Chapter 2:
Property of a Gentleman
The rain poured down, an unceasing wave from the heavens above. The Man flipped up the collar of his trench coat, a vain attempt against the elements. The rain angrily pelted his hair, flattening it to his head. The Man stopped at a newsstand and threw some bills on the desk. He picked up a newspaper, without even a glance from the owner inside.
The Man walked purposefully to his car. People ran by to seek cover from the storm. The Man loved the rain. It brought life to the world below, and washed clean the streets of the City. He stopped in front of his Jaguar, opened the door, and slipped inside. Rained rhythmically pelted the roof and slid down the sides. The Man's soul was at peace.
He opened the newspaper. The Man looked in earnest for himself. He hated the cliché of vanity that his hobby was known for, but he knew how very true it was. Ah, there it was, on the front page of the national section. Pretty good. He looked at the one picture they had concerning *his* article. It was the most recent sketch he had made copying from Mazzola's brilliant works. The Man could never evoke the same lust evident in the Master's renderings, yet the papers had taken to calling him the "Old Master".
He liked that. But the fame was just a byproduct (though one he liked), just as the killing was simply a means to an end. Truthfully the Man wasn't sure what that end was, but he knew the sketching would lead him there. wherever there was. All the Man wanted was some answers, some piece of the Truth.
But there wasn't time for that now. The Man had a bit of a commute to Connecticut. He needed some more inspiration.
------------------------
Jack noticed him right away. He was standing oddly around in the lobby; he didn't fit in with the rest of the hustling Wall Street natives. He seemed to be munching on some sunflower seeds. Jack walked over before Scully could lead him to Mulder.
Jack offered his hand to Mulder, who looked a bit quizzically at Jack, then to Scully for some answers.
"This is Agent Mulder," she said.
"How did you know I was with Agent Scully?" Mulder inquired as he took Jack's hand.
Jack didn't know whether he should just lie down the truth. Would they believe him (who was he kidding, this was *Mulder*)? No, there had to be a better time.
"When you work around here, you learn to tell who spends their life searching for money," Jack lied, tempted to add 'not searching for the truth'.
Mulder nodded his head, but he didn't fully seem to believe Jack's story.
"We have some questions for you concerning a sketch your father recently purchased at an auction," Scully said.
Jack knew all about his father's love of the Old Masters, but he personally didn't give a damn.
"Well I think that he could provide you with better answers about that than I could, but he and my mom are on vacation in Australia. I wouldn't know what number to call him at."
"So you're home alone?" Mulder asked, slightly mischievously.
"Yeah, I've got the place all on my own."
"Would you mind showing us the sketch?"
"Hey, no problem. I'm just glad to help out. It's not everyday you run into the FBI. Let me just sign out of here."
Jack had seen his boss walking by him. The arrogant looking bastard was trying to put his moves on a young secretary. Jack walked up to him.
"Screw this. I quit."
Then to the girl, "I think you could do a bit better. You certainly don't need a guy like this."
Jack strode back over to Scully and Mulder. He caught her eyes. There was a little spark there, a glimmer of surprise. Jack had never liked his job, and he would have hell to pay from his parents. But now that he saw the quick reaction in Scully's eyes, he didn't give a damn how much shit he'd get in. Hell, there was nothing to lose. Jack winked at Scully. He just caught the playfully (or at least Jack interpreted it as playfully) surprised look on her face.
As Jack walked by, Mulder smirked at Scully and shook his head. Mulder hadn't seen the wink, but he liked the balls this kid had to stand up to his boss like that. Mulder noticed to surprised look and arched eyebrows on Scully's normally 'skeptical' face. He was just going to ask her why, but she just shook her head and followed behind Jack. Mulder went after her.
They walked out the revolving door into the pouring rain.
------------------------
The Man stared at the two lovers intertwined. He needed answers. This time, this sketch, he would have the answers. He had to get them. The Man was getting worried that he was getting drawn more towards the violence. He had to remember that the art was the most important aspect.
The Man got up from the fine leather couch and walked across the huge living room. The room was large enough to have an indoor balcony. The Man shook his head. Ah, to live like Kings. But the Man knew enough about that. He saw a family picture on the mantle. The Man eyed the kid in the picture. Then he eyed the sketching. The kid was a pretty damn good match. That made things a lot easier.
-----------------------
Scully's laughter was like pure harmony.
Jack had really turned on his charm in the car. When he really tried, he could get most girls to melt like sugar in his hand. It was just a natural feeling of ease that could emanate from him when he was 'on'. Maybe it somehow came as a reaction to the ennui that had gripped Jack's thoughts of the daytime. But as night fell, he could put on the magnetism.
"He really said that to you?" she said.
"I couldn't make up something like that if I wanted to," Jack replied.
