(Night. Exterior of an old car *Dodge Dart?* parked in a deserted area. We hear a man, INCANTO, and a woman, LAUREN, talking inside the car.)

(Inside the car. INCANTO, nice looking man, mid thirties, is obviously putting the moves on LAUREN, also mid thirties, about 40 pounds overweight. She is flattered, but shy.)

LAUREN: That’s a little hard to believe.

INCANTO: Just from your words – the way you saw things – I knew I wanted to meet you.

LAUREN: Well, I hope you’re not too disappointed.

INCANTO: Lauren, we have a real connection which is rare.

LAUREN: Most men don’t feel that way.

INCANTO: Most men don’t know what they’re missing. (LAUREN giggles) What?

LAUREN: I can’t believe this. I mean, I can’t believe that after three months we finally meet in person, and you’re … (giggles) I don’t know. I just really enjoyed myself tonight.

(She has been playing with her necklace which has a charm shaped like a clover, and it suddenly breaks.)

LAUREN: Oh, no. Oh …

INCANTO: Here. Let me help you. (reclasps the necklace around her neck)

LAUREN: My sister gave it to me. For good luck, I guess. (laughs) Kind of dopey, huh? I mean a clover leaf. How blatant can you get?

(INCANTO fingers the clover charm.)

INCANTO: (looking at her) It’s beautiful.

LAUREN: Thank you.

(INCANTO leans forward and they begin to kiss. After a few seconds, LAUREN realizes something is wrong and begins to struggle, trying to cry out against INCANTO’s lips. Horrible sucking sound from INCANTO. He pulls back. LAUREN opens her mouth in horror. It is filled with a yellow jelly-like substance. INCANTO opens his mouth wide and comes at her again quickly. Exterior shot of car rocking, sound of heavy breathing.)

(Next morning. Outside a warehouse. Police car drives up beside the car from last night. COP gets out and knocks on the window which is covered on the inside with yellowish slime. The window is fogged on the outside making it difficult to see in.)

COP: Cock-a-doodle-doo. Rise and shine in there.

(No answer. He rubs the fog off a section of window and looks inside.)

COP: (shocked) Mother of God.

(He runs back to his patrol car. Camera shows her charm resting on her chest, the skin is mottled.)

COP: (voice) Dispatch, this is Car 73. I’ve got a ? … out on the lake front at Gary and Campbell …

(Warehouse. Later that day. Crime scene. DETECTIVE CROSS, mid fifties, in charge of the investigation gives instructions to some officers.)

CROSS: Driver’s license. Lauren MacKalvey? Okay, I saw that. I want you to get on it.

(CROSS goes to MULDER, in his cool sunglasses, and SCULLY as they arrive. Speaks to MULDER only.)

CROSS: Agent Mulder? Alan Cross, Cleveland PD. Thanks a lot for coming out so quickly.

MULDER: This is my partner, Dana Scully.

(CROSS ignores her presence, keeps talking to MULDER. They cross to the car)

CROSS: We found a purse in the front seat of that car. According to the license, her name is Lauren MacKalvey but we’re not sure yet that this is her body.

SCULLY: You’re not sure?

CROSS: We couldn’t make a positive ID, considering. ( He uncovers the body which is rapidly decaying - mass of pink and yellow slime) Wendy Sparks – she’s our Bureau liaison --- she thought this would be closer to your area of expertise.

SCULLY: Any indication what would have been the cause of death?

CROSS: We were just lucky to get her into the bag without her body falling apart.

MULDER: (picking at the slime with a spoon thingy) This substance --- Did you find it anywhere else in the car? On the carpet or the upholstery? (spoons it into a vial)

CROSS: As a matter of fact, no.

MULDER: So it was only on the victim’s body?

CROSS: That’s what it looks like.

(MULDER steps away looking at the vial. CROSS follows.)

CROSS: Why? You have an idea what happened here?

MULDER: No. Not yet. (walks away)

SCULLY: (covering for MULDER as usual) We’ll call you when we find anything else concrete.

(CROSS doesn’t answer her.)

SCULLY: Detective?

