TITLE:  It Came From Radio Shack

AUTHOR:  Kelly Keil

EMAIL:  kellylynn73@comcast.net

WEBSITE:  www.geocities.com/kellychenault73
 
ARCHIVE:  You want it, you can have it.  Just leave it
intact with all my info attached.

FEEDBACK:  Is more than welcome.  Please drop me a line
to tell me what you thought.

SPOILERS:  None to speak of.

RATING:  R (for violence, language, and nookie)

CLASSIFICATION:  X, H, MSR (a little dab'll do ya)

DISCLAIMER:  I don't own Mulder or Scully.  I don't
own Radio Shack.  I don't own Mr. Roboto by Styx.  All
have been cheerfully absconded with by yours truly and
used for my own evil ends.  Muh wah ha ha.

SUMMARY:  Mulder and Scully stumble upon weird goings-on
in the middle of nowhere.  Thrills and chills abound.

ACKNOWLEGEMENTS:  I have way too many people to thank for
this story, so bear with me.  Philippa, for saving the
story and catching the picky details.  Punk, for making
me cut at least half of the adverbs.  Jodi, for the cereal.
Fi, for making it better.  Diana, for helping me despite a
family crisis.  Now THAT is a beta with dedication.  Also,
thanks to everyone at YV who read this, helped me with it,
and encouraged me to finish it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  This story owes much to MST3K and bad
horror movies everywhere.  Popcorn and drinks are available
at the concessions stand.  Please put on your 3-D glasses
and fasten your seat belts--it's going to be a bumpy night.

DEDICATION:  To Kit.  I did it for you.
_________________________________________________

Prologue

"I'm not a hero, I'm not a savior--
Forget what you know."
  Mr. Roboto--Styx



"Vampires," Scully sneered.  She folded her arms in
front of her chest and glared down at Mulder's back
as he struggled to change a tire on their rental car.
They were on the shoulder of a two-lane road with
cornfields on either side.  Scully looked up and
shaded her eyes from the sun with her hand.  If she
squinted, she could just make out a sign in the
distance that proclaimed that Podunk, Iowa was
thirty miles ahead.

If this isn't officially the middle of nowhere,
thought Scully, then it should be.

"Shut up, Scully."

"'Vicious bloodsuckers terrorizing a small town.'
I believe that those were your exact words."

"Scully..."

"Oh, no.  I'm just getting started." Scully's voice
rose in a singsong chant.  "'Let's go on a road trip,
Scully.  It's not far, Scully.'"  Her voice lowered
to a menacing growl.  "'It'll be fun, Scully.'"

Mulder flashed her a full-wattage smile as he jacked
up the car.  "You mean you're not having fun?"

"I can think of a number of words to describe my day,
Mulder, but 'fun' would not be one of them."

"Oh, come on.  It wasn't that bad.  It could have been
worse."

"How?" Scully demanded.

"You remember when those people were chasing us out
of town with pitchforks?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Well, at least they didn't throw things."

"Thank heaven for small favors," said Scully acidly.

"Actually, it made me sort of nostalgic."

"Nostalgic for what?"

"It's been a long time since we hunted vampires or were
chased by a mob, Scully.  I thought it was kind of fun."
Veins popped out on Mulder's forehead as he tried to
loosen the bolts with the rental car's woefully
inadequate tire iron.

"You are a sick, sick man, Mulder."  She gestured toward
the stubborn tire.  "Are you sure you don't need my help?"

"I'm fine, thank you.  I can't believe that even a small
part of you didn't enjoy our adventure.  You were in rare
form last night."

"What are you talking about?"

"Remember when you shot that big sucker," Mulder chuckled
at his own pun, "right in the chest?  What was it, three
times?"

"It was twice, and I couldn't have done much damage--he
didn't even fall down."

"He was a vampire, Scully.  Wooden stakes for vampires,
not bullets.  But the important part is that I got away.
And you know, you looked like an avenging angel standing
over me."

Scully digested this silently, nodding her head.  First
her lip started to quiver then the laughter escaped,
pealing off into the warm afternoon air.  Good, thought
Mulder.  I'm home free now.  She can't be too pissed
if I can make her laugh like that.  He let her laugh
while he finished fighting with the tire.

"That is the biggest load of crap you've ever tried to
hand me, Mulder.  No way are you going to put a good
spin on this thing.  It was a nightmare from beginning
to finish."

"Okay, I'll admit that while we were being chased by
the angry townsfolk I wasn't having a good time, but
in retrospect--"

"No.  Not even in retrospect."

"But--"

"Look, if you want to twist this case into some sort
of wacky adventure then by all means do so.  I just
want to go home and forget that it all happened.  Is
that too much to ask?"

Mulder sighed.  "You are no fun at all, Scully."  He
waved his hand toward the car.  "Get in.  The spare
will get us to the next town and we'll rent another
car."

"Good.  The sooner we get home, the better."


*  *  *


Chapter One

"So if you see me acting strangely,
Don't be surprised."
  Mr. Roboto--Styx



In one long glance, the gas station attendant took in
Scully, Mulder, and the doughnut tire on the car.  He
seemed to be drawing conclusions from his perusal,
albeit slowly.  "Well, you folks seem to be in a mite
of trouble," he drawled before spitting a wad of tobacco
juice onto the pavement.

"You could say that," agreed Scully.  Mulder was
studiously pumping gas and seemed unwilling to enter
the conversation so she continued, "I don't suppose
there's a rental car agency anywhere nearby?  We need
to get a new car."

"Oh sure.  Frank runs the Hertz up yonder."  He
motioned with his head.  "'Bout a mile or so north
of here."

"Thank you.  You've been very helpful.  We'll just pay
you for the gas and head there--"

"Don't bother," the attendant said.  He pulled a dirty
handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow.

"Why not?"

"It's closed right now 'cause of Frank having the flu
real bad.   His Janie'd probably rent you a new car,
but she's off to university now, and we all know Mary
Ellen's never had a head for numbers."

Scully's head swam.  Between the gasoline fumes and
this conversation she could feel a headache coming on.
"And that means?"

"You probably won't get a new car till Tuesday.
Wednesday at the latest."

"Where's the next rental agency?" asked Scully.  She
was not going to spend the night in this town.  She
was not.

"'Bout a hundred miles west of here in Harpersville.
Won't treat you nice as Frank will, though."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"I don't think so, Scully," interjected Mulder.  "The
spare is not going to make fifty more miles, let alone
a hundred."

"We could buy a new tire, Mulder.  There's bound to be
a Wal-Mart around here somewhere."

"It's a rental car, Scully.  We'd never get our money
back."

"I'll pay for it.  I don't care how much it costs.  I
just want to get home, that's all."

"Too bad the Wal-Mart burned down a piece back.
They're rebuilding a new one, but it's only half
done," interjected the attendant.

Scully racked her brain for a solution but nothing came
to mind.  She glanced toward Mulder who was cleaning
the bugs off of the front windshield.  He flashed her
another full-wattage smile.  No help from that quarter.
He was enjoying her discomfort too much to bail her out.
"Fine.  Is there anywhere to say in the area?"

"Oh, no problem there.  My niece Velda runs the motel.
She'll treat you real nice."

"Thanks," said Mulder.  "Could you give us directions?"

"No problem, mister.  No problem a' tall.  No problem
a' tall.  No problem a' tall.  No prob--"

Scully had already turned away resigned, but Mulder
watched the man give himself a powerful blow to the
chest, mop his brow again with the dirty handkerchief,
and sigh with relief.  Odd, thought Mulder.  Very odd,
but there was no point in bringing it to the attention
of the already unhappy Scully.

"Like I was saying," the man continued, "it's easy to
get there.  Go a mile west of here, turn right, and
it's on the left hand side of the road.  The Lucky
Dog Motor Inn.  You can't miss it."

*   *   *

It was, as it turned out, easy to miss.  Mulder passed
the motel twice before finally finding it.  The sign,
featuring a neon dog, was burnt out.

"Lovely, just lovely," muttered Scully.  Even Mulder
didn't like this.  He told himself that they'd stayed
in worse places, but he couldn't think of any off the
top of his head.

"Let's go in, Scully," he said.  "We might as well get
this over with."

Behind him, he heard Scully sigh.  Taking it as agreement,
he picked up his bag and headed for the office.

The tacky dcor of the office did not bode well for
the rest of the motel.  It looked like the seventies
had gone there to die.  And then die again.  They
carefully picked their way through the slightly sticky
faded chartreuse shag carpeting.  Mulder set his bag
down reluctantly, hoping that there was nothing living
in the carpet.  Or at least nothing that could chew
through nylon.  Scully, he noticed, refused to surrender
her overnight bag at all, preferring to clutch it
protectively to her chest.  Her nose wrinkled at the
dank smell of wet dog that pervaded the room.  Wishing
for a can of Lysol, or at least a pair of vinyl gloves,
Mulder rang the bell on the desk.

"What do you want?" came a querulous voice from the back
room.  He could hear someone bumping into furniture as
they made their way to the front office.  The voice got
louder as it got nearer, until it became nearly deafening.
"This better be good.  I don't want any Girl Scout cookies
and you better not be selling Amway."

Suddenly, the owner of the voice presented herself in
person.  Before he could stop himself, Mulder took a
step back.  This must be Velda, he thought.

To say Velda was a vision wasn't entirely accurate.
Rather she was a bad acid flashback.  Long, stringy
hair of indeterminate color framed a face that was
marred by coarse features, acne, and a sour expression.
Or, as Langly would have said, she was a double bagger.

"What can I do for you?" she queried crossly.  "I don't
have all day."  She glared at Mulder and Scully from
under beetled brows.  "Well, speak up.  I'm missing
Oprah."

Mulder cleared his throat.  It was apparently up to
him to book the rooms; Scully was too stunned to
move.  "We'd like two rooms, please."

"How many nights?" the woman demanded.

"Just one for now.  We're waiting for...er...Frank
to get better so he can rent us a car."

"Are you sure?  Frank's got the flu pretty bad."

Scully broke her silence at this point.  "We're
hoping that if Frank isn't better tomorrow that
he'll authorize someone else to rent us a car.
We really need to get home."

The creature sniffed.  "Suit yourself.  It's just with
the doctor being on vacation, and Harpersville being
so far away, Frank's in a bad way.  These things don't
go away overnight."

"I'm a doctor.  If there's no one else to see him--"

"No, I wouldn't do that.  Frank doesn't take well to
doctors.  Mean as a rattler he can be when you bring
out a needle."

"But--"

The woman slammed their room keys down onto the desk.
"Checkout time is noon.  If you want another day, let
me know.  I take cash only, pay in advance."

Mulder got out his wallet.  "How much?"

"Both rooms come to sixty-two dollars."

Scully started to root into her purse for her wallet,
a precarious enterprise at best, as she still wasn't
prepared to put her travel bag down on the carpet.

"Don't worry about it, Scully.  This was my idea, like
you said before.  When you follow me on a crazy mission
then the least I can do is pick up the tab."  Mostly he
wanted to pay this woman and get the hell out of the
office.  She kept giving Scully sly, assessing, sidelong
glances, which bothered him.

Scully closed her eyes and nodded, too tired to argue.
"Okay, whatever."  She waited numbly as Mulder paid,
wanting only to get out of this office and into the
fresh air.

Mulder picked up his bag, ignoring the sucking sound
he heard as it left the carpet.  "I'm starving." He
turned toward the desk.  "Is there anywhere to eat
around here?" The woman, however, had already
disappeared.

* * *

Back in the motel office, the woman picked up the
phone and dialed.  It rang for a long time before
it was answered.

"This better be good, Velda," came the petulant
response from the other line.  "I was taking a bath."

"We have guests, Master."

The voice perked up.  "Guests?  Excellent."  The tone
dipped down accusingly.  "Did you get them on video?
You know how I get angry when you forget to turn on
the camera."

"Yes, Master.  I have the tape right here."

"Well, bring it over, you idiot.  I need to see it
right away.  What rooms did you put them in?"

"Five and six, Master.  I've started the cameras
going already."

"Excellent," the voice said again.  "On second thought,
maybe I'll come to you.  I'd like to see this first
hand."

