Title:       Minos
Author:      Tim Scott
Email:       TScott2533@aol.com
Website:     http://www.geocities.com/Paris/Arc/1461/
Rating:      R
Archive:     Yes to Gossamer, all others must ask permission
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...




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 straightened and waved to the guards.  "Take him away."



The End