From KaiSteph@aol.com Sat Oct 19 23:34:21 1996 HALLOWEEN FANFIC CHALLENGE: THE MASK OF THE GREEN DEATH By Steph Lutz KaiSteph@aol.com DISCLAIMERS: The characters and concepts of The X-Files belong to CC, and the good ole’ folks at 1013 and Fox. I’m only borrowing them without permission, and will return them promptly after Halloween.... RATING: PG SUMMARY: See the title - very silly Halloween stuff involving a mask > Since I’m flooded in and the Yankees *aren’t* playing tonite, I had some time on my hands to come out with this silly piece.... I apologize in advance for any out-of-character portrayals. But then, if you can’t get out of character on Halloween, when can you? All comments, praises and virtual sunflower seeds to KaiSteph@aol.com. Flames will be used to roast the seeds, which will then be given to trick-or-treaters... FBI Headquarters, Washington DC October 31, 8:00 AM Precariously balancing two cups of coffee on top of the stack of files in her hands, Special Agent Dana Scully nudged open the door of the basement office with the toe of her high heel clad foot, and slipped expertly inside before the door could swing back to hit her in the face. Seated at the chronically cluttered desk of her partner, Special Agent Fox Mulder, was a bug-eyed alien in an Armani suit, which looked up to give her a solemn glance with its large dark eyes. Scully gasped, bit back a shriek, and just managed to keep the coffee from hitting the floor. She was unable to stop half of one cup from sloshing out all over the files and splattering scalding fluid on the back of her hand. “Ouch!” she hissed, dumping the files and coffee down on the first solid thing she could find, which happened to be Mulder’s desk. “Happy Halloween, Scully,” said the alien, cheerfully tossing a sunflower seed hull on the growing pile beside the desk, and gliding the chair back to avoid a coffee shower. “Whaddya think?” Scully didn’t answer, choosing instead to grab the handkerchief from his suit pocket and wrap it around her hand. “You might want to run some cold water on that,” The alien advised. “You know, they don’t put those warnings on the cups for nothing.” “That was *your* cup, Mulder,” Scully informed him frostily, taking the fuller cup and retreating toward her desk. The alien shrugged, and grabbed some paper towels, mopping up the spill as best he could. “So,” he said brightly. “You didn’t answer me, Scully. What do you think of my costume for the party tonight?” Scully rolled her eyes. “*That’s* your costume?” “Well, not all of it,” Mulder admitted, pulling off the skin tight mask to reveal very rumpled hair and mischievously sparkling eyes. “I’m not wearing the suit, of course.” “I’m going to wish I hadn’t asked this,” Scully muttered, taking a slow sip of coffee. “But what are you wearing?” “Why, the official uniform of the Reticulan Royal Guard, naturally.” Mulder informed her with all due seriousness. “Naturally.” Scully rolled her eyes again, and searched her desk desperately for work. Any work. “I made it myself,” he added proudly. “I knew I’d regret that,” Scully said under her breath. She found a memo stuck under the corner of her blotter, and pulled it out triumphantly, only to find that it was a reminder of the Bureau’s costume ball that night. “So,” Mulder asked, taking a sip of his half-cup of coffee, and leaning forward intently. “What are you going as?” Scully sighed. “You’re really serious about us going tonight, aren’t you? I wouldn’t have thought you were the type to get into the holiday spirit.” “Ah but this isn’t just any holiday,” Mulder’s eyes twinkled. “It’s the ‘spookiest’ one of the year!” Scully groaned loudly. “Besides,” he continued, “Skinner expects us to be there, and it wouldn’t us hurt to gain a few points.” Scully raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you interested in that?” “Aw, come on Scully, don’t be a spoilsport. It won’t be that bad. Here,” he tossed a small bag in her direction. “Have a candy corn.” The bag of candy struck Scully’s desk at just the right angle to hit the base of the coffee cup and send it toppling, soaking the memo. Appropriate, Scully thought with