CROSS: Yeah. Sure. Call me.

(CROSS watches uncomfortably as SCULLY follows MULDER under the crime scene tape back to their car.)

SCULLY: Mulder, what do you think it is?

MULDER: A couple of months ago a case came across my desk from the Mississippi office. Four women from Aberdeen had disappeared in less than a month.

SCULLY: Disappeared?

MULDER: Only one of the victims was found, but her body was too decomposed to perform a viable autopsy.

SCULLY: Mulder, what we just saw was not decomposition.

MULDER: I know. That’s why I want you to find out what this is while you’re at the coroner’s office. (hands her the vial)

SCULLY: What about you? Where are you going?

MULDER: I’m going to try to find out if Lauren MacKelvey was a Lonely Heart. Each of the Aberdeen victims had answered personal ads in the local papers. If this is the same killer, he’s just getting started.

(MULDER gets into the car, SCULLY processes this info.)

INCANTO is on computer typing in a chat room. He is TIMID.)

HUGGS: I’M NOT SURE IT’S SUCH A GOOD IDEA FOR US TO MEET.

TIMID: WHY. WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF?

(Shot of HUGGS, ELLEN typing in her apartment.)

HUGGS: DISAPPOINTMENT. REJECTION. THE USUAL ROUND OF SUSPECTS.

TIMID: BELIEVE ME, I KNOW. I’VE BEEN DOWN THAT ROAD ONCE OR TWICE. BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE BEHIND YOUR COMPUTER FOREVER.

(Pause as ELLEN thinks.)

TIMID: CAN YOU?

(Knock at the INCANTO’S door. He definitely didn’t want to be disturbed. He opens the door. His landlady, slim, mid-thirties smiles at him.)

INCANTO: (cracking the door only a few inches) Yes. What is it?

LANDLADY: The handyman replaced the locks on the storage closets and I wanted to bring by your new key. (she hands it to him) I know what you do, Mr. Incanto.

INCANTO: (startled.) What is it you think that I do?

LANDLADY:(smiling) With all your typing and those packages from publishers in New York – you’re a novelist, right? Or an editor? You see, I’m a writer, too.

INCANTO: (not thrilled) What a coincidence. Shouldn’t you be off writing, or something?

LANDLADY: I don’t mean to impose or anything, but would you mind reading something of mine? It won’t take much time. They’re poems.

INCANTO: Certainly. Good-bye.

(He shuts the door. LAND LADY walks away.)

(Autopsy bay. CROSS is waiting. SCULLY enters in scrubs. CROSS is unpleasantly surprised to see her.)

CROSS: Oh, it’s you.

SCULLY: It’s not a problem, is it?

CROSS: No. Just that Dr. Kramer didn’t tell me that you were observing the autopsy.

SCULLY: (businesslike, getting ready for work, snapping on the latex) I’m not observing. I’m performing it myself.

CROSS: You’re a medical doctor?

SCULLY: You sound surprised.

CROSS: I don’t know. I, uh, I guess maybe I am.

SCULLY: Why?

CROSS: It’s nothing personal, Agent Scully. I’m just old-fashioned in certain regards.

SCULLY: Old-fashioned?

CROSS: The truth is, I question the wisdom of assigning female law enforcement officers to certain types of cases.

SCULLY: (organizing instruments) Like this one?

CROSS: Whoever killed Lauren MacKalvey has a definite attitude toward women. So this has to be affecting your judgement.

SCULLY: I appreciate your concern, Detective, but it’s not necessary. All I want to do is solve this case just like you.

CROSS: Look, I’m not being sexist here. I’m just being honest.

SCULLY: Where would you like the autopsy report sent?

CROSS: You can fax it to my office.

(CROSS leaves. SCULLY sighs, then starts her tape recorder.)

SCULLY: The date is august 29th. The time is 4:15 pm. The subject’s name is Lauren MacKalvey. Caucasian. Female. Approximate time of death uncertain. Cause of death unknown.

(She sees blood dripping from the closed drawer then opens the drawer showing that all tissue has melted off the bones and spills off the tray in a red pool. Very disgusting, even for SCULLY.)

