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The following story is a fan fiction it is just for fun. Chicago Convergence By Tenwaters The scene is set approximately 16 thousand million years ago give or take a few thousand million. It is hard to tell exactly with no tiny dirt ball circling around an intermediate size ball of glowing gasses to set ones watch by. Six dwarfs are franticly scrambling over a massive control panel over seen by a small but officious fairy. The fairy, Celda, unconcerned by the lack of any recognizable temporal reference says, "boys you are behind schedule and over budget." Randall, the foreman of the group says, "we have only one work order left to get this one kicked off." The fairy said, "get on with it then" and left the room. "Work order 42 primary gravitational inversion explosion" read Randall. "What's that?" asked Og. "It says here to add 300 kilograms of protomatter to black hole and get out of the way of explosion" Randall responded. Wally went to add the protomatter but could not find it. He looked perplexed as he sorted threw various shelves. "What's the matter?" asked Fidgit. "No matter" answered Wally. "Of course it matters we are waiting for you," said Fidgit. "No! Not it doesn't matter, there is no protomater." Wally explained. "Where is it? Asked Randall. "Was that the stuff in the green sack that tasted like chicken? Asked Vermin. "Don't tell me you ate it Vermin!" The other five said. There was much yelling shouting and head scratching. Finally the group decided to try alternatives. "Well matter is stuff maybe we can use other stuff." Said Wally. "What extra stuff do we have lying around?" asked Og. "Make sure it stuff not on inventory." Randall warned. They soon assembled an odd collection of inter temporal and inter dimensional flotsam and jetsam that included an over egger green settee, a broken monkey wrench, several one of a kind socks and gloves, about a dozen wire hangers, an elaborate inter dimensional probe of elfish manufacture, a stuffed owl, assorted lose screws and mixed nuts, a few empty beer cans, and a soccer ball named Wilson. While Vermin ate a sandwich he recovered from between the cushions of the settee the others loaded the stuff into the black hole. There boss gave the word and our universe began. Most of the matter became part of the fabric of the new universe. The settee was propelled through time and space ripping a goodly number of temporal holes and creating space eddies and time paradoxes in its wake. The elfin probe separated; with the reaction drive section heading one way, and the inter-dimensional drive section heading the other, at the speeds near that of the expanding universe. The soccer ball went on to a career in motion pictures. Somewhat more recently in geological time, in an out of the way galaxy a small object strikes an inner planet of an average sized star. The object hits with sufficient energy to wipe out one of the numerous mountains in the area it lands. A young man wonders lost and alone through a valley, Awkis is his name. He is not completely alone a jaguar stalks him. Awkis hears something calling it leads him to a strange pool of black glass. A small ornate orb glows in the center of the pool. As Awkis moves to investigate the strange object the jaguar strikes. Awkis, caught unaware, was easy prey for the big hungry cat. The feline had sated most of its hunger when it discovered some amazing things about the carcass. The body had this strange force that keep regenerating the fatal wounds. The jaguar had to kill its prey over and over again. This pray was not only a permanent meal ticket but also, the ultimate cat toy. The jaguar played with its toy until the shear persistence of the strange regenerative magic wore the cat out. Awkis awoke cold, naked, and terrified next to a sleeping jaguar. Dazed and confused he found a sharp wedge of obsidian held it high and backed away. Even when one has just discovered they are immortal it is still wise to let sleeping cat lie. Peru 1929: Dr. Henry Jones is having a bad day having his high-spirited son as a college on this expedition has been most trying. Still they have found some most interesting artifacts, artifacts that predate the Inca by over 3000 years, artifacts that show an ancient jaguar cult. Last night a strange group of natives attacked there camp and were driven off. To make matters worse he has just had some bad news from his sponsor. The stock market had crashed and the expedition had lost funding. Saddened by the loss of the opportunity to do "real science" Dr. Jones supervises the packing of the artifacts and the notes. A short time latter a ship leaves the port of Callao. The ancient eyes of Awkis watch the ship depart. His followers were unable to steal back the obsidian alter from the accursed Yankees. The alter, he had carved himself, from the place of his first death. The alter that held the most sacred orb. He began to plan. He and his followers would prepare to leave the land of his birth to bring back their treasure again. Five other civilizations had stolen his treasure, he would get it back again, and time was on his side. Awkis distained the changes and cultures the Europeans wrought in his land. The North Americans were in his mind worse than the Spaniards. Fortunately Awkis and his people never had to face their genocides. He now knew not even the great mountains and jungles could hide you forever. He headed north with a handful of his followers to find his treasure and learn how to deal with the twentieth century. What confronted in the United States was a situation unlike anything he had experienced in all is millennia of existence. A bankruptcy court impounded the cargo of the ship. A bazaar series of sheriff sales and incompetent accounting had quite thoroughly lost the ships cargo long before Awkis arrived. After spending much time and gold hunting through a paper jungle with little success Awkis made some organization changes in his cult. Most of his followers would return to there beloved Andes a small dedicated order would learn and play the games of power of the western world. This order would defend them from outsiders and continue the search for that which had been lost. Lewis Vendredi was feeling most fortunate he had just acquired a lot of pre-Columbian artifacts that had spent years crated and abandoned in an old Chicago warehouse. The objects had all sorts possibilities of particular interest were an Inca blade and a five-foot circular obsidian alter stone. Vendredi brought the items before his coven not to long thereafter. At his coven they would receive that special infernal blessings that made his shop unique. The demon summoned to execute the curse and impart the curse and impart the words of their master was at first impressed. Tonight's sacrifice was young and innocent. The Inca blade had seen more blood than any there including the demon. The ancient stone had a magic all its own. It would be a night to remember. Halfway through the ceremony something unexpected happened. As the Demon appeared the Orb at the center of the of the center of the round stove started to scream giving of light sound and strange waves of alien energies. The Demon much to his surprise materialized as a not so large white rabbit as he would from that time onward. Two of Lewis's followers were transformed into the type of bunny, Hugh Heffner would be proud of, a third exploded making quite an untidy mess on the ceiling, a forth became a sweet potato. A rather angry but not very intimating looking demon went on to tell the survivors to get rid of this stuff as quickly as possible get it as far away from yourselves as you can. To show the extent of his anger the long eared fiend began chewing on the tuber. And so it was that Lewis Vendredi became a benefactor to the National Museum of Anthropology and Archeology in Lima Peru. To Awkis and the order