Article: 183 of alt.tv.x-files.creative Path: mnemosyne.cs.du.edu!spool.mu.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!newstf01.cr1.aol.com!search01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: scinut@aol.com (SciNut) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: The Oedipal Complex part 1a/6 Date: 31 Aug 1994 15:31:01 -0400 Organization: America Online, Inc. (1-800-827-6364) Lines: 86 Sender: news@search01.news.aol.com Message-ID: <342lpl$9jt@search01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: search01.news.aol.com O'Tay... this is my first story that I am posting. I hope you like it. But, before you begin reading this, a (what I will call) warning. This isn't a character driven story. I wrote this in kind of a rush and just wanted to get the basic plot down. I feel it came out pretty well without too much characterization. I know more can be done with this and would like your thoughts and critiques. There are some references to government agencies. I don't know if the ones I used actually do what I say they do, but I'm the author and have artistic license so they do. Also, there are a few graphic descriptions of dead bodies. If you're squeamish, well I warned you. If not, then let her rip. :) This story is based on the characters and situations created by Cris Charter, Ten Thirteen Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Company. No infringement of copyright is intended. The Oedipal Complex by. SciNut ( Karen D. Enriquez ) Part 1...Tuesday, August 2nd *** He sat, alone, with his back against the building just outside the warm reach of light provided by the street lamp. He was hungry. His dark eyes casually scanned the sidewalk for the Man. He had bumped into the Man two days before but it had been too early. He had never stalked a person before, it was too time consuming and he would've had to be out during the daytime. That was a danger he could not afford. For him, it was easier to just pick a spot and use the first person to come by, but for some reason this time was different. Maybe it was because the Man was a Suit. Suits were not tainted by alcohol like the bums he usually took. Well, at any rate, it didn't matter. The Suit would come down the street soon and then he would feed his hunger. *** Albert Kent turned a corner grumbling to himself. Today had been a long day and his boss, the Senator, had been more of a bastard than normal. The only reason Al stayed with him was for the money. Hell, who wouldn't stay with all the money he pays me under the table, Al thought. The only down side was the guy's attitude. You'd figure he'd be nicer for all Al did for him. Al knew all the best whore houses this side of D.C. Plus, he had all the best excuses to feed the guy's wife. It was then that he saw the young man sitting by the side of the building. Dark haired with his elbows resting on his knees and thin. There was something odd about him but then there was something odd about all the bums in this city. It's a good thing I work for the Senator, Al thought as he cautiously passed the bum. I could be in that position all the same. Suddenly, Al realized the day hadn't been all that bad. At least he had work and a nice place to live. And as he replayed the days events with a different perspective, he didn't notice the young man slowly stand and begin to follow him. The next morning, the police found Albert Kent. *** " I can't believe they got the FBI involved in a local homicide like this." Richard Edmands listened to his partner rant. He'd never had a woman partner but he knew that Dana Scully was not an ordinary woman. They were in an elevator and on their way to met the task force they'd just been assigned to. " Come on, Dana, this is D.C. You know how it is... politics." " Sure, I know. But just because Senator's Aide Albert Kent gets killed shouldn't warrant the FBI. It's not like this is the first time. There have been five other similar deaths in the past ten weeks." " Well, don't get in a snit. We been assigned to the task force and there's nothing else you can do about it." Richard responded. He liked to banter with Dana. She could go at it as good as any of the guys and he was glad she was no longer hidden away in some basement office with the "pride" of the FBI. Good old "Spooky" Mulder finally got his. It was about time that the brass finally cut the X-files loose. They were a waste of money and, as far as the matter of Dana was concerned, a waste of talent. He had never met Fox Mulder before and he hoped he never would. He had heard the tales regarding "Spooky." Sometimes, he told them himself. One thing was clear though, for some reason Dana respected Mulder. More importantly, Richard respected Dana. For that reason, Richard had not yet made a "Spooky" crack in her presence. He smiled. Dana smiled back. It felt nice to smile for a change. Two and a half months had passed since Skinner had disbanded the X-files. For the first time in a long while, Dana felt able to just relax and smile. There were no government cover-ups to be exposed, no strange events leading to aliens or mutants. There was only the normal, average, psychopathic kidnappers and bank robbers. The only difficult thing about the whole arrangement was Edmands. He had a nice personality and was easy on the eyes. A ten year veteran of the FBI as a Forensic Chemist, he had dark, slightly receding hair and soft blue eyes. He was tall, dark, handsome and obviously had feelings towards her; he even seemed to respect her as an equal. Despite all that, Scully just could not trust him. Edmands wasn't to blame for this, of course. Dana knew that she'd never be able to fully trust another person as long as she lived. A side effect of her last case with Mulder. Poor Mulder. She hadn't seen him since they'd been reassigned. She knew he had been upset about the split up, even more so because he couldn't do anything about it. He'd also been upset at the loss of Deep Throat, whoever he was. She also knew that he wouldn't want her pity, just her support. The elevator came to a stop and the doors slide open. "I'm not in a snit," she replied to Edmands earlier comment. "It's just that this isn't our jurisdiction and it looks bad for the Bureau to be pushed around." " Whatever you say." Richard said knowing she enjoyed winning an argument even though this, technically, wasn't an argument. Besides, he liked losing to her. They walked down the hallway to a bland looking conference room door. It was slightly ajar and parts of friendly conversation filtered out. Richard allowed Dana to enter ahead of him. There were not many people in the room, ten at most. Some were engaged in serious conversation and some were just catching up. But, Dana's eyes were drawn to the man sitting alone at the conference table. He was sprawled in a chair with his feet propped up on the table reading the newspaper in such a way as she could see the front page but not his face. She didn't need to see him, though, to know who it was. The headline read: Vampire Killer Stalks D.C. She walked over to him. "Mulder? Is that you?" Mulder had seen Scully come in the room with What's-his-Name. To say he was surprised was an understatement. " Scully," he said. "Long time." " I wasn't expecting to see you