Stuck for three hours in a car (because of the traffic leaving the City) you either come to hate or love the people you're with. Luckily for Jack, he fell into the latter category with Scully and Mulder. He had gotten to talking about work, his family, friends. At first, it had seemed like babbling. But he knew what Mulder and Scully liked and disliked, and he knew what would interest them (his mind had flashed to Small Potatoes).
Jack had been worried that he would act like a complete fool. Her beauty was *mesmerizing* up close, but that just made him turn up the charm even more. Mulder was a cool guy too. He was pretty damn funny. Jack found it hard to believe that the other agents at the FBI hadn't taken the time to see how Mulder and Scully really were. It was so much easier to brand them Spooky, Jack supposed.
*Listen to yourself*. Jack was thinking like the show actually was reality. But it couldn't be, could it? But then who were these people he was in the car with? Who were that casual guy and that enchanting woman sitting just beyond him? Jack was going crazy, wasn't he? But it all seemed so damn real. He truly wanted to Believe.
"Hey, is this exit off the Parkway yours?" Mulder asked.
"Yeah, that's it right ahead."
Jack wondered how they'd react to Greenwich. In this town, you were either rich, or you did work for somebody who was rich. The old 'have and have not' syndrome. Jack's family was rich (how the hell else could his father buy a sixty-five thousand dollar sketch at an auction), and he hated it. But Jack also understood the irony. He knew that he could only afford to hate his wealth because he had it. He was the just another rebellious spoiled kid, like from some cheap novel.
The sedan went down the main avenue that cut through the commercial district of Greenwich. Boutiques, jewelry stores, and cafés lined the avenue.
Mulder turned and looked at Scully. She returned his gaze with arched eyebrows. They knew a posh place when they saw it. Jack saw their glances. To have a connection like that with somebody, anybody, (well, Jack had a particular red-headed anybody in mind) had to be what Jack needed in his life.
Jack's mind flashed back to hours earlier in the traffic.
-----------------------
"So, what exactly do you guys want with me?" Jack asked, surprised that he hadn't brought it up earlier. He had been so busy with his attraction towards Scully, he hadn't even bothered to find out what X-File he was now involved in.
Mulder answered.
"Have you heard of the Old Master?"
Jack had read about the Old Master in the paper that morning. Some crazy guy liked stealing art, copying it using people he kidnapped as models, and then putting bullets in his 'models' heads. It was news, but somehow not interesting enough to warrant the front page (though Jack couldn't tell why).
"Yeah, some serial killer with an affection for sketching, right?"
"Exactly. And we think that he may be looking to steal the sketch your father recently purchased."
This didn't seem like much of an X-File to Jack. But Jack realized that Mulder and Scully were assigned to normal cases too, depending on how the bureaucracy at the FBI spat out its instructions.
"Why this sketch?"
"We kept it out of the papers, but the killer targets only certain sketches. He prefers the work of Girolamo Mazzola, an Italian artist from the Renaissance."
"Yeah, my dad just bought a sketch by Mazzola."
"Then there is a chance that the killer will be tempted to steal this sketch as inspiration for his next murders. The killer has stolen from museums and private collectors before, but when your father bought one of Mazzola's sketches at auction last Tuesday -"
"So this killer is after this sketch? Does he want anything with me or my family?"
"Probably not, he tends attack random people that have no relation to the sketches."
Jack knew Mulder's skills as a profiler. Hell, he knew everything about Mulder and Scully, things they might not have even known about each other. The one thing Jack didn't know about them was how far along in the show's history he was. Were Mulder and Scully still just good friends, or had they already become much more?
Mulder went on, this time to Scully.
"I think it's important that this guy focuses on erotic sketches of couples. He may be voyeuristically searching for some sort of love that he believes is beyond him."
Mulder went on, but Jack was so busy thinking up something charming to say that he didn't pay attention.
-----------------------
Now Jack's house loomed in the distance. A white colonial-styled mansion, it seemed as impersonal as the other mansions that sat coldly along the street.
Home, sweet home, Jack thought as they pulled into the driveway. Then he laughed in his head when he compared it to the episode 'Home'.
-----------------------
The Man heard them pull into the driveway. *Damn*, he didn't expect anybody else showing up. The masterful sketch still hung above the fireplace. The Man didn't have time to take it with him. He would have to deal with whoever was there. So the Man pulled out his revolver and stepped back into the shadows. The man again considered how unpleasant that killing was to him. But the smirk on his face belied his thoughts.
----------------------- -----------------------
Author's note(s)- Hey, its me again. I'm surprised I've gone this far already. By the way, Jack's world is completely made up from people I kind of know. I only wish I worked at a brokerage and had a mansion. Anyway, like I said, I think this might be pretty long, so thanx for reading. Peace out.
