Date: Wed, 26 Feb 1997 14:59:19 -0500 From: li99sh79@ACS.WOOSTER.EDU (-sam) Subject: X-Phobia III(1/4) X-Phobia 3: Whoso list to hunt by: Sam Lincoln li99sh79@acs.wooster.edu rated PG.-13/R(violence, harsh language) Category: T, X, C(call it an action/adventure with strong conspiracy themes) Spoilers: none, and there never will be, I'm in my own little world :) Legal Blah: As always Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Skinner, and every other character from the X-Files belong to Chris Carter, 10-13 Productions and the Fox Network. No profit is gained from these stories so please, be kind. Uhm, even though they have small roles, Clarice Starling is the property of Tommy Harris, and Dale Cooper is the intellectual rights of Dave Lynch, so there :P Summary: Lincoln disappears and Mulder and Scully must race to find him. Lincoln, meanwhile is in the fight of his life as he finds himself caught in a web of destruction. Slight Twin Peaks, Silence of the Lambs references. Author's apology: One more go round at the atavistic venture for myself Hope it meets with approval. Quickly, I am *not* a military expert, if I have misplaced, misnamed, or misrepresented Fort Ord, or Fort Hood, I humbly apologize. Oh, and the title is from a sonnet, by Sir Thomas Wyatt the Elder, if it matters the phrase means "who cares to hunt?". -sam X-Phobia 3: Whoso List to Hunt by Sam Lincoln -Act 1 Day 1, 9:30 AM Hoover Building, Washington DC It was a bright sunny August day in Washington DC when Colonel Sam Lincoln walked into the J. Edgar Hoover Building, a soft-sided briefcase slung over his shoulder. He waved to the Security guards and entered the closest elevator. He headed to the subterranean headquarters of the X-Files. Upon reaching the basement he strode to the plain door marked "X-Files Division", underneath it some wag had placed a hand lettered sign reading "Warning, Abandon Hope Yea Who Enter. This is the realm of the strange, the weird and Agent Mulder." Smiling to himself Lincoln opened the door and plunked his briefcase on Mulder's desk. "Well, what have we here? Lunch hopefully?" Mulder asked the military man. "Nope, just some after-action reports I have to sign and a present from an old friend." Lincoln open up the bag and withdrew a Zip Drive and a Zip disk. "I trust that you can figure out how to make this thing work right?" Mulder nodded, "Yeah, I think I can, and if not I can always have some tech-weenie help me out." "Great, well, I gotta go, give my regards to Scully for me." Lincoln closed up his bag, shouldered it, and headed for the door. "Thanks for the info Lincoln, by the way. What's on this thing anyways?" "I have no clue, I was just handed the thing. See you later Mulder." He left the office and headed out of the FBI building. Mulder was busying himself with hooking the Zip Drive up to his computer when Scully walked into the room. "Hey Mulder, what are you doing with that thing? I don't remember putting any new technology on the allocation requests, and I know you didn't buy it." "It was a gift from Lincoln, he also included a free disk," Mulder stood up and brushed himself off. He booted up the computer and inserted the disk, "Care to see what's on it?" "Sure, I've got nothing better to do today," Scully walked over behind Mulder so she could see the monitor better. "Well, it looks like we have a bunch of text files, photos, and some schematics," Mulder opened a file titled 'overview.txt' and his jaw dropped. "Wow! This is pretty impressive, looks like our friend "Smith" has built himself a little condo in Texas, Fort Hood to be precise. Scully, you'd better go out and get your hands on as many different types of back-up media as you can, floppies, tapes, CD's and bring them here. I'll keep reading this stuff and then we'll copy this thing six ways to Friday and stash them all over the place." Mulder continued to read the documents on his screen as he dictated his request to Scully. Scully nodded, "Okay Mulder I'll go scrounge up the stuff you want. Also print out about a dozen hard copies of that thing for storage, lets put that new 12 page per minute printer to the test," Mulder grinned as he kept reading and Scully went out to scour the building for the devices Mulder had requested. -Day 1, 6:15 -Lincoln residence Lincoln eased his Dodge Intrepid into his driveway. He turned the car off and collected his stuff from the seat beside him. When he walked up to his front door he noticed a small package tucked into his mailbox along with the rest of his mail. Curious, he plucked it out of the box, opened the door and entered his house. Throwing the package onto a small end table he shrugged off his coat and read his mail. He then picked up the small package and went to his computer, which he had left running when he went to work. While he was reading his e-mail, "Come on Wings, get it together," he thought to himself as he browsed the messages from the Red Wing ListServ, he closely scrutinized the small package. Satisfying himself that it wasn't a bomb he carefully opened it. An oversized floppy disk fell out. Recognizing the Zip disk he slipped it into the proper drive and started to examine the contents of the mysterious disk. Lincoln swore silently to himself when he realized what was on the disk. He had, of course, lied to Mulder about his knowledge of the Zip Disk that he had given his friend earlier that day. Lincoln had performed a thorough investigation of the disk before he had turned it over to Mulder. What he had here was what looked to be an exact copy of the disk Mulder had, except this disk held even more explicit data. Opening a file marked "Occupants.txt" Lincoln swore loudly, "Holy-goddamn-mother-fucking-shit!! Pay dirt!!" One of the names he read was "Samantha Mulder" Almost in a daze Lincoln scrambled for a blank Zip disk. Hurriedly he copied the contents of the original onto his hard drive and then from his hard drive to the back-up disk, which he labeled "Highlights of Celebrity Skin, for Mulder", a while back he and Mulder had decided to use code-phrases dealing with pornography to denote important information, if for no other reason than just for hell of it. Lincoln then ran a special encryption/masking program that compressed the original files and then put a sampling of appropriate pictures over the actual files, only a special command from Mulder would decrypt the disk. He then simply threw the disk onto his desk, perfectly hidden. To complete the deception he grabbed another disk and again copied the data from the original onto the new disk. This time, however, he did not run the encryption program, and he hid the disk in his safe. Finally he picked up the phone and called Mulder. "Hey Mulder, it's Lincoln. Look I have some information you might like to hear. I can't tell you over the phone. Are you at your place? Good I'll drive over right now." Lincoln disconnected, grabbed the original disk and headed out the door for his car. Halfway to the car Lincoln heard a soft "Pfft" sound. He dove for cover. Unfortunately he was a little too slow and he was hit with a powerful tranquilizer dart. Before he lost consciousness he cursed himself for being such and idiot. "I just hope that Mulder finds where I put that back-up." Then all was black ... -Day 1, 7:15 PM -Mulder residence "I'm worried Scully, Lincoln should have been here by now. I think something's happened to him." Mulder was pacing his apartment floor. "Relax Mulder he's probably stuck in traffic. Why don't you give him a call." Sighing Mulder picked up his phone and punched in the number for Lincoln's cellular. He slammed the receiver down and told Scully, "No response, not even a ring, or a busy signal. Come on let go." He grabbed his coat and dashed out of the apartment. Scully sighed and followed, checking her gun after she closed the door. When they reached Lincoln's house Mulder scowled at the sight of the parked Intrepid. He stepped on the brakes and jumped out of the car when he saw that the front door of the house was ajar. "When is a door not a door?" He grumbled to himself as he drew his service piece. Scully, in a moment of foresight, shut off the car, and chased after Mulder. They advanced rapidly but cautiously, making sure to keep the other covered at all times. Inside the house was a mess, chairs overturned, drawers tossed, books lay strewn everywhere. Mulder surveyed the wreckage. "Guess it was important." "My question is, where's Sam? We've checked the whole house." Scully asked, concern evident in her voice. "My guess is, when they took him they tossed the place. Come on let's check his computer." Mulder walked into an adjoining room and found Lincoln's computer workshop. At the best of times Lincoln's computer room was a disaster area, now it looked like a volcano had erupted in the middle of the room, spewing computer boards and floppy disks instead of lava and pyroclastic material. Mulder