here." " Me neither. I didn't think Skinner would've assigned us to work together again. So what've you been up to?" " Oh," she replied." Same old thing." " It's not the same old thing, Scully." he said coldly. She was about to reply when Edmands cleared his throat too loudly to be discrete. " I'm sorry. Special Agent Richard Edmands this is Fox Mulder." Dana said with the usual tone of introductions. Richard couldn't resist, " So, you're 'Spooky' Mulder." " And you're ...Dick." Mulder replied politely. " I prefer Richard." Suddenly, another voice from the front of the room broke in. " Excuse me everyone... if we could get started?" All conversation in the room stopped and the other agents flocked to the table. As they seated themselves, it seemed, a fair number of "Oh, God" looks were sent in Mulder's direction. He seemed to ignore them and Scully wondered if that had been happening since their departure from the X-files. She wondered if it was hard working with people who thought you were insane. A short, dark haired, forty-ish woman sat at the head of the table. Special Agent Nancy Spiller, alias "the Iron Maiden" of the FBI academy, was assigned to lead the task force. " Okay guys and gals, I know you've all heard of the 'Vampire Killer' as the media has so helpfully named this psycho. But this meeting is to fill everyone in on the unreleased information." She looked around the table, making sure she had all the agents' attention. " Ten weeks ago, the body of a twenty-eight year old 'Jane Doe' was found hanging upside down from a meat hook that had been forced through both ankles. The cause of death was determined as 'excessive blood loss'... it seems that two small puncture wounds were found on the victim's neck penetrating the jugular. Small traces of chloroform were discovered and it appears that several pints of blood were missing. The next victim was a forty-two year old 'John Doe' who was discovered two weeks after the first in the same manner. The third, fourth and fifth victims were also vagrants. The sixth victim, as you already know, was Albert Kent..." She stopped to sip from her coffee cup. " Albert Kent was the aide to Senator Micheal Smith. He was found five days ago in an alley approximately two blocks from his home. It seems that this psycho has not decided to stick to the homeless population of DC. Senator Smith has pressured the Bureau to get involved." At this point, Spiller's voice took on a harsh tone. At this point, Spiller's voice took on a harsh tone. It was obvious that she didn't approve of the Bureau being pushed around either. " Agents Scully and Edmands, I'd like for you to re-examine the six victims and report your findings. We are starting fresh on this people so I want this done correctly and thoroughly. Agent Mulder, since you are the only psychological analyst assigned to this task force, I would like for you to form a preliminary profile with the information provided by the DCPD. The rest of you will be assigned to re-investigate the previous crime scenes. We need a connection so we can catch this psycho. Any questions?" She looked expectantly around the table.When no one responded Spiller continued, "Okay, let's get to work. We'll assemble again this time tomorrow. Agent Mulder, I want your profile ASAP." With that she stood, ending the meeting and began handing out folders to the separate groups. She handed Mulder a stack of folders that looked as if it contained information on every person in the country. He immediately began flipping through the various reports and stopped at the police report of the first murder. The picture that confronted him on opening the file was far worse than the quick synopsis by Nancy Spiller. The picture was in full, unmerciful color. The woman was indeed hanging upside down. A vile meat hook had been thrust through the Achilles tendon of the right ankle and stuck out through the left ankle. A rope had been tied to the end of the meat hook, then looped around the railing of a nearby fire escape and finally secured to the handle of a dumpster. The woman's hands were bound by ducktape that had been wrapped completely around her waist pinning the hands to her torso. Blood had caked to the side of her face, in her blonde hair and all over the ground. Mulder felt his stomach twist in disgust. Someone had taken a lot of time to string that woman up and it was obvious they'd been very meticulous in doing so. He turned to the pictures of the next five victims knowing the pictures would be identical. There were both male and female victims, all verying in age, height and race. The only strange thing was the fact that Al Kent was not homeless. It was as if the killer were intentionally focusing on the homeless knowing that they were the "invisible" population of D.C. Suddenly, he had the familiar feeling of someone reading over his shoulder and he knew, instinctively, that it was Scully. " There's something very wrong with this guy." Mulder said almost to himself. " What do you mean?" Scully asked. She knew better than to question his instincts. " This is too methodical. Look here at the penetrating points of the hook..." he pointed to the place in question. " They're all in the same place... through the right ankle and out the left. And they're all in alleys. This guy took his time." He looked her directly in the eyes. For the first time, the intensity she saw there scared her. You just haven't been around him for awhile, she told herself. " There has to be more of a connection than that, Mulder." " There is... I just can't see it yet. I need to see the jugular puncture points." " I'll get over there and take a look at 'em. Come on, Richard, let's go." " Seeya, Spooky." Richard said with a smile. " Bye... Dick." The answering glare would've killed had it been a blow. End part one. The Oedipal Complex Part 2...Monday, August 8th " You know... Mulder's a real jerk." Richard said in disgust as he took a sample from under Victim No.3's fingernails. " Mulder's... Mulder, but he's not a jerk." Scully replied, glancing briefly up from the neck. "You have to understand and except the fact that he tends to be obsessive. If you do that, you'll like him." " Maybe..." He sighed. It was late. They had been here in the morgue for over four hours redoing all the autopsies. Usually, it wouldn't take so long, but Spiller wanted them thorough and thorough she'd get. " These puncture wounds look almost parallel. Have you noticed, on all the victims, the holes are exactly an inch apart?" " The media named him well. 