(MULDER interviewing LAUREN’S roommate at her apartment. Pretty thin blonde woman. There is a dreamy quality to her voice.)

ROOMMATE: It just doesn’t make sense. He seemed so nice.

MULDER: I thought you said you never met the man Lauren was with last night.

ROOMMATE: I never did. He just seemed nice on the computer.

MULDER: They met through an online service?

ROOMMATE: In one of those chat rooms. You know, here people get together to talk about whatever they’re into.

MULDER: Right. Do you remember what room Lauren was in when she met him?

ROOMMATE: Big and Beautiful. She had kind of a weight problem. But "2 Shy" didn’t seem to care. It wasn’t about sex with him.

MULDER: "Too Shy?"

ROOMMATE: That was his online name. Lauren used to … read me his letters. They were amazing. He knew exactly what to say. He sure as hell fooled me.

MULDER: She read you his letters? Do you think that she kept any hard copies of them?

ROOMMATE: Actually, I saved them myself. If you want, I can get them for you.

MULDER: Yes. Can I use your phone?

ROOMMATE: Yeah. It’s right over there.

(MULDER dials the phone.)

CUT TO: (Autopsy Bay.)

SCULLY: (on phone) Scully.

MULDER: (on phone) Listen, Scully. Our killer may have moved out of the personal columns and onto the internet. I’m gonna send out a localized online warning.

SCULLY: (on phone) How do you know it’s the same guy?

MULDER: (on phone) Because he opened the account with one of the Aberdeen victim’s credit cards. I just called the online service.

SCULLY: (on phone) Mulder, I’d like you to meet me at the coroner’s office as soon as you can.

MULDER: (on phone) Did you find anything in the autopsy?

SCULLY: (on phone) There’s not going to be an autopsy.

MULDER and SCULLY looking at nasty remains of the body.)

SCULLY: It’s a metacarpal from Lauren MacKalvey’s hand. In life, bones have the tensile strength of forged iron. Even in death, they remain strong. But look at this. (she squishes the finger with a clamp)

MULDER: (referring to the vial of slime) What did this turn out to be?

SCULLY: It’s organic. Mostly hydrochloric acid similar to what is secreted by the gastric mugosa.

MULDER: It’s similar to stomach acid?

SCULLY: Almost identical only twice as acidic. I also found trace amounts of pepsin which is a digestive enzyme.

MULDER: So you’re saying that this did that?

SCULLY: I don’t know how else to explain such accelerated autolysis.

MULDER: (pointing at the remains in the drawer) What’s in here, Scully? Theoretically it should contain the same cellular components as her various tissues—skin, muscle, blood …

SCULLY: In some broken-down form, yes.

MULDER: In the results of your chemical analysis did you find anything missing?

SCULLY: (looks at him strangely) Missing?

MULDER: Yeah.

SCULLY: I don’t think so. (looks at chart) All the body tissues were accounted for …. except there were extremely low almost trace amounts of adipose.

MULDER: Fatty tissue. That could explain the weight discrepancy.

SCULLY: What weight discrepancy?

MULDER: The ME recorded Lauren’s weight at 122 but her driver’s license had her at 165.

SCULLY: She probably lost weight since the license was issued.

MULDER: No, actually Lauren’s roommate said she was quite nervous about meeting this guy because she put on some weight recently.

SCULLY: (stumped) What possible motivation could the killer have for removing his victim’s fatty tissue? I mean, who do you think we’re dealing with here?

MULDER: I don’t know.

(ELLEN’S apartment. ELLEN, overweight, is looking in the mirror. Her roommate, JO, watches with concern.)

ELLEN: God. I look awful. Please tell me it’s the mirror.

JO: Ellen, this wasn’t some public service announcement. It was an on-line warning by the FBI aimed specifically at women in Cleveland.

ELLEN: Give me some credit, will you, Jo? I happen to be a pretty good judge of character.

JO: I’m not trying to freak you out.

ELLEN: No? You’re doing a pretty good job of it.

JO: I just think you should be careful, that’s all.

