Title: Minos Author: Tim Scott Email: TScott2533@aol.com Website: http://www.geocities.com/Paris/Arc/1461/ Rating: R Spoilers: Probably Summary: Apocalyptic overkill, I suppose... Oh, yeah, and character death. Takes place before TWO FATHERS. Disclaimer: Carter giveth and 1013 Productions taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Fox Network. May the lawyers stay their hands, for truly abject poverty already reigneth over me and thou canst not get blood out of a stone... MINOS by Tim Scott It's not like I didn't warn them, you know. I had to couch it in language they'd respond to, of course, but the gist of it was always to leave Mulder alone. I even came right out and said it once, to one of the shapeshifters: the most dangerous enemy is one who has nothing left to lose. I had Mulder trapped, neutralized, twisting slowly in the wind. He was close to breaking, so close I could taste it. He had so much invested in his relationship with the little redhead, Scully. She really was the key, Strughold was right about that, but he turned it in the wrong direction. When Mulder saved Scully in Antarctica he bound her so tightly to him it seemed we'd never split them up. The love of a good woman has saved many a man. Trite, but true. The converse is also true, though, and that was where I had him. The beauty of the situation was that Mulder would do all the work for us. So I had them taken off the X-Files, dropped them into the middle of the federal bureaucracy's soul-shredding machine and let matters take their course. Real life would do them in for us. The boring, day-to-day millstone that moves slowly but crushes everything, especially spirits, in its path. With no outlandish situations to engage his creativity Mulder's impatience and penchant for pettiness would work against him. Scully, of course, would shine. Her career would start to take off again. She's quite intelligent, really, and extremely competent. No one ever doubted this, it was only the company she kept that held her back. Soon she would realize this and begin distancing herself from Mulder. Naturally he would not take it well. His jealousy would do the rest, once men started paying attention to her again. I had candidates, both inside and outside the Bureau, waiting to begin courting her. Who knows, there might have been men totally unrelated to anything, just random agents of chance, who might have wanted her too. She was quite attractive, after all, not to mention being a truly good person. A rarity in our business. It would have worked. Mulder might even have reduced himself to becoming a stalker, the prototypical rejected lover. Agent Scully's feelings for him would change to anger, maybe even fear. Her lack of belief in the Project would have caused her to return to her unsuspecting life, no longer a threat but still useful as the occasional prod to Mulder. And Mulder, in his despair, would have been easy pickings. He would have joined the Project of his own free will and fulfilled his destiny with us. His appointed role. It would have worked. But they just couldn't leave it alone, the Elders. I saw news footage once of a woman at a zoo, a tourist, who wanted an impressive picture of a bear. I forget what kind of bear, it doesn't really matter. She climbed a low barrier fence, ignoring the warning sign, and descended the slope to the animal's cage. She actually stood directly under another warning sign and poked the animal with a stick, trying to provoke a reaction for the camera. She got her reaction all right, the stupid bitch. The bear mauled her, to no one's surprise but her own. She was amazed that it moved so fast. I was astounded at her foolishness, and I thought I'd seen nearly every variety of stupidity known to man. There's no such thing as a slow predator, lady. Maybe if I'd explained it to them that way...? But no. I was already an outsider by then, an independent contractor no longer privy to the Inner Circle's musings and decision processes. I don't know how Scully died. I could have found out but what would be the point, really? Either it was our fault or random chance, and no matter which way the dice fell Mulder would blame us. And this time there was no stopping him. He did it the only way it could have been done, really. He tied into a low-level functionary within the Group and followed the chain back to its source. He'd already converted many of his family's holdings to cash. Nobody ever thought Mulder was stupid, only lacking in resources and motivation. Well, he was motivated now. On the surface it seems foolish for us to have kept such detailed records. You'd think we'd have learned from the Nazis what a bad idea that was but it was necessary to the Project. Once Mulder had access to our records he was able to get government backing. He was reassigned to NSA at his own request. Their charter is so much less... limiting... than that of the Bureau. The rest, as they say, is history. I went to sleep somewhere else and woke up here. It was quite professionally done. The guards will be coming soon... yes, I believe I hear their footsteps now. They are polite and quite businesslike as they move me through the corridors of this place, wherever it is. Eventually they thrust me through a door, on the other side of which is a conference room. It might as well be New York, the gang's all here. Or mostly. If Mulder knew enough to round up all these people it won't take him long to get the others. We're screwed. The others mutter and mumble and harrumph to each other. Let them. I find a comfortable chair and sit down. Never sit when you can stand, never miss a chance to rest for it may be your last. The old lessons stand me in good stead here. The others will learn them soon enough. Another door opens and Mulder enters with a squad of troops for escort. He strides to the head of the table, takes a chair and says, "Please be seated, gentlemen." Willoughby, of the bulldog face and the cigar, starts for Mulder, bellowing threats. Mulder glances at the guard to his right and nods. The man draws his sidearm smoothly and blows Willoughby's left kneecap off. The next few seconds are spent listening to the fool's screaming until another squad of black-clad troops comes to drag him