~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
       The Man Without A Trace
               ~~~~~

by syntax6

Rated: PG

Category:  Insanity

XxXxXxX

"I'd just like to state at the outset that this was 
emphatically, categorically, not my idea," Byers said as he 
followed Frohike and Langly into Mulder's living room.  
Mulder, clad in a T-shirt and boxers, was still squinting 
from the glare of the lamp.

"Guys, it's five a.m.."

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't benefit," Langly said to Byers 
as if Mulder weren't even present.  "You use the Z-series 
MicroScanner and the Optical Crypticon Programmer just like 
the rest of us."

"And the new rotisserie," Frohike added.  "You know how John-
boy loves his chicken."  

Mulder rubbed his eyes with one hand.  "Guys?  Even my fish 
are asleep."  All three of his guests turned to look at the 
darkened tank.  "What gives?"

They exchanged looks among themselves, and Byers held up his 
palms.  "I'm not doing it.  Chickens or no, this was not my 
idea."

Frohike heaved an extended sigh.  "Maybe you ought to sit 
down," he told Mulder.  Byers twitched and walked away from 
the group.

"Mulder?"  Scully emerged from the bedroom, wrapping a long 
satin robe around herself and yawning.  "I thought I 
heard...oh."

The invading trio turned and froze at the sight of her, and 
Frohike's mouth fell open.  He looked at Mulder with a faint 
hint of accusation.  Mulder shrugged.  "You were right," he 
said.  "She's hot."

"Great," Byers muttered from his place by the window.  "Now 
they can both shoot us."

"I don't know." Langly cast a doubtful eye over Scully's 
curves.  "Doesn't look like she's packing to me."

"That can be corrected."  She moved to stand near Mulder.  
"What the hell is going on here?"

"Damned if I know.  Snap, Crackle and Pop here just showed up 
a few minutes ago."  He shifted his gaze from her to the 
Gunmen.  "What the hell is going on here?"

"Well..."  Frohike spread his hands expansively, his stubby 
fingers peeking out from the ends of his gloves.  "The thing 
of it is, and I know you guys are going to laugh, surprising 
as this might sound, but The Lone Gunman magazine has not 
been the financial boon we'd hoped it would be.  The Internet 
has cut us deep, and we realized that if we wanted to retain 
our high stylin' techno pad we'd have to find another source 
of de niro."

"I voted for dog-walking," Byers interjected.  "Mrs. Benson 
next door has a lovely Jack Russell Terrier."

"With fangs like Cerberus," Frohike shot back.

"Guys."  Mulder folded his arms across his chest.  "The 
point?  Please?"

The threesome exchanged another round of guilty looks.  
Frohike took a deep breath.  "We started a comic book," he 
said at last.  "Langly and me.  Drawn entirely on computer.  
It took a few months to catch on, but now it's a bona fide 
hit series."  He gave a forced chuckle.  "I think you two 
would really like it.  It's a sci-fi adventure series, see, 
and--"

"Go on," ordered Byers with a nod at Mulder and Scully.  
"Show them."

Frohike shot him a glare.  "I think some more context might 
be in order."

"Hand it over," Mulder said, stretching out one arm.

Langly looked at the ceiling.  Frohike shook his head slowly 
as he reached inside his leather jacket.  Mulder almost had 
his hand on the comic book when Frohike snatched it back 
again.  "Just remember how many games of Tek War you've 
played at our place.  And that time we helped you hack the 
DOD."

"Give me that."  Mulder wrested the pages from Frohike.

                THE    BASEMENT   AVENGERS 
                    
                    In the case of the
                      LUSCIOUS LIVER

Beneath the credits, the cover showed two cartoon figures, 
one tall male and one short female, drawn larger than their 
night-city surroundings and sporting dark overcoats like 
capes.  They each flashed a high-intensity pocket light, and 
the red-haired woman, in her low-cut top, seemed to be 
flashing quite a bit more.  

"Oh my God," Scully said as she clutched the gap in her robe 
closed.

"That issue was one of our best sellers," Langly said with a 
note of pride.

"This is some sort of joke, right?" Mulder said as he 
tightened his fingers on the comic book.  "April Fools or 
something?"

Langly looked confused.  "But it's July."

"Tell me this isn't real," Mulder continued.  "Tell me you 
have not been putting our lives on display for the purposes 
of prurient entertainment?"

"Of course not," Frohike said, sounding hurt.  "It was for 
the money."

"Frohike!"

"Kidding!  Sort of.  Look, we'll cut you in, if you want.  
But you guys are heroes now!  People would pay good money if 
you wanted to sign copies."