picked his way over to the computer desk and started to rifle through the disks piled up there. He, of course, had snapped on a pair of rubber gloves to preserve at least some of the crime scene integrity. "Hey Scully, you'd better call the cops and a forensics team to give this place a good looking over." Scully nodded and started to dial on her cell phone. Mulder eventually found what he was looking for, the Celebrity Skin disk. Triumphantly he held the disk up to Scully, who looked at it quizzically as she talked on the phone. When she hung up she asked, "Okay Mulder, what's the big deal about a porno disk?" "Scully, this isn't a porno disk, this disk contains the information Lincoln was trying to give us." "Well, you'd better stick it in you pocket because the crime scene investigators are going to be here soon." "Good point, wouldn't want to have to answer any uncomfortable questions." Mulder grinned slyly as he stuck the disk into he coat pocket. They then waited for the local police and FBI Forensics team to come. They helped with the investigation, gave their statements and returned to their office to write up their reports, and also to investigate the disk. As Scully typed up the report Mulder decrypted the disk and started to examine the contents. Mulder opened the "occupents.txt" file and his jaw dropped. "Scully, you have to see this!" "What is it Mulder?" Mulder couldn't talk his jaw hanging, "What is it Mulder? I'm trying to finish this report." Scully asked again, looking at Mulder's monitor, "Oh my god!" she gasped as she grasped Mulder's shoulder to steady herself. They both saw the on line entry of "Samantha Mulder". Mulder finally turned to Scully and said, "Lincoln's here Scully. We have to get out to Fort Hood now!" "Now hold on a moment Mulder, you have no evidence that Lincoln's here. I know it looks like Samantha is at this place and that is one important find, but right now Lincoln needs our help more than she does." "It's more than that Scully, this is the only lead we have to Lincoln's whereabouts. We have to go here to see if either Lincoln is there or if there is a list of their detention centers." Scully relented, "Okay Mulder, you win." Mulder winked at his partner, "Better pack you ten-gallon hat and cowgirl boots Scully, we're going to the heart of Texas!" -Day 2, 1:00 PM(CST) -Fort Hood, Texas Mulder and Scully pulled up to the Fort Hood Headquarters in a rented Ram pickup. They had decided that they needed the off-road ability of a 4x4 and Mulder thought the Ram "looked cool". They paid their respects to the base commander, who had been told that morning to do whatever he could to help out the two agents. "Trust me Agent Mulder if there is some sort of top secret warehouse in the middle of my base I'd know about it. But you're free to look around, because if there is I'll take great pleasure in using it for target practice and blowing the damn thing to hell." "Well we aren't sure if the data is authentic yet sir, but investigation of the site should give us conclusive proof." Scully cut off her partner's more impolitic reply. "Well, good luck to the both of you. If you need anything just give me a call." With that the general ended the interview. Mulder and Scully left the building and headed out in the direction of the site. The drive took over an hour over dusty, barren terrain. When they finally arrive at the coordinates on their map Mulder emitted a howl of rage. "NOOOOOOO!!!" stretching in front of them was miles of unrelenting scrub and no sign of any installations. Out of frustration Mulder leapt out of the truck grabbed a shovel out of the back of the truck and started to dig around the spot where the building should have been. Scully sighed, then calmly got out of the truck and went to the back of the truck to collect some gear. She had prepared for the eventuality that there would be nothing there by packing the shovel as well as a large supply of sun-block, a comfortable lawn-chair, a good mystery novel, and several gallons of water. She lathered herself with sunscreen, donned a floppy hat, and grabbed a water cooler. She took the cooler over to Mulder. "Mulder," he did not respond, "Don't dehydrate yourself, when your thirsty drink some water." Mulder still did not respond, he just kept digging. Scully nodded and headed back to the truck. She unfolded the lawn chair, and started to relax. She knew Mulder had to work his frustration and disappointment out, and doing it by digging a big, goddamn hole was as good a way as any. Besides, she never got outside enough in DC and this was a chance to get some rest and catch up on her reading in the great outdoors. In deference to her tendency to turn into a human briquette she applied more sun-block to herself, and started to read her Sue Grafton novel. Around an hour later Scully looked up from her book and decided to check on Mulder. The sounds of exertion had been lessening, and she was getting worried. "Mulder? Are you all right?" She stood up and looked over to where he was digging. Upon seeing Mulder, Scully grabbed a towel and a water bottle and rushed to his side. Mulder was still digging, but he was very pale behind his new tan, what worried Scully was the fact that Mulder did not look very sweaty, a sure sign of heat stroke. When she touched Mulder's arm he was not sweaty or clammy at all, but hot and dry. Swearing, she soaked the towel and threw it over Mulder's head. "Come on Mulder we'd better get you to the motel room before you get any worse." Scully knew, as any Boy Scout or Girl Scout knows, that there comes a point when the human body stops shedding excess heat through sweating and then rapidly overheats. This can be a life- threatening condition if not treated quickly. Scully knew she had to get him out of the blazing sun and into someplace cool. He also probably need to drink lots of fluids to regain lost electrolytes. Scully gently guided the dazed Federal Agent out of his impressive hole. Over the past hour Mulder had excavated a hole that was four feet square, and two feet deep. "Gee Mulder, did you find your bone?" She quipped at her half unconscious partner as she led him to the truck. She eased Mulder into the air-conditioned Ram, no small feat considering both her size relative to Mulder and the step up required to enter the Ram. Then, after collecting her sunbathing gear, she started up the truck and cranked the A/C to full bore. The return trip was much shorter due to the fact that Scully was driving a lot faster than Mulder had, and that this time she knew where they were going. As she drove back Scully called the base commander and told him what they had found and that they probably wouldn't be back, thank you for the help. The drive back to the motel was very quiet, the monotony broken only by Scully's periodic exams of Mulder's state. By the time they had returned to the motel Mulder had recovered enough to walk under his own power. Scully opened his room and prepared a cool bath for him. She then went into her room and also got cleaned up. Leaving Mulder soaking Scully found a simple, no-frills meal, soup and sandwiches, and bought several bottles of Gatorade for Mulder. She then let herself into Mulder's room. Mulder had gotten out of the bath and was lying on his bed dressed in a T-shirt and shorts. Mulder looked at her while she put her bags down and asked, "Scully, am I really that easy to read?" "What do you mean Mulder? Here drink this, it'll make you feel better." She handed him a bottle of Gatorade. Mulder graciously accepted the drink. "Dehydration, that deep down body thirst," Mulder quipped before turning serious again, "I mean is it that easy to figure out what buttons to push to get me to do something?" "Mulder, if that was true don't you think I'd be using it to my advantage instead of chasing you around?" "Well, if your right, then how come every time someone dangles Samantha's name under my nose I snap at it like a fish with a worm?" "Oh Mulder, its not that bad." "Yes it is and you know it! I realized something on the drive back, this whole thing was a setup. A bit of subterfuge to get me looking the other way while they made a grab for Lincoln. They played us like a cheap fiddle Scully and now who knows where Lincoln is!" Mulder took a swig out of the Gatorade bottle. He looked tired and beaten, Scully knew she had to do something to snap her friend out of the funk he was in. "Mulder, listen to me! The reason you always chase off after the specter of your sister is because deep down, you know she is still alive and that each time might be the time you actually find her..." "Scully, that makes me sound like Sam Beckett on Quantum Leap, 'hoping his next leap will be the leap home', doesn't sound much different from 'hoping each X-File is the one that brings Samantha home'." Mulder's head sunk down to his chest. Scully was glad there wasn't any booze in the room or he'd be