9:47 p.m.
Bon Temps, Louisiana
SPECIAL AGENT Fox Mulder responded to a mysterious call regarding a string of serial cases in which all corpses were subjected to exsanguination and violent strangulation, thus Mulder found himself in the backwoods of Louisiana.
As he drove down a desolate highway, Mulder mused over the intriguing amount of excess overkill present in the case. Without Scully to converse with and bounce ideas off of, he was scruffy and restless. Having not shaved for three weeks, Mulder was growing a healthy beard. As he rounded a corner, the neon sign reading 'Merlotte's' came into view. The bar was where the sheriff had designated they meet before heading off to traipse through the wilderness to the crime scene.
As Mulder parked the car and grudgingly left its air conditioned depths, the dense heat of the Louisiana summer settled about him like a thick cloak. Mulder lurched gloomily into the bar. Upon his dour entrance, several patrons looked up, scanning him greedily. A rotund and obviously drunk woman soon approached him, claiming to have quite a nice car if he would 'like to take a look.' Thankfully, he was rescued from an otherwise doomed encounter by fit and blunt black woman. Without pause, she shepherded the intoxicated woman back to her stool. Once assured that the drunkard was pacified, she turned and identified herself as Tera Thornton while pumping Mulder's hand enthusiastically.
Flashing his badge with gumption he briefed her on his reasons for being in Louisiana. Helpful as always, Tera directed him to a table in the far corner, presumably where the sheriff was perched and presently sorting through paperwork. Mulder reached the table and the two exchanged pleasant greetings before heading off to the crime scene.
Vacating the premises of the drinking establishment, he rushed with more glee than was necessary to the air conditioned heaven that was his car. Waiting for the sheriff to reach his own vehicle, he followed him out of Merlotte's and down the potholed gravel road toward the main highway. Five minutes into the drive, highway hypnosis took effect and Mulder became entirely oblivious to his surroundings, so much so that he did not notice his left blinker was on. Lazily, he floated from white to yellow line, acting like a wingless butterfly. Therefore, when the ostentatiously painted day-glo green Bentley rushed him like a German U-Boat his feeble attempts to transfer his foot from the gas pedal to the break, were just that: feeble. But his excessive FBI training kicked in and he managed to slow down enough that when he careened off the road and into the defenseless swamp undergrowth his life was spared. Less could be said for Mulder's consciousness.