"I don't believe this," Scully muttered.  "This is not real.  
It can't be real."

Frohike grimaced.  "Always the skeptic.  Very true to 
character."

"Character!?  You want character?"  She lunged for him.  
"I'll show you true-to-character, you scruffy, weasely 
little--"

Mulder held her back.  "Talk fast, boys.  My grip isn't that 
strong."

"Listen, it's not really you," Frohike began, and stopped at 
Scully's sizzling glare.  "Okay, it is, but just loosely, you 
dig?  We borrowed some of your cases because they made good 
stories.  But give us some credit.  We didn't use your real 
names or anything."

Mulder slackened his hold on Scully and looked at the 
crumpled comic book again.  Sure enough, at the bottom it 
read, "Starring Rocky Miller and McKenzie Sally."   

"Miller and Sally," Langly said.  "Get it?"

Mulder felt his stomach drop to his shoes.  "Rocky?  My name 
is ROCKY?"  Even his fictional names were lame.  It was a 
curse.  "I can't believe you named me 'Rocky.'"

"At least you have all your clothes on," Scully replied.

"Rocky's a perfectly good name," Langly said, sticking up his 
chin a notch.  "He was my gerbil for five years, and a damn 
fine specimen of rodent he was.  What's wrong with Rocky?"

"He's missing!" Byers hissed from the back of the room, 
startling them all.  "That's what's wrong."

"I should be so lucky," Mulder muttered, tossing the magazine 
on the coffee table.

"Uh, yeah," Frohike said.  "About that.  That's why we're 
here.  We need your help."

"Psychiatric help is more like it."

Frohike ignored him.  "We attend a yearly convention.  It's 
not quite underground but everyone likes to pretend it is 
anyway.  It's the usual kind of gig -- gamer types get 
together to swap merchandise and schmooze with the artists.  
Takes place in this converted old factory on the outside of 
town."

"Oh, we are so not going there," Scully warned.  "If that's 
why you're here."

"But Byers is right," Langly said.  "We do need your help.  
Someone's kidnapped Agent Miller.  Well, kidnapped Phillip 
Abernathy is more like it.  He's the guy we hired to play you 
--er, I mean Agent Miller--at the convention."

Mulder scrubbed his face with both hands, making his hair 
stand on end.  "Are you sure he was kidnapped?  Maybe he just 
came to his senses and took up a career in accounting or 
something."

"No, man, he's just disappeared," Frohike said.  "One minute 
he was walking around near our booth, the next he was gone.  
Diane said he was going to go get some water, but he never 
came back.  His stuff, including his car keys and street 
clothes, is still with us."

"So report him missing to the police," Mulder said.  

Frohike shook his head.  "No can do.  Not for twenty-four 
hours.  We thought you could get a jump on it sooner."

"But--"

"We'll do it," Scully said.  

Mulder looked over at her as though she'd just suggested they 
should streak naked across a football field at halftime.  "We 
will?"

"Yes," she said, stooping to retrieve the comic book.  "I 
sure as hell don't want the boys at the 6-5 investigating 
this case."  She held up the cover for him.  "Do you, Rocky?"

She had a good point.  "Fine," he said.  "Whatever."

"Thanks, dude."  Frohike gave them a relieved grin.

"Dead," Mulder told him, and the smile vanished.  "All three 
of you.  As soon as this is over."

"Aw, Mulder, listen..."

"So dead," Scully concurred.  She paused and squinted at 
Frohike.  "But I'll make sure to pick you out something 
really special to wear at the funeral."

XxXxX

Upon setting foot in the factory cum convention center, 
Scully saw immediately how it could be possible for someone 
to go missing for years at a time.  The huge room was packed 
wall-to-wall with booths, curtains, and banners, all arranged 
in a quasi super-market fashion with narrow aisles and 
splashy displays that vied for one's attention.  The total 
silence of early morning was in direct contradiction of the 
loud, larger-than-life images, as if someone had hit the mute 
button at the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade.

Scully ducked under the outstretched arm of an enormous blow-
up gorilla as she and Mulder followed the Gunmen towards the 
back wall.  "I'm still not sure why you think Mr. Abernathy 
has been kidnapped," she said to Frohike.  "No note, no 
demands.  It seems much more likely that he just walked out 
the door and kept going."

"We've been using Phillip for years," Langly answered.  "He's 
always been one hundred percent reliable as Agent Miller.  
He'd never go off and ditch us."

