[MiSTed] "Double Vision" (3/4)

[Mike Barklage]

[Mike and the bots enter the theater.]

CROW: Now that I have psychic powers, can I swear like Mulder?
MIKE: No, and that's *final*.

>
> From: imast...@aol.com (ImAStinker)
> Date: 11 Oct 1994 09:11:04 -0400
> Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
> Subject: Double Vision #5

TOM: Ten visions!
MIKE: Tom, let's not do that joke any more, okay?

>
> The phone rang and Scully answered.

CROW: <C.W. voice> I predict it is the motor pool!

> He assumed from her manner that it
> must be the motor pool with their report on the car...

MIKE: Wow! That's amazing, Crow!

> She glanced at him,
> then slowly hung up the phone.

CROW: <C.W. voice> I predict this next paragraph will have many, many
ellipses.
TOM: Crow, no, that's too easy.

>
> "Well, Sherlock, as bizarre as your theory may sound, I'm willing to admit
> that there may be some shred of credibility to it....

MIKE: <haughty voice> Oooh, is the great Dana Scully willing to give me
just *that* much credibility?

> that was the motor
> pool. Henderson's break line had a major leak

TOM: -- and a saggy diaper.

> and there was probably
> only enough fluid to get her about 4 miles before her breaks would have
> become totally useless....

CROW: I can never relax during my breaks, either.

> and that would have put her on freeway."

MIKE: On a bus with Keanu Reeves.

>
> She noticed that his countenance had lightened a little with that piece of
> information and with the knowledge of her belief in him restored, she saw
> the determination of purpose form in his eyes.

TOM: I *will* solve the New York Times crossword puzzle!

>
> "We've got to find out everything there is to know about that woman....

CROW: Which woman? Henderson?
MIKE: Can't you use your "psychic abilities" to find out?
CROW: Er... I think it's wearing off.

> her
> name, where she was from, what she did for a living...who her friends
> were....everything."

TOM: ...her favorite snack food...
MIKE: ...her real hair color...
CROW: ...whether she likes stuffing instead of potatoes...
ALL: Everything!

>
> "Now? It's 8:00 at night and you've been through a lot today.

TOM: Him? What about us, reading this thing?!

> Don't you
> think you're pushing it? I mean we could get a fresh start in the
> morning

MIKE: In the meantime, we could have more snappy banter!
ALL: NO!!

> .....you need to rest."

CROW: <as Mulder> Hey, I slipped into several comas today, and that's all
the rest I need!

>
> "There's no time...whatever I need to do or find out....it's
> important--and time is running out. Don't ask me how I know cause I
> couldn't tell you..I just KNOW. I'm going back to the office to access
> the computers...I need a background on her."
>
> "Ok, If you're bent on doing this, you know I'll go with you.

TOM: <as Scully> I'm just *that* submissive!

> Besides, I
> wouldn't trust you behind the wheel of a car right now anyway."

MIKE: What with you taking all those bong hits.

>
> They'd been searching for information about Kava Yeltzin,

CROW: Say, isn't he the Russian president?
TOM: Not for long.

> which was the
> name listed in the police report, for nigh on to three hours and were
> coming up empty in a lot of areas.

MIKE: <deep voice-over> But for Fox Mulder and his Green Bay Packers,
there would be another day.

> Since she had been attached to the
> Romanian

CROW: Reticulan!

> foreign embassy a lot of her background information had not been
> available to them with the standard FBI clearances.

TOM: It's the standard FBI clearance sale, and everything must GO!

> Fox Mulder, however,
> undaunted by this minor setback,

MIKE: Unfortunately...

> called in a few favors from some people
> in some high places and managed to get a detailed report from an
> unidentified source within the CIA.

CROW: Aren't there any *identified* sources in the government?

>
> Dana eyed Mulder silently and noted with concern, that the stress and
> frustration of this day had worn heavily upon him and his exhaustion was
> beginning to express itself in both his face and posture.

TOM: Heck, getting hit by a car and put in the hospital will take it out
of *anybody*!

> She shook her
> head as he held up the faxed report above his head in a gesture of
> victory.

MIKE: <Nixon voice> I am not a crook.

>
> "I swear Mulder,

CROW: Hey! Don't take the Lord's name in vain!

> for a man who puts up with as much crap as you do around
> here, you seem to have more than your share of influential friends in both
> high and strange places."

TOM: Blackmail. Works every time.

>
> "See Scully, not everybody hates me..."

MIKE: Just us.

> He smiled wickedly as he read through the report. He then handed it to her, walked to his desk, sat
> down and propped up his feet.

CROW: ...and promptly dropped into another coma.

>
> "She was working on an anti-terrorist response team as a "psychic
> advisor."

TOM: Great. She worked the phones at the Psychic Friends Hotline.

