Tritown, New Jersey
Dana Scully peered through the screen and rapped on the doorframe.
"Hey, if this guy is a clairvoyant, how come he can't foresee two Feds on his front porch?" Agent Doggett offered with a smirk.
Unlike his partner, the dilapidated neighbourhood hadn't unnerved the former New York officer. The McMurdeo residence seemed to be falling apart from its foundation, the exterior slanted and unkempt. The patch of lawn in front was burned to a crisp yellow, the white paint was beginning to peel and the only window to the left of the door was shattered. No woman's touch here, Doggett mused.
"Mr. McMurdeo?" Scully took a step back and shot her partner a glare. "We couldn't pull up a record on him. No run-ins with the law as far as we're aware of, John."
Doggett looked amused. "My poker face is shit, isn't it?"
The screen door creaked open and a portly middle-aged blond peeked his head out. His expression went blank as he gave a look-over to Doggett but lightened as he recognised Scully.
"Agents." his voice was breathy. Brian held open the door and motioned for the agents to come inside. As he entered, Doggett noticed a bruise under the man's eye but refrained from asking. Even more obvious was the man's gait, as he appeared to limp when he walked. The man's blue eyes caught John by surprise.
"Walking aids are for the weak, Mr. Doggett." Brian nodded towards Scully and motioned her to take a seat in what appeared to be the living room. Doggett smirked to himself. Women's intuition and telepathy had bested him twice in five minutes.
As her partner took a seat next to her, Dana observed the cozy living quarters, which contrasted greatly to the shack's exterior. The room was decorated mostly with antique shelves, stocked with what had to be hundreds of books. In fact, the room seemed to be the only one that had been designed with great care. She bit her lip and tried to catch a book's title. The paranormal. All the shelves were stacked with documents of the paranormal.
"Mr. McMurdeo, you'll have to excuse us if we seem a bit caught off-guard," Dogget began, "it's just that it's a rare occasion for one to request specific agents for aid."
"Oh, I'm in no need of aid, sir." McMurdeo took a seat on the couch opposing the agents. "I'm only acting as a messenger."
"You have a message from Fox Mulder." Scully stated, slightly aware of the desperation in her voice.
"Somewhat. Not so much of a message, as a warning. You see, Mr. Mulder isn't even aware of the great role he plays in all of this."
Doggett leaned back and restrained the temptation to rolling his eyes. This was going to take a while.
"And you say you saw Mulder in a dream?" Doggett probed.
McMurdeo slowly pushed himself up from his seat and limped towards the window, peering out at the pure concrete and burnt patches of grass.
"There was a great and sudden flash. A blinding light. They fell from the sky.."
"The disappearances in Oregon?" Scully exchanged looks with her partner, but McMurdeo continued.
"..They were like angels who had lost their way. Men. Women. Even small children. And suddenly, a strong chill as the great waters engulfed them all. And they had been found. They had sought shelter from storm from those who had created it. They lay witness to it, unbelieving what had fell before their eyes and erasing it from memory. In this world, you don't always have to believe what you see or, don't see, for that matter."
The red-head absorbed the lull in the room and stood up.
"Mr. McMurdeo, I apologise. It's.it's been quite the flight.and from what I was told, there was some great urgency in your voice.but.." She paused.
"Sir, all I would like to ask, is if you know the whereabouts of Agent Fox Mulder."
The man turned around and stood at eye-level with Scully. "Some people do not trust my judgment, can you imagine that? They think I'm crazy. Well, I certainly wasn't crazy when I foresaw the bomb fall on us in 'Nam, but of course I have to live with the memories of seeing those who laughed at me, die in my arms. I have to live with knowing would my wife would be victorious in her battle with cancer. I live and breath, Agents. But I live and breath death." His voice was becoming strained; the man turned to the window, unable to maintain eye-contact.
"There is chaos brewing, Agent Scully. In six months time, your Agent Mulder will be found engulfed in the waters. It will be the first sign of the Prophecy and hopefully, the last. That's all I wish to say."
Scully felt her chest tighten and a lump form in her throat. Back to square one for the tenth time. She shook her head and looked towards the floor.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. McMurdeo." her voice and footsteps trailed off. As Doggett rose, McMurdeo limped towards him.
"Wait.you must take something.." The man limped over to the shelf and reached at the back for a handful of papers. He retrieved them and pushed them into the open hands of the agent.
"Your friend is too emotionally involved. Mulder will live. But two will die." Brian McMurdeo's words seemed to resonate as he limped out of the room, leaving Agent Doggett in complete bewilderment before he snapped out of it and ran to catch up with his partner. It was going to be a tense plane ride back. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~ As soon as he heard the screen door slam for a second time, Brian shoved his glass formula filled with bourbon into the sink. He unsteadily placed his hands on the counter and shut his eyes.
"You can come out now," he snarled.
A tall, well-groomed blonde wearing a fashionable pinstripe top and skirt rounded the corner of the kitchen and took a seat at the table, crossing her ankles and folding her fingers.
"You seem displeased," came her subdued response.
"Ms. Covarrubias, as I informed you beforehand, the more people that become involved, the stronger chances the Prophecy has of coming true. What makes you think your friends at the Bureau can prevent it?"
Silence.
"Who says I wanted them to?"
As quickly as Brian McMurdeo turned around, a bullet soared through his forhead, causing blood to trail across his face as his body seizured several times until ultimately collapsing onto the cold, tile floor. Marita Covarrubias held the gun in one hand and brushed off a crease in her skirt as she stood.