Property of a Gentleman
The rain poured down, an unceasing wave from the heavens above. The Man flipped up the collar of his trench coat, a vain attempt against the elements. The rain angrily pelted his hair, flattening it to his head. The Man stopped at a newsstand and threw some bills on the desk. He picked up a newspaper, without even a glance from the owner inside.
The Man walked purposefully to his car. People ran by to seek cover from the storm. The Man loved the rain. It brought life to the world below, and washed clean the streets of the City. He stopped in front of his Jaguar, opened the door, and slipped inside. Rained rhythmically pelted the roof and slid down the sides. The Man's soul was at peace.
He opened the newspaper. The Man looked in earnest for himself. He hated the cliché of vanity that his hobby was known for, but he knew how very true it was. Ah, there it was, on the front page of the national section. Pretty good. He looked at the one picture they had concerning *his* article. It was the most recent sketch he had made copying from Mazzola's brilliant works. The Man could never evoke the same lust evident in the Master's renderings, yet the papers had taken to calling him the "Old Master".
He liked that. But the fame was just a byproduct (though one he liked), just as the killing was simply a means to an end. Truthfully the Man wasn't sure what that end was, but he knew the sketching would lead him there. wherever there was. All the Man wanted was some answers, some piece of the Truth.
But there wasn't time for that now. The Man had a bit of a commute to Connecticut. He needed some more inspiration.
------------------------
Jack noticed him right away. He was standing oddly around in the lobby; he didn't fit in with the rest of the hustling Wall Street natives. He seemed to be munching on some sunflower seeds. Jack walked over before Scully could lead him to Mulder.
Jack offered his hand to Mulder, who looked a bit quizzically at Jack, then to Scully for some answers.
"This is Agent Mulder," she said.
"How did you know I was with Agent Scully?" Mulder inquired as he took Jack's hand.
Jack didn't know whether he should just lie down the truth. Would they believe him (who was he kidding, this was *Mulder*)? No, there had to be a better time.
"When you work around here, you learn to tell who spends their life searching for money," Jack lied, tempted to add 'not searching for the truth'.
Mulder nodded his head, but he didn't fully seem to believe Jack's story.
"We have some questions for you concerning a sketch your father recently purchased at an auction," Scully said.
Jack knew all about his father's love of the Old Masters, but he personally didn't give a damn.
"Well I think that he could provide you with better answers about that than I could, but he and my mom are on vacation in Australia. I wouldn't know what number to call him at."
"So you're home alone?" Mulder asked, slightly mischievously.
"Yeah, I've got the place all on my own."
"Would you mind showing us the sketch?"
"Hey, no problem. I'm just glad to help out. It's not everyday you run into the FBI. Let me just sign out of here."
Jack had seen his boss walking by him. The arrogant looking bastard was trying to put his moves on a young secretary. Jack walked up to him.
"Screw this. I quit."
Then to the girl, "I think you could do a bit better. You certainly don't need a guy like this."
Jack strode back over to Scully and Mulder. He caught her eyes. There was a little spark there, a glimmer of surprise. Jack had never liked his job, and he would have hell to pay from his parents. But now that he saw the quick reaction in Scully's eyes, he didn't give a damn how much shit he'd get in. Hell, there was nothing to lose. Jack winked at Scully. He just caught the playfully (or at least Jack interpreted it as playfully) surprised look on her face.
As Jack walked by, Mulder smirked at Scully and shook his head. Mulder hadn't seen the wink, but he liked the balls this kid had to stand up to his boss like that. Mulder noticed to surprised look and arched eyebrows on Scully's normally 'skeptical' face. He was just going to ask her why, but she just shook her head and followed behind Jack. Mulder went after her.
They walked out the revolving door into the pouring rain.
------------------------
The Man stared at the two lovers intertwined. He needed answers. This time, this sketch, he would have the answers. He had to get them. The Man was getting worried that he was getting drawn more towards the violence. He had to remember that the art was the most important aspect.
The Man got up from the fine leather couch and walked across the huge living room. The room was large enough to have an indoor balcony. The Man shook his head. Ah, to live like Kings. But the Man knew enough about that. He saw a family picture on the mantle. The Man eyed the kid in the picture. Then he eyed the sketching. The kid was a pretty damn good match. That made things a lot easier.
-----------------------
Scully's laughter was like pure harmony.
Jack had really turned on his charm in the car. When he really tried, he could get most girls to melt like sugar in his hand. It was just a natural feeling of ease that could emanate from him when he was 'on'. Maybe it somehow came as a reaction to the ennui that had gripped Jack's thoughts of the daytime. But as night fell, he could put on the magnetism.
"He really said that to you?" she said.
"I couldn't make up something like that if I wanted to," Jack replied.