"Yes, Master."

"While I'm on my way there, call and get a pizza."

"Yes, Master.  You must keep your strength up if you're
going to take over the world.  Being an evil genius is
very hungry work."

"Can the sarcasm, Velda.  No one likes a snippy
servant."

"Yes, Master."


*  *  *


Chapter Two

"I've come to help you with your problems,
So we can be free."
  Mr. Roboto--Styx



"I'll have a cheeseburger, hold the catsup, an order of
onion rings, and a chocolate shake.  Oh, and a vanilla
coke."

"Same for me," added Scully.

Mulder gaped at her as the waitress jotted it all down,
bobbing her bee-hived head.

"My nerves could use the cholesterol," Scully said
defensively.  "It's been a rotten day and I'm starving.
Do you have a problem with that, Mulder?"

"Not at all, not at all."

The waitress walked away, her aqua polyester clad
buttocks swaying provocatively, leaving just the two
agents in the dining area of the tiny restaurant.
They sat across from each other in a booth upholstered
in cherry red naugahyde.  The table between them was
Formica, and all around them chrome gleamed.  The
little diner looked as if it hadn't changed since
Eisenhower was president.  It was, well, creepy,
for lack of a better word.  The way their day was
going, Mulder half expected Rod Serling to walk
out of the shadows and start narrating.

Mulder tapped his fork on the table.  Across from him,
Scully polished her silverware with her napkin.
Neither one seemed eager to speak.  Mulder started when
the door of the diner opened and three teenagers came
in.

"...I tell you, it's just not right!" one of them
exclaimed.  He was short and thin, with a thatch of
spiky rust colored hair.  "We're all fucked!"  Dozens
of small medals pinned to his letter jacket tinkled
as he moved agitatedly.

"Shut up, man," the other boy, this one handsome and
tall, said.  He motioned with his head toward Mulder
and Scully.  "Ix-nay on the--"

"Shut up yourself, Bobby," the pretty, blond girl with
them said, poking Bobby in the ribs.  "They're adults,
not stupid."  She turned her back to Mulder and he saw
that she was wearing a high school football letter
jacket.  He had a strong suspicion that it belonged
to Bobby.  "Besides, I've never seen them before.
They're not from around here."

"So?" asked the gangly boy, still nervous and jangling
like mad.  He also turned his back toward Mulder, who
saw that he had lettered in track and forensics.

"Look, Scully," said Mulder.  "There's a kid after
your own heart."

Scully turned around and studied the teens.  "If you're
referring to one who lettered in forensics, Mulder,
that means speech, not criminology.  You were probably
too busy playing basketball to be on the debate team."

"Sorry, Scully.  We dumb jocks didn't hang with the
speech geeks."

"I was a speech geek, Mulder, as you so charmingly put
it.  Math team, quiz bowl, and chess club, too."

He grinned at her.  "I'd have made an exception in your
case."

"How very big of you," said Scully, picking up her fork
and polishing it with renewed vigor.

Mulder's attention returned to the teens, who were still
carrying on loudly.

"Duh, Gerry," he heard the girl say. "They can't be
involved.  They have no idea what's going on."

"Are you so sure of that, Carol?  No one ever comes to
this town.  How do we know for sure that they're not
HIS?"

Carol shivered.  "I don't know.  Oh, Bobby, I'm so
scared.  What are we going to do?"

Bobby put a comforting arm around Carol's shoulders
as she looked up into his eyes.  Gerry stood behind
them, shuffling his feet.  He shot Mulder a brief
look, started to grin but thought better of it, then
glanced away.

Mulder motioned with his head towards the teenagers.
Scully shook her head.  He gave her a peevish look.
She glared right back.

At that point their food came.

While Mulder and Scully ate, the three kids traded
furtive whispers while drinking sodas.  They were one
booth away, so Mulder couldn't hear what they were
saying.  Every once in awhile Mulder would look at
Scully hopefully, only to have her glare right back
at him.

"When we're done here," she announced, breaking the
silence, "we'll go back to the motel.  In the morning,
we will find a way out of this town.  I don't care how.
Now if you excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.
It's bound to be cleaner here than it was in my room."

That seemed to be that.  Scully started to stalk away,
but then stopped and turned around.

"Oh, and Mulder," she added with a dangerous glint in
her eyes, "be good while I'm gone."

Mulder just grinned at her as she walked away.  Scully
sighed.  Well, if he got himself too deeply into trouble,
she did have her gun.  Besides, she told herself, it
was unlikely that three teenagers could be dangerous.
They were probably just acting melodramatic.  Scully
remembered being sixteen and thinking the whole world
was aligned against her.  Somehow, Mulder had never
grown out of that phase.

Scully walked into the empty restroom and went into the
cleanest of the three stalls.  Still not trusting the
restaurant's standard of hygiene, she wrestled with the
dispenser on the wall and eventually managed to pull
out an intact tissue paper toilet seat cover.  She sat
down and comforted herself with the knowledge that most
microorganisms couldn't live very long on a toilet seat.
Her relief was short-lived.

"GIT OUT WILE YOU STIL CAN," was scrawled in red Magic
Marker on the stall door.

What the hell was going on around here?  Was the whole
town insane?  Mulder lived for this sort of thing, but
Scully just found it annoying.  She refused to get
herself worked up over a poorly veiled threat with so
many misspelled words.

Scully straightened her clothes, washed her hands, and
marched out of the restroom, prepared to snag Mulder
and go back to their hideous motel rooms.   He was
sitting at the booth with the teens, deeply in
conversation with them.

Damn, she thought.  Of course.

"Scully, you'll never guess what's going on here."

The words scrawled on the bathroom door ran through
Scully's mind and she felt a twinge of worry.  Then
her better judgment kicked in and drew herself up.
"Let me guess.  Invasion of the Body Snatchers," she
answered, dripping sarcasm.

"Bingo!" he replied, grinning enthusiastically.  He
turned back toward the teens.  "See, I told you she
was good."

"You didn't tell us she was hot," commented Gerry,
eyeing Scully like she was perfectly cooked piece of
prime rib.

Mulder scowled at Gerry, who was still staring at
Scully's chest and oblivious to Mulder's displeasure.

"Well," said Scully, "life is full of all sorts of
interesting surprises."

*  *  *

"Where are they?" he demanded, munching pizza and
peering into the video monitors.

"I don't know," said Velda.  "They were just here,
Master.  They haven't taken their bags with them.
They'll be back.  Maybe they went to get something
to eat."

"I don't want them getting any ideas.  What if they
talk to someone?"

"No one in town will talk, Master.  We've made sure
of that.  They'll be back and you can have them then."

"Him.  She's not bad, but he's the real prize."

"Whatever you say, Master.  But why?"

"She's a cute little BB.  He the fucking bomb.  He's
perfect.  That voice, those facial expressions--he's
a natural.  He'll be the perfect specimen.  No more
fooling with the local inbred stock.  He's what I've
been waiting for."

"But Master..."

"Yes, Velda?"

"I could use her.  To, you know, help around the place.
If you know what I mean.  I don't ask for much, you
know."

"Have you taken a fancy to her, Velda?"

"Maybe."  Velda's bejowled cheeks went from ashy gray
to salmon pink.

"Why, Velda.  I had no idea you were partial to redheads.
Anxious to see if the carpet matches the drapes?"

"Master, please," she whined.

"Very well.  You can have her.  But first we have to
get both of them."

"Oh, they'll be back, Master.  They'll be back.  If
you're really worried, send one or two of your toys
after them."

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Velda.
You do have a fiendish turn of mind.  What would I do
without you?"

You'd probably be doing five to ten in the state pen,
she thought, but wisely said nothing.

*  *  *

"You've got to be kidding me," said Scully.  "There is
no way that car seats four, let alone five."

Bobby's red convertible gleamed under the parking lot
lights.  The top was down and Scully thought it looked
adorable--and uncomfortable as hell.

"It's not that bad, Scully, and less dangerous than
driving our car.  That spare tire could blow at any
time."

Just because Mulder was right didn't mean that she
had to like it.  Scully climbed into the back seat
and sat beside Gerry.  He waggled his eyebrows at
her suggestively and she gave him a look that would
freeze lava.  The chastened Gerry looked away.

"I don't suppose you'd sit on my lap, Scully,"
offered Mulder.

"I'll pass," was her frosty reply.

"It was worth a shot," he muttered as he folded
himself into the backseat with Scully and Gerry.

"Are you sure you don't want the front seat, mister?"
asked Carol.

Mulder wheezed, "No, I'm fine.  If you could move the
seat forward, though, I'd appreciate it."  Carol moved
it as far forward as it would go and he breathed a sigh
of relief when he could move his legs.

Bobby and Carol got in and the car sped out of town and
down a narrow country road edged with forest.
Civilization, such as it was, disappeared.  Scully
thought longingly of her grimy hotel room and its
narrow, bumpy bed.  She tried to sit back and get
comfortable but found that impossible.  She almost
regretted not taking Mulder up on his offer to sit
on his lap.  Using her elbows to jockey for position,
Scully found a sensitive spot in Mulder's ribs.  His
grunt of pain was very satisfying.

"Mulder, where are we going?" she shouted.

"Beats me."

Scully leaned forward.  The wind was whipping her hair
into disarray and she fought to keep it out of her eyes.
"Where are we going?" she shouted to Bobby.

Bobby turned back to her.  "It's not much further.
You see--"

"Look out!" yelled Scully.

Bobby whipped around and stomped on the brakes but a
sickening thud was evidence that he wasn't quick enough.

"Holy shit," cried Mulder, vaulting out of the car.

Scully clambered out behind him, wishing she'd been
smart enough to change into jeans before going to
dinner.  She could feel Gerry's eyes crawling all
over her backside.  No doubt he was looking up her
skirt.  She wished she could turn around and belt
him without losing her job.  If she had a job by
the time this night was over.

Scully couldn't imagine Skinner overlooking his two
favorite pain-in-the-ass agents running over a
pedestrian.  She didn't even want to think about
the shit detail this little incident would earn
them.

"Someone call an ambulance," she called out.  The
kids just stood in a huddle.

Mulder was already down on one knee beside the victim,
an older man, maybe in his fifties or sixties.  Scully
began checking for vital signs and was grateful when she
found a pulse.  She was glad that she wouldn't have to
add manslaughter to tonight's little adventure.  The
victim's arm appeared to be broken.  Through the
punctured skin she could see bone, but it looked strange
in the moonlight.  It seemed bent rather than broken.
Very, very strange.  She tried to tear his sleeve open
to get a better look, but at that moment the man woke.
He began to thrash about as Mulder tried to hold him down.

"You're not gonna be able to hold him," warned Gerry.
"They're way too fucking strong.  Scwarzenegger couldn't
hold one of those suckers down."

"What do you mean by 'they'?" shouted Mulder.  "They"
usually meant oddness in one form or another that just
begged to be investigated.  With his concentration
momentarily broken, Mulder's hold on the injured man
weakened.  The man leapt up and started to run away.

Bobby grabbed Mulder's arm and said, "There's no point
in trying to follow.  They're way too fast."

Mulder saw that was true. The man had disappeared into
the forest without a trace.  Nothing should be able to
move that fast, especially not injured.  Scully stood
up and joined him.

"Mulder, what the hell is going on here?" she asked.

"I don't know, Scully.  That thing wasn't human, was
it?"

"He had to be human.  What else could he have been?"
Still, she thought of the bone that wasn't bone and
shivered.

"You tell me, Scully."

She didn't reply.  It promised to be a long, long night.

Everybody but Scully turned to get back into the car.
"Aren't we going to report this?" she asked.

"Report what?" asked Mulder, folding himself like
origami in order to fit into the backseat.

"We just ran over a man, Mulder.  Doesn't that bother
you even a little?"

"It'd bother me more if there was a man still lying on
the pavement.  He didn't just walk away from the
accident--he ran.  I'm not sure about you, but I don't
want to explain how that happened to the local
authorities."

He had a point.  Scully resigned herself to the
inevitable and climbed back into the convertible.  She
heard Mulder's sharp intake of breath when her heel
struck his shin.  High heels did have their uses.

