St. Katherine Catholic Church
San Francisco, California
Monday, December 10, 1999
12:25 pm

Adam Brancato strolled through the extravagant Catholic church as though he owned the place. He'd been here a number of times because the artistry of the building had always intrigued him, but he had no real interest in worshiping Jesus, Mary, or any other icon of the church. His interest lay more in the art of the church. All of the art here had a grand significance. Adam had been trying match the intensity of the art held within the church for several months, but to no avail. He finally realized that in order to create a dynamic art piece, he must take what was already there and improve upon it.

As he walked through the foyer outside the worship hall, he passed a young nun. She was looking at the ground and barely noticed he existed, but Adam couldn't help but to notice how young and beautiful her face was. He wondered if the rest of her was equally as beautiful. If so, she must be in his work of art. But she was not the first step. Sighing softly, Adam made his way to the confessional chambers.

He entered a confessional chamber barely able to conceal the grin on his face. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It's been-- oh well let's face it: this is my first confession."

Father Michael Reyes sat on the other end of the grated wall, still and quiet. Adam had to see if his chest moved before he could be sure the old man was alive. "So how many hours a day do you have to sit in this place? I mean, in most of the church I can really see the whole 'God's glory' theme, but this place looks like shit."

"The church chooses to put its decorations in the open, where all may enjoy them."

"Oh. Well, whatever. Anyway, I came to confess a great sin that I'm about to do."

"And what sin would that be?"

"Well, you may have seen me around here before. I love this place. Catholic churches display some of the greatest art I've ever seen. It's incredible. Anyway (I'm getting off the subject here), today I was walking through the church and I saw this nun in the foyer. Let me tell you, Father, she was gorgeous. I mean, most nuns are just old ladies who've already lived the better part of their lives, but this one was nice and young and firm and, well, I'm thinking some wickedly impure thoughts about her."

"Are you ashamed of these thoughts?" the priest asked.

"No. Why should I be? I mean, I know the Catholics are all about shame, but there isn't a man alive who wouldn't have wanted a piece of that woman. It's our nature. God wouldn't have given us testosterone if he didn't intend for us to use it, right? You know which nun I'm talking about don't you? Are you trying to tell me you never got a hard on looking at her?"

The priest ignored Adam's vulgar question. "If you feel no remorse for your thoughts, then why are you here?"

"Well Father, as I said, the sin is what I'm going to do. I'm going to find her, and I'm going to have her. All of her." Adam followed the last word with a high pitched giggle.

"You are aware that because this puts another person in danger and it hasn't happened yet, I have to notify the police?"

Adam laughed. "You really believe that the police are going to get here in time to stop me? Or for that matter, you think I'm going to let you tell them? I thought priests were smarter than that."

Realizing what Adam intended to do, Father Michael bolted for the door, but Adam was younger and stronger. He was already out into the hallway before the priest could make it through the door. Adam grabbed him and shoved him back into the chamber. Father Michael leapt to his feet, but Adam kicked him in the chest and sent him tumbling back into the chamber again. He followed the kick through by jumping on the priest and placing one hand under his chin and the other on the back of his head. Before Father Michael could fight back, his neck was snapped. Adam rose to his feet slowly.

Sister Mary Marsdell walked down the empty hall with her eyes affixed on the ground. She had not been with the convent long, but the other sisters had already told her they found her boundless young energy refreshing to all of them. She had played a pivotal role in the recent fundraiser to put security cameras in the church. They were being installed next week.

Adam walked behind her, matching his footsteps with hers. He never found habits very attractive, but he was a good enough judge of shape to know that the nun's uniform hid a very attractive body underneath. A body that belonged in his artwork. A body that must be his.

They approached an open door in an office that belonged to Father Michael. Adam grabbed Sister Mary from behind and pulled her into the office, closing the door behind him.

The nun screamed, but even God could not save her now.

5:26pm

Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully walked into the church. A detective spotted them and introduced himself.

"Agent's Mulder and Scully? I'm Detective Fred Gerber." He shook hands with Mulder, but not Scully. Scully had seen this sort of thing before. Sometimes, men from the police department felt challenged when a woman from the FBI was called out to solve a case they couldn't. That kind of attitude annoyed her. It was as though bringing a killer to justice wasn't worth the effort if they couldn't get the glory for it, and it was even worse if a woman got all their press time. What a bunch of assholes.

As the detective discussed with Mulder where they were on the case so far, Scully let herself wander into the worship hall, which was the actual crime scene, being stopped only once by a young officer who asked for her ID. She pulled it out of her inside pocket and flashed it; a fluid movement she'd done more times than she could remember and didn't even think about anymore.

Scully had seen many horrible crimes. Nothing really shocked her anymore. She'd learned to turn off her emotions at times like this. Mulder had already briefed her on the case on their way down to San Francisco from Washington. Even still, she found it hard to keep her lunch down when she first laid eyes on the two bodies.