Scully flashed Mulder a look.  "So much for staying true to 
character," she muttered.  He scowled back at her.

"Besides," Frohike said, "he left his wallet and his car 
keys, and there was no way Phil was walking home yesterday.  
He twisted his ankle playing softball two days ago.  Showed 
up with a cane.  The way he was limping around the place, I'd 
be surprised if he made it as far as the front door."

"Then maybe he fell down and is injured someplace," Scully 
suggested.

"We checked all over," Frohike said.  "No sign of the dude 
after two p.m. yesterday.  No one's seen him; no one's talked 
to him since." 

"Motive?" Mulder asked.  "Enemies he might have had?"

"Well, we've been thinking about that.  Just wait a second 
until we get to our booth.  It's right...over...here."  They 
rounded the last corner and both Mulder and Scully came to 
complete halt.  

Above the booth, a hand-painted banner read: TODAY AND 
TOMORROW!  MEET AGENTS MILLER AND SALLY!  Posters of the two 
of them hung on walls over a table stacked high with comic 
books.  Life-size cutouts of their cartoon counterparts, 
posed Charlie's Angel style with weapons in hand, stood in 
front of the table.

"That's a pretty big gun you have there," Scully told Mulder 
after a minute.

He was still gaping at her cardboard rendering.  "And you, 
Scully, those are some pretty big--"

She elbowed him.  "Mulder!" 

"--shoes."

Scully put one hand over her eyes.  The Gunmen had turned her 
into a superhero, all right:  Wonderbra Woman.  "Please.  
Let's just find this man and go home."

Mulder cleared his throat.  "Okay, you were saying something 
about motive?" he asked Frohike.

Frohike spread his arms.  "You're looking it at.  Location, 
location, location."

"I'm not following."

"We've got the best spot on the block this year.  Primo 
locale.  The main restrooms are just over there."  He 
pointed.  "And that shack down there sells the best soft 
pretzels in the whole joint.  We're central to them both.  
Every vendor at the Con wants this spot, and we got it."

"More like we took it away," Langly said.  "And Ira Gorganson 
was *not* pleased."

"Who?" Mulder asked.

"He draws the Space Quest series, and this has been his turf 
for the last five years."

"So why the switch this year?" Scully asked.

Langly shrugged.  "Readership's fallen off.  There's word 
that Ira's going to wrap up the series soon and start a new 
one, anyway.  But he was planning on going out with a bang, 
and I guess he was pissed to show up and find out he'd been 
moved over one aisle."

"So that's him behind those black curtains?" Mulder asked.

"That's him."  Byers stepped forward.  "And I wouldn't be so 
quick to blame a decrease in circulation for Ira's downgrade 
at this conference.  He still has a very large, very vocal 
fan base.  They were here yesterday protesting Ira's decision 
to end the series.  I think the management may have gotten 
wind of that and wanted to move his booth to a less central 
area."

"Whatever the reason," Frohike said, "Ira was over here 
before the doors opened yesterday tossing some pretty heavy 
words around.  He called us no-talent hacks and said we'd be 
sorry we'd come."

Scully raised her eyebrows.  "You think this man kidnapped 
Mr. Abernathy to ruin you at the conference?  That seems a 
bit of a stretch."

"Tell that to William Shatner," Langly said.

"Excuse me?"

"At a San Diego Con a few years ago, the Galactic Warriors 
producer arranged for Old Kirk to spend some quality time 
locked in a spare dressing room.  He felt the fans would pay 
more attention to the other booths if the big Trek draw 
suddenly didn't show.  Agent Miller -- and Sally, too, of 
course -- was our big draw."

Mulder paused from flipping through a current issue of "The 
Basement Avengers."  "Have you checked all the dressing 
rooms?"

"There aren't any here.  Listen, we're not saying he did it, 
but if he wanted to get even with us for taking his place, 
this was a good way to go about it."

"All right," Mulder said, setting aside the comic book.  
"We'll talk to him as soon as he gets here.  In the 
meantime..."  He held up a tee shirt with Agent Sally on the 
front.  She was dressed in a lab coat this time, but it hung 
open enough to show off the belly shirt she wore underneath.  
Her rich red hair curled around her shoulders and she winked 
at the audience.  Mulder grinned.  "How much for one of 
these?"

XxXxX

Mulder and Scully toured the convention center before the 
vendors and crowds started to arrive, including the spot near 
the water fountain where Agent Miller was last seen.  There 
was no sign of him anywhere.  

"Let's have the guys point out this Ira Gorganson character," 
Mulder said.  "It's worth a shot."