> My God, Mulder...according to this report her abilities were
> documented and proven

ALL: <laugh>
MIKE: "Documented psychic abilities"? Isn't that like saying "military
intelligence" or "jumbo shrimp"?

> and she was used to locate and diffuse terrorist
> activities throughout the world.

TOM: And to get the Israeli Lotto numbers.

> If this is true, then...."

CROW: ...she has a guaranteed spot on Letterman.

>
> "She would be terrorism's worst possible nightmare,"

TOM: Rambo!

> he finished for her.
> "Someone leaked information about her to the wrong people....and they had
> her killed. Dana, that hit and run was *no* accident, it was murder.

MIKE: And someone's responsible!
CROW: Mike? No more "Plan 9" references, okay?
MIKE: Okay.

> She
> knew about something important, something that was going to happen,
> something that had to be stopped. She was running out of time and needed
> to tell someone but there was no time and no one to tell."

TOM: Can you be more ambiguous?

>
> "Except you," she found herself saying in wonder.
>
> "Except me, and I'm to goddamn dense to figure it out"...he berated
> himself in frustrated anger. "I've got as much of a chance at stopping
> whatever is going to happen as having a house fall on my head..."

CROW: <whispering> Oh please, oh please, oh please...

> .<when I
> wake up will everything be in black and white?>

MIKE: I hope so. I wouldn't mind seeing "Wizard of Oz" right now.

> ...He looked at the girl's
> picture lying on the desk....

TOM: Is the picture on the desk, or is she on a desk in the picture?

> <just believe>....

CROW: Look, don't question the logic, just believe it, okay?

> He opened his mouth to tell
> Dana what he was hearing and suddenly found himself flung back against the
> wall.

MIKE: It was Dana, trying out her new wrestling move before her big match
with Hulk Hogan.

> The vision assaulted his senses and an anxiety that he couldn't
> explain clamped down heavily upon his chest and threatened to squeeze the
> oxygen from his lungs.

TOM: <as Mulder> Ugh... Dana... get off my chest...

> His heart raced, it's pulse pounding relentlessly
> at his temples until he thought it would burst as waves of nausea swept
> through him like an incoming tide.

TOM: <again> Ulp... now get off my stomach!

> It was happening again and he was
> powerless to stop it..or did he really want to? What about the lives he
> could save--the disasters he could prevent?

CROW: ...putting right what once went wrong, and hoping that his next leap
would be the leap home.
MIKE: Wrong fanfic, Crow. You want the X-Files/Quantum Leap crossover.
CROW: No, I don't! And don't tell the Mads about it!

> Wasn't that worth the
> physical and emotional pain he suffered because of this anomaly? But he
> was tired....so tired.

TOM: Oh, ma, just five more minutes...

> He wasn't certain that he could survive the
> continual bombardment of raw pain and emotion

CROW: I got it! He's listening to Nine Inch Nails!

> from those around him as
> well as cope with what he referred to as precognitive guilt...knowing what
> would happen and perhaps not being able to change the outcome. How much
> guilt could one man endure?

MIKE: Nixon seemed to do okay with it. Ask *him*.

> Surely he'd already had enough for one
> lifetime.
>
> The Suddenness of the attack caught Dana by surprise and she was
> momentarily stunned as she watched Mulder stumble backward to the wall,
> double over in apparent pain and drop to his knees.

TOM: Dana Scully springs into action... and does absolutely nothing.

>
> A blinding flash exploded from the tail section.

CROW: Guess he shouldn't have had those beans! Ha ha!

> The sound of ripping
> metal filled the air as
> hundreds of souls screamed with terror and pain and he felt them all.

MIKE: <Ben Kenobi voice> I've felt a great disturbance in the Force...

> Oh
> God, not fire.....The flames burned his skin and putrid smoke fouled with
> the stench of burning flesh and fuel stung his eyes and throat.

TOM: And nose.

> Wreckage
> lay twisted and shredded in pieces on the ground but he could not stop so
> he pushed on and...on... he needed a name, a flight....something. There
> it was...a tomb of modern technology....

CROW: Denver International Airport!

> AmAir 422. He cried out for
> help...his hold on reality tenuous as he ried to escape this horror, yet
> he could not turn his back on the hundreds of anguished eyes that sought
> his help

MIKE: Mariners fans!

> and the phantom hands that tore at his clothing and pulled him
> back...back into the nightmare to force him to face his fear and change
> their destiny. Their voices called his name over and over again,
> "Fox....Fox..."

TOM: CBS... CBS...
MIKE: Rupert Murdoch... Rupert Murdoch...

> It was the same frightened crescendo he'd tried to block
> from his memory twenty-two years before.

CROW: (*sigh*) Everyone get comfortable, here we go.

> He was a child then and unable
> to respond, forced to watch helplessly as his sister was taken from him.

TOM: -- in the fifth round, by the Atlanta Falcons.