*   *   *


Chapter Three

"I've got a secret I've been hiding
Under my skin."
  Mr. Roboto--Styx



Bobby pulled off of the road and drove to edge of a
small cliff.  Mulder could see the lights of the small
town winking below and inwardly grinned.  This was
Make-Out Point.  Wonderful.  He was in the backseat of
a convertible with Scully at Make-Out Point.  Oh, to be
a teenager again.

Emitting a large, fake yawn, Mulder stretched, one arm
reaching out behind Scully's shoulders.  She gave him
a look that told he she wasn't fooled by his maneuver,
but still leaned her head back and laid it on his arm,
closing her eyes.  Now would be the time to kiss her,
he thought.  Mulder wanted to know what had these kids
frightened so badly, but right at that moment he wished
that he and Scully were alone in the car.  He looked
over and saw that Gerry was peering down Scully's
cleavage.

He gave Gerry's hair a sharp tug.

Gerry frowned and looked at the back of Bobby's headrest.
Mulder was satisfied.

Carol turned around in her seat.   "Well," she said,
"who wants to start?"

Bobby also turned around in his seat.  "I think Gerry
should.  After all, it happened to him first."

Gerry looked pleased to find all eyes on him.  Clearing
his throat dramatically, he began.  "The pretty women
and girls were first," he said.  "Whoever he is, he has
an eye for the ladies, I'll say that."

"What about Carol here?  She's pretty," pointed out
Scully.

"We're not sure why Carol's been left alone," said Gerry.
"Now where was I?  Oh yeah.  I think Sue Carter was
the first.  She went away to band camp and came back
changed."

"Changed?" asked Mulder.

"Yeah.  She used to be really outgoing and friendly.
Even to me.  But when she got back she was withdrawn
and wouldn't talk to anybody.  At first I thought maybe
she'd popped her cherry at camp or something.  I mean,
she had always been kinda high-strung--you never know.
But then it started happening to other girls in school,
one by one.  And also to the women in town.  Each one
would go out of town or be sick for a few days.  Each
one had a different reason for being out of commission,
and each one acted like a zombie when she got back.  My
mom was one of them."

"Yeah, his mom's a real looker," supplied Bobby earnestly.

"Shut up, dickweed.  That's my MOM you're talking about."
Gerry paused.  "WAS my mom," he corrected.  "That thing
living in my house isn't my mom anymore.  Anyway, the
pretty women weren't the only ones to disappear."  He
waved his hand toward Bobby.  "It's your turn, dude."

Bobby shoved a hand through his hair.  "The next to go
were the strong men.  My dad's a construction worker.
He said he had a big job in Harpersville and when he
came back he was also . . . changed.  He doesn't watch
football with me anymore, and he doesn't drink beer or
eat nachos like he used to.  All he does is sit and
stare at the wall.  He also gets all these weird phone
calls at all hours.  After the calls, he'll disappear
for days at a time.  Oh, and something else weird--I
saw him chug a quart of what I'll swear was motor oil."

Scully snorted.  She couldn't help herself.  "Motor
oil?  You've got to be kidding.  Drinking a quart of
it would land him in the hospital, if it didn't kill
him outright."

"I told you, lady, that . . . thing is not my dad, and
I'm pretty sure it's not human, either.  Look, let Carol
tell her part and maybe you'll see what we mean."

"The overweight people were the next to go. Only they
didn't show up later, changed, like the others.  They
just disappeared and didn't come back.  Dad, he's the
chief of police, started to investigate all the missing
persons cases.  Only I think he saw something he
shouldn't have, because he changed too.

"That isn't the worst part, however.  Mom's always
been sorta heavy.  When she told me she'd won a trip
to a weight-loss spa, I knew she wouldn't be coming
back.  I pleaded with her not to go, but she thought
I was nuts.  Besides, Dad was all fired-up to have her
go.  It was the first thing he'd shown any enthusiasm
for in days.  That alone told me something bad was
going to happen, but how was I supposed to know?"

"Know what?" asked Scully gently.  She wasn't buying
any of this, but the girl was obviously upset.  Perhaps
it was mass hysteria.  Maybe she could take a sample
of the water and send it in for testing.  Or perhaps
the local rye fields had become infected with the
fungus that produced lysergic acid.  It could be
anything.  Anything rational, that was.

"Well, Bobby and I decided to do a little investigating
of our own, so we hid in the bushes across the street
and saw Dad carry Mom out and put her in the car.  But
there is no way he could have done that before he
changed, especially not with his hernia.  Mom outweighed
Dad by at least fifty pounds."

Carol looked at Bobby.  "That wasn't him, was it, Bobby?
My dad couldn't have done that to my mom."

"Shhh," murmured Bobby, stroking the side of her face.
"It wasn't him, I promise.  Do you want me to tell the
rest?"

"No, I'll do it."  Carol sniffed loudly then continued.
"We followed them to The Lucky Dog Motor Inn and
watched them go into one of the rooms.  One of the
curtains over the windows was open a crack and we could
see through it.  It. . . was awful.  Awful.  There were
probably twenty or thirty people I recognized from town.
All of them had changed.  They stood around my mom and
at first I couldn't see what was going on.  Then Dad
pulled out a chain saw and he . . . cut . . . her . . .
up."

Here Carol began to hyperventilate.  Scully frantically
looked for some sort of bag.  She found a forgotten lunch
sack on the floor of the car and snatched at it.  She
divested it of its contents--two elderly Oreo cookies
and a petrified orange--and gave it to Carol to breathe
into.

"Honey, are you okay?" Scully asked.

"No, I am not all right," said Carol when she had regained
her breath.  "I saw my mom cut up by a bunch of things
pretending to be my dad and neighbors.  Then they ATE her."

Mulder made a face.  "They ate her?"

Bobby nodded.  "I saw it too, and wouldn't believe
either if I hadn't have.  It was so gross.  Everyone
in the room got a share.  I wanted to take Carol home
but she insisted on watching to see what was going to
happen."

"I didn't want the bastards to get away with it," she
said coldly.  "Not even my dad."

Scully wondered if Carol was experiencing delayed shock.
Her mood seemed to swing from weepy and emotional to a
rather cold hardness.  The girl would bear watching.

"A few minutes later," continued Bobby, "we saw this guy
in a cloak walking with Velda, the hotel owner, toward
where we were hiding.  For a second we thought she'd seen
us and was going to yell at us for trespassing."

"Yeah, Velda is a terrible grump," corroborated Gerry.

"But she and the guy with her went into the room.  All
of them in there were clustered around, practically
groveling at his feet.  Velda, too, and I've never seen
her give ground to anyone, not even the board of health."

"Well, that much is obvious," muttered Scully under
her breath.

"Then the guy in the cloak left and all the people--I
mean things--in the room followed him.  We tried to
follow but they moved too fast.  They were long gone
before we could even get to the car."

"Why am I not surprised that the woman from the hotel
is in on this, Scully?" asked Mulder.

Scully ignored him.  "So, did you recognize this guy
in the cloak?"

"No, ma'am," replied Bobby.  "But we don't get many
people around here in cloaks."

"We think that maybe he's from Harpersville," supplied
Carol.

"Why?" asked Mulder.

"He's definitely not from around here.  And there's all
sorts of freaks in Harpersville."

"Okay," said Scully slowly.   "Well, kids, this has been
fun, but I wonder if you drop us off back at our car.
I'd like to go to bed."

"You can't go yet. We haven't shown you what we came up
here to see," pleaded Bobby.

"Besides, Scully, we can't just go to back to the hotel
and go to bed," said Mulder.

"Why not?"  Scully demanded.  She was tired, damn it.

"Because Carol's mom was killed there.  We need to be
looking for evidence, not sleeping.  And besides, how
could you sleep there, knowing that a murder had taken
place?"

Scully could sleep anywhere just fine right now, but
she could bet that their return to the hotel would
involve looking for non-existent clues, not counting
sheep.  Mulder was going to owe her big time for this
one.

"Okay, fine, Mulder.  You win.  Now what are we
supposed to see up here?"

Gerry looked at his watch.  "It's just about that time,
Bobby," he said.

"Great.  We've got to get out of the car to see it.
Come on, it's this way."

Bobby led all of them to a point of the cliff with an
unobstructed view of the town below.  He pointed to a
large, dark mansion situated not far from The Lucky Dog
Motor Inn.  "That place has been vacant for years and
Gerry's mom sold it to someone from Harpersville just
before everyone started changing."

"She wouldn't tell me who it was," said Gerry. "Even
though everyone in town was dying to know who'd bought
the place, she wouldn't breathe a word.  Said she
promised to keep it confidential."

"It's got to be the cloaked guy who bought it," said
Bobby.

"That's quite the jump in logic, Bobby," said Scully.
There's no proof at all that the occupant of that
mansion is in anyway involved in what you say is going
on in this town."

"Scully, let's hear the kids out.  I believe them."

"Mulder, I haven't seen any evidence that a crime has
even been committed; how can I jump to the conclusion
that the person owning that house is a murderer?"

"You haven't seen the shipment yet," said Gerry.  "Make
up your mind after that."

"It's usually here by now," fretted Bobby.  "Where the
hell could it be?"

"There it is."  Carol pointed toward the road leading
into town.  "There's the semi."

"A semi?" asked Scully.  "That's it?"

"Wait and see where it's going."

They all waited and watched.  The semi pulled up behind
the large mansion and a dozen floodlights came on.

"Down there you can barely see the lights," explained
Gerry,  "because the house is set so far back from the
road, but from up here they stick out like a sore thumb."

The side of the semi plainly read "Radio Shack."

The driver got out and opened a door in the side of
the semi.  Someone came out of the house to greet him.
A conveyer from the semi was lowered to the back patio
of the mansion.  Numerous boxes went down the conveyor
and were meticulously checked in by the figure.  When
the delivery was over, the mysterious person handed
the driver something and then started taking the
boxes inside.  The semi driver got into his truck
and pulled away.

"Is there a Radio Shack in town?"

"Actually, yes, there is.  It's in the plaza with
the dry-cleaner and the Baskin-Robbins.  That's one
of the reasons why we find the shipment so weird.
He gets one every night at this time like clockwork.
Who could need that much shit from Radio Shack?"

"I'm guessing the person getting that shipment is up
to something more sinister than building a ham radio,"
murmured Mulder.

"This still doesn't prove anything," said Scully with
her arms crossed.

"Can we at least investigate it?"

"Couldn't this wait until morning?" Scully countered.

"How about we go back to the motel and take a peek in
the room where Carol saw her mother murdered?  If
there's no evidence at all, you can go to sleep and
we'll hit the road one way or another tomorrow morning.
Is it a deal?"

"It'll do, Mulder."

"Guys, I've got to take a piss, Gerry said.  "You think
you can survive without my presence for a few minutes?
I'll meet you back at the car."

"I think we'll struggle through, Gerry.  Don't squat in
the poison ivy," teased Carol.

"I'm a guy.  We don't have to squat."

"Just go, Gerry.  We'll be fine without you."

"No one loves me," mourned Gerry as he sauntered off,
whistling a jaunty tune.

*  *  *

"Where are they, Velda?  You promised me they'd be here.
I don't like people who break their promises."

"I'm on it, Master.  They do say patience is a virtue."

"I'm an evil genius, Velda.  I don't need virtues."

"Right.  You've got me there, Master."

"Now you find those two hotel guest of yours and bring
them back, damn it!"

"I told you I'm on it, Master.  I've got number
twenty-three and number fifteen monitoring them."

"All right then.  Now we're getting somewhere."  He
poked the empty pizza box disconsolately.  "I don't
suppose you've got anything to eat around here.  I'm
still hungry."

"There's some ice cream in the freezer, Master."

"That'll do," conceded the master grudgingly.  Armed
with a spoon, he made his way to the freezer.  "Aw,
Velda, couldn't you have at least gotten the Ben and
Jerry's?"

"Until your evil scheme starts paying off, Master,
generic ice cream will have to do."