ELLEN: Do you think this is easy for me? I finally connect with someone I like who seems to like me. I’m scared enough to meet him for the first time without you telling me he’s Charles Manson.

JO: I didn’t say that.

ELLEN: Besides, it’s not like he’s some stranger. I’ve been chatting with him everyday for over a month.

JO: I know, and he’s probably as great as he sounds. But what if he isn’t?

(ELLEN sighs)

(Front of a nice restaurant. Night. INCANTO stands outside holding bouquet of flowers. He impatiently checks his watch, then throws the bouquet down in disgust and walks off.)

(Later, INCANTO passes row of street hookers calling out to men passing by on foot and in cars.)

HOOKER1: Looking good, baby.

HOOKER 2: Hey, baby.

HOOKER 3: Hi, baby.

HOOKER 4: (older, slightly overweight) Over here, babe. Down here.

HOOKERS: I got what you need over here. Ooh, yeah. Uh-huh. See something you like? Come on, do you want some? I think he has the hots for you, baby. I think so. You know you want it. Mm-hmm.

(HOOKER 4 and INCANTO go into a deserted alley.)

HOOKER 4: What do you like, baby?

(INCANTO goes as if to kiss her. She stops him.)

HOOKER 4: Uh-uh. No kissing. Anything else you want is fine, but no kissing. (He grabs her roughly) What are you doing?

(She scratches him, then looks in disgust at the slime dirpping from her broken nails. HOOKER 4 begins screaming as INCANTO begins liposuction with his mouth.)

(Later, HOOKER 5 and her john pass by the alley.)

HOOKER 5: There’s a place we can go near here. Nice and cozy.

JOHN: Okay.

(They see INCANTO run from HOOKER 4’s body. They see her mutilated face.)

JOHN: (running off) Un uh. Forget this!

HOOKER 5: Oh, my God.

(Next morning. HOOKER death crime scene. SCULLY is looking at the body. CROSS giving instuctions to officers.)

CROSS: Make sure you get statements from all of them.

(Crosses to SCULLY.)

CROSS: Her name was Holly McClain. She’s worked in this area for a couple of years now, but she wasn’t most john’s first pick, if you know what I mean.

MULDER: (arriving on the scene) What happened?

CROSS: It looks like our guy again. One of the other girls found her last night. (Flips sheet to reveal slimy body)

SCULLY: (to MULDER) All of the air passages are blocked with what appears to be the same viscous hydrochloric acid we found on Lauren MacKalvey.

CROSS: Do you know what this stuff is?

(MULDER and SCULLY look at each other. SCULLY covers the body.)

CROSS: Hey, this is still my case.

MULDER: We’re dealing with a serial murderer who’s using an online service to attract his victims – all single women looking for Mr. Right.

CROSS: That doesn’t jibe with a $20 hooker.

MULDER: No, it doesn’t. Something must have gone wrong last night. He was forced to improvise.

CROSS: We’re still talking about a guy without a consistent MO.

MULDER: Not necessarily. (pulls out papers) These are letters he e-mailed to Lauren MacKalvey. They contain lines from a handful 16th century Italian poems.

CROSS: So he has a copy of Barlett’s Quotations. So what?

MULDER: You won’t find any of these in Bartlett’s.

CROSS: I’m not sure I follow you.

MULDER: Look at this. Guinezelle’s "Lavitanova," Casteona’s "Il Courtagiano," and others I won’t even try to pronounce. These are from obscure texts from privately owned libraries that only lend to academic affiliates.

CROSS: You’re saying our … our suspect’s a college professor?

MULDER: Or a graduate student, a visiting Fellow, maybe a translator. What we need is to compile a list of everybody in Cleveland who has these credentials. Can you do that?

CROSS: Yeah. I’ll get right on that.

SCULLY: (crosses back to body) Here’s something else that might help. The killer should have an identifiable wound pattern from this. (Shows HOOKER’s broken and bloody fingernails.)

MULDER: It looks like she took her pound of flesh, huh?

INCANTO is bandaging his scratched hand. Intercom buzzes.)

INCANTO: (into intercom) Yes?

DELIVERY GUY: (voice) I got a package for Incanto from Strautcher Publishing.