> Well, goddamn it, he thought angrily, he was no longer a child, he was a
> man and this time he did not have to be helpless.

MIKE: Unless he really wanted to be.

> He closed his eyes

CROW: --and fell asleep.

> against the sights and sounds that tormented him and turned back to press
> through his phobia as the flames singed his hair and skin. He made his
> way to the source of the blast for the information he needed would be
> there, if he could survive long enough to get it.
>
> Regaining her composure,

TOM: ...after showering, blow-drying her hair, and putting on make-up...

> Dana quickly rushed to his side and studied his
> trembling form, now huddled on the floor, flush against the wall.

MIKE: <as Scully> Wow, Mulder, you *are* messed up, aren't you?

> She
> reached out to gently take his pulse and he flinched at her touch, his
> skin unnaturally hot beneath her fingertips. His heart raced as beads of
> perspiration formed on his forehead and the veins in his neck and temples
> protruded with the sudden increase in blood pressure.

CROW: Aw, he's in love. Our little boy is growing up!

> She noted in alarm
> that his breaths were coming in short, ineffectual gasps,

TOM: <as Scully> Hmmm... trembling, feverish, racing heart, sweating,
extremely high blood pressure... everything looks okay...
Oh my God! He's gasping!!

> decided that
> this episode was possibly more than she could handle and fearing for his
> life, picked up the phone to call 911.

MIKE: Quick! What's the number for 911?

>
> He was there...he'd made it,

CROW: On Broadway!

> but what was it that he was expected to find?

TOM: *Three* books?! No one told me about *three* books!

> Searching the wreckage, he'd come up empty and sat down into the ashes in
> weary defeat.

MIKE: After a thorough search...

> He lifted his eyes heavenward and lamented in despair,

CROW: My me, my me, why have I abandoned me?

> "Show me....this is *your* vision, damn it--give me a fucking hint, will
> ya?"

TOM: I think you need a book by Dr. Ruth for that.

> Looking down to his previously empty hands, he discovered that he
> held a small portable radio and within it was

MIKE: A Paula Abdul tape! His favorite!

> an inconspicuous 3 oz. block
> of C4 explosive.....

CROW: "C4 Explosive"? Is that one of those new rap groups?

> an impression of a warehouse and a globe fleetingly
> crossed his mind as reality reasserted itself solidly around him.

TOM: And for my next impression, I'll be a 4-story high-rise, and Jupiter!

>
> She'd punched in the nine on the office phone when his hand clamped down
> on her wrist with an iron grip.

MIKE: Fox Mulder action figure with kung fu grip!

> Startled, she dropped the phone to the
> floor and discovered that he'd returned from where ever this latest
> phenomenon had sent him.

CROW: He had a 12-pack of Coors Light with him, so she guessed the local
drive-thru Liquor Mart.

>
> "I'm ok," he sighed tiredly as he released her arm.

TOM: It was just another coma! Geez, you're so panicky!

>
> "Pardon me, if I don't believe you," she replied doubtfully, favoring him
> with an intense stare.

MIKE: Oh, will you do me even *that* favor?

> He squirmed uncomfortably under her watchful gaze
> and began to scramble unsteadily to his feet.
>
> "All right," he conceded, "maybe I'm not completely OK, but I think I know
> what's going down...

CROW: Attention! Plot landing in t-minus 5 seconds...

> The report stated that the last assignment Kava was
> working on involved a little known but highly fanatical terrorist group
> called the PFF (Palestine Freedom Fighters).

CROW: 5... 4...
MIKE: Hey, how does he talk in parenthises like that?
TOM: You mean (like this)?
CROW: 3... 2... 1...

> Dana, they're gonna blow up
> an airliner."

ALL: TOUCHDOWN! WE HAVE PLOT!
TOM: And not a moment too soon! We're only, what, two-thirds through this
fanfic?

>
> From: imast...@aol.com (ImAStinker)
> Date: 11 Oct 1994 09:13:01 -0400
> Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

MIKE: I'm beginning to seriously doubt that "creative" part.

> Subject: Double Vision #6
>
> "How do you know that?" she asked skeptically.

TOM: That the subject is "Double Vision #6"? It says so right up there!

>
> "I saw it....I was there," he whispered hoarsely.

MIKE: He's a little hoarse... does that mean he's a pony?
ALL: D'OH!

> "There'll be 3 oz. of
> C4 placed in a portable radio that will be left in the tail section of
> the plane,

CROW: Weren't you paying attention during the whole vision scene, Scully?

> that is unless I can find the bastards and stop them first
> before they can get that far. The target is AMAIR, flight 422. I know
> you find all of this a little hard to swallow Dana,

TOM: Swallow Dana? I don't even like her!
MIKE: <rim shot> Ba-doom-sis!

> and if I were you, I
> probably would too, but please believe me when I tell you that I am
> *certain* that what I *saw* is true.