'The Vampire Killer' No wonder they assigned Spooky to this case." He said jokingly. " Mulder's a great agent. I've never met anyone better." Scully shot back with a vehemence that shocked even her. " Hey, Dana. Don't jump down my throat. I was just kidding." Richard replied defensively. " Maybe we should take a break... it's past dinner. I'll buy?" Dana smiled and took a deep breath. " Sure, it's been a long day." *** Mulder leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was tired and he didn't want to do this. He knew only too well what was going to happen. It was in his nature to become too involved in his cases. It happened over and over. First, when he was just out of the academy and starting in the Violent crimes department. Then with the X-files and now, again, with his return to Violent Crimes. He needed to prepare himself for the sleepless nights ahead that would be filled with too much thinking and too much frustration. What he really needed was to go home where he could relax. Well, relax as much as he ever did- which was never enough. He stood up, suddenly, to relieve a cramp that had developed in his lower back. He missed his old chair. The one in the now closed basement office. The chair that squeaked every time he moved. Scully had found the noise annoying but Mulder liked the sound. However, when they'd closed the X-files and given him a new office, they'd given him a new chair as well. He looked at the chair and frowned. It would take years to break the damned thing in and he wished he could just go downstairs and get the old one. But he'd tried that only to find the office had been turned back into a storage room and the chair gone. Oh well, he thought. Nothing ever turned out the way you wanted. His gaze returned to the open file on the desk. The Vampire Killer was a very disturbed person. From what he'd read so far he knew that the killer was male with a high intelligence. What he couldn't figure out was why? What has caused this guy to lose it? What's so important about the blood? Usually, serial killers who took the blood of their victims took most of it, but this guy was only taking two or three pints and then letting the person slowly die. But why? The question repeated itself over and over again in his mind until his head began to hurt. He shut the file in front of him and began putting the folders into his briefcase. He'd go home and think about it there. God how he hated this office. He would have to try and stay detached this time or he'd probably wind up in a mental institution. Suddenly, a strange thought came to him. He'd need to do more research on it though. He shut the briefcase and nearly bolted out the door. He'd wouldn't be going home tonight. *** Night slowly turned to day and the members of the task force again assembled in the conference room. Dana and Richard arrived to find Mulder already there, browsing through a stack of medical files. He looked as if he had stayed here all night. Which, Dana thought, he probably had. He was in the same grey suit as the day before and the same tie which was only slightly askew. He didn't look all that out of place, however, as most of the other agents looked as if they'd been up all night as well. " What are looking at, Mulder?" She asked glancing over his shoulder. " Just checking on a hunch." He replied, dismissive. Dana looked to Richard who just shook his head and shrugged. Just then Nancy Spiller entered the room commanding everyone's attention. " Okay, let's get started." She turned to one of the other agents." Agent Burke, has your team turned up anything new?" Agent Burke was a short man. He was about the same height as Scully but all muscle. Dark haired and slightly receding he was no man to trifle with. " We concentrated mostly on the last three murders. Since they were the most recent and the evidence was warmer. However, the DCPD did a pretty thorough job this time and we've found nothing new. No prints, no hair, no skin traces... What evidence there is was already collected by the police." It was obvious Burke was disappointed at not turning up anything. " All right, then let's move on to the autopsies. Agent Scully?" Spiller wasn't called "The Iron Maiden" for nothing. She liked getting things done and getting them done right. " We really didn't find anything new either." Scully began as she passed out copies of the results. " We discovered traces of chloroform, which we are assuming is how the killer overpowered the victims. The two puncture wounds on all the victims are approximately one inch apart and three millimeters in diameter, penetrating the jugular. None of this is new of course. However, the interesting thing is the ankle wounds." Scully paused. " They seem to be the same. The meat hook was inserted severing the Achilles tendon of the right foot and then through the left ankle separating the talus from the tibia and fibula. It's a nonfatal but painful position. It's obvious these people were meant to slowly bleed to death from the neck wounds." Spiller nodded and then turned to Mulder. " Do you have a working profile yet, Mulder?" He simply nodded and retrieved his notes even though he knew he didn't need them. However, it gave the other people at the table the time to roll their eyes and whisper about good old 'Spooky'. Mulder wasn't bothered by this, however. He'd had over two months to get used to the jokes again. To get used to other agents not taking him seriously. It had been hard at first because he'd been so used to Scully's acceptance of him. At the beginning, she thought he was as crazy as the 'Spooky stories' made him out to be. After some time, she had accepted him for who he was and why he acted the way he did. He realized, suddenly, he had missed that unconditional acceptance and wanted it back. He looked over at her and found her staring back, acting oblivious to the whispered comments, waiting for him to start. He wondered if her professional reputation had been damaged because of him. More than likely it hadn't. Everyone knew that her being assigned to the X-files had not been voluntary. But it bothered him that her reputation might have suffered. He sighed. " It would take some muscle to get the bodies suspended like they are so it is clear that the suspect is a young male between the ages of 25 and 30 with an above average IQ. and in good physical condition." He paused to look around the table. There were a few agents who were looking off in the distance feigning uninterest. " I believe he is acting out a traumatic event and the identical injuries to the victims support this conclusion. The position of the bodies as well as the ankle wounds suggest, possibly, witnessing an execution or murder. The methodical and time consuming process of suspending and exanguination of the victims suggest obsessive compulsive behavior and I believe he may also be delusional." " Delusional?" Scully asked. " What makes you say that?" This was the part the would either make him or break him. After he said this they would either kick him out or keep him on. He looked at Scully, " In this case, the media actually named him well. I believe he suffers from a vampire fetish." The table burst out in laughter. The only three people who weren't were Mulder, Scully and Spiller. Everyone else lost it. " You can't be serious." One agent howled. " Here Spooky, I think I have a cross you can borrow." " I thought I smelled garlic." Richard added. Scully simply sighed and looked down resigned. There was a sharp crack as Spiller struck the table. " Enough!" She roared. Spiller knew Mulder passably. They'd worked together once before on the murder of Benjamin Drake, CEO of the Eurisko Corporation. She knew he was a brilliant agent despite the 'Spooky' rumors. She didn't know what he'd found in the X-files but she knew it was important enough that they had shut the investigations down. Spiller had her share of cover-ups in her time mostly dealing with the shadowy goings on of certain powerful