The master grumpily began to eat the ice cream,
staring at the monitor for number twenty-three.
Velda hoped that the ice cream would hold out until
number twenty-three located her missing guests.  She
hated it when the master got into one of his moods,
and this one promised to be a doozy.  Really.
Catering for an evil genius was harder work that it
looked.  It would be worth it in the end, though.
Velda thought of the red-haired woman and smiled as
she poured chocolate syrup on Master's ice cream.
Yes, even crappy jobs like hers had their
compensations.


*  *  *


Chapter Four

"My heart is human, my blood is boiling,
My brain IBM."
  Mr. Roboto--Styx



"I can't believe it," whispered Scully to Mulder.
She looked at Bobby and Carol with horrified
fascination.

"It's a classic survival response in the face of
death, Scully," murmured Mulder.  His lips lightly
grazed Scully's ear and she shivered.  What was he
up to now?

"But still," she insisted, "I can't believe they're
doing it right in front of us."

"This is Make-Out Point, Scully.  They're two
hormonally charged teenagers caught in a stressful
situation.  It's only natural that they would
want to release some tension."

Mulder's mouth left Scully's ear and traveled slowly
down the curve of her neck.  Scully was too surprised
to object.  Her brain whirled, desperately trying to
compute what was going on.  "Mulder," she asked,
"what are you doing?"

"Releasing tension," he replied as his lips met hers,
effectively silencing any protests that Scully's brain
might be cooking up.

Mulder was just getting down to business when the small
part of his brain that wasn't intent on Scully heard a
crunch.  He lifted his head to listen and felt Scully
stiffen beside him.

"What was that?" she asked.  She saw that Bobby and
Carol had also broken apart and were staring off into
the distance with wide-eyed horror.

The sound came again.  CRUNCH.  It was like someone
chewing his way through a gigantic spoonful of Grape
Nuts.  Scully shivered again, and this time it wasn't
in a good way.  All of her rational explanations for
the kids' story were packing their bags and catching
flights out of town.

"Gerry," shouted Bobby.  "Oh, shit, they've gotten Gerry."

Mulder was the first to break the paralysis that held the
four of them rooted in place.  He jumped out of the car
with Scully scrambling out right behind him.

CRUNCH.

Mulder and Scully ran toward the sound with Bobby and
Carol on their heels.  They didn't have to run very far--
through a copse of trees Scully could see two figures
crouched.  She and Mulder pulled out their guns and
approached more cautiously.

Once through the trees, Scully saw a smartly dressed
woman clutching Gerry's leg in both of her manicured
hands.  Gerry's leg, Scully noticed, was no longer
attached to Gerry.  The woman was tearing into it
with great gusto.  Without even having to think,
Scully brought up her gun and screamed, "Freeze!"

The woman looked up from her snack and smiled, showing
sharpened, bloody teeth.  "Good," she said.  "Good.
It's you.  Good."

She tossed Gerry's half-eaten leg aside and stood up.

"I said, 'Freeze,'" repeated Scully.  "Don't come any
closer or I'll shoot!"

"Oh my God," she heard Bobby say.  "It's my history
teacher."

The woman came toward them eagerly.  Scully shot her
in the shoulder but the bullet didn't seem to faze the
creature at all. Scully shot her again in the leg,
only to hear a "ping" as the bullet ricocheted off
what sounded like metal.  This is crazy, Scully
thought.

Mulder had apparently decided that it was time to go
for a vital shot.  He put three bullets in a close
grouping right where the woman's heart should have
been.  Blood poured out of her but still she came
towards them inexorably.

Scully's mind flashed back to the previous night.  The
man--all right, let's be honest, the vampire--had held
Mulder with a death grip.  Scully had shot him in the
chest twice and the shots should have been fatal but
weren't.  As Mulder had said later, how can you kill
what's already dead?

Scully wasn't sure if she could kill this thing, but
she had a damn good idea how to slow it down.  She
aimed for the woman's neck and began firing.   Mulder
soon followed suit.  Sparks flew as the shots ripped
into her. It took seven bullets, but finally they
severed the woman's head from her body.

Scully lowered her arms to her sides and her gun
slipped from her numb fingers.  She went over to
Gerry and examined him.

Bobby dropped down on his haunches beside Scully.
"Oh, God," he said, swallowing bile.  "Gerry, oh,
Jesus. . . you'll be okay.  We'll get you to the
hospital and you'll be just fine. . ."  Bobby kept
talking to Gerry even though it was already too
late--Scully could see that he was already dead.

"He's gone, Bobby," she said.  "I'm sorry."

Carol, hovering over Bobby and Scully, began sobbing.
Bobby rose to comfort her.

Scully sat back on her heels and sighed. She was
exhausted and covered in Gerry's blood.  She wanted
to lie next to Gerry and just sleep until all of
this went away, but instead she stood up and went
over to the body of the woman.

"Don't you own a suit just like that one, Scully?"
Mulder asked.

Scully grunted noncommittally.  She did own a suit
just like the one on the woman at her feet and she
vowed to burn it when she got home.  If she ever got
home.

"Here, look at this."  Mulder handed her the woman's
head.  "I think this might be the evidence you were
looking for."

Scully turned the head around and peered inside.
Instead of gray matter, Scully saw only circuitry
and wires.

"A robot?" she asked.

"A cyborg, I think," said Mulder.  "Part living
tissue, part machine."

"But they don't exist . . ." Scully stopped.  She
should know better by now, she thought.  "Okay,
fine.  Cyborgs," she said.  "We've given them a
name, what do we do about them?"

"For starters, you could put me down."

Scully was so startled that she nearly dropped the
head.  Carefully she turned it around and looked at
the face.  It looked pretty mad.

"Mulder," Scully asked, "what the hell do you make
of this?"

"I guess we didn't kill it."

"I don't think it's alive, Mulder.  More likely this is
just a glorified computer in a flesh casing.  Rather
like a more sophisticated version of the animatronics
you see at Disney World."

"I can't believe you're comparing me to a glorified
puppet. It's bad enough that you shot off my head.
There's no need to be insulting," the head snapped.

"Well, then what are you?" asked Mulder.

"I've been enhanced by the master.  Thanks to him I'm
stronger and better than I ever was as a human.  He
perfected me."  The face frowned.  "Then you had to
go and ruin it all.  I didn't even get to finish my
meal."

"Ms. Robards, I can't believe you tried to eat Gerry.
And to think I nominated you for Teacher of the Year,"
said Bobby.

"Gerald was a terrible student, Bobby, but as a snack,
he was perfect."  The head licked its blood-covered lips.

Scully tossed the head to Mulder.  "Ugh.  You hold it."

"I thought I'd never seen the day that Dr. Scully would
be squeamish about body parts."

"I'm hardly squeamish, Mulder, but talking decapitated
heads is where I draw the line.  She's all yours."

"Ow!"

"What is it?"

"She bit me."

"She must have a taste for roguish men."

"Damn it, Scully, this isn't funny."  Mulder pried the
head's teeth from his finger and shook the head firmly.
"Look here," he said.  "We don't have to be nice.
There may be laws against police brutality but no one
ever said anything about kicking electronics around.
So if you don't want the four of us to use you for a
soccer ball, be good."

"The master is coming for you, you know."

"Who is this 'master' person?"

"Oh, you'll see soon enough.  He has plans for you.
Big plans."

"Plans for us?  What plans?"

"It's not for me to know.  The master is all knowing.
His will shall prevail, and his will is to have you."

"Well the master better get used to disappointment.  Not
to mention prison.  Whatever he's doing, it's bound to
be illegal."

The head laughed.  "You are foolish if you think you can
withstand the master.  He will show you the true way."

"The true way involves being turned into a machine and
eating people?  I'll pass," said Scully.

"You'll see," said the head with a wink.  "He'll show
you."

"We're not going to learn anything from her," said Carol.
"She'll do anything to protect him."

"Carol's probably right, Scully.  We should stow the
head somewhere so we can send it to Langly and Frohike
to dissect."

Scully tapped her lip thoughtfully.  "I suppose we
could Fed Ex it in the morning."

"Good idea - OW!"

Mulder had been holding the head by its hair so that it
dangled in the air around the vicinity of his knees.
The head had been looking for some sort of opportunity
and saw Mulder's leg as her ticket to freedom.  She had
sunk her teeth in when the moment was right and clamped
down as hard as she could.

Scully and Bobby grabbed onto her hair and tried to pull
her off of Mulder's leg.  Meanwhile Mulder attempted to
pry her jaw open.  Suddenly, with a tearing sound, Scully
and Bobby managed to pull the head off.  The momentum
carried Scully backward, and she tottered near the edge
of the cliff.  Bobby grabbed at her and Scully scrambled
for purchase.  In the struggle, Scully lost her grip on
the head and it tumbled down the cliff.

"Damn," she said.  "That's another piece of evidence
lost."

"Forget the head," said Mulder.  "We'll look for it
tomorrow.  It's not like it's going anywhere on its
own."  He had his hand clamped over his leg and blood
streamed through his fingers.  "I don't suppose you
have some bandages on you?"

"Hold on a second."  Scully dashed to the car and
when she came back, she was armed with her purse.
From it she withdrew gauze, a tube of antibiotic cream,
and tape.

"I'm impressed, Scully.  Who gave you that purse?
Mary Poppins?"

"Very funny, Mulder.  After being around you this long
I'm prepared for anything."

"Even talking decapitated heads?" asked Mulder.

"Maybe not that. Drop 'em."

"Drop what?"

"Lower you pants, Mulder.  I need to look at that wound."

It was hard to tell in the moonlight, but Scully thought
that Mulder might have blushed.  "Out here in front of
God and everybody?"

"Carol," said Scully, "turn around.  There.  Problem
solved."

Reluctantly, Mulder unbuckled his belt and lowered his
trousers.  "How bad is it?" he asked.  "It hurts like a
son of a bitch."

"It's nothing a little Neosporin won't cure," she said,
placing a gauze pad over the shallow wound and covering
it with tape.  "It won't even need stitches.  Your pants,
on the other hand, are beyond repair."

"Will you kiss my wound and make it better?"

"I'd only introduce more bacteria into the area, Mulder.
There, all done.  You'll live."

"What would I do without you, Scully?"

"My guess is that you'd be dead in a ditch somewhere."
Scully packed the tape and gauze back into her purse.
"I really think we should look for that head," she said.
"What if a wild animal takes off with it?"

"Well, I'd feel bad about losing evidence, but I won't
lie and say I'd shed any tears if she gets mauled by a
rabid woodchuck.  I was kind of looking forward to
sending it to the guys, though.  I'd love to see their
faces when they--"

"Look, are we going to just stand around and talk or
are we going to do something?" asked Carol.  "We
shouldn't be wasting our time searching in the weeds
for that head.  We should go investigate the mansion.
I'm sure there's lots of evidence there you can use."

"Good point, Carol.  We can investigate the creepy
mansion then go and check out the motel."

"Mulder, we can't just go and invade this mansion.  We
don't have probable cause or a search warrant.  And I'm
not sure why this can't wait until morning."

"You heard the head, Scully.  This 'master' person has
'big plans' for us.  Our hotel rooms aren't safe.
Besides, how could you sleep while this mad scientist
wannabe is turning people into man-eating robots?  Also,
I didn't say invade.  I said investigate."

"What if someone's home at the mansion?"

"We'll go and knock on the front door.  If someone's
there, we'll interview them.  If no one's there, we'll
look around."

Scully sighed.  Well, when he put it that way. . .
"All right.  We'll look around the mansion.  If we
don't find anything, we'll wait until morning, look
for the head, and see about getting a search warrant.
Deal?"

Mulder put one arm behind his back and crossed his
fingers.  "It's a deal, Scully."

"What about Gerry?" asked Bobby.

"I don't think he's going anywhere," said Mulder.

"No, I just mean that it doesn't seem right to just
leave him up here," he said.  "I've got a tarp in the
trunk.  We can wrap him up and take him with us."

Like a gigantic doggy bag, thought Scully darkly.
"Bobby," she said, "we can't disturb the crime scene.
And we need to call the police and report this."

"You can't report this!" exclaimed Carol.

"Why not?" asked Scully.