of the jaguar having the holy of holies show up on display in the capital was a mixed blessing. Politics and consciences conspired to make the relic less accessible in Peru then if they had found it earlier in the United States. Awkis would tend to his network of revolutionaries and drug dealers awaiting his opportunity for over a decade. Members of the Cult of the Jaguar had gotten word that the National Museum of Anthropology and Archeology was going to send a large number of artifacts on an international tour starting with seven sites in US, then to on six cities in Europe, followed by Hong Kong and Tokyo finishing with a tour of South America. After much discussion it was decided that the second stop on the tour was there best shot. Over the years the Order had built up a great many resources in Chicago. In a secret government facility located somewhere in the Southeastern part of Nevada: Commander Craig Donovan, Isaac Mentnor, and Andrew "Hooter" Owsley watch as CNN reveals startling events. "At approximately six PM central time an explosion rocked the McCormick Place complex the hub of the convention industry in Chicago. At the time of the explosion McCormick Place was hosting a pre-Columbian art exposition and the opening ceremonies of the International Forensic Science Society convention. It is believed that the U.S. Attorney General who was giving the open address at the time was the main target of the bombers." Pictures of the ruined building complex and the still missing Attorney General flash on the screen. "Nate and Bradley are at that convention" stated a worried sounding Isaac Mentnor. "I will recall all personnel and start to monitor all information coming out of Chicago," Donovan replied. Frank Parker and Olga Vukavitch were having a quite dinner. Olga could not decide whether it was Frank's charm or persistence that had caused her have a laps of judgment and consent to actual date with him. Things were just starting move from the confrontational to the romantic when almost simultaneously their cell phones started ringing. With dinner quickly paid for and consigned to doggy bags the couple headed back to base. By the time Frank and Olga arrived at the briefing room things had gotten even gloomier. Talmadge's body had been found along with the Attorney General's many of the cream of international law enforcement had been killed or injured. A truck bomb built on a tractor-trailer was believed to be the cause of the devastation. The greatest disaster since the Oklahoma bombing however was soon dwarfed by an even larger seemingly natural disaster. At ten twenty three central time a small but extremely fast moving object landed in Lake Michigan. The energy from the impact generated tidal waves up to sixty feet high the worst effects were along the Chicago waterfront. The reports continued to roll in casualties in the hundreds of thousands property damage in the billions. Rioting, looting, fires and explosions the casualties continued to mount. Most of the emergency and police assets in the area were at the destroyed lakeside complex when the wave hit. A back step had been authorized. Frank Parker studied police reports for the Chicago area for the time leading up to the bombing. On this back step his mission would be to prevent the bombing and warn civil authorities of the coming disaster. As Parker stepped into the blue sphere he could not get over the large number of destructive shootouts and fights that had accorded in the days prior to the bombing. As Parker strapped himself Olga's voice cut through his musings "energy at 80%, 90% 100% now." Parker started the desperate maneuvers involved in controlling the capsule as he flew backward in time. Eight weeks earlier: Dr. Pablo Cruz of Peru's National Museum of Anthropology and Archeology was acting like a mother hen as he supervised the unloading of the exhibit. He was the one responsible for these National Treasures during this unprecedented tour. The two billion dollar insurance policy that his county had taken on the artifacts would do little to replace any of the irreplaceable items. Never the less the attention to detail shown by Robert James of Loyds of London was somewhat reassuring. Contract labor in this small Southern California town was another matter. The objects were slowly brought in and with loving care uncrated and placed on display. The security specialists Nick Wolfe and Amanda Smith seemed most competent. Though Amanda was more than a bit distracting. Amanda paced the floor like a caged leopard one moment and laid out a laundry list of gapes in the museum's security the next. George Shaw the new director of the local museum seemed eager to please, especially with the US State Department paying for the improvements in the museum's security system. The thing that worried Dr. Cruz most was that this museum had lost an Egyptian mummy only a year ago. Preparations went smoothly still, it was with some reluctance that Dr. Cruz accepted to make a promotional appearance set up by C?sar Adrianz?n. C?sar was the cultural attach? his government had sent with the traveling exposition to handle publicity. Cruz was also a bit worried about C?sar's choice of venue. Ian Matheson a Professor of Mythology at a notable English University who had left academia to pursue a career in tabloid television hosted the talk show. Maybe C?sar was Peru's answer to P. T. Barnum mused Cruz on the way to the station. To Ian Matheson, Dr. Cruz was the opportunity to uplift the quality and integrity of his show. To Ian's producer, Skip, Cruz was another dry academic that Matheson had dragged in an attempt to drag down the ratings. It was however Randi Wallace that talked Skip into putting the Peruvian Archeologist on the show. Randi was hard to refuse. Ian proved to be an interesting and cordial host well researched on the exhibit. It was only when discussing the Vendredi collection that Dr. Cruz found the interview a bit trying. Matheson's beautiful red headed assistant started feeding him questions on the teleprompter that were downright predatory. Ian had Cruz tell his viewers the legend of the calling stone and the blood stained Inca blade in the collection. These items and several other were donated to the National Museum by Lewis Vendredi a Chicago antique dealer. The blade was believed to be used to sacrifice vanquished opponents of the Inca and had seen much use. Legend held that it still thirsted for human blood. The legend of the calling stone was far more interesting. The item itself was far older than most other items on the tour. The orb at the center of the stone had letters or rune like marking unlike any pre-Columbian artifacts known. As to how the marks were made on the orb, this was also a mystery the object being Diamond hard. The strangest part of the Legend were the accounts of witnesses claming the Orb had emitted sound and light as if it were calling some lost companion. Dr. Cruz thought his own telling of the old stories was bit to theatrical C?sar would probably be pleased. The shows' opening was most successful. The publicity seamed to be rather effective. Attendance was high drawing people from as far away as L.A. a rare feat for the little museum in Sunnydale. Dr. Cruz found dealing with Southern California crowd to be an anthropological study in it's self, far stranger then anything he found in the mountains and jungles of Peru. The third day of the show seamed to be the most notable of there time in Sunnydale. Robert James ran into an old friend from Oxford, Rupert Giles. James and Giles were pleasantly surprised to run into each other. James was giving Giles the VIP tour when they ran into Ian Matheson and Randi Wallace. Giles knew Matheson and Wallace from there frequent use of the library of the museum were he was curator in London. Matheson and Wallace were doing a bit of follow up for their show. The four spent much of the afternoon