INCANTO: (into intercom) Leave it.

DELIVERY GUY: (voice) Sorry. I gotta get a signature.

(As INCANTO comes down the stairs he passes young JESSE, about 12. She is blind, feeling along wall for a painting dropcloth.)

JESSE: (sensing him) Hello, Mr. Incanto.

INCANTO: Good afternoon, Jesse.

LANDLADY: (coming out of another apartment) Jesse did you find those drop cloths yet? (pleasantly surprised to see INCANTO) Mr. Incanto, I didn’t know you were out here.

INCANTO: I’m just picking up a package.

LANDLADY: Jesse, did you know that Mr. Incanto’s a writer?

JESSE: I know, Mom. You told me a thousand times.

LANDLADY: I’m putting those poems together. If you don’t mind, I’d like to drop them by sometime.

INCANTO: Just slip it under my door.

LANDLADY: After you’ve read them can I take you to dinner somewhere?

JESSE: (embarrassed, under her breath) Give me a break.

INCANTO: Actually, I’m busy. I have a deadline. (Delivery guy raps at the door)

(He walks away and turns to her daughter, JESSE.)

LANDLADY: I wish you weren’t always so rude to him.

JESSE: I don’t care. He creeps me out. Plus he smells gross --- like he uses dish soap for aftershave.

(JESSE focuses on INCANTO’s location.)

(Police office. SCULLY at computer with a tech.)

CROSS: Okay. Lane just gave me the list from the University. How’s it going over here?

SCULLY: Good. We are expanding the search to include the faculty rosters from the local community colleges. We …. oh …. (sees MULDER enter) Excuse me.

CROSS: Sure. I’ll let you know what we turn up.

(SCULLY crosses to MULDER.)

MULDER: Did you find anything?

SCULLY: I’m almost done with the list.

MULDER: That skin you found under the prostitute’s fingernails -- I had the crime lab check the DNA results against the known offenders database.

SCULLY: And? (MULDER hands her a folder) Well, it says here they didn’t find a match.

MULDER: No, but they did find something else. Check the next page where I’ve circled. (puts his hand on her back leading her to a more private part of the busy room)

SCULLY: (reading) "The second sample contains no oils or essential fatty acid." Well, Mulder, there are any number of factors which could have caused that result. Where are you going with this?

MULDER: (leaning close to her) Okay, it’s not yet the finely detailed insanity that you’ve come to expect from me. It’s just a theory, but what if he’s not doing this out of a psychotic impulse but rather out of physical hunger? Maybe he needs to replenish this chemical deficiency in order to survive

SCULLY: From a dry skin sample you’re concluding what? That he’s some kind of fat-sucking vampire?

MULDER: I don’t know how else to explain MacKalvey’s missing adipose. And I bet if you checked the Aberdeen victims you’d find exactly the same thing. This killer secretes a digestive substance which renders the victims fat…

SCULLY: ….which he ingests before the rest of the body dissolves entirely.

MULDER: There are examples of this in nature, aren’t there?

SCULLY: Yes, scorpions predigest their food outside of their body by regurgitating onto their prey but I don’t know too many scorpions who surf the internet.

MULDER: Okay, but if I’m right, we’re not just looking for a serial murderer. We’re looking for some kind of genetically different human being – a creature who may be responsible for who knows how many missing person cases throughout the United States.

CROSS: (coming to them) I’ve combed every faculty list and academic journal in Cleveland. Came up with 38 names. I figured we’d divy up the list and I’d get the Captain to put some more people on it.

SCULLY: I’d like to brief them, if that’s okay with you.

CROSS: (uncomfortable, but smiles tightly) Sure.

He looks at book of Italian poems from package.)

COMPUTER: (voice) You have mail.

(He logs on to his computer. Mail is from Huggs.)

HUGGS: I’M SO SORRY. CAN WE PLEASE TRY AGAIN? I’LL EXPLAIN WHEN I SEE YOU. I PROMISE NOT TO FLAKE OUT. APOLOGETICALLY YOURS, ELLEN.