"I don't know, Mulder," Scully said as she fell into step 
beside him.  "The best booth on the block seems like a rather 
slim motive for kidnapping, if in fact we're even dealing 
with an abduction here.  So far no one has registered a 
single demand."

"But the motive would really be to undermine the Gunmen's 
success," he countered.  "That's different."

"Hey, it's the Basement Dwellers!" cried a teenage boy from 
down the aisle.  

Mulder and Scully stopped because that's what they were, even 
if other people weren't usually so direct in pointing it out.  
The young man bounded up and circled them once before 
stopping in front of Mulder.  "Sweet set-up with the 
holsters.  I can barely see them!  Much better than the 
fakey-fake ones the others wore.  You guys are checking out 
the Con, huh?  My friend Seth has a music booth by the 
emergency exit.  Make sure to stop by."

"We're not..." Scully began, but Mulder cut her off.

"By the emergency exit?  Is it alarmed?"

"Nah.  People are in and out for nicotine breaks all the 
time."

"You didn't happen to see, um, the other Agent Miller 
stepping out back yesterday, did you?"

"He didn't."  The kid dug out an instant camera from his 
pocket.  "Hey, would you snap a picture of me and Agent 
Sally?"

"How do you know he didn't step outside?" Mulder asked as he 
accepted the camera.  Scully glowered at him.

"Because," said the kid reasonably, "Agent Miller would never 
smoke.  The Smoking Man is totally evil, dude.  He'd never 
get mixed up in that."

"Oh," Mulder said.  Scully shot him a pointed look that said: 
ask a stupid question...  Annoyed, Mulder forced a toothy 
smile.  "Okay, then.  Go stand next to Agent Sally, there..."

"Keith," said the kid, bouncing into place beside Scully.  
She flinched as he threw a heavy arm around her shoulders.  
"Seth is going to die that I got this one for free!"

"That's good," Mulder said from behind the camera.  "Just a 
little closer.  Smile!"

Keith grinned; Scully's mouth didn't so much as twitch.

"Super, thanks!"  Keith squeezed her shoulders once and went 
to retrieve his camera.

"I think I'll go check out Seth's booth," Mulder said to 
Scully.  "Why don't you talk to Ira Gorganson?"

"Fine."  She straightened her suit jacket with a firm tug.  
As she turned to go, she heard Keith's voice behind her 
again, talking to a young woman.

"Tori, check it out:  you can get your picture with Sally for 
free if you want."

Scully's spine stiffened. 

"Eh, no thanks," came Tori's reply.  "She's not as good as 
the one they had yesterday.  That hair is just a little *too* 
red, you know?"

XxXxX

Scully headed in the direction of the Basement Dweller's 
Booth to ask the Gunmen about Ira, but she stopped short 
about twenty feet away when she saw she was already there, 
apparently having robbed a twelve year-old's wardrobe if that 
twelve year-old also had a side career as a streetwalker.

Scully tilted her head first one way, then the other, amazed 
at the other woman's similarity in profile.  It wasn't as 
though Scully thought it was impossible to find someone else 
who resembled her; that one time in the Bureau parking garage 
when Skinner had mistaken her for Kimberly Cook from behind 
had taught her as much.  But Scully had politely declined his 
offer to dictate an X-rated memo while the top Skinner's head 
turned three shades of red, and the two of them Had Never 
Mentioned It Again.  Though Scully had noted Kim showed up 
the following Monday with her hair a little browner and a 
whole lot shorter.

Scully approached her new-found double the way she hunted 
other mutants, slowly and with her eyes on the creature at 
all times.  Frohike spotted her and waved her to join the 
group.  "Agent Scully, meet Diane Zimmerman," he said.  
"Otherwise known as Agent Sally."

From the front, Scully could see Diane's eyes were more 
closely set, her chin was a tad rounder and her forehead a 
bit higher.  Still, the resemblance was uncanny.  "Uh, 
hello."

"Hi," said Diane flatly, and Scully forced herself not to 
wince.  That was not her voice at all.  For one thing, Scully 
hadn't grown up on Long Island.  "Listen," Diane said as she 
turned to Frohike.  "I don't know why you called her in, but 
we had an agreement:  five hundred for the whole weekend.  If 
there's a problem with my work..."

"No, you're just great," Frohike assured her.  "Scully isn't 
here as an actress; she's an FBI agent."

"Oh," said Diane, looking Scully over once more.  "I guess 
that explains the suit."  

"We're trying to figure out what happened to Phillip 
Abernathy," Scully said.  "You were working with him 
yesterday when he disappeared?"