talking about old time and London. Another visitor that day seemed to get Amanda's attention. A dark and well built man who would seam at home as part of the exhibit. Dr. Cruz recognized the man as a countryman and frequent visitor to his museum but otherwise the man was a mystery. Amanda knew him far better then did Cruz. He had come from the new world seeking revenge on a Spanish captain that had destroyed his village. He was an ancient Immortal naive in ways of the game she had trained him. What was Awkis doing here? One group of visitors went unnoticed in the crowd of weird wonderful Californians. These were member of a small cult that called itself the Devil's Step Children. They found the Incan Blade of unusual interest. The half cursed blade seamed to call to them. The small group of Satanist want-to-bees began plotting with innocent malevolence. The probe sensed it had been moved. It would need to update data on it's position to it's rapidly closing other half. This area had a great deal of inter dimensional instability already this seamed like a good time to try to contact it dimension of origin as well. The probe had tried to phone home many times before all unsuccessfully. It first communicated with it's other half. Then began to wrap the energies of the hell mouth around itself. It reached out and grabbed the energy into itself. It found two other sources of energy and tried to tap them also. One source was to powerful to be used safely the other lay quiescent and fading. By allowing energy from one source to the other the probe could tap in. The probe glowed and shuttered the room shook. For a moment the vale of reality was lifted. The communication was made. The alarms began to sound, guards began rushing about. Police cars rushed to the site. All was quite again, however, the calling orb was caught on videotape. Across town a young woman awoke with a scream something was pulling at her in her sleep. Two older girls woken by the scream came into the room "Dawn, are you alright asked Willow?" She came to in a small dark place. She was in some kind of box, a coffin. She screamed to no effect. She was buried alive. Her hands clawed at the fabric lining. Till they bleed. Composing her self for a moment she wedged her body to use both arms and legs against her prison. With an unnatural strength added to by the power of desperation she open the casket and molled her way to the surface. A red and white-checkered tablecloth lay across a grave. A young couple sits on the grass on either side of the tablecloth. "See Pam now that the Slayer is dead we can have these night romantic picnics any night," he says. There faces take on a demonic aspect as they turn to the bound and gagged teen on the tablecloth. Pam gasps as something grabs her leg. A hand has grasped her leg and is pulling her down. As she cry the male vampire grabs her and starts pulling her back. Their efforts pull a body from the earth. The body bleeding from several abrasions covered in dirt gasps for breath and stands. "Nice entrance, care to join us for lunch?" said the male vampire. Pam nudges the male vampire and says, "Paul, I think she is actually a live one." "Berried alive, must have been a real pain," Says Paul. "Paul did you notice which grave she came out of?" Pam asked sounding worried. "Paul trying to calm her down said, "I am so sorry this is Pam and I'm Paul an you would be?" The mound of dirt and blood in a stained white chiffon dress she really would have preferred not to be caught dead in crocked, "Hi, my, name, is, Buffy." Pam her worst fears realized began running while Paul attacked. Buffy defended herself pushing Paul back, he fell over the intended picnic lunch. He rolled away and quickly followed his lady friend. Buffy bent over and untied the youth on the tablecloth he looked more scared of her than he was of the vampires. "Sorry bad hair day," she apologized self-consciously brushing a clod of soil out of her hair. After freeing the victim a dazed Buffy slowly headed for home. She noted that she did not have her keys. She knocked, but no one was home. She broke in through her own bedroom window. She quickly undressed and showered. She was beginning to feel human again; she had to talk to someone. She dressed and called Giles. He was not in; She left a message on his machine. She called Willow. Tara was still awake at the time the phone rang. She answered the phone with a sleepy "Hello." A cautious "hello Tara I need to talk to Willow" came out of the receiver in a familiar but most unexpected voice. "Who is this?" asked Tara. "It is me Buffy" said the voice. "One moment I need to wake her," replied a perplexed Tara. When the voice said "Ok" Tara backed away from the phone and woke her lover. "Willow did you repair Spikes robot?" Tara asked. "Of course not, did you wake me up just to ask that?" Willow replied. "No, but if it was the robot, it might explain how, you could be have a phone call from Buffy." Tara offered sheepishly. Willow looked at Tara her mouth made a few shapes as if to say something. Finally Willow followed Tara to the phone and lifted the receiver as if it were about to bight. "Hello this is Willow" she said. "Hi Willow this is Buffy." Said the voice from beyond the grave. The voice sounded right. Willow started, "Buffy didn't you, ah, ah, like ah" - "Die" finished the voice. There was an awkward silence and finally Willow timidly asked," Where are you calling from?" "My house" the voice responded. "I have two questions: Where is Dawn? And who picked out the dress you buried me in?" Buffy went on. "Dawn is spending the night with us, she picked the dress," replied Willow. "I know this is weird Willow but could you come over? I don't want to be alone! I need someone to talk to! this is like so insane! Willow how long was I - how long ago did I - When was the fight with Glory?" babbled Buffy. "I'll be right over, It has been two and half weeks, how can you be?" Willow spurted. Dawn awoke trying to figure out what all the commotion was about. Tara looked at her strangely and asked, "Have you been getting into those resurrection spells again?" Dawn gave a perplexed and vehement denial. Willow looked like she had just seen, or was it talked to, a ghost. She tried calling Giles - he was not home -- On an off chance she called his shop. Giles had started the day much as he had for the last week. He had been taking care of Dawn until the girl's father could arrive. He was beginning to take an intense dislike to this man he had never met. Hank Summers had not been here for his daughters when his wife died and was still unable to come to the aid of his youngest or attend Buffy's funeral, the girls had deserved better than that. That morning Giles and Dawn had opened the shop both going through the motions, trying to give the day some sense of normalcy. School was out, so Dawn was spending the day in the shop with him and Anya. The usual day of awkward moments was changed when Willow had come by and invited Dawn to spend the day and have a sleepover with her and Tara. Willow, some how sensing Giles needing to get away, suggested he check out the new exhibition at the museum. Anya agreed to run the shop for the rest of the day. And so Giles found him self at the museum unexpectedly surrounded by faces that reminded him of home and earlier times. The chance meeting turned to lunch then dinner. The four were still reminiscing when Robert James received a call from the museum. The four climbed into Randi's vehicle to get back to the museum. The general panic was over by the time they had arrived. Randi, Ian, and Rupert waited outside for Robert as he was briefed. Several minutes later, after acquiring promises of confidentiality, he brought them into the building. James introduced everybody, Dr. Pablo Cruz, Nick Wolfe, Amanda Smith, Ian Matheson, Randi Wallace, and Rupert Giles completed their acknowledgments. Wolfe