"Dad is the chief of police and he's one of Them!
Calling the police won't do any good.  Why don't we
just cover him with the tarp and get out of here?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," said Mulder.  "Any
objections, Scully?"

Scully pondered.  Crime scene photos needed to be
taken but her camera was miles away, in the trunk
of the rental.  The body would need to be taken to
a morgue, and Scully guessed the closest one was in
Harpersville.  Gerry would just have to wait until
tomorrow, she thought.

"I've got plenty of objections, Mulder, but I don't
think any of them will do us a damn bit of good.
Bobby, go get the tarp."  She sighed.  "Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we having fun yet?"

"Not yet, Scully, but when the fun starts happening,
I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Mulder.  I knew I could count on you."


*  *  *


"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"  The master threw his bowl and
it shattered against the wall, leaving a trail of
melted vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce that
didn't go entirely badly with the wallpaper.

Velda, standing behind him, didn't say a word.  She
just winced every time number twenty-three's head hit
a bump and bounced as it tumbled down the face of the
cliff.  Such a pity.  Such a waste.

"Go retrieve the head," said the master bitterly.  "We
might as well see what we can salvage."

"Yes, Master. Do you want me to bring back the body as
well?"

"No point.  The body's ruined--there's no way I could
reattach the head successfully.  I suppose we could
recycle her metal."  The master pondered this. "Nah.
Evil masterminds wouldn't recycle."

"Good point, Master.  Is there anything else you want?"

"Send in number thirty-two."

"Are you sure, Master?"

"That was an order, Velda."

Velda gave a little grimace of distaste.  "Whatever
turns you on."  She turned to a brightly lit control
panel and pushed a number of buttons.  "Taken care of,
Master."

"Excellent.  Now go get that head."

Velda rooted around until she found number twenty-
three's remote control hidden under an empty pizza
box.  The master would never learn to clean up after
himself.  She turned it on and saw the location of
twenty-three's head depicted on the small screen as
a flashing red dot.

On her way out the door Velda grabbed a brightly
flowered bowling bag.  It wouldn't do for her to be
seen walking down the street with a head tucked under
her arm.  Not at all.


*  *  *


Chapter Five

"I'm just a man who needed someone,
And somewhere to hide."
  Mr. Roboto--Styx



As they drove by The Lucky Dog Motor Inn on their way
to the mysterious mansion, Scully looked longingly at
her hotel room.  There was a bed in there.  The sheets
were probably musty and the bedspread would have
cigarette holes in it but it would be a bed, by God.
A bed.  Scully turned her head away and looked straight
ahead.  No point in wishing for the unobtainable.

Bobby pulled to a stop within sight of the house, but
far enough back to try and remain inconspicuous.  As
inconspicuous as a red convertible could be, at any rate.
They all got out and stared at the mansion.

"You kids should probably stay here.  Scully and I will
investigate."

"No way, mister.  I think we should stick together,"
said Bobby as he wrapped a protective arm around Carol.

Mulder looked at Carol, who was dry-eyed and resolute.
"I just want this to end," she said.

"It's too dangerous.  I don't want anyone getting hurt.
Just stay here and wait for us to get back."

Mulder marched up the front steps of the porch with
Scully beside him.  The mansion felt empty to him.
It was just a hunch, but he predicted that no one
would come to the door and answer their knock.

On the door was a huge brass knocker.  Mulder gave the
door a few very loud bangs.  Nothing.

"Mulder, what if the occupants are asleep in their beds
like normal people?"

"Normal people don't get shipments from Radio Shack in
the middle of the night." He knocked again, louder this
time.  Still nothing.

"Okay," Mulder said.  "Time to do this the old-fashioned
way."

He turned around headed around to the back of the mansion.
Scully trailed behind.  Mulder shone his flashlight on
the foundation.

"What are we supposed to be looking for?" hissed Scully.

"A way in."

"Wait a minute, Mulder.  We're supposed to be looking
around the mansion.  That means the area outside of it,
not breaking in and taking the grand tour."

"If you didn't want to be a party to some good ol'
B and E, Scully, then why did you agree to my plan?"

"I didn't realize you were going to take a broad
interpretation of what I said.  This could get us in
a lot of trouble.  I want to be on record as protesting
this."

"Duly noted.  Now do you want me to leave you here?"

"No."  Scully sounded shocked.

"Then pipe down and give me a hand."

Mulder was delicately prying away the putty from a
basement window with his pocketknife.  Knowing she was
already in this mess up to her armpits, Scully sighed
and helped Mulder pry the window open.  When the glass
was free, Mulder shone his flashlight into the dark
opening.

"Are you ready?"

"No, but I doubt that'll make any difference," grumbled
Scully.

"Okay, then, let's go."


*  *  *


"I heard where they're going."

Velda held number twenty-three's head and peered into
its mechanism.

"Did you?  Play it back for me."

The head's eyes rolled back and a whirring noise was
heard.  When it was done rewinding, the head looked at
Velda and the mouth moved, but what came out was a
man's voice.  "Now I've always been a big one for
going to the source of the problem.  I think we need
to go investigate the mansion in town.  Then we can
check out the motel.  Any objections?"

Velda smiled.  "Good work, number twenty-three."  She
put the head in the bowling bag and marched back to
her car.  There was a lot of work to be done.


*  *  *

"I can't believe they left us behind," complained
Carol.

"I know.  But they're FBI agents.  They don't want
two kids hanging around."

"Still, Bobby, I don't think it's fair."  She paused
with her head cocked, and was silent for some time.

Bobby shook her arm.  "Carol?  Are you okay?"

"What?  Oh, yeah, I was just thinking.  We should
follow them into the house.  I think we could help
them."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Bobby, his
voice tinged with doubt.

"Oh, come on, Bobby!  Don't be a wuss."  She grabbed
his wrist and together they marched toward the mansion
on the hill.

*  *  *

Scully and Mulder scanned the room with their
flashlights and stared in amazement.

"It looks like the movie 'Frankenstein' threw up all
over the place," commented Mulder.

He moved toward the wall and flipped on the light
switch, bathing the room in fluorescent white light.
Mulder and Scully put away their flashlights and
began investigating the room.   It was piled from
floor to ceiling with electronic components, strange
machinery, and junk food wrappers.

Scully found a large pile of correspondence and began
to read through it.  Apparently one Karl von Stroheim
had been trying to submit a paper to various scientific
journals.  She found a sheaf of rejection letters with
various curses scrawled on them in red Magic Marker.
Picking one of the letters at random, she began to
read.

"Hey, Scully!  Look at this!"

Scully looked up to see Mulder with his hands held
to a metal sphere.  His hair stood up in a spiky
nimbus around his head.  "Aren't you supposed to
be looking for evidence, Mulder?"

"What is this thing, anyway?"

"It's a Van de Graaf's generator, and the only thing
it's evidence of is Karl's bad taste in gadgets."

"Karl?" asked Mulder, moving on to the next bizarre
piece of equipment.

"I think our mad scientist here is Karl von Stroheim.
Judging by the contents of this room, he's bound to be
a bit deranged, but I haven't seen any reason to think
he's up to anything illegal."  Unlike us, she thought.
We're flagrantly breaking the law.  "Mulder, don't
touch the Tessla Coil.  You're going to electrocute
yourself."

He turned it on anyway, and watched the blue spark of
electricity play over the wires.  "Cool," he said.
"I wonder if I could get one of these for my apartment.
Maybe Frohike could hook me up."

Scully decided to leave him to his own devices.  She
just hoped that she wouldn't have to drag his charred
corpse out of there later.  It would be very hard to
explain to Skinner what had happened.

She concentrated instead on the letter.   After she
had read it through twice, she flipped through the
other letters and scanned them as well.  "This is
interesting, Mulder," she said.

"What is?" he asked, opening drawers in the workbench
and rummaging through them.  "So far all I've found are
some chicken nuggets, half a Snickers bar, and an empty
box of Fiddle Faddle.  This guy sure likes his junk food."

"Listen to this," said Scully.  "'Dear Sir, we regret
to inform you that we cannot publish your article at
this or any time.  We consider our journal to be one
of a serious and scientific nature, while your research
is frivolous and downright silly.  We, at The Lancet,
have frankly not stopped laughing since reading your
submission.  This is the best entertainment any of us
has had in years.  Perhaps you might try submitting
your work to a tabloid paper.  We hear they pay well
for stories such as yours.  In closing, we wish you
luck and that you not contact us again.'"

"That's harsh," replied Mulder.

"There's about a dozen more like that over here, all
in a similar vein."

"Are there any copies of the article he was trying to
publish?"

Scully searched through the papers one more time and
shook her head.

"Damn.  Do any of the rejections go into detail about
his experiments?"

"Not really."  Scully put the rejections down.  "These
don't prove anything, Mulder.  There are thousands of
scientists who can't get their papers published.  All
these rejections prove is that the scientific journals
find his theories to be..."

"Unsound?" interjected Mulder.

"For lack of a better word, yes.  That's hardly unique.
There are a lot of crackpots in the scientific
community."

"Then keep looking.  There's got to be something down
here to prove he's turning people into robots."

"Too bad we still don't have that head, Mulder."

"I don't know about that," he said with a grimace.  "I
don't miss it at all."

Scully ran a hand through her hair.  "Look, I don't
think we're getting anywhere here.  This is just some
guy's basement hobby room.  To do the kind of procedure
that you suspect is going on, he'd have to have a
fully functional operating room."

"What about all those shipments from Radio Shack?"

"What about them?"

"They've got to be around here someplace.  I think that
what we're looking at here is just window dressing.  We
need to search the rest of the house."

"Couldn't we just wait until tomorrow?"

"We should strike now, while the iron is hot, Scully.
No rest for the wicked."  Mulder walked over to the
door that led out of the workroom and held it open
for Scully.

"If that's true, Mulder, then it's amazing you get any
sleep at all."

Mulder just chuckled and followed her out the door.

*  *  *

The master crunched on pork rinds as he watched the
monitors in front of him.  Velda's guests, one Fox
Mulder and one Dana Scully, were heading deeper
into his house.  Excellent.  Number fifteen was
already in pursuit of them.  Even better.

Everything was going swimmingly.

The master brushed crumbs off of his chest and
grinned.  Those two would be his specimens before
the sun came up.

With Fox Mulder and Dana Scully added to his
collection, it would be less than a year and
he would be in the black.  A future of champagne
and gourmet ice cream stretched before him.  Life
was sweet.

* * *

Mulder and Scully wandered through the rabbit warren
that was Karl von Stroheim's basement, searching the
rooms for evidence.

"Well, he hasn't done a good job of separating his
colors from his whites," commented Scully, examining
the laundry room.

"No one's perfect.  Why don't you finish checking
this room while I go further down the hall?"

"Sure," murmured Scully.  Thankful for her vinyl gloves,
she screwed up her courage and stuck her hand in one of
the laundry baskets to hunt for evidence.  She'd found
six dollars and forty-two cents, a parking ticket from
last year, and candy wrappers galore when she heard
Mulder shout her name.

"Mulder?"  She asked, hurrying toward the sound of his
voice.  She turned a corner in the hallway and stopped.
"Oh, my."

On the door in front of her was a sign, "Karl's Secret
Laboratory."  Below that was another sign, this one
bearing a pig in a mud puddle.  "Bless This Mess."

"I'm starting to like this guy, said Mulder, his hand
on the doorknob.  It turned easily in his hand and he
started to open the door.  "Are you ready, Scully?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."  She had her gun drawn, and as
Mulder flung the door open and pierced the darkness with
his flashlight, she prepared to shoot anything that
came at them.

Much to her relief, nothing did.  Mulder found the wall
light switch and flipped it on.  Scully put away her
gun as the overhead lights flickered into life.  When
the room was bathed in harsh purplish-white light,
Mulder and Scully looked around themselves in
astonishment.

"This is it," said Scully.  "This is the place."

Mulder just nodded.  The room was large--too large
to be contained under the house.  It had to be
carved into the hillside the mansion rested on.  In
one half of the room a crude operating area had
been constructed.  The other half was filled with
countless cardboard boxes and computer equipment.
There was a door barred with a padlocked latch on
the far side of the room.  Mulder moved toward it
while Scully gravitated toward the surgical equipment.