MIKE: No, no, that should be "*certain* that *what* I *saw* is *true*."
CROW: Yeah, add in a few ellipses, then you'll *really* sound like Shatner!

> The only thing I can't be certain of
> exactly, is *when*.

TOM: --Seinfeld will be *on*.

> It could be tonight, could be tomorrow or a week from
> tomorrow...I don't know....just *soon*.

MIKE: <Bogart voice> ...and for the rest of your life.

> I had an impression of a
> warehouse and a globe of some kind

CROW: They weren't very good impressions, but then, I'm not an
impressionist. Observational humor is my forte.

> so get me a list of warehouses in the
> area and narrow it down to the ones that have a globe or world in the logo
> or title."

TOM: Damn it, get Clark Kent! I know the Daily Planet is up to something
sinister!

>
> "Why don't you just have all the flight 422s searched?"
>
> "Come on Dana, and tell them what? Tell them that "Spooky Mulder" is now
> seeing "visions" of gloom and doom and hears "voices" that tell him the
> future?

MIKE: Well, YES!
CROW: No, see, that would actually be *in* character.
TOM: And we wouldn't want that to happen, now would we?

> Oh, Skinner would just have a goddamn field day with *that*---I
> can hear the cell door slam now.

CROW: He's watching NYPD Blue.

> I need to find a "legitimate" reason to
> search the plane if it comes to that and finding these bastards will
> provide a reason for probable cause.

TOM: <Brit accent> What we need now is a real bastard!
CROW: <ditto> You don't mean...?
TOM: <again> Yes! Sean, the Irish Bastard!

> Besides, just getting rid of the
> bomb *this* time, though it would save lives, wouldn't prevent them from
> doing it again."
>
> "I'm sorry, I guess I hadn't really thought about it in those terms."

MIKE: <as Scully> You're right, I'm stupid. Could you please think for me?

>
> "That's only because people don't tend to doubt *your* sanity on a daily
> basis," he commented with softly smiling, hazel eyes.

CROW: Softly smiling, glazed, maniacal, murderous, hazel eyes.

>
> She laughed with an understanding nod of her head and headed for the
> computer.

TOM: <as Scully> Just let me get in a quick game of Tetris.

> "I'll find your warehouse," she said with a certainty she
> wasn't sure that she felt.

MIKE: I *will* find it. I will *find* it. I will find *it*.

>
> "I have no doubts that you will," he agreed with a knowing smile

CROW: <Brit accent> Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more!

> as he
> lowered himself wearily to the chair at his desk and propped the heavy
> cast on top of couple of books stacked there.

TOM: Oddly enough, one of the books is "A Farewell to Arms"! HA!

> His arm had begun to ache
> a few hours back and now on top of that an infernal itch set in. Grabbing
> an extra large paper clip out of his drawer, he unbent it, shoved it down
> between the cast and his arm, and tried unsuccessfully to alleviate the
> torture.

MIKE: He gets hit by a car and knocked into a coma, and he jumps right
out of bed. But make his arm itch a little, and he's incapacitated.

> To his dismay, even after about a half hour of attempting
> different angles, he found that he could not reach the *right* spot.

CROW: So, um... is this important to the plot?

> "Arrrg," he growled

TOM: <pirate voice> Arrrg, matey, me arm be itchin' a mite, says I!

> as he spiked the bent wire on the desk top, flipping
> it unceremoniously to the floor,

MIKE: The Romanian judge gives the paper clip a 9.8!

> then just ran his fingernails over the
> outside of the plaster and made a pitiful whimpering sound under his
> breath.

CROW: Awww, does snuggums want to go walkies?

> So engrossed was he in trying to solve this new problem, that he
> hadn't noticed Dana as she walked up behind him and jumped in startled
> surprise when she place her hand on his shoulder.
>
> "Itches, huh?" she stated with an almost humorous glint in her eyes.

TOM: <as Scully> Hee hee, I love seeing you in pain!

>
> He could tell just by the way she said it that she'd been observing his
> futile, and now that he thought about it, probably comical attempts to
> remedy an impossible situation.

MIKE: It wasn't *that* funny.

> "Like hell," he replied with an equal amount of mischief showing in his
> own eyes.
>
> "Maybe I can make you forget about it....later," she teased, noticing a
> sudden double take and pique of interest that changed his mood like a
> magic wand.

CROW: You know, I'm getting really sick of this fanfic.
TOM: Hey, aren't *you* the one who is always making the racy riffs?
CROW: Well, yeah, but...

> "But for now," she added, the computer narrowed down the
> possible warehouses to these three,"

MIKE: The Computer is your friend! Serve the Computer!

> she said handing him the list. He
> took it gingerly from her hand

TOM: Careful! Don't break the paper!