then began playing a security tape. The tape showed one of the artifacts as it began to glow then a strange vortex formed above it. Two beams joined the vortex then screen turned bright white as the light grew, this was followed by a few seconds of snow, and then picture returned to normal, a few seconds later a guard entered the room with weapon drawn. Dr. Cruz again cautioned the group on discretion asking in particular for caution in dealing with C?sar Adrianz?n. Wolfe said there were no known failures in the security system he and the technician had been over it twice. Amanda and Dr. Cruz stated that nothing seemed to be missing and it looks as if nothing had been touched. Dr. Cruz reviewed all that he knew about the calling stone and asked for opinions. For the most part the only information Dr. Cruz added to what he had said on Ian's show was a few strange incidents that had occurred at the museum and a few oral myths about the calling stone. The group had come to the consensus that what they had on tape was a "calling" just what and how it was calling was still very much a mystery. Giles remembered an illustration he had seen in one of the manuscripts he had acquired. So it was that this strange group found themselves in Giles' shop in the wee hours of the morning looking at a sixteenth century manuscript. Giles had found the text, written phonetically and idiomatically in an obscure dialect of Spanish with dribs and drabs of a more scholarly Latin with bits of Arabic, Hebrew, Quechua and Aymara thrown in for good measure almost undecipherable. It somewhat offended Giles' pride as a scholar to have a book that reduced him to looking at the pictures. The book proved more than a challenge to Ian and Randi as well. Dr. Cruz who's native language was Spanish and was fluent in Quechua and Aymara made more headway. It was Amanda, her interest peaked to the point where she relaxed her reserve, that cracked the code. The group was still to pleased, by their progress, to question why such an amazing linguist was working as a high priced security consultant. It was at this point the phone rang. Giles picked up the phone. "Hello Giles, thank God I found you." Willow said. "Willow you sound distressed, is Dawn alright?" asked Giles. "No, she's fine, but we had a call - from Buffy," Willows voice dropped off. "What makes you think the call was from Buffy?" Giles inquired. "It was Buffy's voice, and she sounded so, you know, Buffy." Willow answered. They began to eliminate possibilities: Giles went into the basement the decapitated robot and it's head were accounted for, Dawn denied doing any resurrection spells. That still left a large number of Demonic possibilities. When Willow told him that Buffy was coming over, Giles knew he had to get over there quickly. Guiles advised Willow and Tara to prepare a number of spells for detection and defense. He also told her to call Xander and Anya. Then there was still the matter of a store full of people. Giles made his excuses and gave James his spare key to lock up. Well if you can't trust Loyds of London, who can you trust? After all in this town death and even taxes were suspect. Buffy took her time getting dressed. She had to wrap her fingers in toilet paper to keep them from bleeding. Escaping from ones grave was defiantly hard on a manicure. She picked out an outfit and found the spare key. The house was so empty without her mother. With one last melancholy look at the familiar house she headed out the door. Buffy Summers knew she was alive, the hurting told her that. The sky was beginning to lighten as Buffy reached Willow's Dorm. With the twilight was yielding to the first light of a new day, she entered the dorm. Knocking on the door still hurt her hands the pain was now only a minor annoyance. "Hello, who is it?" came Willows voice. Buffy answered "Good morning Willow, it me, Buffy." The Door opened Willow stood in the middle of the room with Tara. Xander had opened the door but was standing back and out of the way. Buffy entered the room she realized she was being tested. Lights danced around Willow and Tara until the two seamed satisfied with the result of their magical probing. Giles came out from hiding rattling some strange charm and reciting something in a language she never heard before (he looked quite silly). After Guiles had finished dancing around a bit Xander said, "Well Giles that takes care of the top twenty on your hit parade of look like your old dead friend demons." I realize you may all be having a bit of trouble dealing with this whole, back from the dead thing, I know I am, but is there anyway sure way we can prove I am me?" "One last thing" said Giles. Willow came over to buffy and whispered something to her, Buffy whispered something back, the two embraced and begun crying. Xander brought Anya and Dawn from their hiding place in the restroom. The reunion grew with apologies, happy tears, and huggings. The group went out on the lawn to watch the sun rise. Robert James was having some trouble closing the shop he could not tear Dr. Cruz away from the book. The morning found James sleeping on a counter top. Dr. Cruz was still energized by discovery. The book was the chronicle of a sixteenth century missionary in the new world. It told the story of a small group of conquistadors there encounter with the stone and a strange cult that had defended it. The Spaniards took the stone and some easier to carry treasures. The cult recovered the stone and Spaniards had got out with a fair amount of gold and silver. Both sides had taken some losses. The Spaniards had heard tales of a strange alter that performed magic. The tales included sounds light, visions, healings, and transformations. One of the visions was documented at length: Two small objects came through a great fire that tore them apart. They called to each other through a great void. The feeling of a great work left undone, of loneliness and incompletion. The town of Sunnydale had ways of making sensational news disappear. The news of the girl being buried alive was kept out of the media. The sale of an old book to a museum for six figures, partly underwritten by the U.S. State Department, was only noted in a few anthropological journals, the local business pages, and Giles' income Tax. The exposition left town things returned to normal. Not what had pasted for normal in Sunnydale but a real normal. Spike was the first one to feel it -- the hell mouth had shifted. Vampires, demons, and other such creatures of the night moved out in droves. Buffy found her nightly patrols most uneventful it was a good time to be alive. At Curious Goods the morning paper and coffee where more than a ritual with most of the Items recovered the looking became more important. Micki Foster, Johnny Ventura, and Jack Marshak were looking for those stories that might lead to another Item. Finding Lewis Vendredi's name in the entertainment section was a bit less grisly than the usual articles that received their attention. A major exhibition of pre-Columbian art and artifacts from Peru's National Museum of Anthropology and Archeology was being shown at Chicago's McCormick Place. The Article listed the late Chicago merchant Lewis Vendredi had graciously donated several major items in the exhibition. "Lewis Vendredi and graciously donated, do not belong in the same sentence," Jack commented. The exhibit then became the focus of their attention. In his office built from an abandoned Chicago subway station Captain Richard Page was not in a good mood. Page had just gotten off the phone with the Mayor. A rash of unsolved murders had begun last week the rate and number of these killings was increasing. He called Nick O'Malley, Kate Benson and Sean Radmon into his office to brief him on their investigation. "We have had twenty bodies that were drained of blood by two small puncture wounds. The wounds were to the neck in eighteen