half-way to oblivion by now. "Mulder! Shut-UP!" she yelled, causing Mulder's head to snap towards her, "Look Mulder, don't give up on your quest just because it's been turned against you. You have to keep going, you owe to Samantha, you owe it to yourself, and," she took a deep breathe, "you owe it to me." "To you?" Mulder was somewhat surprised at the revelation. "Yes, to me. And I'm not just talking about who abducted me and why. Mulder, just because I don't believe aliens abducted your sister doesn't take away from the fact that your sister disappeared over twenty years ago under mysterious circumstances. Mulder I want to know what happened to your sister every bit as much as you do because it could help prove or disprove a lot of your theories. Also it will help heal a wound yours that should never have been opened. So I don't ever, ever, want to her you talking about giving up again, understood?" Mulder chuckled, "I hear you loud and clear Scully. Thanks for picking up the pieces again Scully." Mulder rested his head on Scully's shoulder, "Your a real deadweight you know that?" Scully swatted him, "There's a compliment Mulder." "I'm serious you're my anchor, when I go too far, like today you pick me up and put me back together. You're always there for me. Thanks for being there today," he murmured as he drifted off to sleep. Scully also was having a hard time keeping her eyes open and the two of them collapsed together on the bed. They spent the night, huddled together, two exhausted souls trying to heal, adrift in an ocean of strife. -Day 3, 8:00 AM(CST) -Motel 6: Rm. 19 The next morning Scully was awakened by the buzz of her cell phone. "Scully," she groggily muttered into the phone as she stretched. "Agent Scully, this is Skinner. I hate to do this but the Hunter- Brown investigation needs your help. Can you and Mulder head to Montana today?" "Respectfully sir, I would rather not. We're still in the middle of investigating the disappearance of Colonel Lincoln..." "And how is that investigation going?" "Well ... it's at something of a standstill right now sir ... our lead didn't quite pan out the way we hoped it would." Skinner's voice softened, "Look Agent Scully, I understand your position, but the Hunter Brown case has reached a critical juncture and I need the two of you there." Scully sighed, "Sir, are you sure we're absolutely needed?" "Agent Scully I wouldn't be calling you if it wasn't. Tell you what Scully, while you're in Montana I'll have to kidnapping section make the Lincoln case their top priority, how's that?" "We can't do much better than that sir, we'll be on our way to Montana as soon as we can. Tell Agent Cooper to expect us sometime around 8 or 9 tonight. Agent Mulder was pretty badly dehydrated and also suffered from heat stroke. He needs his rest right now." "Understood, and I'm glad to hear you're agreeing with me. Oh, and if Mulder complains tell him I said I'd sack both your sorry asses if you two didn't obey me." Scully chuckled. "I will sir." "Good-bye agent Scully, and good luck." "Good-bye sir, and thank you for your support." Scully shut off the phone, then looked over at her partner. Through the entire conversation he had remained asleep. Just then Scully was once again reminded of just how draining the past twenty-four hours had been, and, after setting the alarm, dropped back onto the bed for more rest. The Hunter-Brown case was going to demand a lot out of them and they needed to be sharp. Before she drifted off she wondered, "Where's Lincoln, and is he all right?" end Act I Act II Author's note: this next section of the story is written entirely from Lincoln's point of view. Also the description of the Hell's Angels later on comes from reading Hunter Thompson's "Hell's Angels, a Strange and Terrible Saga" so the imagery is around thirty years old, but there still might remain guys like this in the country today. -sam -Day 3, 5:00 PM(PST) -location unknown. Consciousness stole back to me slowly like the rising tide. I was scared when everything was still dark, but then I realized that my eyes were still closed. When I opened my eyes I instantly regretted it. The light hit me like a semi running into a Yugo. "I'm never doing that again!" I told myself. Realizing the lunacy of such a statement I gradually opened my eyes again. I found myself in a well-light room. It was about fifteen feet long, and ten feet wide, and was what looked to be a makeshift cell. There was a doorknob on the door, there wasn't a slit for the guards to see, through, and no food hole. I was happy, that made escape a very real possibility. Also I was lucky because they hadn't tied me down, I had full mobility. I found my self wearing nothing buy a gray cotton jumpsuit. With nothing better to do I sat up on the bed I was on and waited. I wasn't waiting long when the door opened a crack and then slammed shut again. "Must be checking up on me." I thought to myself. A couple years ago I probably would've said that aloud. I had learned, however, that there were many times when staying quiet was far more important than vocalizing my thoughts. Ten minutes later the door opened once again and "John Smith" entered the room. I cut off his whatever his initial remarks would have been with a quick, "Ahh, it's you. I should have known I could smell your foul stench from the moment I came to in this place." He smiled nastily, "Star Wars, cute reference Colonel. I'm glad you haven't lost your razor wit since last we met." "Yeah, I do believe last time I was threatening to splatter your brains all over the landscape. Now what do you want from me? Do you want me to talk?" He smiled that nasty little smirk again, "No Mr. Lincoln, I want you to die!" I shook my head sadly, "Mister, you are no Auric Goldfinger." "And you are no James Bond!" He snapped back. "Oh, I don't know I've always fancied my self after the Sean Connery Bond. I could see myself in Monte Carlo, playing baccarat with a beautiful woman..." he hit me in the stomach, hard, "Ouf!" "Now be quiet! Or I might have to do worse." "What do you mean worse? You're already going to kill me." I replied as I recovered my breath. "Well, initially I was only going to shoot you in the head. But know I might have to use different, more painful measures." Once again, the evil smirk appeared on his craggy face. I think he was having more fun now than he had had in years. He unholstered his gun and aimed for my gut, "I hope you enjoyed this life because it ends here." Before he could pull the trigger the door opened to reveal a meathead guard holding a cell-phone. "Uhm sir? It's the Billings Office, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza have arrived and they need instructions." "Smith" sighed as he holstered his gun, "All right give me that phone, Hunter-Brown takes precedence." He and the guard left the room. I breathed a big sigh of relief, and silently gave thanks that both my good-guy insurance was paid up and that "Don Quixote" and "Sancho Panza", I couldn't help chuckling over the codenames, they were so fitting, were on the move. I guessed that Smith had some involvement in the Hunter-Brown case that Cooper and Starling were working on. But that wasn't important right now, what I had to do was escape with my life. As I examined the room I stated to make some observations. The first was that there were no video cameras in the room, hidden or exposed. I took this to mean that the whole building was surveillance free. I felt safe in this conclusion for two reasons. One, why would you put a prisoner in a room without surveillance cameras if one was available. Also video tapes were just the sort of hard evidence that these people were so busily trying to destroy that it didn't make sense for them to be making anymore than was necessary. And to be honest if your exterior security is good then you don't need to worry about interior surveillance. All in all another plus in my corner. All I had to do was break out of here, find out where I was, then get home! I then stopped and thought a while. Even if I managed to escape what was to stop them from catching me again? I couldn't stay on my toes every single minute of everyday. I needed leverage, the kind Mulder and Scully had thanks to the Navajos, the kind Ryan had with his buddy Sergei Golovko and the files we swiped from that warehouse outside of Baltimore. Then it hit me. "Hey, I'm in a top secret black installation, there has got to be some sort of good stuff to be had here." That resolved I set about freeing myself. Taking inventory I found I had one table, one bed with your run of the mill wire spring bed board, a chair, and that was it. I dismantled the bed to arm myself, a shiv is better than nothing at all. Getting a piece of wire free was a trick but I managed. I straightened the wire out and sharpened one end. I broke the chair to get a good handle for the shiv. I secured the wire to the handle