a sigh. This was not going to be her day. “Scully,” Mulder’s voice was insistent. “You haven’t told me what you’re going as.” “You’ll find out when you pick me up,” she informed him shortly, pushing out of her chair, and heading for the door in search of more coffee. “Ah, the mystery woman! Very enigmatic, Agent Scully!” That was the last she heard as she let the door shut a little harder than necessary. Scully’s Apartment, 7PM. “I’m coming, I’m coming! Hold your horses!” Scully shouted, responding to the insisting ringing of her doorbell. She tripped over the hem of her petticoat, and caught herself on the back of the couch with one hand, the other hand applying a last minute coat of AquaNet to her much-teased hair. “Take me to your leader,” said the alien, as she opened the door. The suit was gone, and he was dressed from the top of the hairless grey head to his toes in a shiny slivery fabric that looked suspiciously like a combination of tin foil and plastic wrap. Scully decided she didn’t want to know. “Ah,” he said, following her into the living room. “Good Queen Bess. The Virgin Queen. This isn’t going to help your Ice Maiden reputation, Scully.” “Shut up, Mulder,” she told him, grabbing keys and purse, hitching up her brocade skirts and stomping out the door in a decidedly non-royal manor. He shrugged. “Sure,” he said, closing the door behind them “Whatever.” Some Fancy Hotel, Downtown DC, 8PM The Reticulan Royal Guard escorted Queen Elizabeth I into the grand ballroom, skillfully dodging Chewbacca, a Mountie, and Xena, Warrior Princess, to turn in the direction of the food table. Next to the punch bowl stood Antony and Cleopatra. The toga-clad Antony had his back to them, but Cleo smiled and waved, her dark braids swinging in her face. She looked vaguely familiar, but Scully couldn’t quite place her. Antony turned around. “Agent Scully!” He said warmly. “Sir!” she gasped, her voice sustaining a bit of a squeak, and heat rushing to her face as she got an eyeful of just how much chest Assistant Director Skinner had exposed by the draping sheet. Viciously, she jerked her mind away from trying to figure out what he was wearing underneath, and dragged her eyes away from his muscular chest to his olive-leaf crowned head. Skinner was looking at the alien, his eyebrows raised. “I assume this is Agent Mulder,” he said dryly. “I come bearing gifts from Reticula.” Mulder stepped forward, and bowing, presented a small silver bag to Cleo with a flourish. “Thank you,” Sharon Skinner said graciously, taking the bag and opening it. “Sunflower seeds?” she questioned with an amused grin. “They may resemble what you know as a ‘seed’,” Mulder’s voice took on a serious lecture tone. “But in actuality...” Skinner took Scully’s arm and pulled her aside. “I’d keep clear of Romeo if I were you,” he warned her in a low voice, inclining his head to the other side of the table. “He’s been at the punch already.” Scully followed his gaze to where Agent Pendrell stood swaying slightly, in a poet’s shirt, and very tight tights. She felt herself flushing again. Obviously spotting her, Pendrell’s already bright eyes widened, and he waved vigorously. “Oh, God,” Scully muttered, backing away. She grabbed Mulder’s arm, tugging him away from Sharon, and felt the fabric crinkle. It *was* tin foil. “Hey,” Mulder started, then he glanced over Scully’s shoulder. A low laugh came from under the mask. “Don’t worry, your majesty. I’ll protect you.” “Shut up and dance, Mulder.” Scully pulled him out on the floor as the strains of “Monster Mash” came from the band on-stage. Mulder soon proved that Reticulans not only had their own ideas on seeds, they had their own unique ideas on dance as well. As he lapsed into an obviously alien version of the Macerena, Scully started laughing in spite of herself. Her laughter was short lived however, as she felt a tap on her shoulder and heard a high pitched voice say “May I cut in?” Scully whirled, and Mulder stepped in front of her. “Hi Pendrell,” he said. “Is that a microscope in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?” “I was talking to Agent Scully,” Pendrell said petulantly. “Ah, but