out. Everyone stares at Mulder in disbelief. This is not the man they're used to dealing with, I can see the realization occur on their faces. They look at each other in consternation, I note from the corners of my eyes. My own attention is on our captor. Quietly he says, "Must I repeat myself?" There's a general scramble for chairs and all I can think is, my God, if only he really were my son instead of that wimp Cassandra saddled me with. Peter Drucker be damned -- this is a hostile takeover! Mulder stands, and for the first time I notice his attire. He's wearing an Armani tux. He notices me noticing and smirks at me. "Hey, if I'm gonna be a Man In Black there's no reason I can't do it with a little style. This is what you wanted, right? For me to join the Project? Congratulations, you got your wish. Forgive me for not wanting to start in the mailroom." I nod cautiously, not wanting to provoke another object lesson. He looks at the others and continues. "So. I guess you're wondering why I called you all here... No? Too bad, 'cause I'm gonna tell you. I spent the past week sucking your brains dry of all Project-related information. If you're wondering why you don't remember any of it, congratulations! Each and every one of you is sporting a neural override chip with the very latest upgrades." My colleagues all go pasty white. I suspect I may have as well. "Knowledge is power. In exchange for all that information I was given pretty much carte-blance. Anything I ask for, anything at all, they gave me." Mulder smiles beatifically. "I asked for you. The generals and politicians were pretty happy to comply, actually. Guess they got tired of you guys pushing 'em around. They threw in your doctors, too. I'd been going through your databases, see, and I've discovered tons of neat stuff you guys have been keeping from the rest of us." His eyes suddenly go cold and hard. "I assembled a list of all the medical personnel who were involved in the superovulation project. Then I had some of the nastiest, most AIDS-infected convicts from around the country flown in. Those doctors now have a serious incentive to work on a cure. I believe in motivation. Some of those death-row guys are really throwing themselves into their work. Once everyone in the group tests positive the convicts will have to go home so they're making the most of their stay." Grover stands up. In his snottiest Harvard accent he demands, "Who do you think you are, Minos?" Mulder smirks back. "What's the matter, Mr. Grover? Your folks couldn't afford a real school?" He turns to the rest of us. "For those of you who were too busy betraying your country to attend English class, Minos was the Judge of the Dead." "But, to answer your question, Mr. Grover -- I am the man who is going to see that you spend the rest of your life in agony. I am the man whose sister you kidnapped. Whose mother lost her entire family due to that kidnapping and who has grieved every day since then. You drove my father to alcoholism, but that wasn't enough!" Mulder visibly fought for control of himself. "No, you had to wait until the night he was finally going to talk to me! Twenty fucking years I waited, he was gonna tell me what the fuck was going on, we were *reconciling* and you fucking shot him in the back!" The veneer of sanity is gone and we can all see the eyes of a true madman. His smile is nothing that can be described in words but my sphincter twitches to see it. I have seen much in my life, but never this. I'm very much afraid I'll be seeing a lot more of it in the near future. His voice is dreamy as he continues. "Well, it's my turn, now. No more living in the lap of luxury for you guys, no more snapping your fingers to make people jump. No more being the boogeymen who rule from the shadows. When you leave this room you will be stripped, never to wear clothing again for as long as you live. Your names will be tattooed on your chests for all to see. You will scrub toilets, sweep floors, change light bulbs and empty wastebaskets. And, when I send for you, you'll come to my office and we'll... talk. Pretty soon I'll know you better than you know yourselves." He stands and regards us beatifically. "I was the top profiler at the FBI for years, you know. Abnormal psychology, that was my thing. My particular field of expertise was the ways people have found to torture each other down through the years. Oh, the places we'll go and the things we'll do... I have so much to show you, so many things to teach you..." His voice trails off, he shakes his head and begins to move toward the door. Jameson stands up, tries to sound reasonable. "Listen, Mulder --" The man in the black tux spins, snatches a pistol from the nearest guard and shoots Jameson twice in the chest. "Don't you call me that! Don't you *ever* call me that! *She* called me that! You call me Minos!" Another squad of troops comes in to remove the newest body as Mulder (no, Minos, have to remember that) tosses the pistol back to the guard. Minos glances at the faces around the table and laughs. "Relax, guys. He won't die. He's not allowed to die. None of you will get off that easy. Every doctor in this place has been warned -- if a patient dies, they die. Unpleasantly. No, you're good for years." He smiles and crooks his finger at me. "Did you know that we've figured out how to make the chips transmit experience from one person to another? No? Oh, you have a treat in store. I found a recording of what my partner went through while you guys had her. Remember when you had Duane Barry take her to Skyland Mountain? And all those tests that *you* personally ordered to be performed on her? Did you know that the reason she could never remember was that the tests were all done without anesthetic? The pain was so great her conscious mind blocked it out." He leans in to whisper in my ear. "I listened to her nightmares for years. Five fucking years she lived with it and never once asked for my help. So guess what? You are going to have the rare privilege of learning what it's like on the other side of the restraints. Remember the Golden Rule? 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.' Prepare to be done unto, old man." He straightens and waves to the guards. "Take him away." The End