"Yeah, we took photos together all morning.  But after lunch 
his leg was bothering him so he went go get some water to 
take his pills.  That was around two, and I didn't see him at 
all after that.  But if you want to talk to someone who might 
know more, ask those freaks over there."

Scully turned around to see a group of teens watching them 
intently.  "Those kids?"

"They're our biggest fans."  She rolled her eyes and Scully 
felt a slight chill.  "They've been hanging out here since we 
opened yesterday morning.  I don't even get to go pee without 
them knowing about it."

"Thanks, I'll check them out."  Scully walked across the 
aisle to where the small gathering had congregated.  They 
straightened and started jostling each other as she 
approached.

"You shut up!"

"No, you."

"Hi," Scully said as she reached them.  She put her hand 
inside her jacket for her ID.  "I'm..."

"We know who you are," said the closest kid, a tall, thin 
girl with long hair dyed Crayola red.  She fixed Scully with 
an intense look.

Scully sighed.  "I highly doubt that.  My name is..."

"Dana Scully, FBI."

Scully drew up short and blinked.  "That's right."

The girl nodded, satisfied.  "Told you."  She looked around 
at her cohorts.  "We know some things.  Anyone who reads the 
Washington Post on a regular basis can see you and Agent 
Mulder are the inspiration for The Basement Avengers."

"You can?"  Scully wondered what else they could know.

"Sure.  The true fans have known from the beginning.  You 
mean you've never been to 'The Basement Underground'?"

Every damn day for the last seven years, thought Scully.  Her 
brow furrowed.  "I don't believe so.  Is...is that a club?"

The girl frowned.  "No, it's a website.  We use it to keep 
track of your cases and guess which ones are going to turn up 
in the books.  You've really never been?"

Scully gave a thin smile.  "Can't say that I have."

The boy kneed the girl from behind.  "See, I *told* you she 
wasn't 'FBIWoman22.'"

The girl ignored him.  "You should check us out.  We'd love 
to have you.  But don't worry," she continued when she saw 
the look Scully was giving her, "we're not cracked or 
anything.  It's not like we hang around outside your house at 
night or peek in the windows of the Hoover Building."

"Well, there was that one time when Roger broke away from the 
FBI tour," the boy said, and his companion silenced him with 
a well-placed stomp on his toes.

"I'm Janine," said the girl.  "I have to say I never figured 
you guys would show up at an actual convention.  You here 
trying to find the dweeb playing Agent Miller?"

"That's right.  Do you know anything?"

"He could have become invisible."

"Like that man you examined," supplied her friend.  "In the 
one with Agent Mulder the genia.  Volume 6, issue 2:  'I 
Scream For Genie.'"

"That was issue 3," corrected Janine.  "Issue 2 was 'The 
Trouble with Doubles,' remember?"

"Oh, yeah.  I guess I'd forgotten about that one."  He gave 
Scully a rueful glance.  "It kinda sucked."

"But maybe Kenny is on to something," Janine said, her 
excitement growing.  "Maybe there was room for only one Agent 
Miller/Mulder, and when your Agent Mulder showed up, the 
other one got pushed into another universe!"

"'Cept the real one didn't come until today, dofus." 

"Oh, yeah."  Janine's face fell.  "It still could be the 
invisibility thing, though."

"I was thinking of something more pedestrian," Scully said.  
"Diane over there said you guys keep a pretty close eye on 
the area, and she thought you might have seen where Agent 
Miller went when he left yesterday afternoon."

"Oh.  Well, yeah.  He went down by the water fountain and the 
last time I saw him was a little after two.  He was arguing 
with that toad, Gene Watkins.  I beat it out of there in a 
hurry so I wouldn't have to talk to him."

"Gene's a Questor," Kenny added.  "Big time.  He's their M-I-
F."

"An M-I-F?"

"Most Important Fan.  He writes the definitive reviews of 
each issue and runs the biggest website.  Ira Gorganson 
wouldn't be half the success he is without Gene's work."

"Whatever," Janine said.  "Ira drives Jaguar and has a three-
year contract with Sepia Comics.  Gene drives a Geo Metro and 
works at Big Boy.  He needs Ira, not the other way around. 
Beats me why he'd be talking to Agent Miller at all.  He 
usually doesn't leave the Space Quest booth for the entire 
Con, and with yesterday's big sit-in to save the series, I'd 
have expected him to be even more rooted."

"Okay, I'll talk to him."  She waited through an awkward 
pause, then gave them a short nod.  "Thanks."

Janine glowed.  "No problem."