> and scanned the three remaining names,
> running his finger down the short list until he came to the last entry and
> stopped. A sly smile spread across his face as he muttered in a low
> voice,

CROW: <Joker voice> Wait'll they get a load of me!

> "Gotcha....Dana, I know where they are---it's almost too damn
> easy."

MIKE: Libya!

>
> "OK, I'm sufficiently *impressed*, how do you know?"
>
> "Besides having one of those pesky *Feelings*

TOM: <singing> ...nothing more than *Feelings*...

> about it, take a look at the
> first letter of the first word in the title of the last company's
> name...."Pier Five Franchises Global Storage."

CROW: Dear God! The terrorists are selling wicker baskets!

>
> Taking the paper back from him she noticed that the initials of the last
> company were indeed "PFF"---but *that* could very well be just a
> coincidence, she thought objectively.

MIKE: Is anything in "X-Files" *ever* a coincidence?

>
> As though reading her mind,

TOM: He *is* psychic now, after all.

> he commented, "Of course it could be
> coincidental, but there's only one way to find out...Come on, let's go
> for a little 'look-see'."

CROW: Illegal search and seizure? Hell, I'm game for that!

> He arose slowly from the chair

ALL: <make old-man-getting-from-chair grunts>

> and with
> concentrated effort, crossed the room toward the door,

MIKE: Whoa, that dinner's coming back on me all of a sudden... <burp>.

> gathering up his
> jacket as he went.
>
> She still thought he looked rather pale and insisted on driving despite

TOM: --having lost his licence years ago.

> the fact that the front seat in this particular car was solid

CROW: As opposed to, say, liquid?
MIKE: Heh... must be what they mean by "bucket seats"!
TOM: <groans> That one went a bit too far, Mike.

> and their
> difference in height practically forced his knees up under his chin.

CROW: Oddly enough, he seemed to be *enjoying* it!

> She
> glance furtively at him as he sat there uncomfortably hunched,

MIKE: Sanctuary!

> stoic and
> uncomplaining and realized it was these "small" things about him that
> sometimes endeared him to her the most.

TOM: And another "small" thing about him that endeared him to her the least!
MIKE: Tom...

> He would suffer in silence and
> not mention that her insistence to drive was putting cramps in his legs or
> cricks in his neck.

CROW: "_Her_ insistance to drive"? I thought *he* was driving!
MIKE: <as Scully> I *insist* that you drive!

>
> They pulled up a block away from the warehouse which was located in a
> deserted area complete with inadequate lighting.

TOM: Gee, what a shock.

> Scully jumped from the
> car

ALL: MITCHELL!

> and moved quickly to the sidewalk as Mulder carefully unfolded himself
> from the

CROW: --origami swan he had folded himself into.

> front seat and stretched before joining her. They padded quietly
> around the building and searched for a way to enter unannounced, finding
> it in the form of a broken window on the far side of the building.

MIKE: You know, for a terrorist hideout, this place is really not kept
up that well.

>
> At first everything looked normal as far as deserted warehouses were
> concerned

TOM: Dirt... rats... dead bodies everywhere...
CROW: They can only stay in this one area of the warehouse, because there's
14 other cop shows also filming here.

> and he was about to concede that perhaps his instincts in this
> instance had been in error when he tripped over a box that had fallen on
> the floor.

MIKE: D'OH! It's Kooky the Clown Cop, back on patrol!

> Reaching down to pick it up he noticed that the contents were
> marked "blasting caps"

TOM: Nice police work, Sherlock.

> and upon further inspection, discovered rows and
> rows of similarly marked boxes,

CROW: So I guess "normal-looking" means that every deserted warehouse has
rows and rows of boxes marked "EXPLOSIVES".
MIKE: I wonder if Mulder breaks open *all* his cases by tripping over an
important clue.

> along with automatic weapons and various
> other instruments of destruction earmarked for every third world country
> known to man.

TOM: And a few *not* known to man.
MIKE: Or at least, not to your average high school graduate.

> If these weren't the terrorists that he was looking for,
> they were at least individuals heavy into the illegal arms trade which
> made them, in his book...

ALL: YES??

> just as deadly and this was one place that he
> didn't want to get caught in without backup.

CROW: Gee, thank God *Scully* is here...

> He turned and looked at
> Scully who had simultaneously turned to look at him

ALL: JINX!

> and the message that
> wordlessly passed between them

MIKE: Great, first premonitions, now telepathy.

> registered in the form of a quick retreat
> toward their entry point while Scully called for backup on her cellular
> phone.

TOM: So I guess the telepathic message was, "Beat cheeks."

>
> They heard voices heading in their direction from where they were going

CROW: So... uh... what direction would that be?
MIKE: It's okay. Mulder is used to hearing voices. He'll know how to
handle it.

> and were forced to fall back into the building again to hide in the
> shadows between two tightly packed rows of boxes.