people. The room grew quiet as the agents got control of themselves. Mulder just sat, patiently and unfazed by the outburst. He had known that his response would get that kind of reaction. He was mildly surprised at Spiller's apparent support. He looked to her with gratitude in his eyes. She nodded slightly in return. " Please, Mr. Mulder, explain yourself." " Exanguination in serial killings is somewhat rare. However, not unheard of. Most of the time the killers are delusional, believing that they are immortal creatures. They remove the blood for consumption. The most recent example was John Harper, a 48 year old male who murdered twelve people before he was finally captured. They found him sleeping in a coffin and when they tried to remove him he became violent, screaming that they couldn't take him outside during the daytime because he would be burned to death by the sun. Plus, the fact that there are two puncture marks when the same effect can be accomplished quite well with just one and the approximate distance between eye-teeth is one inch." Mulder stopped to look at the assembled agents and wanted to laugh. The expressions on their faces seemed to say, " Am I really believing this?" " But Mulder," Scully broke in. " Isn't it true that, in those types of murders, hardly any blood is found at the scene?" " Yes it is. However, we can't forget that there is two to three pints of blood missing from each victim and the fact that there is a substantial amount of blood at the scene seems to show that this guy is interested in slowly killing these people. The binding of the hands so they don't hang down seems to indicate that the blood is meant to be on the ground and not settling in the extremities. I believe the suspect suffers from a severe form of schizophrenia and has probably been institutionalized at some point for a lengthy period of time. I feel that he probably was just released within the last two years and we should begin looking through the medical files of patients within that time frame." Spiller nodded in agreement. " It's also probably safe to assume that we could limit our search to this region. We'll get started as soon as the material is available." End Part 2. The Oedipal Complex Part 3...Monday, August 15 *** Sifting through the files of all the mental patients released in the past two years turned out to take longer than expected. For now, the task force restricted their search to people suffering from psychoses, schizophrenia, and other delusional disorders. However, the list included all psychiatric hospitals in the states of Maryland and Virginia as well as D.C. The number of people suffering from psychological disorders was daunting. The fact was that after six days they had narrowed it down to a list of just over a dozen suspects, all between the ages of 25 and 30. *** " So Scully, where's Dick?" Mulder asked getting out of the car. Mulder and Scully had been running around all day talking to the various suspects on their list. Spiller had divided the task force up in order to cover them all quickly and some how Mulder, Scully and Richard had been teamed up. Earlier in the day, Scully and Richard had spoken to the doctors of the suspects they were to question and when Mulder had gone to meet them to question the suspects only Scully had been waiting for him. " He had something he wanted to check on." She answered also stepping out of the car. They had arrived at the next suspect's home. They crossed the street together and approached the front door cautiously. Harold Richter, according to his doctor, was a quiet, withdrawn man. At only twenty-six, Harold also suffered delusions caused by emotional anxiety. Harold had a father who liked playing with little boys, especially Harold. His mother had abandoned the family just after Harold had been born and it seemed that Harold's dad needed a replacement for both his desire and his anger. But, according to his doctor, the sexual and physical abuse inflected on the boy was only a contributing factor to his psychosis. Mr. Richter had started abusing Harold when he was nine. On Harold's nineteenth birthday, he started abusing back. When he was done, Harold's father had been stabbed sixty-two times. The police questioned him only to discover that Harold believed he'd killed a monster that had been trying to eat him. He then turned on the police, believing they were monsters as well. Expectedly, the courts found Harold incompetent to stand trial for murder. His lawyer pleaded an insanity case which no one was going to contest. Harold was, after all, as much a victim as his father. He was institutionalized, given medication and therapy to control his hallucinations. He was finally released just under a year ago. Harold Richter was a good suspect. The fact that he had killed once before and, from the word of his doctor, hadn't shown up for work or any appointments in the last week only re-enforced the hypothesis. It also made him more dangerous. The house was the normal, low income sort of thing where the asylums placed newly released patients. It was a simple one story job with white siding and no frontal windows. There was a small patch of grass that served as a yard, which was more than what most people got in D.C. The doctor said Harold found cutting grass soothing but it looked as if it hadn't been mowed in quite sometime. Three steps led up to the ancient looking front door. After repeated knocks on the door were met with no answer, Mulder tried the knob without climbing the stairs and made sure he was at an angle safe from gun shots. He had no desire to catch a bullet today. Scully took up a position opposite him. He shook his head... locked. Scully nodded her understanding and made a motion indicating if Mulder wanted to kick in the door. He surveyed the position he'd have to put himself in order to do it and shook his head. He would have to put himself in front of the door with no means of quick cover. He really had no desire to be shot. Instead, he knocked on the door again. " Hello? Is anybody home?" He said loudly. When they heard no answer, Mulder motioned with his head for Scully to follow him. They circled around to the back of the house. The area of the back 'lawn' was also overgrown. The two small windows had been painted over which was not a good sign. It amazed Mulder that no one had come to check the place when Harold had gone missing. Mulder and Scully took up the same positions, flanking the door, as before. Mulder again, tried the knob and found it, too, was locked. He signaled Scully, faced the door, and kicked it open. The door swung open and Mulder rushed through with Scully right behind him. The sight that greeted them was sickening. The back door opened to the kitchen. There was so much garbage on the floor that the linoleum was nowhere to be seen. Filthy dishes and old decaying food covered the counter tops and filled the sink. Dirt hid the bottom half of the walls and old bits of meat had been left out in the August heat to attracted an amazing number of maggots and flies. Worst of all was the stench, it smelled as if something had died. Mulder gave Scully a look that said, " This is not a good sign and, by the way, I think I'm gonna be sick." She knew the look she returned said