XxXxX

Mulder had picked up some fan help of his own.  Seth, the boy 
wonder of synthesizers, had thrown down his keyboard and 
taken up the hunt when he'd learned about Mulder's problem.  
"I can point out Ira for you," he said as he wriggled his 
thin frame between two tables.  "This is so cool!"

"I think I can find him," Mulder answered.  "Down that way 
and to the left, right?"

"Yeah, but I know all the guys over there.  I can vouch for 
you."

Amused, Mulder asked as they walked, "You're a fan of Ira's 
work?"

"Nah, not so much any more.  I was a hard-core Questor when 
the series started, but then he killed off L'tara and the 
storylines started getting lame.  Besides, SQ is so eighth 
grade.  But your stuff...I had no idea it was all real!"  

Mulder considered Agent Sally's bust line.  "I haven't read 
the stories," he said, "but I think the authors may be prone 
to exaggeration."

"Huh.  So there's no global conspiracy between our 
governments and the alien race for world domination?"

"No, that part's true."

"Huh," Seth said again.  "What about the giant mushroom that 
eats people?"

"True."

"The time you wrestled with a female Big Foot?"

"Yeah, that was true."

Seth stopped, confusion on his freckled face.  "So what part 
isn't true?"

Mulder halted too.  "Well," he said.  "Let's see.  Was there 
ever an episode where I nearly drowned myself chasing a ghost 
ship in the Bermuda Triangle?"

Seth lit up.  "Yes!"

Mulder clamped a hand on the kid's shoulder.  "Never 
happened."

XxXxX

Scully was already talking to Ira when Mulder and Seth showed 
up.  Seth, momentarily distracted from his task of showing 
Mulder around, chortled when he saw Scully.  "Holy smokes!  
She's real too?"

Mulder cut the kid some slack.  This was pretty much how he 
felt every time he woke up to find Scully in his bed.  "Looks 
like she's ahead of me on this one.  I'd better go catch up.  
Thanks for your help."

"Look," Ira Gorganson was saying as Mulder joined them, "I'd 
love to help you.  I swear.  But I don't have any idea where 
the man could be.  I'm too busy worrying about where my own 
actor went, thank you very much."

"You're missing an actor?" Mulder asked.

"Jim Tukey."  Ira ran a hand over his nearly bald head.  "He 
plays Captain Quindlen for the fans whenever I'm at a 
convention.  He was supposed to be here at eight, but I 
haven't heard from him."

Mulder looked at Scully.  "The plot thickens."

Ira narrowed his eyes at Mulder, as if seeing him for the 
first time.  "I'm sorry, but you are?"

"Agent Miller," said an angry voice from behind Mulder.  "I 
think you've got the wrong aisle, pansy man."

Mulder turned and found a short, squat man with big hands and 
a scraggly beard.  "Excuse me?"

"Never mind him," said a taller man, stepping forward.  "Gus 
is a little emotional these days."

Ira gave a weary sigh.  "You want proof that I didn't kidnap 
your Agent Miller?  Ask these people.  They never let me out 
of their sight."

"I'm Agent Mulder," Mulder said to the short man who'd 
insulted him.  "This is Agent Scully.  We're investigating 
the disappearance of Phillip Abernathy."

The tall man frowned at Mulder.  "Gus only uses character 
names.  He's total hard-core."

"And you are?" Mulder asked.

The man's chest swelled.  "Gene Watkins," he said as if it 
should mean something to Mulder.  He glanced at Scully for 
help, to see if she knew anything, and she mouthed, "Toad."

"Mr. Watkins, do you have any information about Mr. 
Abernathy's disappearance?"

"I'm sorry, but no.  And I don't have time for questions.  My 
people need me over there."

Mulder glanced in the direction indicated and saw a large 
clump of people dressed in costume and holding signs.  "Ah, 
that's right.  Mr. Gorganson here is ending the series, isn't 
he?"

"Not if we can help it," Watkins said firmly.  He shot 
Gorganson a death glare.  

"Captain Quindlen is the hero of our times," Gus said, 
folding his arms across his chest.  "You don't kill a hero."

"Oh, for god's sake," muttered Gorganson.  "You see what I 
have to deal with?  You see?  If you'll excuse me, I'm going 
to try reaching Jim again."  He walked back to his table and 
took out a cell phone.

Scully regarded Gene Watkins.  "I talked to some people who 
saw you arguing with Phillip Abernathy yesterday before his 
disappearance.  What were you fighting about?"