TOM: <as Mulder> Hmmm... it says "BLASTING CAPS" on this box... I wonder
if it contains more blasting caps...

> He had gently shoved
> her in first

CROW: Then he gently broke her spine in three places.

> and placed himself between her and the aisle. This kind of
> male behavior used to really tick her off

MIKE: Go on, girl!

> until she realized that it
> wasn't meant as a put down, at least not from him, but rather just an
> outward expression of his innate protective nature.

TOM: Everything you do is okay when you're dreamy!

> She knew he respected
> her ability to do her job and her judgment....

CROW: Well, up to a point, anyway.

> there were just times when
> he reacted instinctively without regard to protocol.

MIKE: Dammit, McBain, in this unit we do things *by the book*!
ALL: <make gunshot noise>
TOM: <German accent> Bye, book.

> Cramped in the small
> space,

CROW: Oh, it's "that time of the month"...

> she breathed in the scent of him....it's funny,

MIKE: His cologne was Eau de Laughing Gas.

> she thought
> abstractly, that the human nose could be so discerning.

TOM: Some people can smell bad fanfics two or three miles away!

> She could be
> placed in a dark room with hundreds of people and she would still

CROW: --yell, "FIRE!"

> be able
> to pick him out just by the way he smelled...

MIKE: Like a urinal cake.

> It was an erotically
> pleasant, musky, aroma

TOM: Whoa, girl, get a hold of yourself!
CROW: Is this part integral to the plot?
MIKE: No, I think the writer just decided to go off on her own private
fantasy here.

> devoid of artificial scents and she would *never*
> buy him cologne. To cover it up would be a sin, she decided,

TOM: HEATHEN! No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!

> and then
> wondered if she too had a scent that was all her own.

CROW: It depends. How long has it been since you showered?

> She'd have to ask
> him about it sometime under more appropriate circumstances. She didn't
> know why, but these off the wall thoughts always seemed to occur to her at
> the strangest, most inopportune moments.

MIKE: No kidding.

>
>
> From: imast...@aol.com (ImAStinker)
> Date: 11 Oct 1994 09:15:06 -0400
> Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
> Subject: Double Vision #7

TOM: Does this thing have an ending?!

>
> The voices were getting closer and she felt the muscles in his back grow
> tense with anticipation,

CROW: Oh, you're so tense...
MIKE: Is she just feeling his back while he faces the danger alone?
TOM: I think the Stinky Girl is living vicariously through Scully.

> but just when she thought he was going to pounce
> on them,

CROW: That's our Mulder! Attack before knowing who they are, how many
there are of them, and if they have guns!

> the air filled with sirens and screeching vehicles.

MIKE: They were filming the new "Dukes of Hazzard" reunion in another part
of the warehouse!

>
> Police burst through he doors and the voices that they had heard
> transformed into running feet.

TOM: So, were they hearing policemen?

> She sensed his sudden forward movement

CROW: Ohhh, God, YES!
MIKE: Watch it, Crow...
CROW: Oh, I am! I am!

> and
> heard what sounded like two bodies fall heavily to the floor. He then
> stepped out of their hiding place to cuff the two suspects together and
> borrowing her cuffs, secured them both to a large, iron pipe fixtures.

TOM: Huh? What suspects? Who did they cuff? What just happened here?
MIKE: Aren't they forgetting something, like Miranda rights?

> She stared up at him in surprise and he shrugged his shoulders and stated
> with a sheepish grin,

CROW: "Baaaa!"

> "having big feet cones in handy occasionally.....

MIKE: Big feet cones?

> I tripped em'"

TOM: D'OH! That's our wacky Mulder!

> They left the two men behind on the floor for their backup
> to find

CROW: Just like Batman!

> and moved stealth fully down the hall to a large room with
> double-doors.

MIKE: ...ignoring the huge numbers of policemen who had supposedly entered
the place.

> He made the signal for a button-hook entry, she nodded, and
> on the count of the third finger,

TOM: Hey! That's dirty!

> they burst into the room with weapons
> drawn.

CROW: The surprised policemen inside the room cut them to pieces! The End!
MIKE: Oh, I wish...

> The room they were in had the antiseptic quality of a lab but they
> knew for a fact by the various electronic components,

TOM: You know, *stuff*.

> the chemically
> triggered, electronic pressure switches,

MIKE: ...Cappucino maker...

> along with the C4 explosives
> scattered about, that this "lab" was producing explosive devices.

CROW: Ahhh, that's only circumstantial evidence. You'll never book them
with just *that*.

>
> Noticing a movement in the far corner of the room, Mulder made his way
> slowly forward with Scully covering several feet behind him.

TOM: Wow, that's a wide area!
MIKE: I know the actress who plays Scully gained a few pounds during her
pregnancy, but this is *rediculous*!

> He pivoted
> and aimed his weapon into the darkened corner,

CROW: I hope she's talking about his gun...