the same. A trash covered hallway led out of the kitchen to the right, and Mulder and Scully made their way silently to it. The hallway opened onto a living room that was in the same condition as the kitchen. The couch had been ripped open and the stuffing had been thrown about the room. The television had been smashed as well as most of the other pieces of furniture. Another hallway led off to the left and they made their way slowly to a destroyed bedroom. The bed had also been torn apart and the closet door had a rather large hole in it. The only other door in the room was closed. Mulder crossed the room and found this door was locked as well. He kicked it in with no trouble and gagged. The door had opened on the bathroom and Harold Richter. He was in a bathtub full of bloodied water and it was obvious that he'd been dead for quite sometime. One arm had been flung over the side of the tub. Dark blood had dried and caked to the floor as well as the porcelain. His bluish skin had swollen to the point of cracking and the surface writhed with hidden maggots. Scully quickly covered her own look of disgust with a clinical expression usually reserved for autopsies. " I'm gonna call a Coroner.." Mulder said weakly as he backed quickly out of the room. "Will you be okay for a few minutes?" " Sure. Get out, Mulder, you're turning green." She replied as she bent for a closer inspection of the corpse. She logged the evidence in her mind. The cause of death was obviously suicide. The victim had cut his own wrists causing massive hemorrhaging. She didn't immediately see the instrument used but they would probably find it in the tub beneath the body. From the amount of swelling, decay and insect infestation, Scully placed his time of death at just under a week ago. Harold Richter had been a victim. He was the product of a sick man, his father. He had suffered everyday of his short twenty-six years in this world. At least now he could rest if the expression on his face was any indication, he had been at peace while he'd slit his wrists. If Harold Richter had been the 'Vampire Killer' this case was over. Scully stood, turned and left the room as a wail of sirens rose in the distance. End part 3. The Oedipal Complex Part 4...Wednesday, August 17th Mulder had been almost sure that Harold Richter had been the 'Vampire Killer'. Harold was, really, the only one that had fit his profile. He had been between 25 and 30, released under a year ago and psychotic. The doctor, however, had forgotten to mention suicidal and with the discovery that Harold was dead everyone had thought it was over. But, another body had been found earlier this morning and Mulder knew the killings were far from over. Currently, Mulder was slumped in the back seat of "Dick" Edmands car with his eyes closed. He hadn't really felt like driving and didn't feel like taking the passenger seat that was, now, occupied by Scully. He hadn't been sleeping well since he and Scully had found Harold. Two sleepless nights tended to make his eyes sensitive and he really wasn't looking forward to arriving at their destination. They were on their way to the crime scene and knowing, already, what they'd find there had a way of killing conversation. The only sound was the hum of the engine and the whiz of passing cars. Mulder was tired and the hours ahead of searching a bloody crime scene and the following autopsy seemed endless. Had they missed something in searching the patient files? Had he missed something in developing his profile? The questions continued to haunt him and he had no answers. " Well... here we are." Richard said as he braked the car to a stop at the police barrier. Mulder, Scully and Richard all exited the car and flashed their ID's to the officer who began to stop them from crossing the police line. Most of the officers from the task force were already searching for evidence, taking pictures and taking measurements. Then they saw the body. The victim was an adult male. Unlike the other bodies, however, he was not suspended from the ever present meat hook. Although it was clear that he had been at one point in time. With one look at the man, Mulder had known what had happened here. The killer had chloroformed the man and proceeded to hang him from the meat hook. Putting the hook first through the tendon of the right foot and then through the ankle of the left. He then tossed the rope over the fire escape railing and lifted the body into position. After tying the rope to the dumpster, the killer proceeded to tape the man's hands to his waist so they wouldn't hang down. The killer then punctured the jugular and took however much blood that would be found missing later. But, the killer had made a mistake. He hadn't used enough chloroform. The man had awakened and discovered the pain of his predicament. No doubt the man had screamed. So the killer, aware of the problem the noise presented, gagged him by putting tape over his mouth. At some point, the man probably panicked and struggled. The finale result was what Mulder saw before him. Like a wolf who would chew off it's own leg in order to get free of a trap, this man had fought and struggled. Finally ripping the hook >from his right ankle and completely severing the left foot. Those bits of flesh, including the left foot, were still impaled on the meat hook some seven feet from the ground. The body itself, lay in a crumpled heap on the pavement. Blood had splattered on the sides of the alley, the dumpster, the ground... it was everywhere. Mulder closed his eyes to shut out the scene. What had he missed? *** " Where did he say to meet him again?" Richard asked Scully for the fourth time in as many minutes. " He called and left a message on my machine telling us to meet him at the crime scene." Scully answered just a little annoyed. Mulder had started acting weird since Harold had been found. But, then again, Mulder had always been a little weird. Actually, Scully had started to worry about him. She hadn't seen him since they'd split up at the scene yesterday and she'd been looking for him. " Well... here we are. I don't see him anywhere." Richard said annoyed now as well. Climbing out of the car he called, " Hey 'Spooky'! Where ya at?" " Richard, please." Scully said in a tone that suggested frustration. " Mulder?" She called out louder. " Back here..." Mulder's voice echoed from the alley. Scully and Richard walked into the alley to find Mulder standing by the dumpster holding a meat hook in one hand and a length of rope in the other. " Mulder... what are you doing?" Richard asked, confused. As if just noticing him, Mulder responded. " Oh, hi... Dick." " I prefer Richard." Was his reply. " I'm trying to figure something out," Mulder continued, ignoring him. Dana sighed, " What's that?" " I'm not sure yet. Here... Dick, hold onto the end of this." Mulder said handing him the meat hook. " Why?" Richard asked grabbing the curled end. " And it's Richard." " Just hold it and don't let go." Mulder turned and tossed the rope up and over the fire escape railing. The rope easily slid over the top and down through the grating of the first landing. " Okay, now don't let go." He said again as he grabbed the rope and pulled hard lifting Richard several inches off the ground. " What are