with a strip of cloth from the bed sheets. It wasn't the best shiv by any means but it would do. I was surprised that no one had come in to see what all the fuss was about. I had figured that the room wasn't soundproof and I was making a lot of noise. I also broke the table and turned one of the table legs into a nice club. Suitably armed I went about making my escape. Going back to ruins of the bed I once again worked loose some wire and a flat piece of metal. As I prepared to start to dismantle the door knob, the door opened. I ducked to the side opposite the opening door, outside of the line of sight of whoever would enter. The same guard I had seen earlier walked in with a large syringe. "Da boss has to go to Montana so he told me to put you back under..." he stopped when he saw the mess the room and didn't see me, "Hey, where the hell is he?" In reply I whacked him in the kneecaps with the table leg. Staggering the guard fell. I grabbed the syringe and stuck the goon in the butt with it. He was out like a light. I frisked his inert form and found a security card, a set of keys, and a 9mm Browning. Keeping all three I padded off down the hall. Following the handy directional signs I made my way to the armory. Using the security card on the door proved to be sufficient for entrance. Inside was a cornucopia of weaponry. After sorting through the collection I picked out a .45 Colt; a 9mm MP-5 SD silenced sub-machine gun; a M-16A2 with underbarrel grenade launcher; and enough ammo to supply a small war. I also found a bag large enough to carry all of my newfound goodies in. I left the armory and continued my search for the exit. I followed the corridor until I came up upon another set of doors. These ones were for a laboratory. I quietly eased the door open and peered inside. The was moderately small, there were only five people working. I eased the safety off of the MP-5 and dropped the population of the world by five. After doing the dirty deed I searched the corpses. I kept the wallets of the slain workers, I figured that I could use the cash and identification when I managed to find my way out of here. After the grave robbing I started to toss the lab. The lab was not very large, it was a room about twenty feet by fifteen feet. There were several computers running some sort of analysis on a molecular structure of some kind. The first thing that really caught my eye was a day by day calendar on the wall. I had been knocked out for two days! After my initial shock I realized that it did make some sense, they didn't want me awake while I was being moved and then it made it easier to hold me if I wasn't conscious while "Smith" made the trip to where ever I was. As I searched I kept looking for clues as to my whereabouts. I guessed that the information that I had been passed was probably a macguffin to fake Mulder and Scully out while I was moved to this place. "Well, that rules out Texas," I muttered to myself. Now that I knew what time it was I intensified my search for where I was. While searching through the database in one of the computers I found what I was looking for. I was being sequestered in a little building tucked in a corner of Fort Ord, near Monterrey California. Looking around for some sort of portable mass storage device I spotted a Jaz Drive. Smiling to myself I hastily copied the contents of the database onto one Jaz Disk and then threw that into my bag as well. After a moments hesitation I also grabbed the drive and threw it in the bag. Using a map of the building I found in the lab I made my way to the living quarters to find some clothing other than the gray jumpsuit I was wearing. I made my way cautiously down the hall, if I saw a guard, a quick burst from my gun prevented him from doing anything about me. I found the area where the guard's lived and burst in, gun blazing. The other guys never even got a shot off. I once again ransacked the room and filled up another bag with clothing that was my size. Finally equipped for my journey I made a dash for the garage. I knew that there were still some guards on the premises and I didn't want to meet them. Entering the garage the choice of car to steal was easy. Right in front of me was a Dodge Intrepid, I love those cars. I tried the Dodge keys I picked up and thankfully one of them opened the door to the car. I drove it to the entrance of the garage, then, while leaving the ignition running, started to cover my escape. Taking a long length of rope I stuck on end into the gas tank of a centrally parked car. I then spooled the rope out a fair distance. By this time the surviving guards had caught up to me and were beginning to open fire. I hastily dropped a lighter onto the fuse, leapt into my getaway car and speed off into the night, an expanding fireball chasing me. I drove for several hours, just putting distance between me and the base. When I eventually decided to stop, I found myself a nice small motel and paid in cash for one night. Inside the motel I took stock of the various licenses and credit cards I had stolen. I kept 5 of each that looked to be the best for me to forge. I kept the licenses of men who were close to my height, weight, age, and hair color, and I kept the credit cards of companies I knew would be easy to bluff. I then started to phone those companies and gave each of them a sob story of how I lost my card, and could they please have a new one sent to me as quickly as possible. By the time I went to sleep the cards were on their way and I would have money by the time I woke up. -Day 4, 10:00 PM(PST) I swung my new car to the side of the road and surveyed the surrounding area. Earlier in the day I had gone about getting some identification for myself. I took several of the driver's licenses that I had stolen that looked a little like me. I had then taken a Zippo to those licenses and damaged them enough to obscure the photo. That complete I went to several Secretary of State offices and once again peddled them my story of a fire, and how my license was destroyed and I need a new license today if that was possible. "I should've gone into acting," I thought to myself as I looked over my new driver's licenses, "That was too easy." I now had three new identities complete with identification and a load of cash. I had emptied as many of the bank accounts of the people I killed as possible. Taking my ill-gotten goods I purchased several more changes of clothing, a powerful portable computer, and a new lease on life. I still needed to acquire a new set of wheels, "Smith" and his hunters knew the car I was driving, I was sure of it, but that could wait for the new day. Getting in the Intrepid I headed down the road to San Francisco, the second stop on my trek home. I found a little motel with a vacancy and decided to spend the night there. I paid with cash and crashed in the tiny room. Flipping on a news show I found, once again, that my exploits were a top story. "And in other news, still no official word yet on the explosion that took place in a remote corner of Fort Ord. Sources claim that the site was a munitions bunker and that quote "something went boom," endquote." I couldn't help but cracking up, "Smith" must have been having heart palpitations trying put the right spin on the story. I could only hope Mulder had gotten the message that the explosion held, that I was all right. Clicking the TV off I turned on the laptop and started to work on my plan. -Day 5, 9:00 AM(PST) I rolled out of bed around nine in the morning, did the daily morning ritual and ate some breakfast. The first thing on my list of things to do was to trade in the Intrepid I had been driving for a new car. My eye was caught by a sporty looking black 1995 Mustang GT. After some negotiating I managed to get the Mustang at a very good price. Pleased with my new purchase I began to tool about town, looking for a quiet place to continue to work on my master plan. I found what I was looking for in a local library and I continued my work. I was, at that moment, sorting through the information that I had pulled off the mainframe in my prison. So far it wasn't going well, the place wasn't much more that a temporary holding cell for transients and a network hub. Despite the fact that there wasn't much juicy data lying right there, there were some nice leads that could furnish me with what I was looking for, extortion material. As I went along I was also doing a little bit of work on my back-up plan. I worked uninterrupted until a hand tapped me on my shoulder and a women told me it was closing time. I realized that I had been typing for six straight hours! I didn't mind, my job was pretty much done, but I was impressed that I hadn't attended to any of my usual needs. Usually when I was in the throes of planning and deep thinking I would pace and get lots of drinks and munchies. I thanked the librarian and headed out of the library, internet on finding food. I