> only to find it empty,

TOM: Don't worry about it, that happens to everyone occasionally.

> then
> stepped back warily as an unfamiliar voice spoke to him from Scully's
> position behind him.

MIKE: She's been posessed!
CROW: Oh no, it's an X-Files/Exorcist crossover!

>
> "Put your gun on the floor, turn very, very, slowly and kick it over here
> or I'll shall kill the woman right now," he ordered in a menacing tone.

TOM: I'm guessing that it isn't Mulder talking.
MIKE: Good guess... but you can't be sure.

>
> Mulder slowly lowered himself toward the floor, placed the gun by his
> feet, stood up, carefully turned toward his advisary and kicked the weapon
> away from himself.

CROW: Now do the hokey-pokey and turn yourself about.

> The man he faced was about 5'10" with a dark swarthy
> complexion and beady unreadable eyes.

TOM: And full red lips, and soft, rosy cheeks...

> He held Dana tightly with one hand
> behind her back as he rested the barrel of a .357 against her cheek.
>
> "Don't do this," Mulder pleaded

MIKE: Your face will freeze like that!

> as terror gripped at his heart. "The
> place is crawling with cops and Federal agents...

TOM: Even though we haven't actually *seen* one yet.
CROW: <Maxwell Smart voice> Would you believe that this place is crawling
with federal agents and attack dogs? Okay, how about a security guard
with an unfriendly poodle?

> it's over....let her go."
>
> "No, my mission is holy and I will not be stopped!" he screamed with
> fanatical vehemence.

MIKE: <Middle Eastern accent> I am a poorly-drawn stereotype! Leave me
alone!

>
> Mulder inched forward slightly until he saw the man tighten his finger on
> the trigger.

CROW: Yes... just a little bit more...
TOM: That's pretty dark, Crow.

>
> "So," Mulder commented calmly with a touch of disdain,

MIKE: <French accent> Stupid Arabian pig!

> "does you "mission"
> require that you hide behind women's skirts?"

TOM: No, we do that for fun!

> he taunted him, "or perhaps
> you would like me to get you a child..."

CROW: ...in a nice marinara sauce.

>
> Dana's eyes widened in disbelief as he continued.

MIKE: <as Scully> The little freak really *is* suicidal!

>
> "Maybe your "illustrious" leaders would like to know what a *brave* man
> you are," he replied mockingly as he inched a little closer.

TOM: Do it! Kill him *now*!
CROW: Geez, Tom, and you said *I* was getting dark?

>
> "Shut up," the man yelled furiously

MIKE: I am rubber, you are glue! Whatever you say bounces off me and
sticks to you!

> as he threw Scully to the ground and
> aimed his sights at Mulder's mid-section. Scully scramble out of reach
> and searched frantically for Mulder's discarded Glock

ALL: Ewwww!
CROW: <as Mulder> Geez, Scully, not now! You're really frisky today,
aren't you?

> as SWAT members and
> Federal agents stood silently at the doorway waiting as they had for the
> last five minutes for a clean shot.

TOM: Great job, guys. You know, there's a *lot* of people just standing
around in this fanfic.

>
> "Get over here," the man demanded waving the gun at him.
>
> Mulder silently obeyed by slowly walking toward him with raised hands
> until he stood directly in front of the gun.

MIKE: <as Mulder> Well, *that* didn't work like I thought it would.

>
> "Turn around real slow and lose the jacket,"

CROW: <M.E. accent> I want to smell your musky aroma!

> he commanded in a shrill
> voice that echoed the feeling of power that he enjoyed when he was obeyed.

TOM: The Stinky Girl is trying her darndest to paint this guy as evil, but
I'm just *not* buying it.

>
> Mulder turned his back to the man and with some difficulty caused by the
> cast, shrugged the jacket off and let it drop to the floor in a crumpled
> heap, then gasped as he felt the revolver's steel barrel being shoved
> painfully into his ribcage.

MIKE: A little to the left... ahhhh... yeah, there you go...

> He took a deep breath and inquired in a calm
> almost bantering tone,

CROW: <baseball banter> "Hey, batter, batter! Hey, he's no batter, batter!"

> "Hey, what's your name?"

TOM: Snoop Doggy Dogg.

>
> "What?" the man asked, not quite certain that he'd heard correctly.
>
> Mulder repeated with emphasized slowness, "What....is....your....name?"

MIKE: Which word didn't you understand?

>
> "---Ha.....Habib," the man stuttered,

CROW: A stereotypical name for a stereotypical character.

> taken aback by apparent nonchalance
> in Mulder's voice. "Why?" he inquired in confusion.

TOM: No, he's on second.
MIKE: Then who's on third?
CROW: I don't know!
ALL: FIRST BASE!

>
> "Well Habib....If you're gonna kill me,

MIKE: Hey, Mulder, do you understand the term "hostage"?

