From: Katvictory57@aol.com   
      
   TITLE: This Could Be Heaven Or This Could Be Hell Post 1 of 6   
   AUTHOR: Katvictory   
   RATING: I'd go NC17. Some nasty words. Violence.   
   CATEGORY: X-File, Angst, Alternate Universe, MT   
   SPOILERS: Clear up to "The Unnatural."   
   SUMMARY: Set in the "Into The Mystic" universe. Mulder's and Scully's   
   manhunt for a body swapping serial killer leads them to El Cajon,   
   California and a whole lotta trouble.   
   DISCLAIMERS: You know the drill -- Mr. Carter owns these people. He   
   owns the universe where they live. I expect no money. The song lyrics   
   quoted by Mulder ad nauseam are from "Hotel California" by Eagles   
   Frye and Henley. The lyrics Mulder sings to Scully are from "Only The   
   Good Die Young" by Billy Joel. I offer these artists the same   
   assurances I do Mr. Carter. I make no claim of ownership and expect   
   no money.   
   THANK YOU: So many to thank: Roda93, Idigomuse & Mori who rolled up   
   their sleeves and got their hands dirty doing the hard part, making   
   me a little less ignorant. And again, to Amy, Indi, Mori, Rae,   
   Laurie -- special people who encourage, badger, read, edit, burp me,   
   change me, and are my friends. Thank you!   
   This story is dedicated to Wong and Morgan, El Cajon Valley High   
   School Class of 1979. That's what hooked me on X-Files, learning that   
   we all attended ECVHS. The El Cajon, CA portrayed in this story is   
   pure fantasy, memories of a misspent youth. No relation to any town,   
   living or dead.   
   FEEDBACK: Please! Katvictory57@aol.com   
   Katvictory ECVHS Class of 1975   
   Go Braves!!!   
      
   This Could Be Heaven Or This Could Be Hell   
   (Into The Mystic II)   
      
   by Katvictory   
      
   Prologue   
   Art Letourneau had killed 34 people by the time his spree ended. He   
   felt he was immortal. He had harvested the energy of his 34 victims   
   and believed that this power made him invincible. He was wrong. The   
   person he planned to kill that night, the patient who was to be his   
   35th victim, had been in a coma for almost five years. Art gazed down   
   at the man's wasted form and knew he was doing him a favor, freeing   
   him from these mortal chains. He had no idea how big a favor it was   
   going to be.   
   Art had done his cleansing ritual of bathing the patient's twisted,   
   emaciated body and injecting the potassium directly into the comatose   
   man's carotid. His work done, Art cleared his mind, laid his hands   
   upon the victim's head and waited for the moment of death so he could   
   receive the wonderful, empowering jolt of life force he had come to   
   crave. What passed through his hands at number thirty-five's moment   
   of death was like nothing he'd ever experienced. At the last moment   
   of cognitive thought poor Art ever had, he realized that he never had   
   gotten anything from the other 34 people he'd killed. The rush he'd   
   felt at their deaths must have simply been a rush of adrenaline, a   
   warped pleasure his sick mind got from taking a human life. Nothing   
   metaphysical about it. The classic serial killer's demented high.   
   Number 35 stared down at his own body and smiled. That he had been   
   rescued from the comatose limbo he'd existed in for half a decade, by   
   a fellow serial killer, was perfect. More than that, it was   
   hilarious. Karl Nix stood over his own body and laughed for a good   
   half hour. Life was good.   
   "Welcome To The Hotel California"   
   Walter Skinner was not surprised that Fox Mulder knew serial killer   
   Karl Nix was dead. The assistant director had expected his agent to   
   stay current with news pertaining to past cases even while he was on   
   medical leave. It was Mulder's way -- conscientious, efficient. Those   
   were two personality traits he admired in the younger man and   
   practically the only two he felt he shared with Mulder. No,   
   dedication was probably a third. He had come to Mulder's apartment   
   that muggy August morning, to ask for the man's help. Skinner wasn't   
   sure if the agent had recovered enough to take on a case of this   
   nature, but the AD planned on assigning Mulder's partner to it also.   
   He figured he could send the young man with her on a consulting   
   basis. If, a big if, he felt Fox was up to it.   
   Skinner was pleasantly surprised to see that his agent and friend   
   looked wonderful. Other than a slight limp, Mulder appeared to be the   
   picture of health. Tanned, rested, hell, he looked better than he had   
   the six months prior to his injuries. The man had amazing   
   recuperative abilities. Only a little more than six months before,   
   the agent had been at death's door, in a coma after being shot four   
   times, including once in the head. It was a miracle.   
   After handshakes and pleasantries, Skinner, as was his nature, got   
   straight to the point.   
   "There's a case I thought you might be interested in," he said,   
   settling down on Mulder's well-used couch. "Scully's been assigned to   
   it and I thought you'd want to go with her on a consulting basis --   
   to get your feet wet. If you're up to it."   
   Mulder raised a questioning brow and tried to suppress a smile.   
   Walter Skinner was not used to asking people for anything. He was   
   used to telling. The assistant director continued. "There have been   
   seven bodies found in and around San Diego. All the victims were   
   residents of a suburb, El Cajon."   
   "I've heard of it."   
   "We've got one more connection regarding the seven," Skinner   
   explained, "and it is a good one. They all attended the same church."   
   Mulder listened attentively, but he felt there was something Skinner   
   was holding back, or maybe, not quite ready to tell him about this   
   case. He assumed his superior needed him for his profiling skills   
   because from what he had heard so far, this was not an X-file.   
   "What makes it 'strange'," Skinner continued, and the agent perked up   
   at the word, strange, "is that the killer's signature is identical to   
   one that you've dealt with before. But the perp in question is dead   
   now."   
   Alarms went off in Mulder's skull immediately and he spoke without   
   thinking. "Karl Nix?"   
   Skinner raised a brow, always amazed by the speed Mulder assimilated   
   facts and the turns of reasoning his quicksilver mind could take.   
   Mulder softly explained his deduction. "I read Nix died last month, I   
   guess he's been on my mind."   
   The AD paused for a moment, not quite sure what was missing from the   
   younger man's explanation, then shrugged. He'd worked with Mulder for   
   more than six years and was almost used to his odd, but usually right-   
   on-the-money, leaps of insight into a case. Sometimes it didn't pay   
   to fathom how.   
   "Ah, yes, so you see we probably have a copycat, most likely a Nix   
   groupie, and that's why we need you. Are you up to it?"   
   Mulder was silent for a moment, his mind swimming with memories. He   
   noticed Skinner was staring at him in anticipation of his answer so   
   he quickly tried to compose himself. "Yeah, when do we leave?" His   
   mouth was dry.   
   The older man studied his friend's reaction, trying to read him. "Are   
   you ready for this?"   
   Mulder had to give himself credit, for he covered beautifully,   
   flashing a wonderfully game grin. "Yeah, guess I was kinda hoping my   
   first case back would be a little easier. You know, a vampire,   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)