ate dinner at a nearby greasy spoon and began searching for a new place to spend the night. I found lodging in the moderately famous Seal Rock Inn. During the night I finished up work on my plan and started to put it into action before I went to bed. I made use of the phone line to begin uploading the stolen files to several FTP sites across the world. It wasn't much, but it was a start. I still hadn't tried to make contact with anyone I knew, it was still too risky. I also knew that today was the last day I could stay in San Francisco. I had yet to see any pursuit, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. -Day 6, 10:00 AM (PST) Once again I woke up in a hotel room. I ran through my morning routine and headed towards Oakland. My plan of escape was to leave the Greater San Francisco area by the most round about means possible. I would drive to Oakland then down the peninsula it was situated on, then on to Montana. After I crossed the bridge I noticed a car containing two very serious fellows wearing sunglasses and checking out everyone around them. Suspicious, I pulled into a parking garage after making sure they had spotted me, and hid the Mustang amongst the other vehicles. I tucked the .45 into my waistband, stuffed some extra clips, my silencer, and the Jaz disk into my shoulder bag and exited the structure, bracing myself for the action to come. When I walked out into the sunlight, sure enough, that same car was waiting for me, idling on a nearby side street. Making sure they were following me I headed off down the road to a more deserted section of town. Walking past a narrow alleyway gave me the inspiration for my next move. I ducked down the next alley I came to and hid behind a large pile of uncollected garbage. "I'm only happy when it rains..." I muttered to myself. I eased out my large hand gun and screwed the silencer into place. Moments later I heard the car turn into the alleyway and two doors open then slam. I heard one of the two men talk into a cell phone. "Sir? This is Hunter unit Omega-Charlie. We've located the target in Oakland. We've got him trapped in an alley on McCarty Street. What do you want us to do? Terminate, no problem he's not going to be..."I had heard enough. I popped up from my hiding position and fired. I put a double tap into both of their brains. They dropped without knowing what had hit them. I walked over to the bodies and carefully picked up the cell phone with a handkerchief. "What's happening? Report!" The oily voice of "Smith" floated out of the phone. Smiling to myself I barked into the receiver, "Smith you blood-sucker! Why do you keep sending such morons to do me in? You keep trying but I ain't dying! Come on get over here and try to kill me yourself, if you've got the guts!" I silenced the phone with a round from my gun. Searching around I found a small, thin stick, and, using the goons blood as ink, wrote "Keep the Faith" on one of the building's walls. I hoped it was cryptic enough to be at least mentioned to the FBI, and that Mulder and Scully would get wind of it. I then beat a hasty retreat the crime scene. I decided to just wander the street of Oakland for a while to let the area around the parking structure cool off before I went back to claim my car. A couple of hours later I was feeling a little thirsty and figured that killing some time in a bar would pass the time just as well as roaming the streets. With that in mind I walked up to a run-down looking bar and decided to enter, I failed to notice the motorcycles as I was walking up to the door. Wearily I pushed on the door of the bar and when the door opened I knew I was in trouble. All noise stopped when I entered, an air of menace hung thick, like a dank fog. The joint was like a modern Old West saloon, broken bottles littered the floor, chairs were scattered about and tables were overturned. And, standing in a corner radiating violence and mayhem were about a half a dozen genuine Hell's Angels. They stared at me the way a wolf pack stares at a wounded elk. They were dirty, smelly, vile-looking men, and I knew that no one would leave this bar without blood being shed. Surreptitiously I checked to make sure my .45 caliber peacemaker was still with me, but it wouldn't do much good; even if I could get it drawn quickly enough I would only have time to put down one or two of them before the rest were on me. Also by shooting a couple of them would only escalate the conflict to a point were the other brothers would be obligated to stomp me and leave my broken, bloody body for the police to find. I squared my shoulders, pushed a lock of hair out of my eyes and walked over to the bar. Briefly I was glad that Mulder and Scully weren't with me. Mulder's irreverent nature would make him a likely candidate for a chain whipping. While Scully's physical charms would have caused a riot. On the other hand they would provided some needed firepower. Banishing such thoughts as irrelevant I ordered a bottle of the local rot-gut from the bartender. As I slowly sipped the beer, which went down like molten lead, a delegate from the unwashed horde sauntered over. As he neared his odorous aura hit me like a Mack truck. It was the odor particular to the Angels, urine, grease, and human stench. Simply the smell of an Angel has been known to be enough to send grown men into a screaming fear. It made me slightly nauseous but I had to put those thoughts aside. If I wanted to leave this establishment with a minimum of injury I was going to have to play it cool. The man was a brute, six-two, weight upwards of around two hundred and fifty pounds. He had a scraggly beard that was caked with detritus. When he spoke I was enveloped by a cloud of fumes so noxious I was tempted to light a match and see how big a fireball it would generate. He wore a pair of greasy, tattered, disgusting jeans, Levi's I think, and the infamous "colors" of the Angels on the back on equally unsightly jean jacket that had the sleeves ripped off. To set the whole ensemble off around his waist was a length of heavy chain, just right for a whipping. I didn't glance down but I was sure he was wearing a pair of heavy boots for the stomp circle. "Who're you and wahdda you want?" The later day Hun asked of me. Before I replied I carefully analyzed his mannerisms. The group obviously had not been here long because they didn't seem to be all that smashed. This was a mixed blessing because if they had been drunk then their reaction times would have been off. However, if they were bombed they would have been more prone to violence. I took a sip of my drink and replied, "I'm just a guy passing through looking for a drink, nothing more." The brute sneered, "Well, why don't you go somewhere else fucker. I don't like you." I tightened my grip on the neck of the bottle, "Look, why don't I finish my drink and then I'll be on my way and never see you again. Will that work for you?" He seemed to mull it over before replying, "No, I don't like you." He then took a swing at me. Swearing to myself I dodged his punch and smashed the bottle in his face. I followed that up with a quick punch to his larynx, dropping the goon to his knees. This caused the other five to rush me. I grabbed a stout looking table leg and met their rush. In my initial charge I was able to brain another one but I had to jump onto the bar to avoid being swarmed. A snap kick to the nearest Neanderthal's temple left the odds at three to one, against. "Getting better," I thought as I parried a chain with my cudgel. I placed a quick hard whack to the back on another Angel's knee, blowing both the MCL and the ACL, he was down. For all my fancy footwork I was starting to take a beating, but I knew I had to keep swinging in order to stay alive. I rolled left to avoid a wicked kick and snapped out my own leg in a devastating kick into the groin of a barbarian. A good tap on the back of his head ensured he would stay down. I took a couple more thumps from the remaining goon and I realized that I couldn't keep this up for too much longer. I threw all my force into a wicked baseball style swing that caught the Angel square in the face, shattering his jaw. He dropped like a sack of bricks, unconscious. I surveyed the wreckage and was inwardly pleased with myself. "Okay you screwheads listen up!" I addressed the still conscious Angels, "I'm going to get my bag, then leave this place. If/when the police showed up you are not to give them a description of me. Got that? If I hear of anyone telling the police about me I will hunt them down and put a .45 caliber bullet into his brain. I'm serious." I doubted that I'd have to worry about them blabbing to the police but it didn't hurt to make the threat. I turned to the quaking bartender in the corner. "Sorry 'bout the mess," I told the poor man as I tossed a wad of cash to him. I grabbed my bag and headed back outside. I made my way back to the garage where my Mustang