"And who said they were my friends?"
Dana Scully peered through the screen and rapped on the doorframe.
"Hey, if this guy is a clairvoyant, how come he can't foresee two Feds on his front porch?" Agent Doggett offered with a smirk.
Unlike his partner, the dilapidated neighbourhood hadn't unnerved the former New York officer. The McMurdeo residence seemed to be falling apart from its foundation, the exterior slanted and unkempt. The patch of lawn in front was burned to a crisp yellow, the white paint was beginning to peel and the only window to the left of the door was shattered. No woman's touch here, Doggett mused.
"Mr. McMurdeo?" Scully took a step back and shot her partner a glare. "We couldn't pull up a record on him. No run-ins with the law as far as we're aware of, John."
Doggett looked amused. "My poker face is shit, isn't it?"
The screen door creaked open and a portly middle-aged blond peeked his head out. His expression went blank as he gave a look-over to Doggett but lightened as he recognised Scully.
"Agents." his voice was breathy. Brian held open the door and motioned for the agents to come inside. As he entered, Doggett noticed a bruise under the man's eye but refrained from asking. Even more obvious was the man's gait, as he appeared to limp when he walked. The man's blue eyes caught John by surprise.
"Walking aids are for the weak, Mr. Doggett." Brian nodded towards Scully and motioned her to take a seat in what appeared to be the living room. Doggett smirked to himself. Women's intuition and telepathy had bested him twice in five minutes.
As her partner took a seat next to her, Dana observed the cozy living quarters, which contrasted greatly to the shack's exterior. The room was decorated mostly with antique shelves, stocked with what had to be hundreds of books. In fact, the room seemed to be the only one that had been designed with great care. She bit her lip and tried to catch a book's title. The paranormal. All the shelves were stacked with documents of the paranormal.
"Mr. McMurdeo, you'll have to excuse us if we seem a bit caught off-guard," Dogget began, "it's just that it's a rare occasion for one to request specific agents for aid."
"Oh, I'm in no need of aid, sir." McMurdeo took a seat on the couch opposing the agents. "I'm only acting as a messenger."
"You have a message from Fox Mulder." Scully stated, slightly aware of the desperation in her voice.
"Somewhat. Not so much of a message, as a warning. You see, Mr. Mulder isn't even aware of the great role he plays in all of this."
Doggett leaned back and restrained the temptation to rolling his eyes. This was going to take a while.
"And you say you saw Mulder in a dream?" Doggett probed.
McMurdeo slowly pushed himself up from his seat and limped towards the window, peering out at the pure concrete and burnt patches of grass.
"There was a great and sudden flash. A blinding light. They fell from the sky.."
"The disappearances in Oregon?" Scully exchanged looks with her partner, but McMurdeo continued.
"..They were like angels who had lost their way. Men. Women. Even small children. And suddenly, a strong chill as the great waters engulfed them all. And they had been found. They had sought shelter from storm from those who had created it. They lay witness to it, unbelieving what had fell before their eyes and erasing it from memory. In this world, you don't always have to believe what you see or, don't see, for that matter."
The red-head absorbed the lull in the room and stood up.
"Mr. McMurdeo, I apologise. It's.it's been quite the flight.and from what I was told, there was some great urgency in your voice.but.." She paused.
"Sir, all I would like to ask, is if you know the whereabouts of Agent Fox Mulder."
The man turned around and stood at eye-level with Scully. "Some people do not trust my judgment, can you imagine that? They think I'm crazy. Well, I certainly wasn't crazy when I foresaw the bomb fall on us in 'Nam, but of course I have to live with the memories of seeing those who laughed at me, die in my arms. I have to live with knowing would my wife would be victorious in her battle with cancer. I live and breath, Agents. But I live and breath death." His voice was becoming strained; the man turned to the window, unable to maintain eye-contact.
"There is chaos brewing, Agent Scully. In six months time, your Agent Mulder will be found engulfed in the waters. It will be the first sign of the Prophecy and hopefully, the last. That's all I wish to say."
Scully felt her chest tighten and a lump form in her throat. Back to square one for the tenth time. She shook her head and looked towards the floor.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. McMurdeo." her voice and footsteps trailed off. As Doggett rose, McMurdeo limped towards him.
"Wait.you must take something.." The man limped over to the shelf and reached at the back for a handful of papers. He retrieved them and pushed them into the open hands of the agent.
"Your friend is too emotionally involved. Mulder will live. But two will die." Brian McMurdeo's words seemed to resonate as he limped out of the room, leaving Agent Doggett in complete bewilderment before he snapped out of it and ran to catch up with his partner. It was going to be a tense plane ride back. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~ As soon as he heard the screen door slam for a second time, Brian shoved his glass formula filled with bourbon into the sink. He unsteadily placed his hands on the counter and shut his eyes.
"You can come out now," he snarled.
A tall, well-groomed blonde wearing a fashionable pinstripe top and skirt rounded the corner of the kitchen and took a seat at the table, crossing her ankles and folding her fingers.
"You seem displeased," came her subdued response.
"Ms. Covarrubias, as I informed you beforehand, the more people that become involved, the stronger chances the Prophecy has of coming true. What makes you think your friends at the Bureau can prevent it?"
Silence.
"Who says I wanted them to?"
As quickly as Brian McMurdeo turned around, a bullet soared through his forhead, causing blood to trail across his face as his body seizured several times until ultimately collapsing onto the cold, tile floor. Marita Covarrubias held the gun in one hand and brushed off a crease in her skirt as she stood.
"And who said they were my friends?"