Date sent:        Sat, 13 Dec 1997 09:23:23 -0800
From:             eponine@idirect.com (Mrs. Niles Crane)
Subject:          The Mr.X Files 1/1


TITLE: The Mr.X Files
AUTHOR: Sasha Elisabeth Wolfe @>---,----'------ eponine@idirect.com
GENRE: Story
LENGTH:1/1
VIOLENCE CONTENT:0.5
RATING: PG
DISCLAIMER: Mr.X don't belong to me and neither do Cancer Man, Mulder, Lone
Gunmen, Deepthroat, etc... Mrs. X is mine! Everyone else belongs to Chris
Carter, Fox Television and that 1013 company.
CONSIDERATION:This is before you-know-who dies

        I am Mrs.X. I do not exist. I am an enigma. If we have met...I'm
sure you won't remember me...even if I remember you. No, it is not like
that "Men In Black" movie, where they use that little device to scramble
your memory...but I am an MIB...or WIB rather. My partner, Mr.X, and I work
for a man known only as The Cigarette Smoking Man. Around here no one can
be trusted. I know no one's past and they do not know mine. As a friend of
mine, Deepthroat, once said..."Trust no one"... and indeed you cannot, at
least not in this profession. Some call me an assassin, others call me a
shadow and a few believe I am from another planet. That always makes me
chuckle. If only they knew that I have destroyed some of their beloved
extraterrestrials.

        So how did this all begin? Well permit me to tell you. It happened
four years ago, when I was 19, just fresh out of University. I was training
to be an FBI agent and hoping to get a job in the violent crimes unit, but
alas, I did not. I got assigned to these weird cases known as the "x-files"
because I had some background knowledge in paranormal sciences. It was
there, working for one of these capers, that I first met my future partner.


        There was a report of a UFO crash and when I went to investigate,
the area had been hosed down and all traces of radiation and other
important evidence destroyed. As I searched the scene, rather frustrated I
might add, I saw a black Cadillac drive away, so I jotted down the licence
number and got a friend of mine, Langley, to hack into some files and find
out who the car belonged to. It was licensed to a Mr. Michael Darnay who
lived at 634 Woodsworth Lane. When I went to talk to the owner, I found
that the house was deserted.

        Enraged, I stormed back to my office, upset that the case I had
been working on couldn't be solved due to tampering. When I opened the door
I found a man dressed entirely in black sitting at my desk. "Who the hell
are you?" I asked, a little irked. "Just call me 'a friend'," he told me.
"I'm here to tell you that this case is no longer any of your concern."
"The hell it isn't!" I growled back. That's when he grabbed me violently by
the shoulder and looked right into my eyes with an icy cold stare. "I would
advise you not to pursue this any further." he stated gravely, releasing
his grasp on me. "Our conversation has ended." He started towards the door.
"Wait!" I called after him. "How do I find you?" "You don't," he answered
and vanished down the hall.

        Well, I wasn't one to be discouraged and I really didn't take his
threat too seriously so I continued to try and solve the mystery. When I
went to interview the eye-witnesses to the crash though, they all told me,
and there were eight of them too!, that they had no recollection of the
event. I knew they were lying and figured someone must have scared them
pretty bad. And I had an idea of who that someone was.

        As I started to drive home, ready to call the whole business quits
and find a new profession, the same black Cadillac I had seen earlier tried
to run me off the road. Understandably pissed, I rammed into him and the
car skidded to a stop. I got out of my jalopy and went to talk to whoever
the hell this guy was. Really not much to my surprise I discovered it was
the same man who had "visited" me at my office. "Who are you?" I demanded.
"Mr.X," he replied. "And you don't have any idea of what you're dealing
with!" "I know I'm talking to an MIB!" I hissed. "How stupid do you think I
am? I knew that's what you were when the witnesses to the crash wouldn't
talk to me!" He glared at me for a moment before drawing a gun from his
coat. "What?" I laughed. "You gonna shoot me? With an unregistered illegal
gun?" "No," he replied. "I have a proposition for you." He handed me the
Smith and Wesson. "How would you like to join me?" "Why not?" I was
thinking. "It would certainly be better than being fed lies all the time."
"Sure," I smiled at him. And that's how I became an Woman In Black.