(INCANTO smiles. Knock at the door. INCANTO goes to answer it. It is SCULLY, but then we see that the scene has actually jumped to another apartment and SCULLY is not with INCANTO, but with someone else on the list.)

SCULLY: Mr. Brenman? I’m Special Agent Scully from the FBI. Would you mind if I asked you some questions? Thanks.

(Back at INCANTO’s apartment, it is actually CROSS who knocked and is checking on INCANTO.)

CROSS: Thanks, sorry to bother you. I’d like to ask you a few questions.

INCANTO: Sure.

(CROSS sees his bandaged hand, realizes. INCANTO looks at CROSS with hunger.)

(Police office. Later.)

SCULLY: (to tech) These are all University addresses. Chances are, he spent most of the morning on campus.

MULDER comes over to SCULLY.)

MULDER: Scully. I wouldn’t have made a good Amway salesman. I knocked on more doors….

SCULLY: Cross hasn’t checked in yet. We’ve been trying his cell phone but there’s no answer.

Check lands on table. ELLEN puts her hand on it.)

ELLEN: I’m treating you.

INCANTO: No, I insist.

ELLEN: After the way I stood you up? I should insist.

INCANTO: Please.

(He takes the bill. She sees his hand. Mottled skin.)

ELLEN: I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ….

INCANTO: (explaining the marks) It’s a kind of eczema. I’ve had it since I was a kid.

ELLEN: (smiles) You know, I still feel so stupid about the other night.

INCANTO: Ellen, you don’t have to make any excuses. Whatever reasons you had, I’m sure they were good ones.

ELLEN: You were right though --- About me being afraid? It’s a pretty hard habit to break.

INCANTO: You’re not still afraid, are you?

ELLEN: No, I’m not.

INCANTO: Good. Unfortunately, I have to get going. The last crosstown bus leaves in 15 minutes.

ELLEN: You’re taking the bus home?

INCANTO: My car’s in the shop … but I’ll call you.

ELLEN: Don’t be silly. I’ll drive you.

INCANTO: Ellen, you don’t have to do that.

ELLEN: I’m driving you home.

(Hallway outside INCANTO’S apartment. LANDLADY knocks at door. She has her poems.)

LANDLADY: Mr. Incanto?

(She begins to slide them under the door, then changes her mind and pulls out her key ring.)

(Exterior building. ELLEN and INCANTO drive up. There’s that uncomfortable end of date tension as they sit in the car.)

ELLEN: So, how long have you lived here?

INCANTO: Mmm… not very long.

ELLEN: You know, I only live a few blocks away --- near St. Mark’s --- until some developer decided to turn it into condos. You can still see the steeple.

INCANTO: Ellen, you don’t have to be nervous.

ELLEN: I’m not very good at this. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this type of situation.

INCANTO: (whispering) It’s okay.

(Inside LANDLADY is walking through INCANTO’s apartment. She sets her poems by the bookshelf and a couple of flies land on the package. LANDLADY sniffs the air curiously.)

(In car, INCANTO gazes at ELLEN, then takes the keys out of the ignition.)

INCANTO: Why don’t you come up with me? I’ll read you that poem I told you about, " E Cazzone."

ELLEN: I don’t know. It’s kind of late.

INCANTO: I don’t want to say good night just yet. Do you? (moving to her, but then sees light come on in his apartment) You know what? You’re absolutely right. It’s late. I have a lot of work I have to do. Excuse me.

(He tosses keys back to her, gets out of the car. ELLEN wistfully watches him go.)

(Inside apartment. LANDLADY finds CROSS’ fat sucked body in the tub. As she reacts, we see INCANTO standing behind her.)

(Later, apartment. JESSE feels the number 27, then pushes at INCANTO’S door. It opens.)

JESSE: Mr. Incanto? Mr. Incanto?

INCANTO: What is it, Jesse?

JESSE: Do you know where my mom is?

INCANTO: Your mother? No.

JESSE: She takes a class down at St. Frank’s tonight --- a poetry class and she was supposed to be home over an hour ago.

INCANTO: I’m sure she’ll be home soon. (advances on her)

JESSE: She didn’t stop by to say hi or anything?