was parked and headed back to the Golden Gate bridge. After the incident with the gunmen I decided that I should remain in San Francisco operating under a very low profile. I would find a motel or hotel, hunker down and put my backup plan into action. I felt dirty, tired, and very sore from my battle with the Angels. There were several cuts over my body, along with a myriad of bruises. I found a nice, clean, quiet hotel near the outskirts of the town after a two hour search. After checking in under an assumed name I found my room and took an hour long hot bath. As I was toweling myself off I turned on the TV to catch the local news. In a twisted, perverse way I was pleased to see my exploits getting such press. "In our top story tonight two men were found brutally murdered in an alleyway in Oakland. Police have not released the identities of the two victims but have confirmed that they died of multiple, large caliber gunshot wounds to the head, and that the phrase "Keep the Faith" was written in the blood of the victims on the nearby ground. As of this moment the police have no leads in this baffling case. However, police spokespersons emphasized that this does not look like the work of a serial killer, and is more likely a mob of drug related killing..." I chuckled as the vapid man prattled on. I wasn't pleased with the fact that I had been forced to kill two men. What I did find amusing was the paranoia my rather gruesome message was causing. Such a commotion would help ensure that Mulder and Scully hear it, and hopefully know that it was from me. I clicked of the TV and turned on the laptop. Since my search through the database hadn't turned up any good leads to a bigger installation I decided to use my backup plan. I had encoded several juicy tid-bits of information into a very slick worm program. The program, once uploaded to a larger database, would sit around and wait for a trigger phrase, my obituary, to dump all of the information onto the wire services and several large newspapers. I was counting on that threat to protect my future well being. While waiting to gain access to an FTP site I started to browse through my data base again. As I lazily stared at a document about the analysis of some metal I realized that something was wrong; the numbers were all too high. If the data was accurate, and I had no reason to doubt it, then someone had discovered some metal that had the durability of depleted uranium and the weight of aluminum. Cursing myself for not noticing this sooner I disconnected from the Internet and started to carefully read the document. I noted where the analysis was being performed, the outskirts of Seattle, and packed up my stuff in preparation for a road trip. -Day 7, 9:33 AM(PST) I woke up to a bright, sunny day. I went about my usual morning routines and loaded my stuff into the Mustang. I pulled out into the street and headed north. As I was driving I spotted what looked to be another tail. This time however they were not in the mood to dick around. One of the guys in the car pulled out a gun and started to fire. I slammed the accelerator down and started to weave in and out of traffic. My windshield shattered from a near miss and I felt bullets pound the body of the car. I continued to speed up until I had the accelerator pegged. My mindless swerving suddenly took a strange turn when the car went airborne! I realized I was on the famous "Hills of San Francisco"! "AWWWRIGHTT!! I'm a 70's Cliche!!!" I whooped and started to sing that funky bass line that characterized the chase music of that era. I swerved to avoid rear ending a trolley. Other cars were forced off the road. Basically general chaos had exploded on San Francisco. I glanced in the mirror and confirmed that my pursuers were still with me. By this time I had left the hill and was headed towards a cluster of warehouses. A plan sprung into my mind. I headed towards the gate and skillfully swung the battered Mustang into a blocking position. Grabbing my luggage I leapt out of the car before the gunmen caught up with me. I yanked my M-16 out of the gun bag and headed for a defensive position. KA-RUMPH!!! The pursuing car slammed into the hulk of my poor car and exploded in a large fireball. I found a good niche on the top floor of a building and started to take sniper shots at the reinforcements. As the news helicopters started to circle I knew that I had finally sent the message that Mulder and Scully couldn't possibly miss. End Act II Act III -Day 6, 8:00 PM(MST) -Billings, Montana Mulder knocked on the door of Scully's motel room, "Scully? You decent?" Scully chuckled, "Mulder, would it stop you if I wasn't?" "Is that a come-on then?" "Mulder get your ass in here." "Yes ma'am." Mulder opened the door and dropped a file folder on Scully's bed. "What's this Mulder?" Scully picked up the file folder and started to flip through it. "Today in Oakland police found two Caucasian males shot dead in an alley. Their car was parked in the alley and none of their money was stolen. They had no known criminal record. In fact a background search on them has turned up nothing on them." Mulder laid out the facts of the case to his partner. "So what Mulder? It says here that they died due to getting hit in the head with a .45 caliber bullet, two for each of them in fact." "I know Scully, but also, written in their blood, the phrase, "Keep the Faith" was found nearby, not so common a sign." "Again Mulder I ask, So what? There's no sign that this is something that we have to get involved in." "Scully, check that report again. They weren't just shot in the head, those were double taps. The sign of a very good marksman. The victims had no past, and there was also a shot cellular phone. Plus the message. Scully I think that this is the work of Lincoln and that we have to get out to the San Francisco Oakland area as soon as possible." "Well, I'm not entirely convinced but I'll go along with it. It's the best lead we have. Skinner should let us go. There's nothing more for us to do here, all the angles just dried up." Scully sighed in frustration. "I think I smell cigarette smoke in that matter myself. I'll go make the plane reservations if you go talk to Skinner." "Oh, sure you take the easy job." "What can I say Scully, Skinner likes you." "Whatever you say Mulder, get the earliest available flight to San Francisco you can. We can coordinate with the San Francisco branch office and get some more personnel to do a good search of the area." "You got it Scully, now lets get to work" Mulder let Scully leave the room first and then closed the door after him. -Day 7, 10:03 AM (PST) -San Francisco FBI Branch Office Mulder and Scully managed to finagle their way onto a flight bound for San Francisco that night and were about to begin their search when the call came over the radio. "Eleven-Tango-Niner. We have reports of a high speed car chase in progress, please respond." "Elevan-Tango-Niner we copy, we see the perps and...Holy Shit!! Those guys are flying!! We are in pursuit. Four vehicles, lead vehicle is a black Ford Mustang a 1995 model year. It is being pursued by three black Taurus's. Shot being fired upon the Mustang." Mulder looked at Scully and said, "That can only be Lincoln, a car chase in San Francisco is just his style." Scully nodded, "Given his luck I'm forced to agree," She turned to another agent and asked, "Where are they headed?" The agent replied, "Well I can't be sure, but my best guess would be this collection of warehouses here." He pointed the area out on the map. "Great, Scully let's go, he's going to need our help." The two of them ran out of the building and hopped into their car. It took them a little over forty-five minutes to arrive at the sight of the shoot-out, and when they did it was a full blown media circus mixed with a pitch battle. The police had managed to cordon off the area but not before several car loads of gunmen had forced their way into the area. The sound of heavy automatic weapons fire chattered over off the buildings, occasionally broken by the krumph of a grenade. "Looks like Lincoln's gotten himself into a good ole fashion fire- fight. What do you say we go help him out." Mulder made his way over to the policeman who was in charge of the crime scene. "Hello, Lieutenant I'm Agent Fox Mulder of the FBI and this is my partner Dana Scully, we're fairly convinced that one of the parties involved in the shoot out there is the victim of a kidnapping. May we go in and get him?" The officer looked over the two of them and said, "Why not. Just take care of yourselves. I'm still trying to get this area sealed off so you won't get any help from my end. But if you want to go in there be my guest." Mulder nodded and then glanced over at the burned out wreck at the front gate, "One other thing Lieutenant I'm impounding all of the physical evidence at this sight. I'll have an FBI Forensics team come in and clean the area up. This was an FBI case before it was a local one, and if you have a problem with that I suggest you call Assistant Director Walter Skinner, here's his number." Mulder handed the flabbergasted police officer a business card. "Well...okay...I'll do that." "Thank-you" Mulder turned and walked over to the SWAT team's staging area. "Mulder, what was that all about?" Scully asked as soon as they were out of earshot. "I want to try to shield Lincoln from any investigations that might come his way." "Mulder! You don't even know that Lincoln is the cause of all of this. It might just be some mob fight." "You don't really believe that do you Scully?" "OK, you're right. I would love to believe that Sam is inside that complex fighting, but it's just a hunch, nothing more." "Scully, look, lets just go in there and find out. If he's there we get him, if he's not then we've disarmed a nasty situation. Come on, what have we got to lose?" He smiled at his partner as he tossed her a bullet-proof vest. Scully sighed and strapped on the protective gear. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and then pulled on a Kevlar helmet. Mulder grabbed two M-16 carbines from the SWAT truck and handed one to Scully, she racked a clip into the chamber, sighed again turned to Mulder who was getting some radios from a SWAT technician. "Let's get it over with Mulder." Grimly clutching the rifle she resolutely trudged off towards the gate. "That's my girl. Here, put this on," he handed Scully one of the whisper mikes, "OK on my count, One, Two Three!!!" They both dove past the wreckage and into the complex. Inside the acrid smell of gunsmoke was more intense and the pall that hangs over any modern battlefield was too be found. They still couldn't make out any of the combatants but it seemed like the fire was concentrated in one section of warehouse. Mulder motioned for Scully to follow him over to that area. When they reached the building they found a heavily armed man wearing black fatigues with no insignias. When the man spotted Mulder and Scully he raised his rifle to shoot. Fortunately Scully was quicker to the draw and a burst from her gun felled the assailant before he got his weapon halfway up. "Good shot Scully" Mulder told his partner, "Glad to see you can hit someone other than delusional federal agents." Scully ruefully chuckled at her partner's morbid sense of humor. The two of them barged through the door the guard was protecting. The covered the hallways with an efficiency born from long practice at this type of urban warfare. As they moved farther up the building the sound of gunfire steadily increased. There were very few bodies, all of them were dressed in a similar fashion as the man Scully shot outside. When they reached the top floor they were greeted by a dense cloud of gunsmoke and, for the first time, the unmuffled chatter of automatic weapons. The two agents hunkered down in a side corridor and discussed a plan of action. From where they were sitting they could see about five men pouring fire onto a doorway. The bodies of 6 other men were stretched out in the hall. Opposing them was the sporadic fire from the doorway. The defender had managed to create a fairly nice foxhole out of scrap metal and was simply laying down suppression fire. All in all it was a nice stalemate, at least until the defender ran out of ammo. After taking stock of the situation Mulder looked over at his partner and said. "Well, I think it's fairly obvious that the person we're after is not in front of us, but behind the line as it were. I say we charge through and see who it is." "Mulder, you are the height of subtlety. However, it's the best I can come up with also. One question though, how can we make sure that whomever is behind that wall doesn't blow us away in the process?" "Well, I have one suggestion, take off you helmet Scully. If it's Lincoln he should spot you hair and hold his fire. Other than that I have no assurances. How about we yell Federal Agent! Really loud?" Scully chuckled and complied with her partner's request, "I hate wearing these things anyways." She tossed the helmet aside, "Let's go get em Mulder. On three?" Mulder nodded, "One...Two...Three!!" "FEDERAL AGENTS!!! FREEZE!!" They both bellowed as they opened fire on the attackers. The men, not expecting to take fire from their rear were cut down where they stood. First Scully, then Mulder dove across the barrier and found them selves facing down the barrel of a M-16 held by a very weary, and bloody Lincoln. "Lincoln! Fancy meeting you here? Tell me, how's you vacation to San Francisco been?" "Shut-up Mulder, he's hurt." Scully started to inspect Lincoln's wounds. "I'm fine Scully, I just took a shot in the arm that's all. Well, there were also a couple of wings, and ricochets in there as well, but other than that I'm fit as a fiddle. And yes, I've enjoyed the San Francisco area greatly. I got to sample the local atmosphere, meet interesting people, you know the drill." "Wonderful, now, lets get you out of here. Were those all of the guys trying to get you?" "Yeah, you know I thought they'd send more after me. I mean twenty men just doesn't seem like a fair fight." Even though he was exhausted mentally and physically Lincoln still maintained his sense of humor. "Well killer put this over your head. You're going into FBI custody and we don't want anyone to get a good look at you. At least until we've figured out what to say to the public." Mulder removed his bullet-proof jacket and handed it to Lincoln. "What do you mean Mulder?" Scully was a little perplexed by her friends decision, "I thought we were the ones who exposed the cover-ups, not the ones who made them?" "I'd love to tell the truth Scully, but face it. We just don't have enough evidence to win a fight right now. What would you think if we said that this was the work of a secret government shadow organization?" Scully sighed, "I hate to say it, but you right Mulder. OK Sam, put that thing on and lets get you some medical attention." "Yes ma'am" Lincoln draped the jacket over his head and was lead out of the building by Mulder. At the entrance of the compound they were met by the usual retinue of cameramen and reporters waiting to pick up whatever shred of human tragedy they could to boost their ratings. "What happened in there?" "Is it true that this is the work of Idaho separatists?" "Sir, you under the jacket can you give us your name?" "Is it true you're with the FBI and on an unauthorized investigation?" "No comments, this man needs medical attention. Not a public roasting by you vultures!" Mulder forced a path through the throng to a waiting ambulance. As Mulder closed the door of the van he told the expectant press corp., "We'll issue a statement in twenty-four hours. We need the time to sort out just what happened here." The ambulance then speed off towards the nearest hospital. -Day 7, 1:35 PM(PST) -Bay View Hospital Lincoln sat on the bed in his hospital room. He had been given a complete check-up upon his admittance. The doctors had patched up his gunshot wounds, put his arm in a cast, and run him through a complete battery of tests that were substantially more intensive than was normal. While they waited for the test results Lincoln recited his tale to his friends. They were using this downtime as his official "debriefing" and would use much of this testimony as the explanation for the strange events of the past week. "...And that's about all of it. I was on my way to the research facility outside of Seattle when those shooters found me. I think you know the rest." "Do you still have that disk Lincoln?" Mulder leaned forward in his seat when he asked the question. "Yep, it's in that bag over there," he motioned to the bag lying on a chair near the door. "There really isn't much stuff of interest on it, that place was simply a network hub. Nothing really entered it and stayed for very long. My question is, where do we go from here?" "Well, we've already *ahem* 'lost' your handgun. We don't want to clutter matters any in that respect." Lincoln nodded, "As soon as you get the all clear the plan is to spirit you back to DC and come up with something. I don't think that we'll have to do much though. Those bodies are probably going to vanish and a very cute explanation will be released." "Very true Mulder, but may I make one small suggestion? How about we take a little detour to Seattle." "Why Seattle?" "Because, Seattle holds the information we need to really tick off our esteemed foe." Lincoln grinned to the two FBI agents. "What's the one thing those people fear the most?" "That's easy exposure." "Well, what if one of those news-tabloid shows got their hands on a tip. A tip about a government research lab that was bieng funded with tax-payer money yet hadn't produced any results. And when they try to investigate this place, they're politely turned aside by armed guards. If you ask