One of them, a former priest named Michael Biller, was on his knees with his head turned up at an unnatural angle and his eyes removed, leaving nothing but eerie sockets which still seemed to stare up. He was staring up at a huge, wooden cross. Nailed to this cross was Sister Mary Marsdell, a young nun who worked in the convent. Large nails had been placed in her wrists and through her feet to keep her held up to the cross. Like the priest, her head was turned at an unnatural angle, her eyes had been removed, and both of them were naked. Scully wondered what had been done with their clothes.

Something about the nun intrigued Scully. She could recognize from her own experience as a Catholic that this was a depiction of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. The priest was in the same position Mary was, in grievance for her son, and the nun was a representation of Jesus himself, being crucified for the sins of the world. Scully had been involved in cases similar to this before, but there was always something that disturbed her when the killers involved religion. It made it a little more personal for her. Usually, killers who used religious themes in their murders believed that they were murdering innocent people in the name of God.

"So what do you think, Scully?" Mulder startled her when he interrupted her thoughts.

"Well, it's a living, or was a living, representation of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. That much is obvious. However, the killer chose a female to represent Jesus and a male to represent his mother. I'm sure you have interesting theories on that one. Also, their eyes have been removed, which is important because, well, Jesus still had his eyes when he died. And it's not a perfect representation anyway because Jesus had a crown of thorns and Mary wasn't naked."

Mulder nodded. "I was expecting a more medical opinion."

"Oh," Scully said. "Well, cause of death was probably a broken neck, indicated by the angle that their heads are at now and the lack of any blood around the bodies. The lack of blood also indicates that the removal of the eyes and the nailing of the woman's body were all done post-mortem. The homicides themselves took place somewhere else, but somewhere close by. There's no sign of a struggle here."

Mulder's face showed no emotion at all. Scully knew he'd seen a lot of gruesome cases. More than her. He'd become very good at hiding his feelings. Maybe a little too good.

"Mulder, why were we called down here? I mean, this is one exceptionally sick fuck we're dealing with, but I don't see anything here that the branch office agents couldn't have handled."

Mulder's eyebrows slid up into his forehead. "Sick fuck? Now there's a term I don't hear you use very often."

"Answer my question, Mulder."

"I asked to be assigned to this one. I thought it might be nice taking a little break from alien slime and freaky mutants."

Scully looked at him. This was the type of answer he normally gave her at first. His tone of voice tipped her off right away that there was more to the story than he was telling. "Mulder-"

He put up his hand to interrupt her. He had just seen something. "What is it, Mulder?" she asked him. Mulder put on a latex glove and went to the cross where Sister Mary hung. He bent down at the base of the cross and picked up a small flower. Scully bent down over him and took a closer look. It was a black rose, each petal outlined in a dark shade of red. Mulder looked it over closely, then placed it back at the base of the cross.

Scully followed him as he walked out of the worship hall. "What does it mean, Mulder?"

Mulder did not stop until they had gotten into the car. Scully hated it when he blew her off like this. Mulder suddenly turned around. "This was the work of a serial killer," he began. "That black rose we saw in there, it's called Black Jade. It's his signature. This is the fourth murder he's done. Seven bodies in all, all of them killed and arranged in some morbid display like this one. All of the victims had their eyes removed and the killer left a black rose at the scene of the crime in every case."

"How do you know this?" Scully asked.

Mulder opened the trunk of the rental car and pulled a fat manila envelope from the briefcase inside. He opened it and pulled out a huge case file. It contained pictures and all the paperwork from each of the murders Mulder had spoken of. Each of these murders had happened in a different part of the country.

"Mulder, how do you know these are linked. Even with the similarities in the cases, there are too many differences. Aren't serial killers known to follow patterns more exactly? If this was the same guy, wouldn't all the bodies be arranged the same way?"

Mulder nodded, "Sometimes, not always, though."

"Who sent this to you?"

Mulder shrugged. "No name, no return address."

"So you have no reliable source that these murders are connected?"

"Just because the source is anonymous doesn't mean it's unreliable."

"Mulder, what aren't you telling me? Is this the work of aliens who've gone one step higher from cattle mutilations or what?"

Mulder shook his head. "No, I don't think aliens sent me this."

"Then who?"

"I have reason to believe it was the killer. He's tired of waiting for the police to connect the dots, so he connected the dots for them, making them realize that each case was bigger than what they could handle, and just as the FBI gets called in, I ask to get assigned because of what was sent to me."

"You think the killer orchestrated all of this?"

"Yes. He's definitely a highly intelligent person. He wants us to play his game."

"And you just go right along with it?"

"It's the only way we'll catch him."

"This is one sick fuck."

"Hey, you know me. Sick fucks are my specialty."

"Mulder, everything is your specialty."

As the agents discussed their next move, Adam watched them. He was one of many people in the crowd of gawks that had gathered. He watched Scully with the utmost interest. Her beautiful red hair reflected the brilliant light of the setting sun. She would be his next masterpiece.