cases, on the thigh in the two other cases. The victims were young adults, the youngest was sixteen, the oldest was twenty-five. All attacks were made at night. No other pattern seams evident as yet." Kate said. Sean continued, "Some type of specialized teeth administered the wounds. As yet we have failed to find any DNA evidence. We did find fingerprints on one victim. The prints belong to an Isaac Kline of Sunnydale, California. I have a death certificate issued for Mr. Kline on November of 1999 from Sunnydale, California." "Any possibility we are dealing with some sort of cult killings?" Captain Page asked. "That possibility still exists, but let me point out that one of the victims was armed and got off four rounds from a 357 before whatever this thing sucked him dry." Said O'Malley. "Ok get out there whoever or whatever is doing this I want it stopped we can't keep a lid on it much longer. We also have that International Forensic Science Convention next week and the Mayor wants the city to look good." Finished the Captain. In the Squad room Carl sat at a desk he had appropriated and used the phone. "Yes, that's the Reds parlayed with the Phillies for tonight." Carl said. Carl had just hung up the phone when Benson and O'Malley confronted their Gnome informer. "Carl any word out on the street about a new blood sucker in town," O'Malley demanded. "What, you need a hot tip on a giant mosquito," Carl quipped. Before O'Malley could come back with his standard treat of casual violence Kate interceded with, "Carl we have had a rash of killings in the last week we could really use your help." This tended to diffuse the usual game of insults between O'Malley and Carl that comprised a large part of their conversations and her working life of late. "Can you get the chief to give cut me a deal on my next grand larceny?" Carl bargained. I'll put in a good word with the chief," O'Malley said noncommittally. "I'll see what I find," Carl said. Across town in an office of more standard construction Lieutenant Harding Welsh having a briefing of his own, "Ray it is good to have you back from the undercover section. It looks like you got a plum assignment this time. I want to be the departments front man and for the International Forensic Science Convention next week. Raymond Vecchio agreed with the new job. He was just getting back to being himself again after spending over a year undercover. Playing host cop for a police science convention could well be an easy enough assignment to do while he put his life back in order. He would head over to McCormick Place for a late afternoon briefing but first he had an old friend to visit. Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, was getting ready for a long trip via the Chicago Transit Authority. He had come to be something of an expert on bus and train schedules in this town. Diefenbaker, having recently returned from his morning walk, was contemplating the injustices of wolves not being allowed to ride city buses from behind closed eyelids. Fraser heard the footsteps well before the knock on his door. He was somewhat surprised by the knock, he had few visitors at this time of day. Fraser answered the knock with friendly, "Hello, Who is there? "Hi, Fraser it's me Ray." The voice from his past answered. Fraser opened the door to his spotlessly clean but sparsely furnished apartment. Before either of the two friends could say a word, Raymond Vecchio was surprised, by an unexpectedly enthusiastic greeting from Diefenbaker. After Diefenbaker regained his composure the two old friends reacquainted themselves. When Fraser began to excuse himself to catch a bus he and Vecchio found they had a destination in common. And so the reunion returned to a more leisurely pace. When the threesome did leave the apartment it was with Diefenbaker thanking fate for arranging suitable transportation. Several janitors preformed the task of setting up the neat rows of stackable chairs. One of the newer janitors was grateful for the opportunity to create this calm bit of uniform order. His life had too much excitement of late. He did not like excitement he was allergic to it, and new all to well the reason why. He had some friends who managed to discreetly get him this nice union job. Still the though of having a convention full of policemen around him somehow did not make him feel very safe. For David Bruce, Alias Dr David Bruce Banner, police and press were a source of worry. As the first of the security guards and police arrived for their briefing the janitors finished and departed the room. One of the early arrivals is a tall dark newly hired security guard with kind dark eyes seam to look through you. He chats amiably with a few of the other guards yet somehow seams to take in everything going on in the room. To all who meet him Jarod seams near the ideal security guard, and a hell of a nice guy as well. Theorizing that one could time travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett stepped into the project accelerator and vanished. He awoke to find himself trapped in the past, facing mirror images that were not his own and driven by an unknown force to change history for the better. His only guide on his journey is Al, an observer from his own time, who appears in the form of a hologram that only Sam can see and hear. And so, Dr. Beckett finds himself leaping from life to life, striving to put right what once went wrong and hoping each time that his next leap will be the leap home. The light of the leap fades Sam finds himself sitting behind the wheel of a recently parked Porsche one hand on the wheel the other on the ignition key. Sam is wearing a women's business suit. He looks to see the tailored looking young blond in the rear view mirror and responds with the words "Oh boy!" Sam quickly recovers from his initial shock and begins to find out who, where, and when he is. The women, Samantha Yeager is her name, is very meticulous. Between the day planer, briefcase, and neatly folded newspaper it is almost like being a substitute teacher and getting detailed lesson plans. The only problem being Sam has to be in a meeting and make a speech in thirty minutes. Once again Ms. Yeager's talent for organization comes to his rescue. Yeager has a type written copy of the speech as well as the key points on three by five cards. After taking five minutes to read and memorize the speech Sam begins the task of navigating to the meeting. Nick Wolfe was facing a unique problem his job of providing security for the Peruvian exhibition had become more complex. The Calling Stone was acting like a teenager that had just discovered the telephone. It's nightly disturbances had become a strain on his resources. Dr. Cruz was taking up a lot of Amanda's time. Some of the guards he had hired were so spooked by the objects strange behavior that they had quit. In the lurch for discrete open minded people to help him baby sit the art objects, Nick had turned to Ian Matheson, Randi Wallace, and Rupert Giles. Ian and Randi had arrived by plane two days ago. Giles and a group of what he called "very capable young people" were do in tonight. In the mean time Nick had to get ready for a briefing. Another event was taking place in the complex and he needed to coordinate security with them. A sort time latter as the room filled with a number of uniformed and non-uniformed police and security personnel Sam Beckett as Samantha Yeager prepared him self to give the opening speech. Sam began; "Ladies and Gentlemen on behalf of International Expositions, Inc. and the International Society for Forensic Sciences I would like to welcome all of you. As most of you are aware this center will be the focus of interest for law enforcement agencies throughout the world. It is are job to make sure that those who attend have a safe and enjoyable convention. I will introduce a few notable guests and then we will breakdown into workgroups