Gus pushed between Scully and Watkins.  "Listen, Sister 
Sally, you can take your trampy ass back across the aisle.  
Gene doesn't have to answer to you or anyone else."

"Gus, it's okay."  Watkins put a hand on his friend's 
shoulder.  "I did talk to Phillip yesterday.  I wanted him to 
wear an SOS button when he was greeting the fans, but 
refused."

"Punk," Gus spat.

"An SOS button?" Scully asked.

Watkins pointed at the one pinned to his black turtleneck 
shirt.  "Save Our Series.  Frohike and Langly got the high-
traffic booth this year, and I thought Phillip might help 
send a little business our way.  He said it would ruin Agent 
Miller's look.  We argued for a minute or two, but then I 
came right back here.  I haven't seen him since.  Now please, 
I really must get back."

Gus followed him back down the aisle towards the crowd, and 
Mulder turned to Scully.  She blew out a long breath.  "Well, 
I'm still not convinced he's been kidnapped."

"I am.  Now it looks like this other actor might be missing, 
too."  Mulder walked over to the posters of Ira Gorganson's 
Space Quest crew.  Captain Quindlen, a tall, rakish man with 
dark hair and a silver cane, stood at the front of each one.

"I'll buy that these guys are nutty enough to grab the man 
playing their hero," Scully said as she joined him.  "But why 
would they care about Agent Miller?"

"Competition, maybe?  I don't know."

Sudden shouting from down the aisle caused Mulder and Scully 
to turn.  Gus had worked himself into a fury again, this time 
screaming at Diane Zimmerman's Agent Sally.  "We already told 
you we don't know anything!  Get out and leave us the hell 
alone."

Scully shook her head.  "There's something wrong with that 
one, Mulder.  Too much fantasy, too little reality."

"Hmmm, you could be right."  A germ of an idea niggled at 
Mulder's brain.  He looked again at the pictures of Captain 
Quindlen.  "I think I know who kidnapped Phillip Abernathy 
and why."

"You do?"

"Yes, and Jim Tukey, too.  But it's going to take a little 
more work to prove it."

XxXxXx

Mulder didn't need to adjust his appearance much for his 
charade, and he found the necessary prop with little problem.  
The Gunmen thought he was a genius, but Scully needed more 
convincing.  "I've seen you make some leaps before, Mulder, 
but this one would do Mikhail Baryshnikov proud."  

"Yeah," echoed Diane Zimmerman.  "Are you sure this will 
work?"

Mulder looked up and blinked rapidly to try to clear his 
vision.  Two Scullys, with arms folded, regarded him with 
equal skepticism.  "It will work.  It's the only answer that 
makes sense."

He put on his suit jacket and took up his borrowed cane.  
Scully sighed.  "Okay.  I'll be right behind you."

"Be sure to leave enough following room."

Scully gave him the warning eyebrow.  "Maybe you've 
forgotten.  I'm the genuine article, Mulder.  I've had FBI 
training, remember?"

"You might need it.  This guy seems to mean business."  He 
took a deep breath.  "All right.  Let me make a couple of 
passes around the area, and then I'll head back towards the 
phones and the water fountains."

Mulder set out with his cane, making sure to favor his right 
leg.  He walked up and down the aisles without pausing much 
at any of the exhibits.  Curious gazes followed him, and he 
hoped at least one person had fallen in line.  Slowly, he 
made his way towards rear of the building where the pay 
phones were.  The crowd thinned as he went, and by the time 
he rounded the corner into the alcove, no one was in sight.  
He hobbled over to one of the phones and dropped a quarter in 
the slot.  No sooner than the receiver reached his ear than 
he felt a gun barrel tickle his ribs.

"I don't know which one you are or how you got out," hissed a 
voice from behind him.  "But you're coming with me right now.  
Hang up the phone."

Mulder replaced the receiver.  "Give it up, Gus," he said 
without turning around.  "I know it's you."

The gun poked him sharply.  "Shut up!  You don't know 
anything."

"I do know.  I know you can't recognize faces.  That's why 
you call everyone by their character names all the time, 
isn't it?  It's also why you grabbed Phillip Abernathy by 
mistake yesterday; you thought he was Jim Tukey playing 
Captain Quindlen.  This morning when Jim showed up, you 
grabbed him, too.  Where are they, Gus?"

"I said SHUT UP!"

Scully's voice echoed off the bare cement walls.  "Drop the 
gun, Gus.  Now."

"Oh, hell."  Mulder heard the gun fall to the ground and felt 
Gus back away.  He turned around and saw Scully snapping the 
handcuffs around Gus's wrists.