INCANTO: No. Not tonight.

JESSE: (scared, not believing him) Okay. Thanks. She’ll probably be home soon.

(As Jesse slowly makes her way out of the unfamiliar room, she bumps into a suitcase by the door. INCANTO grabs her roughly.)

INCANTO: I’m going to New York for a few days, on business. Don’t worry about your mother. I’m sure she’ll be fine.

(He closes the door.)

MULDER: (on phone) He’s a police detective . His name’s Cross.. That’s right. He would have been by sometime this afternoon.

SCULLY: (on phone) He would have been by sometime this morning. Do you remember what time specifically? Could you describe him to me for verification? Excuse me a minute. (to MULDER) Did you find him?

MULDER: We just got a 911 reporting a possible homicide from a young girl at one of the addresses on Cross’s list.

(Police kick in INCANTO’S door.)

COP: Police!

(They search the apartment.)

SCULLY: Mulder … the landlady’s body --- We found her in the bathroom.

MULDER: What about Cross?

(SCULLY nods to where they are wheeling CROSS’s body out.)

(Later, SCULLY gently interviewing JESSE in the hall as the coroners remove the bodies.)

SCULLY: I know this is hard to talk about right now, but I need you to tell me exactly what happened.

JESSE: I smelled her perfume.

SCULLY: Your mother’s perfume?

JESSE: That’s when I knew he was lying. She was wearing her perfume when she left for her class.

SCULLY: And you smelled it in his apartment?

JESSE: I was scared that he’d hurt me. I could tell he wanted to when he grabbed me.

SCULLY: He grabbed you?

JESSE: After I bumped into the suitcase he grabbed me pretty hard.

SCULLY: What suitcase?

JESSE: It was next to the door. He said he was going away on business or something.

SCULLY: Did he say where?

JESSE: (bravely not crying) New York.

SCULLY: Okay, Jesse. That helps us. I’m going to take a couple of minutes and go talk to Agent Mulder. Mrs. Sheperd is right here. I’ll be right back. (starts to go)

JESSE: Agent Scully?

SCULLY: Yeah?

JESSE: Why would someone do this?

SCULLY: I don’t know, Jesse.

(SCULLY goes to MULDER.)

MULDER: Composite artist came up with this sketch from a neighbor’s description. His name is Virgil Incanto. At least that’s what it says on his rental agreement. There’s no record that the guy even exists – no DMV, no birth certificate, no Social Security, not even a bank account.

SCULLY: What about employment records?

MULDER: He’s a translator of Italian literature. Freelance, but his publisher pays him in cashier’s checks

SCULLY: He told the girl he was on his way to New York.

COP: I’ll check flight schedules and have the airport issue an APB. (leaves)

SCULLY: What is it?

MULDER: He’s not going to New York, Scully. Not now. He’s smarter than that. He knows how to survive, you know?

SCULLY: Well, how are we going to track him?

MULDER: He made contact with each one of his victims, right? (goes to computer)

SCULLY: Yeah.

MULDER: That means they’re all in here somewhere. Each one of them. Past, present and future.

(MULDER and SCULLY watching TECH work on INCANTO’S computer.)

TECH: All the files have been deleted.

MULDER: Any chance of resurrecting them?

TECH: It’s hard to say. He deliberately reformatted his hard drive. This guy didn’t want anyone looking at his stuff.

(TECH puts in a 3.5 disc, and looks at the results.)

TECH: Good news is, I can restore the erased files.

SCULLY: And the bad news?

TECH: These files are all password protected and encrypted. It could take some time.

MULDER: We don’t have much time.

TECH: It’ll take as long as it takes.

(MULDER steps away frustrated.)

(ELLEN’S apartment. Doorbell.)

ELLEN: Joanne? Is that you? Joanne? Who is it?

INCANTO: (outside in hall, voice rough) Ellen, it’s me.

ELLEN: It’s late.

INCANTO: I know, and I’d like not to wake your neighbors.

(ELLEN opens door with chain)

INCANTO: Can we talk about what happened tonight?