you doing?" Dana asked, confused at Mulder's bizarre activities. " Hold on a sec." He grunted as he pulled down again on the rope. Richard raised several more inches. A minute went by as Mulder continued to hoist Richard off the ground. When he was almost a foot above the ground, Mulder turned and proceeded to tie his end of the rope to the dumpster. Finishing he turned back to the now suspended Richard Edmands. " Can I let go now?" Richard asked looking rather annoyed that he'd actually followed Mulder's directions. " Not yet... Dick." " Richard," Edmands again corrected. Mulder continued as if Richard hadn't spoken, " It's not any easy thing lifting an adult male like that." " Maybe you should work out more," Scully teased. " Right," Mulder replied with a small smile. " The killer is obviously in better shape than I." " Well," Richard said still hanging from the hook. " It is kinda sad that someone your age has these kinds of problems, maybe you should see a doctor." He finished with a smile knowing he'd gotten them both. Mulder looked up at him as if seeing Richard for the first time. " Okay, you can let go now, Dick." " Richard," he said again as he dropped to the ground. " The really sad thing is that my little brother would have no problems lifting or throwing me around. He doesn't even work out. I wouldn't mind it if he weren't SO much younger than me. Heck, he was doing this kinda stuff when he was nineteen. He was always bigger, ya know? Football player, wrestler, etcetra... Mulder, you okay?" Mulder looked as if he'd just been punched in the stomach. He looked again to the meat hook and his eyes seemed to glaze over. " There he goes again..." Scully said to Richard. " Mulder what is it?" " I got it all wrong." Mulder said as if he'd just committed a mortal sin. " Got what wrong?" Scully asked him all to familiar with trying to get him to say what he was piecing together in his mind. " I knew the killer was young but I thought late twenties. What if he's much younger than that?" He looked to Scully then back to the hook. " Let's get back to the Bureau. I need to talk to Nancy Spiller." End Part 4... *** Mulder had spoken to Nancy Spiller. He had told her his theory and she had agreed. Mulder now knew that 'the Vampire Killer' was younger, anywhere between sixteen and thirty. The task force had assembled most of the records on Friday. *** The Oedipal Complex Part 5...Monday, August 22nd. Mulder shut the folder in front of him, rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. All the members of the task force were busy searching through mental patient files like the one he'd just closed. Everyone looked tired, they'd been here all weekend digging through files. The hardest thing about these cases was the fact that juvenile patients, when they reached eighteen, were turned over from Child Welfare to Social Services. The agents, when reading through the Welfare file, had to change to the Social Service file which, sometimes, hadn't yet been brought down to them. The whole thing was a huge headache. However, with the final delivery of case files an hour ago, things had sped up. Mulder rubbed his eyes again and pulled out the next file in his stack. He read the file and, reaching the end, discovered the inevitable pink form that stated in bold type: Turned over to Social Services. Mulder sighed. " Hey, Burke..." He called to the agent across the room. " Yeah," came the response. " Could you dig out Nicholas Sandecker from Social Services. Handed over in..." He glanced at the date "...February '94." " Sure," Burke got up and dug through a stack of files in a box marked "SS files for Feb. '94" After a few minutes Burke turned and said confused, " There's no file for Sandecker in SS." " What? Are you sure?" " Yeah, I'm sure." Mulder got up and began looking through the box himself. " Mulder," Scully added. " Sometimes these kids don't get picked up by Social Services. I've come across a couple that have slipped through." He turned to her. " What happens?" " Child Welfare releases them from custody and if Social Services doesn't pick them up they usually get free. Social Services tries to get them back but mostly it's too late and they're loose on the streets." " That means this guy's been out on the street since February." Mulder said going back to his seat and grabbing up the file. " More than likely," Scully answered more interested in the thoughtful look that crossed his face. " This is him." Mulder stated with such certainty that all action in the room stopped. " Mulder," Richard spoke up. " We've come across lots of guys that could be the killer." " No, this is him. Nicholas Sandecker age twenty. He lived on a cow farm and his father was employed as a butcher..." *** Little Nick was five years old and his mommy and daddy were fighting again. He hated it when they fought. The fights always ended in his daddy hitting his mommy or Nick or both. He didn't know why his daddy got so angry but he knew when to stay as much out of the way as possible. At the moment, Nick was in his room on the farm. He liked the farm with all the animals, especially the chickens. He thought chickens were funny animals, they made him laugh whenever he watched them for too long. He heard a crash from downstairs. He knew what the sound meant and knew he shouldn't go down and see. However, he needed to be sure his mom was okay. Slowly, he rose from the bed and decended the stairs. " You lying bitch!" Nick heard his father shout followed by the sharp crack of flesh hitting flesh. " I know you're sleeping around with that guy at the gas station. You can't fool me!" Nick turned the corner of the kitchen in time to see the blow his mother received. She went down hard holding the side of her face and started to cry. Seeing his mother cry, and being only five, tears formed in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Nick hated to see his mother cry, he hated more when his father hit them. He didn't know why his father was angry this time; he only knew that he wanted his mommy to stop crying and his daddy to stop hitting. " Daddy," Nick's voice quivered. " Please stop." His father spun in his direction. " What the Hell are you doing down here?" He screamed at the little boy. " Don't you know what a private conversation is?" His father stalked towards him and Nick was expecting the blow before it came. He didn't move or try to avoid it. His father had already taught him never to outrun his punishment. His father hit him with his right fist that landed on Nick's left cheek. The blow knocked Nick to the floor and his vision blackened. Then a pain filled scream erupted in the room and when Nick looked up it was to the sight of his mother slowly backing away from his daddy. The front of her pink dress had been soiled with the red stuff that usually came out when you hurt yourself. Nick was very familiar with it for he'd hurt himself a lot. " Oh, God..." His mother whispered as Nick's father fell to his knees. He looked down to find something sticking out of his father's stomach. Nick watched in confusion as his father grabbed the end of the thing and pulled it out. Nick recognized the big knife that daddy always used to carve the turkey at Thanksgiving. Suddenly he felt himself being picked