"Where are Phillip Abernathy and Jim Tukey?" she demanded.

Gus sighed.  "Downstairs in the basement.  There's a room 
where the fuse box is."

Sure enough, Mulder and the Gunmen tramped down to the 
basement and brought the two victims, blinking like moles, 
back into the light.  "It's called prosopagnosia," Mulder 
explained as they climbed the stairs again.  "The inability 
to recognize faces.  No one is sure what the cause is, but 
people who have the disorder usually fixate on other obvious 
character traits to identify people around them.  His limp 
and his cane is probably one reason Gus fixated on Captain 
Quindlen's character; he was always easy to spot in a crowd."

"And that's why he thought Phillip was Jim," Langly said, 
catching on.  "Because of the cane."

"Exactly," Mulder said.  "Call it the case of the Cane 
Mutiny."

XxXxX

Scully stood with her suspect by the phones, making sure his 
back was to the wall so none of the conference attendees 
could see the cuffs.  Most of the passersby seemed to pay her 
no mind, but one little girl about eight years old spotted 
her and came running over.  "Agent Sally!" she said.  "Cool!  
Is this one of your bad guys?"

Gus looked away in disgust.  Scully squirmed.  "Uh, yes.  
We're taking him to jail now."

"Wow, that's awesome.  When I grow up, I want to be an FBI 
agent just like you." She thrust out n Basement Avengers 
comic book and a pen.  "Would you sign this for me?  Please?"

Scully frowned and hesitated.  Tomorrow's leadership, she 
thought.  What the hell.  You only get to be a hero once.  
"Sure," she said, smiling.  "I'll sign."

"Thank you!  It should say, 'To my friend Sabrina who will be 
an FBI Agent.  Love, McKenzie Sally.'"

Scully scribbled down the dictation.  "There you go," she 
said, feeling light and happy at fulfilling the little girl's 
wish.

Sabrina took the magazine back and wrinkled her brow.  "You 
spelled 'McKenzie' wrong."

Scully sighed.  Gus snickered.  

Only paper heroes could be perfect.

XxXxX

Mulder and Scully leaned against opposite sides of a large 
square support column and watched the cops take Gus Tranchent 
away.  "You think they suspected anything?" Scully asked.

"Well, the one guy did kind of double take when he got a good 
look at Abernathy, but without Zimmerman around, I don't 
think he could place how he recognized the guy.  So our 
secret is safe for now."

Scully looked over and gave him a tired smile.  "Oh, we're 
far too late for secrecy.  Remind me to tell you about our 
website."

"So where do you want to go to get something to eat and plot 
which one of the guys we kill first?"

"I'm thinking somewhere Italian."

"Ah, shades of the mafia.  I like that.  Spaghetti goes well 
with murder."  He walked around the column to her and she 
pushed away from its side.  Her fingers reached out to toy 
with the end of his tie.

"You're sure you don't need to purchase some Agent Sally 
merchandise first?"

"Scully, I learned long ago never to settle for an 
imitation."

She eyed him.  "Good answer."

"Which is why I'm so relieved to see this tee-shirt is 100% 
genuine cotton."  He pulled out a baby blue shirt with from 
where it was wadded his pocket.  Agent Sally posed with her 
gun on the front.

"And where are you going to be wearing that tiny thing?  On 
one arm?"

He held it up to her front, where it stopped just shy of her 
navel.  "No, it's for you.  See?"

"Oh, really."  She arched one eyebrow at him and took the 
shirt.  "And just when I am supposed to wear this?"

A grin spread across his face.  "Any time you feel like 
playing super hero, Scully."

"Uh-huh," she said.  "And while I'm the super hero, you will 
be...?"

"The monster of under the bed, of course."

"Ah," she said, with exaggerated understanding.  "Agent 
Miller?"

"Yes?"

"Bite me."

He leaned down so their noses were nearly touching.  "That's 
the general idea."

She struggled to remain serious but lost the battle, a short 
giggle escaping from her just before he pecked her with a 
quick kiss.  He threw his arm around her shoulders.  "No 
monster chasing on an empty stomach," he said as they started 
for the door.  "That's number one in the Super Heroes 
Handbook."

So they went off for a little murder and a little marinara, 
oblivious to their audience behind the nearest column.  
Janine elbowed Kenny.  "You see?  I *told* you they were 
doing it."

XxXxX

The End

As the series nears its end, I'm purging old ideas left and 
right.  I thought this one well-suited for April Fool's Day.

Join me in my insanity:  syn_tax@yahoo.com