me that'd really tick off the news people and they'd latch onto that story like a pitbull. I think we need to pay a little visit to 60 Minutes." Scully smiled brightly, "Sam, I like your thinking." "Yeah, I thought you would. So when are those doctors going to show themselves?" Almost as if on cue a doctor did come in and pronounced Lincoln as fit as the preliminary results could determine. He said he'd ship the final results to the FBI if they wanted to go now, which of course they did. The hospital provided some non-descript clothing for Lincoln and the trio left the hospital via different doors to keep attention off Lincoln. They had made sure the police sealed off the floor Lincoln was on so no one outside the room knew that Lincoln was with Mulder and Scully. A couple of vague answers to the media storm got the Agents away from the hospital and they met Lincoln a couple of block away. They caught a cab back to Mulder and Scully's hotel to collect their bags and then went to the airport. -Day 7, 7:46 PM(PST) -Seattle, WA Their rental car parked behind a stand of trees Mulder, Scully and Lincoln lay on a hilltop overlooking the top secret lab. From the outside the building did not look very impressive. It was simply a windowless block of concrete, with very few doors. The building was surrounded by electrified wire and the roof of the building was surrounded by a high buttress that was perfect for snipers. Lincoln was observing the building with a pair of high powered binoculars while Mulder took several rolls of film of the building. "So, are we going in there?" Scully asked the two of them. "Nah, I don't really want to. We don't want to arouse any suspicion. The document I pulled off of that server should be enough to get the newshounds salivating. I just wanted to see the place myself." Lincoln pushed himself off the ground and made his way back to the car. "Come on Scully, lets get back home." Mulder put the camera back into its bag and help out his arm for Scully. "Fine by me Mulder, fine by me." She took Mulder's arm in her hand and the two of them walked back to the car. During the drive back to the airport Lincoln broke the silence that hung over the car, "Well, now, how are we going to get into contact with "Smith" and how do you two want to get the information to the networks?" "Leave that cancerous bastard to me," Mulder replied grimly, "As for the other part, I think we should leak the "fact" that the building you were being held at was a storage sight for chemical and biological weapons. That should make him sweat enough with out our having to deploy the trump card. How you feeling by the way Lincoln?" "I'll survive, although the cast is starting to itch a little." -Day 8, 2:28 PM(EST) -Hoover Building, Washington DC In the basement office of the X-Files a TV sat, the sounds of Headline News quietly mumbling forth. Mulder and Scully sat and waited. Lincoln had hidden himself behind some of the filing cabinets a little earlier. Mulder had asked Skinner if he could arrange a meeting with "Smith". Skinner had reluctantly agreed to see what he could do. Meanwhile Scully had phoned in the fictitious account of the explosion at Fort Ord to CNN. She had refused to give her name, but did fax them a very official looking piece of paper that seemed to verify her claim. The fact that no one in the Army knew what had been in that building would help them greatly because there was no way the real manifest of the contents of the building would be released to the public. So now all that was left was to wait. They didn't have to wait long, not soon after 2:30 the door to the office opened and in walked "Smith" his usual vaporous aura of death preceded him. Lincoln had to do his best not to gag, he had smelled a lot of things that were not pleasant to the human olfactory system but he never could smell the foul odor of a cigarette without retching. "Hello Agent Mulder, I was mildly surprised to hear that you wanted to talk to me, just what do I have the pleasure of you company for?" "Watch this you twisted bastard." Mulder motioned to the TV screen and turned up the volume. "We here at Headline News have just received word that the site of a powerful explosion at Fort Ord, a military base in California, was also the home of a large quantity of chemical and biological weapons. There has been no sign of any toxins having reached the outside population, and Army spokespersons have refused to comment on the accusation, but they have also been unable to categorically deny just what was in the bunker, according to one source who demanded anonymity 'We just don't know what was in there.' The explosion was originally called an accident at an old munitions bunker..." "Nice story, too bad none of it's true," Smith sneered at them. "Yeah, but who's going to tell them that? You?" "If I have to, yes, yes I will Mr. Mulder. The project demands as much." "Yeah, but what if next time you have to deny the truth?" Lincoln stepped out of the shadows. "What are you talking about?" "What if, oh say, 60 Minutes were to hear of a top-secret government lab that wasn't on any budget. That hadn't produced a single visible result, and had already run up a bill in the billions of dollars?" "That sounds like a nice story, but that's all it is, a story." The cigarette in "Smith's" hand started to shake, just a little. "What if I could also tell you that this lab is located in suburban Seattle and is surrounded by electrified razor wire. Tell me, would you like double prints or a high gloss finish?" Lincoln slammed down a few of the pictures Mulder had taken down onto the table like a winning poker hand. "Smith" was now visibly shaken. "So what, they're just pictures." "How about this?" Lincoln showed "Smith" the printout he had stolen. "All right, you win, what do you want?" "Just a promise. I want you to promise that you'll never try and pull this shit on me or anyone related to me ever again! If you do, well, don't blame me if Mike Wallace comes knocking." Lincoln reached over to the phone, "Would you like me to call them now?" "No, no. I agree. Well played Colonel Lincoln. I see that I again misjudged you. Don't worry it will never happen again." The very irate shadow man stormed out of the office. Lincoln slumped down into a chair and, while he looked at the purloined document, he said quietly, "Whoso list to hunt, I know where there is a hind, But as for me, alas, I may no more. The vain travail hath wearied me so sore I am of them that farthest cometh behind. Yet may I, by no means, my wearied mind Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore, Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore, Since in a net I seek to hold the wind. Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt, As well as I, may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plalin There is written, her fair neck round about, "Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am, And wild for to hld, though I seems tame." He then tossed the sheet of paper on Mulder's desk and walked slowly over to the door. Before he left he turned to the two agents and said, "See you guys tomorrow." Mulder stared absently at the paper while Scully responed, "Yeah, see you tomorrow, be sure to get lots of rest." "Don't worry about that Scully." Lincoln smiled wanly and shut the door behind him. "Mulder, what was that all about?" "I think Lincoln isn't sure if the price paid for this sheet of paper was in proportion to its value. I also think that he's not sure if keeping this piece of paper is going to be worth the trouble." -End -Epilogue, Day 14 -News Clipping "New York Times" "According to FBI spokespersons the shooting incident in San Francisco last week was the culmination of a fued between the Mafia and Japanese Yakuza mobsters. The lone survivor was an undercover FBI agent caught in the middle. The FBI has refused to identify this agent, citing confidentiality issues." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- -endnotes: Fun ride eh? Why the poem at the end? Two reasons, 1) I had to work the title in somehow! And 2) as I was writing it down I realized that there some issues being discussed in it that were applicable to the X-Files. Is the truth the hind that is the property of Caeser? Is it too costly to hunt? Is the pleasure of eating its flesh equal to the possible cost of getting caught hunting it? Also as to the "hotel Scene in Texas" yes, I know it was a little overdrawn, and looking at some of the stuff presented in the fourth season it does seem a little redundant, but I came up with the idea well before the current story arc aired, and if "Paper Hearts" influenced me any, well, it just furthers my argument, whenever someone mentions Samantha, Mulder jumps. But we all knew that, however I don't think the show adequately studies Mulder's reaction to events like that, and I think the scene is strong, if a tad melodramatic. -sam