up by his mother and carried out of the house. " We're going to hide now, Nick. You're daddy's very angry." She told him as she ran. "And I don't want him to hurt us anymore, so it's okay to hide from him. Do you understand?" He nodded distantly as he looked to see where they were heading. His mother was running to the "barn" where daddy killed the cow's. " People come from all over for my cows." Nick could hear, in his mind, his father saying with pride. His father had let him watch, once, while he killed a cow. His father would lock the animals in a crate like thing and then hit them real hard in the head with a big hammer. Then his father would cut them open with a knife and take all the inside stuff out. Afterwards, his father would cut off the hooves, head and take off the skin and then cut the cow in two. They reached the "barn" and rushed inside. The light was dim and Nick could just make out the crate for the cows. The floor was dark brown >from the insides of the dead cows that no one could ever seem to clean up. His mother ran down to the refrigerator were they put the cows when they were done. She opened the door and went inside. The cool air hit them both in the face and she put Nick back on his feet. The door swung shut behind them. Along the walls, hanging from hooks were the dead cows. The quiet sound of the cooling fan clicking on made them both jump. However, the floor here was a sterilized shade of white and Nick was glad. He hated walking in the stuff from the insides of the cows. When he did, his shoes stuck in the sticky stuff and made a gross squishy noise. His father always made him help clean the stuff up. " You're going to have to learn the business someday, Nick..." Nick could hear the voice echo in his head. " The best meat in the country comes from this farm." Suddenly, the door flew open with such force that a metal hinge was pulled from the wall. Nick's father stood, silhouetted by the light of the setting sun, in the center of the doorway. Blood soaked his shirt and jeans to the extent that he'd left a trail of bloody foot prints. A look of madness and pain was half covered in shadow and he leaped for Nick's mother and grabbed her hair. He brought up his blood covered left hand and in one effortless motion drew the knife across her throat. " Take that Bitch." His father rasped as he threw the woman to the ground. Blood spurted from her severed jugular and her scream of fright came out as a strangled gurgle. Her blood covered the floor, the hanging meat and it sprayed onto the walls and across Nick's face. He watched as his mother writhed on the floor and, finally, stilled. Nick looked up at his father as his daddy turned in his direction. He took a step, turned a pasty white and collapsed. Nick stood, unmoving, and stared. Was his daddy sleeping? Nick knew he was in trouble now. He looked down at the floor and at the red pool collecting at his feet. He wasn't about to leave. He hated stepping in the red stuff from the cows and he wasn't about to step in his mother's. He looked at his mother. She was unmoving, silent and blood still flowing from her throat. So he stood and looked upon the bodies of his parents by the ever dimming light of the sun. He stood and watched with the taste of his mother's blood in his mouth and the echoing voice of his father in his head. " Well, Nick... you're going to have to learn someday... The best meat in the country comes from this farm..." *** "...The police found him three days later." Mulder said as he continued reading from the file he held in his hands. " Seems a teacher, concerned that he hadn't showed for school, was aware that Nicholas was being abused. She called the police. The report says the police figure he hadn't moved from the spot and that, when they'd removed him, they'd had to take off the kid's shoes because the dried blood had glued them to the floor." " That little boy was in that meat locker for three days?" Agent Burke spoke horrified at the thought. " Hold on, there's more." Mulder put in before anyone else could comment. " Nick was counseled and placed in a foster home. In fact, he was placed in several homes. When he was sixteen, he was placed with a family who lived on a chicken farm. His counselors had hoped that this would help him along in the healing process. Six months after his placement, he was found, in the barn, eating the prized chicken, al la tartar. He was institutionalized shortly thereafter and he should still be locked away, if these evaluations are any indication. Instead, he got loose when Child Welfare turned over custody." Mulder paused and looked at everyone in the room in turn. " I'm telling you, this is him." End part 5... The Oedipal Complex Part 6...Tuesday, August 30th, 6 PM EST Mulder stretched as much as the available space inside the car would allow. He was again in the back seat of the FBI issued car. Richard was again driving and Scully was again in the passenger seat. They were on their way to Nicholas Sandecker's home about twenty minutes outside DC. It hadn't been too hard to find him. Mulder knew Sandecker would have returned to his old family home. Most twisted people did that kind of thing. Plus the fact that Sandecker's father had left the farm to him just made it obvious. The time consuming part was in trying to get all the necessary warrants. Convincing the judges had not been as easy as convincing the other agents. Finally, after a week, they'd received all the necessary paper work so they could go out and turn the Sandecker farm inside out. The frustrating thing was that today was an alternate Tuesday, which meant if they didn't catch him now he would kill again. Mulder turned to look out the window and watched the Maryland countryside roll past the window. He hoped Sandecker was at the farm. He hoped he'd read Sandecker correctly. Mulder thought he had but, then again, he'd thought he'd been right about Harold Richter too. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the cushioned seat. " Mulder?" Scully asked from the front. " Hmm?" Was his response. He didn't feel like talking to anyone. " I just wanted to congratulate you." He open his eyes and looked at her. " Congratulate me for what?" " For convincing all the agents on the task force about your theory." She smiled, " I didn't think they'd listen to you." He smiled back, taking the statement as the complement and the jest that it was. "Thanks." " I hate to cut in..." Richard said in the short pause that followed. " But, we're here." Mulder looked out the window again as the small convoy of federal vehicles pulled into a driveway leading to a two-story white house. The convoy came to a halt and the members of the task force emptied out into the yard. " Okay, people. Let's clear the house first." Nancy Spiller said quietly. The agents fanned out around the house. They were all dressed in black slacks and the standard FBI jacket over bulletproof vests. They stormed the house in efficient fashion. The interior of the house was completely empty. There was no furniture, no dishes, no curtains on the windows and, oddly enough, it was so spotless there was no dust. They moved outside and towards the barn fifty yards away. They entered the building to search. The interior of the barn