He picked the lock on the door in short order and
flung it open.  It turned out to be not a room, but
walk-in cold storage.  There was no light so he
brought out his flashlight again and shone it into
the area.  Swallowing bile, he called out to Scully.

Scully was by his side in mere moments.  He heard
her sharp intake of breath as she caught sight of
the storage room's occupants.

"How many are there?" she asked, her breath coming
out in short puffs of steam that hung on the frigid
air.

"I don't know," Mulder replied.  Side by side, they
walked deeper into the freezer, counting.  "Ten on
my side."

"Eleven on mine."  Scully shivered.  The chill she
felt was only partially due to the temperature of
the freezer.  She hadn't wanted to believe that any
of it was true.  Even while inspecting the surgical
equipment, she'd been formulating rational
explanations for it all.  Now she was staring at
proof positive:  twenty-one bodies stacked on shelves
that lined the walls.  Some of the bodies were whole,
while others were works in progress, with hideous
combinations of metal and flesh poking out of still
open incisions.  "God, it can't be real."

"It's real enough," said Mulder, sounding bleak.

*  *  *

As they moved deeper into the basement of his house,
the master had lost sight of his quarry on the
monitors.  Impatient for knowledge of the their
whereabouts, he went over to his computer to
communicate with number fifteen.

Bringing up the program, he typed, "Where are they?"

Number fifteen's reply marched across his screen.
"They've entered the lab, Master."

"Excellent, number fifteen.  Stay where you are--I'm
sending Velda your way to help you.  Between the two
of you I expect you not to fuck it up.  I'm counting
on you, number fifteen.  Don't let me down."

"No, Master, never.   Never, ever, never."

"That's quite enough.  Now sit tight."

The master logged out of the program and called
Velda's cell phone.

"What is it?" she snapped.

"Velda, you should know better."  The master sounded
deeply wounded.

Velda sighed.  "I'm sorry, Master.  What is your
bidding?"

"Number fifteen has our two pigeons caged in the
laboratory.   How far away are you from the house?"

"Ten minutes, tops."

"Well get your ass over there and get them for me,
Velda."

"Yes, Master," she grumped.

"Watch that attitude, Velda," said the master, and
hung up.  Really, it was so hard to find good help
these days.

*  *  *

Scully had gone into scientist mode.  "I've got to
see how he's doing this."

"I'll just go over there and check out the computer,
okay?" asked Mulder, not wanting to play lab assistant
while Scully went about her grisly investigations.

"Whatever," she said absently.  "Would you help me move
this body onto a gurney before you escape?"  She
unwrapped a particularly mutilated form.

Eyes averted, Mulder complied, then gratefully fled to
the computer while Scully pushed the gurney to the
surgical area.  He turned on the computer and waited
impatiently for it to boot up.  Mulder hadn't the
foggiest idea where to search--he wasn't even sure
what he was looking for.  A folder marked "security"
looked promising so he clicked on it and was surprised
when a diagram of the mansion popped up.  He saw that
there seemed to be a room off of the one they were in,
but the wall it was beyond didn't have a door in it.
He was musing on the possibility of a secret passage
when a red flashing warning appeared on the screen.

"Car approaching!"

Mulder clicked on the warning and a window opened up,
showing the outside of the house.  He could see a Ford
Pinto pulling into the driveway.

"Oh, shit!  Scully!  We've got to get out of here."

Scully looked up from the body.  "This is just amazing,
Mulder.  I wouldn't have thought it possible, but--"

"Scully, someone's coming.  I just saw it on the
computer."

She looked around them with wide eyes.  "There's nowhere
to go, Mulder."

"Well we can't just stay here.  We need to find
somewhere to hide, at least."

Scully tore at the mask and surgical gown she had
donned earlier.  In seconds she was free and
following Mulder out the door of the laboratory.
A few turns down the corridor and Scully spotted a
staircase she hadn't noticed earlier.

"Do you think we could risk it?" she asked.

"Maybe, if we're--" Mulder was interrupted by the
slam of a door.  The person had entered the house.
Mulder and Scully started toward the stairs when the
stairwell was flooded with light.  "Oh, shit," said
Mulder.  "They're coming down here."

"Look," hissed Scully.  There's a closet under the
stairs.  We could hide in there."

It seemed as good a plan as any, so they hurried over
to it, opened the door, and shut themselves into the
darkness.  Hardly daring to breathe, they waited.

*  *  *

Velda, having found the laboratory deserted and
number fifteen nowhere in sight, went from room to
room, switching on lights and thoroughly searching
each one.  Where was number fifteen anyway?  Useless
robot.

Velda found number fifteen in the master's playroom.
"What're you doing here?" she demanded.

Number fifteen pointed toward the window.  "That's
where they got in.  I thought they might go out the
same way."

Velda shook her head.  Stupid robot.  "They're hiding,
fifteen.  Biding their time.  We've got to flush them
out.  Come on and help me find them.  Waiting here
won't do any good.  Master isn't gonna be happy if
we fuck this up."

Both woman and robot shuddered.  The master's anger
was not to be contemplated.

"Yes, Velda," said number fifteen.  "Let's find them.
The sooner, the better."

*  *  *

Scully hadn't gotten a good look at what was in the
closet before she and Mulder had rushed in.  Boxes
and cleaning equipment, if her impressions were
correct.  It smelled faintly of bleach and dust,
making Scully's nose crinkle up with the need to
sneeze.  She held her breath, hoping the urge would
pass, but instead the itch got worse and worse.  She
put her face in the crook of her arm and tried to
stifle the sneeze as much as possible.

"Are you all right?" asked Mulder softly.

"No," she whispered back.  "I'm going to sneeze again."

Mulder enfolded her in his arms and put his back to
the door of the closet.  He hit his head on the
ceiling and stifled the urge to cry out.

"Mulder, what are you doing?" hissed Scully.

"Sneeze on me.  I'll muffle the sound."  Mulder
surrounded her as much as possible, trying to be
human soundproofing.  Scully buried her nose in his
chest and breathed slowly.  The urge to sneeze
passed and Scully became aware of how close she was
to Mulder.  When was the last time they had been
this close?  She couldn't remember.

Scully tried to take a step back and found she
couldn't.  "Mulder...I'm okay now," she whispered.

Mulder didn't step back.

"Uh, Mulder--"

"I'm sorry, Scully," he said into her hair, "but I'm
afraid to move.  I don't want to knock something over."

That made sense.  She felt so awkward, though.  She
didn't know where to put her hands, for instance.
She put one out for balance and grazed Mulder's leg.
He flinched and she quickly withdrew her hand.  The
movement put her off balance and she tottered on her
high heels.  Mulder embraced her again and this time
Scully clung to him, fearing to fall in this pitch-
black space.  Giving up, Scully leaned into him and
closed her eyes from weariness.

"Mulder, I'm so tired," she murmured, stifling a yawn.

"I'm sorry, Scully," he replied, resting his chin on
her head.  "I owe you a week's worth of sleep for
this."

"I've heard that before."

"I mean it this time."

Mulder smoothed her hair with one hand and rubbed
her back with the other.  Scully was so tired that
she felt she could fall asleep right there.  Mulder
smelled so nice, and it was very warm in the little
closet.  As if she were in a dream, she felt his lips
find her forehead and trail a path down to her eyes
and nose.  'A very nice dream,' she thought, and
sighed with contentment.  Mulder's lips dipped down
to capture hers and she saw stars bloom behind her
tightly shut eyes.   In the drowsy darkness it seemed
the most natural thing in the world for her to bury
her hands in his hair and pull him closer.  He groaned
into her mouth and somewhere in the back of her mind
she realized that this was not a dream after all.
Scully pulled back and drew in a ragged breath.
Mulder bent his head and grazed his lips along her
throat.

"Mulder..." she sighed.

"What are you two up to?" asked a voice as the closet
door was flung open.  Mulder and Scully were blinded
by the light poring in through the doorway.  Scully
threw up a hand to shield it from the glare.

"Carol," she said in relief.  "What are you doing in
here?  We told you and Bobby to stay outside."

"Get in here," said Mulder.  "Someone's searching the
house.  I don't want any of us being found."

Carol giggled.  "Too late."  She put two fingers into
her mouth and let out a piercing whistle.  "Velda!
I've found them."

Before either Mulder or Scully could react, Velda
came around the corner.  In one hand she held a very
large pistol.  "Good work, number fifteen," she said.
"Master will be very pleased."

Velda looked at Mulder and Scully with suspicion.
They had ordered separate rooms, but here were the
two of them, hidden in a closet and standing very
close to one another.  Granted, the closet was small,
requiring that the two be friendly, but that didn't
explain the love bite on the woman's neck.

Velda ground her teeth.  It wasn't fair.  All the
good ones were always taken.  Well, not this time.
Before either Mulder or Scully could react, Velda
grabbed Scully by the hair and dragged her out of the
closet and buried the muzzle of the gun in the base
of her throat.

"No!" Mulder shouted, starting to lunge toward Velda.

She brought him up short.  "Cooperate, Mr. Mulder, or
I'll kill your little friend here.  Carol--get the
ether."

Scully tried to break free, but Velda had too firm a
grip on her hair.

Mulder clenched his hands into fists.  He felt helpless
seeing Scully held at gunpoint and he hated feeling
helpless.

"Let her go," he said.  "You don't want to do this."

"Shut up.  We've got plans for the two of you."

Carol stood on tiptoe to put the ether over Mulder's
nose.  He started to dodge but Velda brought him up
short.

"Stand still or I'll shoot your little partner."  She
dug the gun more forcefully into Scully's throat.

Mulder froze, allowing Carol to put the cloth over his
nose.

"No!" cried out Scully.

"It's your turn, lady," said Carol, and the smell of
ether filled her nose.

As she fell into unconsciousness, she thought, it's a
dream.  It's just a dream.


*  *  *



Chapter Six

"Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto,
For helping me escape just when I needed to."
  Mr. Roboto--Styx



Scully slowly swam upward toward consciousness.

She lolled in bed, luxuriating in the warm sheets and
the heavy weight of the quilt.  What an odd dream, she
thought.  Wait until I tell Mulder.  He'll laugh himself
silly.

"Good morning, sunshine," croaked a nearby voice.

Scully bolted upright and opened her eyes.  She seemed
to be in a moldering Victorian bedroom, complete with
cabbage rose wallpaper and dark, heavy furniture.
This wasn't her bed.  This wasn't her apartment.  It
hadn't been a dream after all.

"Shit," she said.

"You're not a morning person, are you?"

Scully looked toward the voice and saw Velda, the gun
in her lap.  She looked from Velda's face to the gun
and back again, assessing her chances of escape.
Faster than should have been possible, Velda had the
gun in her hand and aimed at Scully's chest.

"I don't want to shoot you, but I'm not so foolish as
you might think.  You look like the type to kill me
if given half a chance.  I saw what you did to poor
number twenty-three.  Now you might as well get
comfortable.  Neither of us is going anywhere for
awhile."

"Where's Mulder?" asked Scully.

"Mulder?  Oh, right.  Your friend, Fox."  Velda rolled
her eyes.  "Disneyland.  Where do you think he is?"
Again she let the gun rest in her lap.  "He's being
measured by the Master for the new parts."  Velda
looked at her watch.  "The Radio Shack order has to
be in by noon, so he'd better hurry."

Scully saw that Velda was distracted and decided that
her chances weren't going to get much better.  She dove
out of bed and toward the door.  A gunshot boomed out
in the room and Scully saw a hole blossom in the wall
a few short inches from her nose.

"Sit the fuck down," commanded Velda, motioning Scully
toward a small, upholstered chair.  "You've lost.  Get
used to it.  God knows I have."

Scully sat.  "Can I at least have my clothes back?" she
asked, shivering in her bra and underwear.

Velda gave her a look that Scully had seen many times
before.  Mulder in particular was a master of that look.
"I like seeing you without them better."

Scully shivered again.  "I'm not. . . I don't. . ."

Velda smiled.  "I'm a patient woman.  And how you feel
now won't matter when the Master does your programming.
You'll feel and think whatever I want.  Master said I
could have you.  And heaven knows I don't ask him for
much.  Hell, he barely pays me minimum wage."

