A metal gate surrounds this house, which appears to be well kept on the exterior. This gate squeeks when it opens or closes and is usually locked. For you, the gate is open. With the exception of this metal gate, the house does not appear to be at all out of place among the other houses on this street. The grass is mowed once a week by a professional landscapping service in the summer and the walk and driveway are promptly shoveld by a different service in the winter. Adam Brantaco himself has no time to deal with such trivial matters.

To open the front door is to step into a completely different world. The house is rarely lit by anything requiring electicity. Torches and candles serve to illuminate the house most of the time, but often, Adam will simply move around the house in the dark, having adapted in the same matter a blind man would adapt to his home. Adam enjoyed darkness and the comforts it brought. There is no TV or furniture in the living room. In fact, the only decoration Adam has out in this room at all is the body of a young woman he once cemented into the north wall, leaving only the face so that the woman could still breathe. Adam would watch the woman for hours when she was alive, savoring each second of her tortured exsistence until she finally starved to death. Now, a skull only half covered with flesh was the only remaining proof of exsistence. Though it no longer ammused Adam the way it did when she was alive, the decoration still pleased him and he left it there.

This was the only still rotting corpse Adam used for decoration. Most of his victims have had their flesh cleaned off of them by dipping the bodies in a vat of dermisted beetles. This process took about a week to strip the bodies of their flesh, rather than waiting months for the bodies to decompse naturally. The entire basement had a controlled temperature of 75º to accomidate not only the flesh-eating beetles, but the Black Jade garden he maintains year round. The bodies are removed from the vat and rinsed off and the skeletons to use for decorations or small sculptures that will be in his house. Skull mobiles, Candle holders made of bones, and other smaller things were what Adam made first and he still keeps them around, but has now become a better craftsman with experience. His Dining room table is made from bone fragments of 15 different bodies. This same process was used to make the chair in front of Adam's computer, An entire bookshelf, and several weapons. But tonight was not a night for scupting.

Adam Brancato moved his fingers gracefully over the keyboard, playing the second movement of Bach's "Goldberg Variations" with relative ease. He'd taken up piano years ago and had become an exceptionally good player in less than two weeks. "Goldberg Variations" was a difficult piece to play by the standards of any concert pianist. Adam had memorized it and learned it perfectly two hours after looking at the music. It remained his favorite piece to play.

As his fingers ran over the keys, he thought to himself about how Scully would be used as his masterpiece. He'd outdone himself with the piece he'd created at St. Katherine's Church, but he was by no means out of ideas. The hard part was deciding on something that would be worthy of a woman like Dana Scully. A somewhat religious woman. A law enforcement agent since 1992, consistently shadowed by that partner of hers, Fox Mulder. (What kind of a name is Fox anyway? Was his mother hitting the pipe when she named him?!?) Now, Adam decided, was her time to shine. Not as a Federal Agent, but as a glorious work of art.

The pinky of his right hand slammed a low E and the piece ended abruptly, not because it was meant to end that way, but because inspiration had just hit Adam. Yes! Besides being the greatest challenge yet, it would literally be a tribute to Agent Scully. It must be done where she was most known, but never recognized. And it must be done when her partner was helpless to protect her, as he had a habit of doing (testosterone works in mysterious ways). And it must be done now. Finally, Scully would have the recognition she deserved.

Starbucks Café

Washington D.C.

Tuesday, December 11^th

6:45am

Agent Tom Colton paid for his coffee and turned to leave the diner. As he did, he ran right into a man who was approaching the counter. The collision of the two men sent the hot coffee into Agent Colton's chest.

"Oh no," the man said to Colton. "I'm sorry. I didn't even see you there. Here, let me clean that up for you."

"No, that's alright," Colton replied, very annoyed that his suit was probably ruined and he'd be late for work because he had to go home and change, not to mention the scalding temperature of the coffee.

"Well, then at least let me buy you another cup of coffee. Waitress." Before Agent Colton could object, the waitress brought another cup of coffee to the counter. The man paid for it while Colton was cleaning himself off. As the waitress deposited the money in the cash register, the man lifted the lid and deposited the powdered contents of a small vial into the coffee, making sure no one was watching as he did.

"Here you go," he said, turning to Colton. "Again, I'm sorry. Here, let me give you my business card so you can send me the bill for the dry cleaning." The man handed Colton a small card. Colton took a second to read the name on it: Adam Fell. A business address, phone number, and fax number followed.

"Thanks," Colton said, still annoyed that he'd be late for work.

6:49am

As Agent Colton turned the corner onto the busy street, he sighed and hit the gas. It was still early enough to avoid most of the morning commuter. The needle on the speedometer rose well over the posted limit. Fuck it, Colton thought. If I get pulled over, I'll just pull rank.

Suddenly, Agent Colton seized up and jerked the car left. He quickly grabbed the wheel and compensated, but his nervous system was already locking up. The overcompensation of the steering wheel sent Colton's car into a lamppost at 60 miles an hour. His chest slammed into the steering wheel and his face shattered the windshield. In all the rush to get to work on time, he'd forgotten his seat belt. It wouldn't have saved him anyway. Glass and small pieces of metal fell from the wreckage and bounced on the ground for a moment before all motion ceased. Silence returned to the street as the sun's first rays of light rose on Agent Colton's car and what was left of the body inside.

San Francisco Coroner's Office
10:13am

Mulder began taking pictures of the body of Sister Mary Marsdell as Scully used a scalpel to make the Y-incision that was standard procedure in any autopsy. Mulder had insisted that Scully do the autopsy herself and the police department was more than happy to comply, as it meant they could free up man hours to be used on different cases.

Scully spoke into a microphone hanging over the slab, recording verbal notes. She noted that the neck had in fact been broken, but there were no strangulation marks on the neck or other signs of struggle on the body. Scully believed that the victim had been surprised and killed before she had a chance to give a struggle. The priest's body, on the other hand, had displayed several bruises in it that were just beginning to develop. This indicating a brief struggle, but a struggle nonetheless.

Neither victim showed any signs of sexual assault, which meant that the killer probably did not kill for sexual pleasure, but to satisfy some other homicidal urge. And finally, Scully noted that the eyes had been removed with very precise cuts, indicating that the killer may have access to medical instruments and the knowledge to use them.

After the autopsy, Mulder waited outside while Scully cleaned the room up. As she was finishing with the body, her cell phone rang. She fished around her jacket pocket until she found it and then answered it.

"Agent Scully, this is Assistant Director Skinner, we've got a situation down here. An agent was killed this morning and there are some very specific details in his will that involve you. I think you need to come back to Washington."

"Now? We're in the middle of a case."

"I know, but this is urgent. Agent Mulder can handle the case until you get back."

"Yes, sir."

As she hung up the phone, Mulder came into the room with a couple cans of soda. "So who do you think we should talk to first, the cleaning lady or the other clergy?"

"We don't get to talk to anyone. I'm being summoned back to Washington and you will have to work the case alone until I can take care of whatever it is that needs to be taken care of."

"Oh. Alright, then. Maybe when you get back we can take in a Clipper's game."

"Mulder, the Clippers suck."

"Yeah, but they're playing the Pistons tonight, so they might stand a chance. Besides, the tickets will be cheap. The people who review the expense accounts probably won't even notice them."

Scully smiled, but it was a smile laced with the dread that the dead agent could be someone she knew well and liked. "See you soon Mulder."