> it seems only right that I should
> at least know your name so I can come back to haunt you for the rest of
> your life.....

TOM: Otherwise, I'd just be saying, "That one guy killed me! That one guy
killed me!"

> I mean it's only fair..don't you think? So, when you kill
> me....they.."he said pointing to the men at the doorway,

CROW: Just standing around, not doing anything...

> " kill you and
> your colleague will get all the credit for blowing up the plane and
> "Habib"

MIKE: (tm)

> will just be a bloody spot on the lab floor, forgotten about and
> unknown. Boy, life just isn't fair sometimes, is it pal?"

TOM: (*sigh*) You're telling *us*!

>
> "How do you know about the plane? Nobody knows except loyal
> comrades....NOBODY!!"

CROW: <deep British accent> ...except for me, my wife, my sons, and 10,000
Turkish whores!
MIKE: Huh?
CROW: Another "Black Adder" reference.

>
> "I know about it, Habib....it's AMAIR flight 422.....a ghost told
> me....

MIKE: The ghost of a little bird told me.

> Your friend has taken the bomb and is going to place it in the tail
> section of the plane....

TOM: He's going to show it in flight. It's called "North".

> He get's the credit, and you....you get a body
> bag."

CROW: A very stylish set of Samsonite body bags, actually.

>
> He'd succeeded in rattling the man and felt the gun barrel drop slightly
> away from his ribs. He pressed on....

MIKE: Great idea - get the guy with a gun aimed at you *really* peeved.

>
> "Such a self-sacrifice, and no one will even know....or care.

TOM: *We* certainly don't.

> Too bad,
> Habib, you had such potential.

CROW: For what?
MIKE: He sounds like my high school guidance counselor.

> Is he gonna do it today....or maybe he'll
> wait....and do it tomorrow...either way, you won't be around to see it."

TOM: And neither will we, with any luck.

>
> Habib cried out in frenzied rage, brought the gun out from beneath
> Mulder's ribs and raised it forcefully up to smash him in the back of the
> head

CROW: You know, Habib, that thing shoots bullets out of the other end.

> but Mulder ducked down and drove an elbow into his attacker's
> stomach,

ALL: <sing Star Trek fight theme>

> turned and slammed him against the wall, wrestling the weapon
> from his hand.

MIKE: Well, that was remarkably easy, for a guy with a cast on his arm.

> He held Habib against the wall with the cast on his left
> arm pressed forcefully against the man's windpipe

TOM: Hey, Habib, wanna sign my cast?

> and the retrieved
> revolver in his left hand shoved it up under his chin.
>
> "Now, you tell me,

CROW: <Darth Vader voice> Where did you hide the Death Star plans?

> you goddamn little son of a bitch....when? What day is
> the bomb going off?"

MIKE: 11.18.94. Generations!

>
> Habib squirmed uselessly and squeaked breathlessly until Mulder lessened
> the pressure on his throat.

TOM: <gasping> Thank you!

>
> "You will not know this from me...you can not force me to tell," he
> replied defiantly.

CROW: Nanny nanny boo boo. Stick your head in doo doo.

>
> Mulder drew back the hammer

MIKE: Can't touch this!

> on the .357, put his face close to Habib's
> and whispered through his teeth,

TOM: His own, or Habib's teeth?
CROW: Oh God, I hope it's not Habib's!

> "Then I guess, you'll get to be a martyr
> after all."

MIKE: I think he just ripped off a line from "Wolverine", but I'm not sure.

>
> The man wriggled and screamed,

TOM: Stop tickling me!

> "You can not do this...you are the
> law...you must read my rights...."

CROW: Yeah! What he said!

>
> "You don't know me, Habib," he said smoothly.....

MIKE: .....and then he paused for several minutes.

> "You don't know the
> meaning of the word "Obsession"...

TOM: Calvin Klein.

> They all call me "Spooky." Ya know
> why? I tell you why," he hissed, "....Cause I'm a fucking lunatic,

MIKE: David Koresh?

> that's
> why...crazy as a bed bug, totally insane...Just ask anybody. So don't
> think I wouldn't blow your goddamn brains all over this fucking wall just
> to see what kind of pattern it'd make.

CROW: Mike, I don't like this.
TOM: Yeah, Mike. I like X-Files, so why is it that I hate Mulder so much
in this fanfic?
MIKE: Okay, guys, we can get through this. It has to end sometime.

> Now....when is the bomb going
> off?"
>
> Habib looked around at the faces in the room in shear panic as they all
> nodded their heads in affirmation of the truthfulness of Mulder's
> statement.

MIKE: Yep. We all hate his guts.

> He cried out in terror, "I do not know...", he sobbed,
> "Please, I do not know."
>

TOM: Time to go, guys.
CROW: Oh, thank God.

[Mike picks up Tom and they leave the theater.]

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