to go over the security plan. First I would like to introduce Sam Simms United States Secret Service." Simms a large black man, normally easygoing but at this time wearing his most professional game face, rose and acknowledged the speaker. Beckett continued, "Mr. Simms is in charge of security for the U.S. Attorney General who will be our keynote speaker. I would also like you to meet Detective Raymond Vecchio who will be our primary liaison with the Chicago police department." A thin well dressed man siting next to a Mounty with a large dog rose and acknowledged the speaker. "Finally I would like at this time to turn the meeting over to Captain Ralph Hempa chief of security for McCormick Place." Beckett finished. Samantha Yeager's part of the meeting being over for the most part, Sam could relay a little. This gave him time to worry when was Al going to show up and what would his reaction be to this body. The security people broke down into workgroups and began to fill in the details of their security plan. To Duncan Macleod the trip to Chicago was part of his more normal business he sold antiques for part of his income and there were a number of shops in the area that he dealt with. It seemed that the latest craze on the part of buyers was for rustic American items. For the most part however this trip was to be a bit of a holiday. The flight from Paris was slow but uneventful he spent a few days in New York with some old friends. He spent a few days in Atlantic City, it was not Monte Carlo but, he was curios to see how the town had changed. He was now headed on to Chicago. It was a pleasant and uneventful trip. A few seats behind him Angus MacGyver sat quietly reading a book. The Phoenix Foundation was sending MacGyver to evaluate a number of technologies and their use. It had only been a year since he had been moved from the field to his current think tank position. Not getting shot at had definite advantages. Still a part of him missed the excitement. He stretched a bit and continued his reading. He was getting into Chicago a day early he planned to take it easy. In a cheap hotel on Chicago's south side others were making plans: "I told you we should have left sooner now we have to steel the dagger from a building full of cops." Complained one of the young cult members. "We will find a way the knife wants us to take it." the pretty young girl in the Goth outfit maintained. Several other members of The Devil's Step Children said the same thing and the plotting started in earnest. Somewhere on Interstate 80 a Winnebago travels the highway. In the darkness of the cabin of the Winnebago a discussion occurs. "Have I ever told you how much I hate these things." The vampire known as Spike complained. "At least a dozen times in every state we have pasted through." responded an annoyed Xander. "After our last outing, in one of these, this mode of travel doesn't exactly give me warm and fuzzes either." Willow agreed. "Look on the bright side of things we have covered over 1000 miles and no one has tried jousting the RV," joked Buffy. "You may have noticed I have a bit of a problem dealing with the bright side." Spike returned. The RV pulled into a rest stop it was Xander's turn to drive. An eighteen wheeler pulls into the same rest stop. Inside the Foundation for Law and Government's (FLAG) Mobile Command Center Bonnie Barstow was briefing Michael Knight on a new liquid crystal body covering she had installed on Kitt. Devon Miles was reviewing a folder when Reginald announced the rest stop over the Intercom from the cab. This truck stop had proven in the past to provide a far above average meal and so they had selected it for their diner stop. "How is kit adjusting to the new body?" Devon asks. "He likes the Corvette, so far, but thinks it is a little ostentatious. I had to change his default color from red to black. With the added memory and updated processors KITT'S AI is growing more complex." Bonnie replied. "And he is getting more sarcastic." Michael added. The Truck finally stopped and the three joined Reginald in the restaurant. Wilber and Orrville brought their big rig into the truck stop. They were towing an empty trailer that they would be loading tonight. Knowing they did not have a lot of miles to go, but did have a lot of work ahead of them, made stopping for a bite here seam a good idea. Wilber and Orrville were not related but had been fast friends since they had met two years ago at an Illinois Militia meeting. Frank Waters and Sherman Catlett were driving the next tractor-trailer to make the pit stop. Frank was proud of the rig. He had spent the last three months designing and building the defenders mobile support unit. Sherman would really have preferred to fly out to Chicago but had proposed the trip for as a team building exercise. Joe Astor and Cameron Westlake were following in the defender, they were running a communications systems check. This left Sherman with Frank who had spent the last twelve hundred miles giving him the grease monkeys guide to roadside America. Frank had planed their trip like an engineering project. The only redeeming quality Sherman had found in all this was, that so far Frank's research into eateries had produced extraordinary results. Westlake confirmed their departure from the main road. The tracking system was working. May Swenson quickly moved from her side-work as the first of the dinner crowd showed up. Gina the hostess was out sick, so she seated a party of seven and took their drink orders. By the time she set up her group with drinks the other waitress, Helen, had seated a party of four. That group looked older and more prosperous, "luck of the draw" she thought. May sat Wilber and Orrville who had been regulars for the last two months. Helen seated two more people who were waiting for the rest of their party. The party of seven, fortunately, proved fairly decisive. May turned their order into Oscar the cook. Cletus, who did the night shift at the Gulf Station across the street, was at the counter. She poured him a cup of coffee. It was a fairly normal night. Five desperate men in a stolen SUV with Wisconsin Plates pulled into the parking lot. The small restaurant looked like an easy target. It was just far enough off the road to hide their activity, and just near enough to the road to make for a quick getaway. This was to prove to be a strategic error. Eighteen hours ago they had been quests of the Wisconsin penal system. Now they had fresh cloths, guns, and a vehicle. Next, they were going to pickup some quick cash. Four men got out of the SUV and headed into the restaurant. Something about these men struck Michael Knight as odd, he alerted Kitt. Very quickly the four entered the restaurant and drew weapons. They told everybody to remain seated with there hands on the table. They told May, who was nearest to it, to open the register. A petite young blond came out of the rest room at this time. The largest of the four grabbed her. This proved to be a grave tactical error. The man went flying as Buffy used him as a missile to attack a shotgun-touting felon. A powerful kick disarmed a third would be robber. Buffy ducked behind a counter as the fourth men tried to get a bead on her. Cletus and his hot black coffee diverted him from the blond fury. An obscene number of clicks and ca-chunks greeted the four as they tried to recover. What the unfortunate felons found pointing at them was Oscar with a shotgun, Wilber and Orrville with a 44 magnum and 9mm, Frank with a 357, Sherman with a 9mm, Michael and Reginald with 38s, and May holding the small submachine gun that had once been in the hand of the man that tried to grab Buffy. But most threatening of all Buffy had managed to pick up a knife. Meanwhile out in the parking Kitt activated the ramp in the FLAG Mobile Command Center and rolled into the parking lot. Kitt took up a position front bumper to front bumper