasmodic form. The spirit regained control and the shaking softened. She reached one hand to the wounded shoulder, healing it instantly. "Please. Don't make me hurt her. Let it go." "Put down the gun." "Let go of Scully." "Mulder this is Scully. Put down the gun." Her eyes rolled back in her head. "How can I trust you?" "Half of what we are is Scully." Her eyes riveted on Mulder, "Put down the gun." They glazed over again. He uncocked the gun. He put it down to his side at ease, but he did not drop it. "We now understand that we will not be able to communicate to you unless you understand we do not mean Dana's body harm. Put down the gun." He carefully did as she asked. Then he kicked the gun away from him. "Now. Now that I have done as you asked. Will you do as I ask?" "We will not let go of Dana's body." the eyes glazed over. "No. I mean can you sit down?" "In the chair." eyes rolled back. "Yes." "No tricks?" riveted on Mulder. "Do you see rope? I have no tricks." A black haze crossed over Dana's eyes, then she sat down. "We only want to be here a little while. We will let go when we are ready. We want to live." "Everyone has their time to live, Rebecca." "We are one." Eyes riveted on Mulder. "Rebecca/Dana then. Winter Scully. Whatever. What do you want to learn before you go? Want to go to a Jets game? Want to ..see the eifel tower? Want to dance?" "We. We want to be judged on who we are. Not what we appear to be." "What happened that night, Rebecca?" "Mister Ferguson raped us. We were his lover for many months, but we would never be able to hold a candle to Madame. We loved Mister Ferguson, and he promised us so many things. We wanted to be Madame Ferguson." "So you wanted to get her out of the way." "We poisoned her meal that night. At the party. But she didn't eat enough of it to make her die. She was not meant to recover. We hated her so. She persecuted us and made us suffer, no matter how we served her. Because she knew. She knew we loved Mister Ferguson and he loved us." "You dressed up in her clothes that night. You were going to take Madame Ferguson's place at Mister Ferguson's side." "Yes we were. When everyone saw us at the top of the stairs, they became so hateful. Fire burned where they looked at me. I could feel them burning at my dark flesh. They tore at me. They dragged me to the field. I wanted them to rip off my skin. I hated what I was because I couldn't be with him." Mulder took Scully/Winters hand and kneeled before her. "Rebecca. No, don't hate who you are. You're beautiful." "You have white skin." "It's not the skin, Rebecca. It's you. They didn't understand that back then. Don't let the hate of others hold you to this world. You have a destiny beyond. You're letting the hate of closed minded souls long since dead hold you to this place. It's okay. Let go." "It's me?" "You're beautiful, Rebecca." He kissed her cheek. She moved her cheek and kissed him passionately on the lips. He didn't let go. He waited for her to. "Mulder!!" Scully pushed him away and ran into a corner of the room. "You okay, Scully?" "What am I doing naked?" "I've seen you in your underwear before." "Yeah but, well could you get me something to wear?" "Here," he pulled off his suitcoat, "put this on." "You've been crying, Mulder. Mind telling me what just happened here?" "What does it look like? I took advantage of you while you were possessed by a ghost." "No really, Mulder. What happened?" END OF GHOST NET by Robin Starveling -- Operation Cobweb http://www.flash.net/~bobdobbs/xfiles