"You mean Karl, don't you?" asked Scully.  She refused
to think about being programmed by Karl, or of what was
happening to Mulder.  Somehow, she had to distract Velda.

"Karl, yeah.  It's been so long since I called him that.
He prefers 'Master' to Karl.  He says it sets the right
tone."

"If you don't mind me saying so, Karl sounds like a
pain in the ass."

Velda barked out a laugh.  "You have no idea, Dana.
He calls me at all hours, demands I cater to his every
whim, you name it."

"You'd be surprised.  My partner insists that I call
him Mulder.  And he's a night owl, so I'm always
getting woken up in the middle of the night by him.
Plus, I go pretty much wherever he goes, which is
how I ended up here."

"Karl and your Mulder seem like two peas in a pod.
Why do you stay with him?"

Scully curled up into a ball on the chair, hugging
her legs to her chest and resting her cheek on her
knees.  She hated this question; it was stupid and
pointless.  It'd been asked a million times by her
family and friends, and she gave Velda the same
stock answer she gave all of them.  "Because I love
my job.  It's my life.  I can't see myself doing
anything else.  Is that why you stay with Karl?"

"Not exactly.  I needed a job, and Karl gave me one."

"Working at the hotel?"

"The hotel was my father's.  I came back here after
I failed to get into a doctoral program.  There I
was, with a degree in biotechnology, and no jobs in
sight."

Scully frowned.  "But. . ."

Velda waved her hand dismissively.  "I had an affair
with one of the faculty.  When she ended our
relationship, I was very upset and threatened to out
her to the university.  She retaliated by accusing me
of academic dishonesty and manufacturing proof.  I
was expelled from the university and not allowed to
finish my masters.  The world of biotechnology is a
fairly small one and word got around.  No one would
hire me.  I came back home to run the hotel.  What
other choice did I have?"

"Where did you meet Karl?"

"In an online chat room.  At first I thought he was a
nut.  Then I realized he was a nut with possibilities.
Sure, what he proposed was probably impossible and
certainly immoral, but what the hell did I have to
lose?  I needed a job and he needed someone to do the
messy work--installing the components he designed into
our subjects.  Plus, I had this monstrosity of a house
for him to work out of and a whole town of worthless
nobodies to practice on.  It seemed a perfect match."

"But Velda, these are people we're talking about here."

Velda shrugged.  "I've worked with higher primates in
the past.  People aren't much different.  And do you
realize how hard it is to get test animals without a
federal grant for research?  Karl tried, God knows he
did, to get animal test subjects, but we were never
approved.  We used pigs at first, because of their
similar anatomy to humans, and when we were successful,
we moved on to people.  Besides, no one here was ever
nice to me.  I was always treated like a pariah.  What
loyalty did I owe them?  And we made them better,
didn't we?"

"What about this craving for human flesh they seem to
have?  That seems like something of a problem," pointed
out Scully dryly.

"We're working on it.  Your Mulder is our first test
subject for that."

"What?"

"The cannibalism appears to be a genetic factor.  It's
a problem that seems to occur mostly in the members of
the oldest and most inbred families in this area.  An
unforeseeable fluke.  A few of our subjects had moved
into Podunk fairly recently, and they don't seem to
have the same problem.  We've been looking for a
genetically and geographically unrelated subject to
test this theory out on, and the master has taken a
fancy to your Mulder.  I'm pretty eager to find out
myself, but it'll be a few days before Karl has his
parts made.  Then it'll be my turn to install them.
If you like, I'll let you watch.  I'm sure that in
your line of work you'd find it interesting."

"My line of work?  How do you. . ."

"Karl did an online search on you and your partner.
You two lead interesting lives, I'll give you that.
He's a paranormal junkie and you slice up dead people.
A regular Mr. and Mrs. Spooky."

Scully flinched.

"I see I've touched a nerve.  What kind of hold does
he have over you, anyway?  Doesn't matter.  In a few
days there won't be a Fox Mulder.  He'll be number
seventy-six and you'll be number seventy-seven after
him.  Pity, though.  The process does leave scars."
Velda ran a finger over Scully's arm and down her
leg.  She forced herself not to pull away.

"Why are you doing this?  What are you going to do
with them?"

"Our robots?  We're selling them.  We've already sold
the ones who didn't display this woeful taste for human
flesh.  There were only ten of them, however, and none
of them particularly attractive.  The highest amount
paid was half a million dollars.  I know that sounds
like a lot of money, but without government funding,
this sort of research eats up a lot of cash.  The
master thinks that Mulder will bring at least two
million.  Maybe more.  If he doesn't want to eat people,
that is.  We'll have to see."

"What about me?"

"I get you for all my loyal service to the master.
And if I grow tired of you, likely we'll sell you off
as well."  Velda smirked.  "I suppose it depends on
how well you perform."

"Why do you have to make me into a robot at all?"

Velda looked at Scully sharply.  "What do you mean?"

"If I were to perform of my own free will, as it were,
you wouldn't need to."

Velda narrowed her eyes.  "I was under the impression
that you liked men.  Certainly you seem to like your
partner."

"We're not lovers," said Scully.  She lowered her legs
and sat forward.  "I've always been curious. . ."

Scully stood and slowly walked to Velda.  She leaned
down, showing Velda a great deal of cleavage, and kissed
her.  Velda stiffened, then relaxed.  Scully's hands
caressed Velda's breasts, then moved down her body.
Velda melted into a pool of warm goo as Scully dropped
her hands onto Velda's thighs and stroked them.  Then
Velda felt the gun press into her abdomen as Scully
pulled away, spitting.

"I'm going to pull the gun away from you, Velda, and
you are going to get my clothes.  And Velda, if I have
to shoot you for trying to escape, I won't miss."

Scully pulled away, keeping the gun trained on the
very hurt looking Velda.  She went and retrieved
Scully's clothes, handing them to her sulkily.

"Aren't you going to put them on?"

Scully tucked them under her arm.  "I'm not stupid
or suicidal.  Now take me to Mulder."

*  *  *

Mulder was having a very odd dream.

He was the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz, explaining
to a red-haired Dorothy how he'd lost each of his
limbs due to a cruel enchantment.  No matter what he
said, however, she wouldn't oil his metal joints.  She
just widened her big, blue eyes at him.  Tucked under
one arm, her little dog yapped away.

The dog looked like Queequeg.  In the dream, Mulder
tried to snarl back at the repulsive furry creature,
but even his lips were rusted shut.

"Wake up, man.  You're driving me nuts."

Mulder's dream evaporated and he opened his eyes,
wondering where the hell he was.  He was upright,
manacled facing forward with the wall behind him,
his feet touching the floor and his arms stretched
wide.  He looked to the left and saw only a distant
wall with unfamiliar equipment in between.  To his
right he saw another person chained to the wall
beside him.

"Bobby, is that you?"

"Yeah.  Carol turned out to be one of the robots.
I wonder when he got her?"

"I'm sorry, Bobby.  If it makes you feel any better,
I didn't suspect her either.  Are you okay?"

"I guess so," said Bobby.  "It's just that we've been
going steady forever, and we had all these classes
together next year in school.  Now Gerry's dead and
Carol's a fucking robot.  It's gonna be my senior
year.  It's supposed to be the best year of my life.
Now it's all shit."

Mulder trying to think of something comforting to
say when a man walked into the room.

"Suck it up, kid," the man said.  "High school is
shitty and it's pretty much downhill from there."

The man was of medium height with a stoop to his
shoulders.  He was fat, but in a cute, pudgy way.
He looked to Mulder like a friendly snowman; jolly
and white.  He was so white, in fact, that Mulder
wondered if he'd ever seen the sun.  He'd have
thought the guy was an albino if his hair hadn't
been jet black.

"Who are you?" barked out Mulder.

"I'm the master," he replied.

"Oh," said Mulder. "Karl.  The mad scientist."

"Don't call me Karl.  And I'm not mad.  I'm . . . just
creative.  No one but Velda understands.  Cretins.
They're all cretins."

"What do you want with me, anyway?"

The master gave him a pitying look.  "Don't tell me
you've gotten this far without figuring out our
little secret."

"You mean about the robots?"

"But of course.   I imagine that a good little FBI
agent like yourself can connect the dots and come up
with the correct picture."  The master pulled out a
tape measure and began to size up Mulder.

Mulder squirmed, trying to make the task as difficult
as possible.  "If you know I'm an FBI agent, then you
must know that my disappearance will be investigated."

"I'm not stupid, Agent Mulder.  Quite the opposite.
Stop fidgeting.  You're just making this harder on
yourself.  No one, save my creations, has seen you
here in town, and there is nothing at all to connect
you to Podunk.  Soon, Velda will drive your car
towards Harpersville as far as that pesky spare tire
will go.  Her uncle is pretty certain that it won't
take more than twenty to thirty miles to blow out.
Then she'll abandon it by the side of the road, your
suitcases in the trunk.  The FBI can make of it what
they will.  Problem solved."

"What about the restaurant?" asked Mulder.  "We were
seen there."

"The diner?  The staff are all mine," the master
smirked.  "And that wasn't hamburger you were eating.
I use that diner to serve my more finicky robots.  Of
all of the ones that crave human flesh, not all of
them like it. . . au natural.  That whole cannibalism
problem, however, is halfway to being fixed."

Mulder stomach churned, but he didn't want to throw
up all over himself while chained to a wall.  He took
shallow breaths and tried not to think about it.  He
wouldn't let Scully ever find out, either.  Not in
this lifetime.  She'd probably never want to eat meat
again.  Come to think of it, vegetarianism sounded
very tempting.

"Besides," the master continued, "even if the FBI ever
does trace you back here, you'll already be somewhere
else.  Singapore, maybe.  Or Berlin.  Or Buenos Aires.
Wherever.  I expect you'll fetch a very tidy sum for
me.  A few million at least.  Maybe more.  You're such
a pretty boy, Agent Mulder.  I think the bidding will
go high on you.  On your partner too, if I decide to
sell her as well."

"Where's Scully?" Mulder demanded.

"She's being looked after by Velda.  She's to be
Velda's pet, for a little bit, at least.  I'll let
Velda keep her a while if you fetch a high enough
price."

"What about Bobby?"

The master smiled.  "His family is too established
in town to risk making him a subject.  He'd surely
be a cannibal.  I'm keeping him here as a snack for
you just in case my calculations don't work out and
you turn out to be one of those pesky flesh eaters
too."

Mulder could hear Bobby whimper.

"You won't get away with this," Mulder said, his voice
sounding hollow to his own ears.  Still, the words had
to be said.

The master chuckled.  It wasn't the evil laugh one
expected from such a creature.  It was a human, friendly
sound.  Mulder shuddered.

"Oh, I doubt that very much, Mr. Mulder.  Very much indeed.
Now where are those damn Ho-Hos?  I left them around here
someplace."


*  *  *

Upon further reflection, Scully had decided to get dressed
after all.  Somehow rescuing Mulder lost a little of its
appeal when she thought of doing it in her undies.  That
and no one would ever let her live it down.  Mulder would
make sure the story go out.  She was sure of it.

She forced Velda at gunpoint to retrieve her purse and gun
from where they'd been hidden.  Fishing the handcuffs out
of her purse, she'd cuffed Velda to the four-poster bed and
quickly got dressed.

"This is sort of a reverse fantasy of mine," remarked
Velda.

"Shut up," snarled Scully.  Her heels were nowhere in
sight, so she filched a pair of Velda's sneakers from
he closet.  They'd have to do.  Scully tucked one gun
into the waistband of her skirt at the small of her
back and held the other on Velda.

With Velda safely stowed in the bedroom, there seemed
no reason to drag her along at gunpoint.  This would
be easier to do by herself anyway.  Still, it would
help if she knew where to start looking.

"Where's Mulder being held?" she demanded.

Velda just stared back at her.

Scully sighed.  She just couldn't bring herself to
torture the information out of Velda.  She turned and
walked toward the door, resigned to searching the whole
house if needs be.

"Wait," called out Velda.