it is my sworn mission to defend the Good Queen’s honor.” Scully slipped away as Mulder waved his hand over his face and intoned “Beware, the Mask of the Green Death....” Making her way through the other dancers, Scully came face to face with Sharon Skinner, who was ducking under the furry arm of Chewbacca. “Never a Roman around when you need one,” Sharon muttered, escaping the unwanted attentions of the Wookie. Agreeing, Scully hurried after her into the ladies room. Pendrell’s enthusiasm died as soon as his quarry disappeared. He headed back to the punch bowl, and Mulder milled through the dancers in search of Scully. Giving up on the floor, he pushed out of the crowd toward the wall, and pressing his back against it, scanned the crowd. A telltale trail of smoke snaked past his eye and he whipped around to see a pirate with a patch on one eye, and a cigarette in hand. “What are you doing here?” Mulder hissed. “Enjoying the party,” said the cigarette smoking pirate, with a wave of his hand. “Nice costume, Agent Mulder. Very - realistic.” Mulder leaned forward intently. “Really?” “No.” A puff of smoke hit him square in the face, causing him to shut his eyes and cough. “Not really.” When Mulder opened his eyes, the pirate was gone. “Scully!” Mulder resumed his search with renewed vigor. “Shhh!” A hand grasped his arm as he passed the ladies’ room. “Is he gone?” Scully looked wildly about. “I convinced him his tights were too tight, and he went off to change,” Mulder quipped. “You haven’t seen Chewbacca, have you?” Sharon Skinner was right behind Scully. “Nope, I’m the only extra-terrestrial in these parts.” Mulder nodded his head at her and turned back to Scully. “Scully,” he said urgently, his voice lower. “He’s here - Cancerman!” “Ick.” Spoke up Sharon. “That man’s the reason Walter’s shirts always come home stinking of stale smoke.” Both Mulder and Scully turned to stare at her in suprise. “What else do you know about him?” Mulder demanded. Sharon shrugged. “That’s it. Just that he’s a man with a filthy habit that’s always lurking around.” “That about sums it up,” Scully said dryly. “Scully-” “Not tonight, Mulder,” she said firmly. “It’s just a party. There’s no conspiracy going on here.” Mulder’s reply was cut off by the fortuitous arrival of AD Skinner. “Sharon, there you are!” Skinner adjusted his olive leaves and Scully tore her eyes away from his chest again. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” “You could have looked harder when Chewbacca found me,” Sharon said crossly. “Hey,” Skinner slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “What do you say we get out of here?” Sharon’s eyebrow rose, and she smiled. “Why Walter....” Mulder watched them go. “We could do the same,” he whispered to Scully. “I mean get out of here, not *that*,” he said defensively at her expression. “Mulder, first you drag me to this party, now you want to leave early?” He shrugged. “There’s nothing here to eat.” “Nothing deep fried, you mean,” Scully said. “No donuts either,” he agreed. “Okay.” Carefully, they made their way back across the floor to the door. “Hey, Spooky!” called Frankenstein, standing in the doorway. “Nice costume! The car was a nice touch too.” Mulder stopped. “The car?” he asked. “Yeah - the little flying saucer in the field beyond the parking lot. Isn’t that your car? How’d you do it?” Mulder tensed, and Scully gripped his arm tightly. “Don’t even think about it Mulder!” she hissed. “They’re just trying to get you all worked up.” He relaxed. There wasn’t any saucer - not here. That would be ridiculous. “You’re right Scully,” he said. “Let’s go home.” They crossed the lot in search of Mulder’s Taurus. “I need to get one of those key chain thingies,” he muttered, his eyes straying momentarily toward the field. For a second he thought he saw a light. Then he shook himself. “Nah,” he said under his breath. “Couldn’t be.” ****************************** “I thought it was a nice costume,” one alien remarked to the other as their saucer swept south of the city, flying low over Maryland. “Very realistic.” “Yes,” the other agreed. “Reminded me of your Uncle Dweeg.” THE END