with the SUV. At the same time Frank was in communications with the Defender. The car approached the SUV from the rear. Much to the dismay of the getaway driver the two sports cars had suddenly managed to park in the SUV. The driver bolted on foot, Joe and Westlake in hot pursuit. He tried to take refuge in a Winnebago, but found himself instead staring at a rather annoyed Spike pointing a crossbow at him. The chip in his head may have kept him from firing, but the look on the face of the man he bluffed was a moment the vampire would savor. Sheriff Bill Hart and his deputy took about an hour getting everyone's statements. Having FBI agent Sherman Catlett not try to preempt his jurisdiction surly helped. Having a roomful of trained observers and a videotape made by one of the vehicles did not hurt either. One of the prisoners was packed off in an ambulance to have a broken radius and ulna seen to. The other four were waiting quietly in their handcuffs for their ride to jail. News of the event had proliferated over the police radio system, in almost no time at all, Sheriff Hart had a State Trouper and two officers from adjoining counties to help with the prisoners. The witnesses finished their dinner, dissert was on the house. It was only after he had returned to his office latter that night with his charges safely locked away that he noted one final discrepancy in his reports. Who was driving the black Corvette? Wilber and Orrville were a bit nervous having a fed show up at their favorite eatery was not a good thing. The questioning had put them behind schedule. Fortunately the guns and permits they had all checked out legit. It also helped that Sheriff Hart had been to busy praising them for there aid to local law enforcement to ask any embracing questions. After a few minutes of quite driving Wilber broke the silence by saying, "It's a good thing I didn't blow that dude away or we would still be doing paperwork." The two laughed and continued on. Thirty minutes later Wilber and Orrville pulled into a barn. There they where greeted there by other Militia members, who began loading the explosives into the rear of the tractor-trailer. Far away, well not exactly far away, since linear distances cannot be measured between dimensions and this was in another dimension. In the offices of Myth Inc. The Great Skeeve and the Pervect Aahz entertained a perspective client. It was rare that an Eliasian Elf was seen out of it's home dimension. Eliasian Elves were an ancient and proud race that claimed they were from one of the oldest dimensions, their technology was ancient, and there magic strong. In short, this race of Elves was a bunch of snobs. But, snobs with money as Aahz had pointed out to Skeeve earlier that day. Their firm would defiantly benefit from a client so well placed in the multiverse's privileged. It was unknown for the Eliasianes, at least during the current Epoch, to ask for outside help. The ancient Elf began slowly and formally it was over an hour before he had finished his greeting. With patience Skeeve rarely saw Aahz use. Aahz returned the greeting. Fortunately Eliasiane protocol allowed for meals. It was during the third course of the second meal that the Elf finally got down to business. Hartsblom (Skeeve and Aahz called him that for short for that was indeed part of his name [from some where near the third to the last paragraph]) began almost humbly, "It was a very long time ago. So long ago, that we of Elias were still new to our world. We had not as yet penetrated the greater mysteries. We were just starting to use forces it would take Millennia to master. In our youthful curiosity we created a device to probe these mysteries. The device was not something we would wish to make today. The Technologies it used are now known to have bizarre and perverse side effects it also violates about half a million treaties that we are signatory to." As Hartsblom went on in detailed but euphemistic to describe the nature of the probes capabilities Aahz quickly translated to Skeeve "We are dealing with a invulnerable, intelligent, amoral, sixteen thousand million year old probe that causes reality pollution." "What is reality pollution?" Skeeve asked Aahz in a whisper. "Very nasty and politically incorrect" answered Aahz. Seeing the two now seemed to have a glimmer of understanding of the problem Hartsblom went on to state his needs "a few days ago the probe contacted us. It was in one of the 4223 prime universes. What we require is the discrete recovery of the item." Aahz invoked the Elvin protocol of Eyehalftugo this allowed them to leave the room and talk privately (it also involved use of the privy which thanks to the wonders of indoor plumbing was a far better place for discussion [and breathing in general] here on than on Skeeve's native home dimension of Cloah). Skeeve asked "Aahz what is a 4223 prime universe?" "4223 prime is a treaty between several elder races, and semi supreme beings. It is a basic appendages off policy. Elias is a signatory so they need some lower life form to remove the dangerous and politically incorrect device from this pristine environment. They must be worried about political embarrassment, damage fines, maybe, even a war." Aahz answered. Skeeve knowing Aahz would look mainly at the profits on any such venture tried to change the focus. "What are the dangers?" Skeeve asked? "They came to us because they think we can handle it, don't you have any faith in ancient Elvin wisdom." Aahz Said. Somehow Skeeve was less than satisfied with that answer. The next three days were spent in negotiations. It was not so much cost or fulfillment. To the Eliasianes price was no object. The objectives were clearly stated. It was the details and clauses that needed work, and in Deva it is always the detail that counts. There was on one clause the Eliasianes were most insistent on, it was a termination clause. It stated merely that failure to fulfill the contract would result in the termination of the signatory's home. Aahz responded to their intransigence on this issue with a clause of his own, in addition to the gargantuan price they had negotiated for the job, the Eliasianes would bear all expenses. At this Aahz pronounced the contract workable. The polite ritual of signatures took up the rest of the week. In the same room were we stared this bizarre narrative, but much latter. Well the furniture was different and they moved a wall or two. Ok, it is a totally different room but with the same fairy and six dwarfs. "Boys, I have a repair order for you," Celda said impatiently. Celda was only impatient when something went very wrong. "Is it that Avocado pit thing again?" asked Randall. "I bet it is the smell of those Ginkgoes." Said Og. "Quite!" yelled the fairy, it was truly amazing how much volume she could muster. "It is work order 42, there seems to be an intermittent trans-dimensional rift in it." Celda continued. "Find out what is causing it and fix it." Celda said before leaving. "Work order 42 that was one of those rush prototypes. Does anybody know anything special about it?" Asked Randall. Vermin suddenly started trying very hard to be inconspicuous. It was Wally who finally asked, "Was that the one with the green settee?" After much arguing and debate they concluded that it might well be that one. Suddenly they were all looking at Vermin. It took quite a wile and even more arguing to come up with a list of probable causes. It had to be either the settee or the Elfin thingy. "We have to get them back." Declared Randall. "It will be an adventure!" exclaimed Wally. "It is official business, we have a work order." Said Fidgit. "A ah mission," stuttered Strutter. "A mission for the supreme being" Randall affirmed. Somewhere under the great city of Chicago Carl plotted with a very mixed group of links and humans. "One thing for sure it has to be one of the best scores we have seen in this town