Scully turned, an impatient look on her face.  "Don't
make me regret not shooting you, Velda."

"I could help you.  Take me with you."

Scully looked skeptical.  "Why the sudden change of
heart?"

"If you and Mulder manage to escape from the master,
he's going to be really pissed off.  I don't want to
be here when he figures out what's going on."

"Why should I trust you?"

Velda shrugged.  "You shouldn't trust me.  Keep me
cuffed.  Keep the gun on me.  Just don't leave me
here for the master to find.  Twenty years in Sing-Sing
would be better."

Scully debated with herself, then decided that keeping
an eye on Velda was probably safer in the long run to
not knowing what she was up to.  She undid the cuff
from the bed and attached it to Velda's other wrist.

"Do you know where he is?" Scully asked.

"The master or Mulder?"

"Either."

"I'm not sure about the master.  Maybe the computer
room, but he could be watching television, or taking
a bath."  Velda paused, thinking.  "Or in the kitchen,
eating.  Probably that last one.  Mulder's in the
examination room.  That's where we keep all the
prospective subjects prior to the procedure."

"Examination room it is," said Scully, forcing Velda
to walk in front of her.  "Lead the way."

*  *  *

Mulder hung his head down, his chin resting on his
chest, and tried not to think of hamburger.  He might
never eat another burger for the rest of his life.

"Do you think he's still out cold?" asked a familiar
female voice.

He was hearing things.  That couldn't be Scully's
voice, could it?

"He's a big man," another voice said.  "The ether
should've worn off long before now."

"We're going to have to wake him up somehow.  Is
there a bucket of water around here anywhere?  That
might work."

This was definitely not a dream or a mirage.  Mulder
opened his eyes and looked up.  It was Scully, with
the double-bagger from the hotel.  Scully to the
rescue.  Thank God.

"I'm sure you've fantasized about seeing me wet, Scully,"
leered Mulder, somehow unable or unwilling to stop the
words from coming out of his mouth, "but there are
better ways to go about it.  Do you have to throw a
bucket of water at me?"

"You don't seem too much the worse for wear from your
ordeal, Mulder.  I like the manacles.  It's a good
look for you."

Mulder opened his mouth to retort but was forestalled
by the double bagger.

"Could you two stop being so cutsy?  We're all gonna
get caught down here by the master if we're not careful."

Scully turned away from Mulder.  "Do you know where
the key is, Velda?"

"There's a key ring in my pocket.  I'd get it out for
you, but. . ." Velda held her arms out in front of her
and indicated the handcuffs.

"My, my," said Mulder.  "You've been busy, Scully."

Scully gave him a dirty look but didn't reply.  Instead
she went over to Velda.

"Which pocket?"

Velda indicated which one with her bound hands and
Scully went key diving.  When her fingers closed
around the key ring, Velda let out a gusty sigh.

"Oh, yeah.  Right there."

Scully snatched her hand out of Velda's pocket and
glared at the woman.  Velda grinned at Mulder.  "I
see why you like her so much.  She's a lot of fun
to bait."

"We're just friends," said Scully with irritation.

"Yeah, right," said Velda.  "Tell me another one.  Now
can we get this show on the road?  The key with the
yellow tape on it is the one you want."

Scully freed Bobby and Mulder, both of whom swung their
arms about in an attempt to get the blood flowing.

"You're going to have to run the show, Scully.  I don't
think I could hold a gun," said Mulder.

"No, I don't suppose you'd be able to.  I'll leave you
and Bobby here to guard Velda while I go hunt for Karl."

"Are you crazy?" demanded Mulder, Velda, and Bobby at
the same time.

"He's a loony," said Bobby.

"He's a maniac," said Mulder.

"He's a psycho," said Velda.  "But I have a plan that
just might work."

"A plan?" asked Scully.  "You were--are--one of the bad
guys.  And now you have a plan?"

"Call it insurance against the day all hell broke loose.
It sure looks to me like that day's arrived."

"And what do you want out of this in return?"

"You could put in a good word with the judge on my
behalf," suggested Velda.

Scully knew that a good word from her and Mulder
would probably be more damaging than helpful to
Velda.  She didn't think there was a judge in D.C.
that the two of them hadn't pissed off at one time
or another.

"It's a deal," she said.  "What's the plan?"

Velda led them out of the examination room and into
Karl's secret laboratory.

"Let's just say," she remarked, doing a remarkable
job of typing on the computer keyboard while in
handcuffs, "that when I was installing the parts
for the master, I thought to put in a safety net."

*  *  *

The master was having a very pleasant time indeed
when everything got screwy.

He'd been eating Ho-Hos and watching "Judge Judy"
while being serviced by number sixteen.  Number
sixteen had just been fed, of course, so there was
no immediate danger to his person.  Would he have stuck
his dick in a robot's mouth that hadn't been fed first
though?  Hell no, and this was the heart of his problem.
No one wanted a man-eating robot.  Not even if it was
cute.  This Fox Mulder had better work out.  The master
was beginning to run out of fodder for the robots,
and that was worrisome.

He was pondering this when he noticed that number
sixteen was no longer doing her job.  He looked
down.  She was gone.  What the hell?

He looked up, and there she was, standing above him.

"Number sixteen, you naughty robot.  Do what you're
told.  Don't make me adjust you."

Usually that threat worked wonders, but number
sixteen did nothing.  She was listening to orders,
he realized.  What the fuck?  Who was giving them?

He started to stand but found forceful hands on his
shoulders, pressing him down into the chair.

"Number sixteen!  I demand you cease at once!"

The robot ignored him.  Behind him, he could hear
heavy footsteps coming down the hall.  Lots of heavy
foot steps.  He tried to turn around but the hands
on his shoulders wouldn't let him.  One by one the
robots walked in and grabbed him.  He struggled and
fought but the sheer mass of metal and flesh soon
stilled his protests.  He could hear all of them
humming around him; the sound was maddening.

"Get off of me," he screamed.  "Get off, get off,
get off!  I order you.  I'm your master!"

All at once, the humming stopped.  The power had
gone off for the robots, locking each one in a rictus
around him.  Without power or refrigeration, they'd
soon rot, he realized.  He was trapped in an unmovable
perishable prison.  What had gone wrong?  What could
have possible gone wrong?

The master opened his mouth, one of the few parts of
his body that he could still move, and shrieked.


*  *  *


Epilogue

"The problem's plain to see:
Too much technology."
  Mr. Roboto--Styx



"What do you suppose this is?"

Frohike took the package he'd just signed for and
shook it.  It was heavy, and made a satisfying
thump as he tossed it in the air and caught it
again.

"Dude, that could be sensitive computer equipment,"
said Langly.

"From Mulder and Scully?"

"It's from both of them?" asked Byers.

"Maybe it's evidence," suggested Langly.

"Nah," retorted Frohike.  "They wouldn't UPS us
evidence and forget to tell us about it, would
they?"

"Why don't you just open it and find out?"

"Okay, Byers, keep your pants on."  Frohike tore at
the brown wrapping and found a wrapped present inside.
"What the heck?"

"Is there a tag?" asked Langly.

"Nope.  Just a big bow."

"Well, open the thing already."  Even Byers was
beginning to sound impatient.

"It's a bowling bag!" said Frohike in mixed tones
of astonishment and disgust.  "We don't bowl.  And
why a flowered bag?"

"Maybe it's a practical joke."

"What did you two do this time?" asked Byers.

Frohike and Langly exchanged a look.  "Nothing," they
said in unison.

"Then unzip the damn bag and see what's inside.  What
do you think it is, anyway?  A human head?"

Frohike unzipped the bag.  "Funny you should mention
that."

"Who are you guys?  Moe, Larry, and Curley?"

"The head just talked," said Langly.

"I heard it," said Frohike.  He reached inside and drew
it out.  He turned it this way and that, examining it
closely.  "It's a machine," he pronounced.

"Where did Mulder and Scully get it, and why did they
send it to us?" asked Byers.  He looked inside the bag
and found a card.  It had teeth marks in it and he
supposed that the head had had it put in her mouth
but that she had managed to spit it out.  He could
hear Langly and Frohike chatting with the head but
he ignored them, instead reading the message.


Byers, Frohike, and Langly,

Recently we came across this piece of machinery in an
investigation that doesn't exist as far as the FBI is
concerned.  The matter is being swept under the rug,
for reasons Scully and I do not understand.  This is
the only evidence we have.  Please treat her with care.

Mulder


Byers was musing over what this might mean when he
heard Frohike chortle.

"It sure gives new meaning to the phrase 'giving
head.'  OW!  It bit me!"


*  *  *

The master really hated prison.  He disliked the
scratchy prison sheets, the uncomfortable orange
uniforms, the monotony, and, most of all, the food.
He hadn't even had a trial yet, but his lawyer wasn't
very hopeful.  The master foresaw a long, horrible
future stretching ahead of him, without a Ding Dong
or Nutter Butter in sight.

He smelled cigarette smoke and looked up.  "Hello,
Karl," said the unfamiliar man outside his cell.

"Do I know you?" asked the master.

"Not yet," said the man, inhaling a lungful of smoke,
"but you will.  I have a proposal to make.  I'll get
you out of this place, and in return, you'll work for
me."

"And the catch?"

The man chuckled.  "No catch.  You'll continue your
work and I'll provide whatever you need."

"What about a lab assistant?  Velda will be hard to
replace."

"Velda has already accepted our offer.  And you will
be assistant to her, not the other way around.  The
computer programs she developed to override your
orders were quite brilliant.  Your ideas were
revolutionary, but her execution of your designs was
pure genius."

"I am the genius," the master wailed.  "I am the evil
master."

The man outside the bars shook his head sadly.  "I
don't need you, Karl.  I can find Velda someone
less. . . unstable to work with."

The master lunged forward and curled his arms around
the bars.  Outside.  He had to get out of here.  Out
there was pizza and Snickers bars and gourmet ice cream.
"No.  I'll do it.  Just don't leave me in here."

"I knew you'd see it my way," said the man, and he took
another long drag on his cigarette.

*  *  *

Mulder stretched out on his couch and fought the urge
to call Scully.  He'd just received a yowling call from
the guys regarding the "present."  He grinned.  He
just wished he'd been there when it bit Frohike.  They
had it muzzled currently and were proposing a whole
battery of unpleasant tests.

In Mulder's opinion, it couldn't have happened to a
better head.

There had also been a call from Skinner, telling him
that both Karl and Velda had managed to vanish from
prison with no one the wiser.  "Drop this," Skinner
had said.  "Just trust me on this one.  You don't want
to pursue it."  Then Skinner had authorized a week of
R and R for both of them.  "You two looked like hell
when I last saw you," he'd said.  "Don't come back to
work looking the same way.  Get some sleep, Mulder.
I've told Scully to do the same.  I don't want either
of you doing anything productive."

So here he was.  It was a rainy Saturday afternoon
and he was cooped up indoors with nothing to do and
nothing on television.  He wanted to talk to Scully
about Skinner, and the guys, and his theories about
Velda and Karl's disappearances.  He also wanted to
chat about what had happened while they were in the
closet.

Still, he didn't pick up the phone.  He had promised
her a week of sleep, after all.   He pictured her in
her bedroom, sleeping peacefully with a contented smile
on her face.  He couldn't bring himself to destroy the
tranquility of the scene.

He said he'd give her a week.  He would stand by his
word.

*  *  *

It had been a blissful week, but Scully was ready for
it to end.  She lay on her back, luxuriating in the
comfort of her own bed, and stretched.  Various
muscles protested and joints popped.  She knew she
needed to exercise and didn't care.  There would be
time enough for that tomorrow.  Right now she had
something to do that wouldn't be put off another minute.

Getting down on her hands and knees, she located the
plug that she'd yanked out of the wall days ago and
reinserted it.

There.  That ought to do it.

She lay back down on her bed, her eyes glued to the
clock.  The second hand swept by slowly and she
counted down with it.

"Three. . . two. . . one. .  ."

The phone rang.

She picked it up.  "Scully."

It was him.



The End



If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed the ride.  I always
like hearing from my readers, and I'd love for you to drop me a
line at kellylynn73@comcast.net.