looked just as Mulder had pictured it. The room was rectangular with a pen in one corner. In the center of the room was where the cows were knocked. The floor had probably once been a shade of white but, after years of slaughtered cattle and followed by years of disuse, it was a dull brown. At the far side of the room was a door that lead to the chill room where the meat was usually hung until it was ready to be quartered. This door was what attracted Mulder's attention. For some reason it didn't look as though it were closed. He approached it cautiously and opened the door. He had been right. The door was not shut all the way and he knew why. One of the metal hinges had been pulled from the wall and it was obvious that the chill room had not worked for some time. The light was broken as well but the interior of the room could be seen from the light of the sun through the door. " Hey, come look at this." Mulder called to the other agents. Scully and Richard were the first to enter. " What is it, Mulder?" Scully asked. His only response was to point. At least a hundred meat hooks could be seen hanging from a pipe along the ceiling. In one corner was a huge coil of rope. Stacks of duck tape stood in another corner. But the last sight chilled Scully to the bone. Along the right wall was a three level shelf. The shelf ran from on end of the room to the other end. On this shelf were empty glass jars topped with blue lids baring the words Miracle Whip. Scully drew closer for a better look. On each jar was a thin white label with a date. " Oh God, Mulder." She said horrified. " The dates on these jars... they're the dates of every other Tuesday for the rest of the year." " Look... Here's today's." He replied picking up the jar. Turning to Richard he said, " We've got to find this guy now because he doesn't look like he's going to stop in the near future." " Okay, people." Nancy Spiller called out loudly. " He's not here. We're going to have to set up a stake out in order to catch this guy." The agents responded by moving to the cars. " No!" Mulder cried out suddenly. " We can't leave. He's here! I know it." The other agents stopped in their tracks. " There go the 'Spooky Senses'." One agent whispered. " Mulder," Scully said as she approached him. " He's not here. We looked everywhere." " No, we haven't." He replied walking outside. " You're forgetting what we're dealing with here. This guy is a vampire. At least he believes he is. He wouldn't be out in the daylight." Nancy Spiller stepped in. " Agent Mulder, where else could he be? Look, we've got to set up the stakeout before he gets back so he doesn't see us here." " But he's not coming back, he's already here." Mulder emphasized becoming agitated. " The stake out won't work because as soon as it's dark he can just sneak out without anyone seeing him. He's here, he wouldn't go anyplace else. If we don't find him now we'll be cleaning up another crime scene tomorrow." He turned away scanning the view of the house, the barn and the yard. " He's here." He said almost to himself as a glazed look crossed his face. " Where would he hide? Where would I hide?" Just then it came to him and he bolted across the lawn. " Somebody get me a flashlight!" He yelled back at the assembled agents staring at him in confusion. Scully followed him to where he had stopped. Hidden in the underbrush by the side of the house were two old wooden doors leading to a storm cellar. She handed him a flashlight as he turned and pulled open one of the doors. He drew his gun, turned on the flashlight and decended the stairs with Scully right behind him. They were soon joined by Richard, Burke, Spiller and two other agents. The room wasn't very big. It was completely empty except for the cot in the far corner. Mulder brought up his weapon and pointed it at the form that was asleep upon the cot. From what Mulder could see of him, Nicholas Sandecker was dark haired and woefully thin for a healthy twenty-year-old. " Well, I'll be damned." He heard Richard murmur from behind him. " Shhh..." Came Scully's voice to his left. " We might be able to take him without a fight." Mulder nodded, slowly moving forward as he retrieved his pair of handcuffs from his belt. Silently, he holstered his weapon and, giving his flashlight to Scully, stopped directly beside the cot. With well practiced stealth, Mulder picked up Sandecker's left hand and slipped the cuff on. Suddenly, Sandecker stirred and, before he could prevent it, Mulder found himself grabbed by the front of his jacket and pulled, violently, head first into the concrete wall. He heard a sharp crack which, Mulder assumed, was his forehead connecting with the wall. Stars exploded behind his eyes, temporarily blinding him. His legs buckled and he slumped down onto the cot, pinning Sandecker's legs, as the other agents dove on Sandecker. Mulder's hand instinctively tightened on the end of the handcuff he still held and he used his other arm to further inhibit Sandecker's legs. " Get him on the ground!" One agent shouted and they collectively rolled Sandecker to the floor and onto his stomach. Mulder got to his knees, still holding onto the handcuffs, and twisted Sandecker's arm up behind his back. Despite Sandecker's struggles, Mulder managed to secure the cuff to Nick's right wrist that was being held by another agent. With that accomplished, Mulder separated himself >from the pile of agents trying to keep Nick under control. He pushed himself up against a far wall to make sure he wasn't in the way. His head throbbed and consciousness wavered. " Mulder?" He heard Scully next to him and blinked at the light she shone in his eyes. " Get him in a hobble!" Mulder heard someone shout in the beckground before he passed out... *** Mulder woke up in a hospital emergency room. He was flat on his back on a surgical table. Scully was there putting pressure on a compress to his forehead. " You took quite a bump, Mulder." Scully said in a voice that suggested she expected no less from him. His response was a strained smile. " Ya, Spooky. You gotta watch for that a little more closely." Came Richard's voice as he moved into Mulder's line of sight. " Thanks... Dick. I'll try to keep that in mind..." " Well... with whatever mind you may have left." Scully added. " You need stitches. A doctor will be here in a minute." She informed him before he could ask. Mulder closed his eyes. A simple case and he would get hurt bad enough for stitches, it figured. He was a magnate for that kind of bad luck. " What about Nick?" " Oh, we got him in custody without any injuries." She paused. She wanted to rub it in good this time so he'd be more careful. " No injuries to him anyway. He fought all the way here, to the hospital, and we had to sedate him." The doors suddenly swung open admitting a severe looking doctor and a nurse. " So, I understand you had a little disagreement with a wall." The doctor said as Scully moved out of the way. " You could call it that." Mulder responded. " Hey, Mulder..." Richard interrupted. " What?" " You're one hell of an agent." " Thanks... Dick." Mulder said with a smile. " I prefer Richard." The End. Well...there it is. After the painstaking process of posting it's all there. Let me know what you think... SciNut(O'tay!)