in some time." Said a gnome named Rocky. Boras a dower looking Siberian Gnome who was the mastermind and leader of the group, said," Yes, there is much gold in this collection but first we must steal it. Do you all know your parts?" He drilled them all thoroughly his years working with the czars and then the KGB made him a demanding taskmaster. Carl's job would be to stay with the police and warn of Special Unit 2 activity. Miss Parker and Broots entered the empty Muncie, Indiana apartment. As usual the trail was stale and so were the donuts. Except for the donut boxes and a lone business card the room was clean. The card was from a bicycle a shop in Gary it had no phone number. Using a cell phone to check information Broots found there was no phone number for that address. It looked like Jarod was sending them on another road trip. Three sisters sat, in a departure lounge at San Francisco International Airport, still wondering what manor of danger would call their help from so far away. "We probably won't know anything more till we get off the plain. Leo is checking out to see what he can find." Piper the youngest said. "Best for now to just enjoy the flight." Phoebe offered. "If the plane ever gets here," complained Prue, the eldest Halliwell sister. The plane itself was due to leave in five minutes but was yet to arrive at the gate. Across the lounge sat an older man far more patience than the three sisters. With him sat a younger man, his son, who contrasted greatly with the peaceful air of his father. While the young man kept looking for the plane, the older man seamed to just meditate. From amongst the other delayed passengers a slightly balding middle-aged Hispanic man approached him. "Detective Caine?" asked the middle-aged man. "Yes -- Where do I know you from?" asked Peter. "Oh sorry, I'm Joe Dominguez, I attended that lecture you gave on the mark nine detector unit." Joe said. "Yes, of course, It was strange, I went to a factory training session on that device. Some crazies put nerve grass in a Japanese subway and I was doing a five county tour." Peter recalled. "Well you did a good job, my partner and I actually had to use that thing." Joe said. "Are you going to Chicago for the convention?" asked Peter. "Yes, my partner and I are going to check out the latest gadgets." Joe answered. The two talked for a while, exchanging a story or two about mutual acquaintances. Long before the missing aircraft appeared Joe's partner returned to the waiting area. Joe introduced his partner Nash Bridges and Peter introduced his father Kui Chang Caine. They had plenty of time to get acquainted the plane departed two hours late. Flight 1135 out of Los Angeles International Airport was oddly enough boarding on time. The first class section had already boarded. Sammo Law was just returning from the restroom as his rows were called. Grace Chen, Amy Dylan, and Terrell Par were already in line with their groups carryon bags. Quincy was talking to Sam Fujiyama as he waited for his row to be called. Amanda Bentley and Jesse Travis were getting impatient. Well for the most part Amanda was getting impatient. It was just safer for Jesse to agree with her. Dr. Mark Sloan and his son Steve were running late. It was just as the last block of rows were called that the Sloans arrived Dr. Sloan taking the blame for their lateness. All boarded without incident and just to be contrary the plane left on time. As the Southwest airlines plane left DFW James Trivette Watched as his partner quickly fell asleep. Cordell Walker was suffering from a strange ailment that affects new parents, lack of sleep. The new baby was three months old and had an excellent set of lungs. As Trivette picked up his book and began to read he wondered if Walker's real reason for taking this trip was not so much to learn the latest police techniques, as to catch up on his sleep. Walker shifted in his seat and started to snore. The detective Nick Knight drove the rented van around the outskirts of Toledo. Nick was escorting his girlfriend Dr. Natalie Lambert to a convention in Chicago the fact that Nick was a vampire did tend to complicate things. It did however make him an excellent night driver. Knight listened to the tape player along with the breathing his sleeping love. Soon Lambert would be driving and Nick would use the large light proof box in the rear of the van. Flight 995 arrived at Chicago's O'Hare Airport James Ellison, and Blair Sandburg were only to happy to get off the plane and stretch there legs. Ellison the more so since he required considerably more legroom then Sandburg. The walk through the concourse was a most welcome change from sitting. The walk and shuttle ride, in the end, led to more leg compression as the two folded themselves into the small candy apple green subcompact rental car that the Cascade police department had provided for them. Another aircraft circled O'Hare. On this aircraft an elderly women chatted amiably with a young man and women. During the flight the conversation had traveled farther and faster then the jet. The older woman, Jessica Fletcher, was a best selling of writer mystery stories and semiprofessional murder investigator. She was heading to Chicago to give a lecture on observation at a police convention. The beautiful and exotic looking young woman was Sydney Fox a Professor of History who specialized in ancient civilizations. Nigel Bailey, The young man, was her Teaching Assistant. Sydney and Nigel were coming into town to look into a few myths relating to a pre-Columbian artifact. The conversation ranged over several thousand years and most of the world. They talked of tools, implements, and weapons and the ways people used and abused them. As the plane landed they exchanged permanent and hotel information. It was a living the ex-FBI agent thought as he checked into the Chicago hotel room. He was even making better money than he had with the FBI. The small beltway software company that had hired him three weeks after his untimely departure from the FBI was quite good to him. The software that the company made recognized patterns in massive databases. He was here in Chicago for a convention to demonstrate law enforcement applications of the software. He entered his hotel room put down his luggage and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed a Washington DC number - Ring! - Ring! "Hello," a sleepy voice answered. "Hello Dana," Fox Mulder replied. Fox and Dana talked for about fifteen minutes both just wanting to here the others voice. The baby was doing fine. His airline flight was only ten minutes late. Agent Doggit was investigating some little old lady up in Maine that had witnessed or been in the vicinity of over 264 separate murders in different places around the world. The small town in which she lived had a pre-capita murder rate higher than Washington DC. All the murders were solved but the odds against such a coincidence were so astronomical that Doggit had to check it out. Finally the two said goodnight. It was not long after Scully hung up that her phone rung again. This time it was Agent John Doggit he and Agent Monica Reyes had tracked J.B. Fletcher to Chicago through her publisher and had just landed at O'Hare they wanted Mulders hotel number. Scully told him and he thanked her and was gone. At his time the baby decided it was time to get a little motherly attention. Scully had just gotten the baby back to bed when she got a call from Langly, Frohike and Byers. They were investigating some strange activities of a secretive government think tank that called it's self "The Centre." They said they had reason to believe that this group was doing some sort of human genetics experimentation. They were calling from Gary, Indiana. They were tracking some people who they believed were trying to recover an escaped experiment. A very tired Miss Parker and Broots checked into their rooms in a Gar