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New York
10:13pm
Agent John Doggett walked
cautiously through the dark office building holding a flashlight in one hand
and a gun in the other. It was an anonymous tip that had brought him here,
clearly stating that the syndicate was starting to hold meetings again, their
first one being tonight. Doggett had thought the Syndicate members were all
dead, but, in an effort to be more like Mulder so that he could get in Scully’s
pants, he took that one anonymous tip and started an investigation. He’d
tried to get Agent Reyes to come with him, but Nick at Nite had a Brady Bunch
marathon that she simply refused to miss.
And Scully, well, Scully wasn’t as involved in investigations much these days now that Mulder was back, so Doggett went alone. As silently as he could, he crept through the hallways of this building that had no name.
Movement. Doggett sensed something moving and aimed his flashlight in the direction of the sound. It was a rat, nothing more. The rat scurried out of the light and into a room that had its door opened a crack. Curious, Doggett followed the rat into the room. A fireplace was lit and a large comfy looking chair was facing it. Doggett couldn’t see the face of the man sitting in this chair, but a cloud of cigarette smoke rose and curled around his head.
Cancer Man, thought Doggett. The only known living member of The Syndicate. Doggett raised his gun and pointed it at the chair.
“Federal Agent,” he called out, identifying himself. “I want some answers.”
“I do have answers,” said the voice sitting in the chair. “But I don’t think I’ll be giving them to you, Muggle.”
Doggett had a quizzical look on his face. The man in the chair did not bother to turn and look at it. Really, Doggett's quizzical face was like every other face Doggett made, so why bother? “What did you call me?” Doggett said, cocking the gun.
“I called you a Muggle, ya Muggle,” said the Cigarette Smoking Man.
Doggett
had never heard this word before, but clearly, it was meant as an insult.
“Why don’t you come say that to my face?” he snarled.
“I don’t feel like getting up,” said the CSM. “Ratboy, deal with him,”
“Ratboy?” said Doggett. “Who the hell is Ratboy?”
Had he bothered to look around, Doggett may have known there was a third man in the room. And if he had kept his mouth shut, Doggett may have heard the simple phrase this third man, Ratboy, uttered before Doggett dropped his gun. But he did not have time to consider the error in his judgment. He simply fell to the ground, dead.
Harry Potter
Denies Everything
10:13 AM
Agents Fox Mulder and Dana
Scully walked onto the scene. It was Walter Skinner who had called them, and
he waited for them outside of the door.
“Agents, I’m glad you came. The director wants this resolved fast. As you know, when a murder involves an FBI Agent, it’s personal.”
“Fine,” Mulder said, “But why call us? I mean, yeah he was in my department and all, but is Doggett’s death really an X-File?”
Skinner nodded grimly. “The ME’s not done yet, but so far, no clear cause of death has been established. It looks like he just…died.”
“Whatever,” Mulder said. “Can we see the body?”
Skinner led them into the room, where Doggett’s cold, empty eyes looked up at them. Christ, thought Scully. He’s dead and he’s still trying to look up my skirt.
Mulder began looking the body over intently while Skinner said, “the director asked for you two specifically. He knows your methods are unconventional, but you guys get results.”
“Yeah, but that’s on cases we actually care about,” Mulder said rising to his feet. “I mean, so Doggett’s dead. Who gives a shit, really?”
Skinner nodded. He felt the same way about Doggett “There’s more, though,” the Assistant Director said.
“Well I should hope so,” said Scully. “We had to drive 3 hours to come out here.”
“Doggett is the latest in a series of murders, all involving FBI agents, all with no clear cause of death.”
“Anyone we know?” Scully asked.
“It’s been happening all over the country,” Skinner said. “The only other one here in Washington was Tom Colton.”
“Let me just take this opportunity to reiterate my position,” said Mulder. “Who gives a shit?”
Skinner ignored his position. “The director wants this done right, and done fast. Good luck, agents.” And with that, Skinner left the room.
As soon as he was gone, Mulder screwed up his face in a funny sort of way and said, “Ooooh the director wants this handled quickly. What’re you gonna do about it, you shiny-domed mother fucker? Fire me?”
“Can we go get breakfast now?” said Scully.