Stuck for three hours in a car (because of the traffic leaving the City) you either come to hate or love the people you're with. Luckily for Jack, he fell into the latter category with Scully and Mulder. He had gotten to talking about work, his family, friends. At first, it had seemed like babbling. But he knew what Mulder and Scully liked and disliked, and he knew what would interest them (his mind had flashed to Small Potatoes).
Jack had been worried that he would act like a complete fool. Her beauty was *mesmerizing* up close, but that just made him turn up the charm even more. Mulder was a cool guy too. He was pretty damn funny. Jack found it hard to believe that the other agents at the FBI hadn't taken the time to see how Mulder and Scully really were. It was so much easier to brand them Spooky, Jack supposed.
*Listen to yourself*. Jack was thinking like the show actually was reality. But it couldn't be, could it? But then who were these people he was in the car with? Who were that casual guy and that enchanting woman sitting just beyond him? Jack was going crazy, wasn't he? But it all seemed so damn real. He truly wanted to Believe.
"Hey, is this exit off the Parkway yours?" Mulder asked.
"Yeah, that's it right ahead."
Jack wondered how they'd react to Greenwich. In this town, you were either rich, or you did work for somebody who was rich. The old 'have and have not' syndrome. Jack's family was rich (how the hell else could his father buy a sixty-five thousand dollar sketch at an auction), and he hated it. But Jack also understood the irony. He knew that he could only afford to hate his wealth because he had it. He was the just another rebellious spoiled kid, like from some cheap novel.
The sedan went down the main avenue that cut through the commercial district of Greenwich. Boutiques, jewelry stores, and cafés lined the avenue.
Mulder turned and looked at Scully. She returned his gaze with arched eyebrows. They knew a posh place when they saw it. Jack saw their glances. To have a connection like that with somebody, anybody, (well, Jack had a particular red-headed anybody in mind) had to be what Jack needed in his life.
Jack's mind flashed back to hours earlier in the traffic.
-----------------------
"So, what exactly do you guys want with me?" Jack asked, surprised that he hadn't brought it up earlier. He had been so busy with his attraction towards Scully, he hadn't even bothered to find out what X-File he was now involved in.
Mulder answered.
"Have you heard of the Old Master?"
Jack had read about the Old Master in the paper that morning. Some crazy guy liked stealing art, copying it using people he kidnapped as models, and then putting bullets in his 'models' heads. It was news, but somehow not interesting enough to warrant the front page (though Jack couldn't tell why).
"Yeah, some serial killer with an affection for sketching, right?"
"Exactly. And we think that he may be looking to steal the sketch your father recently purchased."
This didn't seem like much of an X-File to Jack. But Jack realized that Mulder and Scully were assigned to normal cases too, depending on how the bureaucracy at the FBI spat out its instructions.
"Why this sketch?"
"We kept it out of the papers, but the killer targets only certain sketches. He prefers the work of Girolamo Mazzola, an Italian artist from the Renaissance."
"Yeah, my dad just bought a sketch by Mazzola."
"Then there is a chance that the killer will be tempted to steal this sketch as inspiration for his next murders. The killer has stolen from museums and private collectors before, but when your father bought one of Mazzola's sketches at auction last Tuesday -"
"So this killer is after this sketch? Does he want anything with me or my family?"
"Probably not, he tends attack random people that have no relation to the sketches."
Jack knew Mulder's skills as a profiler. Hell, he knew everything about Mulder and Scully, things they might not have even known about each other. The one thing Jack didn't know about them was how far along in the show's history he was. Were Mulder and Scully still just good friends, or had they already become much more?
Mulder went on, this time to Scully.
"I think it's important that this guy focuses on erotic sketches of couples. He may be voyeuristically searching for some sort of love that he believes is beyond him."
Mulder went on, but Jack was so busy thinking up something charming to say that he didn't pay attention.
-----------------------
Now Jack's house loomed in the distance. A white colonial-styled mansion, it seemed as impersonal as the other mansions that sat coldly along the street.
Home, sweet home, Jack thought as they pulled into the driveway. Then he laughed in his head when he compared it to the episode 'Home'.
-----------------------
The Man heard them pull into the driveway. *Damn*, he didn't expect anybody else showing up. The masterful sketch still hung above the fireplace. The Man didn't have time to take it with him. He would have to deal with whoever was there. So the Man pulled out his revolver and stepped back into the shadows. The man again considered how unpleasant that killing was to him. But the smirk on his face belied his thoughts.
----------------------- -----------------------
Author's note(s)- Hey, its me again. I'm surprised I've gone this far already. By the way, Jack's world is completely made up from people I kind of know. I only wish I worked at a brokerage and had a mansion. Anyway, like I said, I think this might be pretty long, so thanx for reading. Peace out.