ELLEN: (still hurt) There’s nothing to talk about. You made it pretty clear what you wanted.

INCANTO: You don’t understand.

ELLEN: I think I do.

INCANTO: I gave you a second chance after you kept me waiting in that restaurant for two hours. Give me the same courtesy, please, and then if you want me to go, I’ll go. Only let’s not do it out here.

(She lets him in.)

INCANTO: Thank you.

ELLEN: You want some coffee? I can make some?

INCANTO: Yeah. I’d like that.

(ELLEN relocks the door.)

SCULLY: You were right, Mulder. They’re coming up empty at the airport. So I’m releasing the sketch to the media. We still have time to make the morning papers.

MULDER: That may not be necessary.

SCULLY: (pointing to computer readout) "Friend?"

MULDER: That was Lauren MacKalvey’s online name. These are all his victims. A regular grocery list.

SCULLY: (Handing tech sketch of INCANTO) We need this scanned and sent to everyone on that list.

TECH: Done. (goes to do it)

SCULLY: I’m going to call the online service and have them fax us the telephone numbers of all those women.

(ELLEN’S apartment. She pours coffee. Phone is ringing.)

ELLEN: The machine will pick up. Milk? I only have nonfat.

INCANTO: No, no, no. This is fine.

ELLEN: Give me a minute, will you? I’d like to put on some clothes.

INCANTO: Ellen, you don’t have to do that.

ELLEN: I want to. I’ll be right back.

(She goes into another room with her computer. Answering machine is blinking. She ignores it, logs on to the computer and sends message to her friend JOANNE.)

ELLEN: YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHO’S HERE RIGHT NOW, I DON’T KNOW…

SCULLY: (on phone) Just lock your doors until we contact you again. You’ll be fine, Miss Iniss. He doesn’t tend towards forcible entry. (hangs up)

MULDER: (on phone) Okay, thanks. (hangs up) That was Cleveland TV. They’ve already reported three of the women on the list as missing.

SCULLY: Well, we’ve already contacted everyone on this list directly except for these two. (ELLEN is one of them) I left messages on their machines.

MULDER: We better go check on them anyway.

(They go.)

(ELLEN’S apartment. She is finishing her letter.)

ELLEN: YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHO’S HERE RIGHT NOW, I DON’T KNOW IF I SHOULD TELL YOU OR NOT. I HAVE TO GO. DETAILS IN THE MORNING. ELLEN

(ELLEN is about to log off. )

COMPUTER: (voice) You have mail.

MESSAGE: THIS MAN IS WANTED BY THE FBI AND SHOULD BE CONSIDERED EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION, IMMEDIATELY CONTACT 800-555-0132.

(ELLEN opens the mail. Picture begins to download. It is the composite sketch of INCANTO.)

INCANTO: Ellen? I hope you’re not online with some other guy.

ELLEN: (frightened) I was just e-mailing my girlfriend.

INCANTO: (entering the room) Your girlfriend?

ELLEN: Yes.

INCANTO: What about?

ELLEN: Us.

INCANTO: What were you telling her?

ELLEN: (almost crying she is so scared) Just how happy I am, that you’re still interested in me. And that you hadn’t rejected me like I thought you had.

(INCANTO sees reflection of his face on the computer screen in a mirror.)

INCANTO: I’m glad you feel that way, Ellen. I know I do.

ELLEN: (terrified) Look, I still haven’t changed my clothes. Why don’t you go wait outside, and I’ll be right out.

INCANTO: You look beautiful. You don’t need to change for me .

ELLEN: (almost crying now) Please …. leave me alone, please! What do you want?

(She cries out as he comes toward her.)

(Outside, MULDER and SCULLY arrive. They come down the hall. Knock at ELLEN’s door.)

JO: (opening her door) Can I help you?

MULDER: (showing badge) We’re with the FBI. We’re looking for Ellen Kaminsky.

JO: She’s in her condo. She just e-mailed me a few minutes ago. Why? What’s wrong? Is something the matter?

MULDER: Get back in.

(MULDER kicks in the door, impressively. They enter, guns drawn.)

MULDER: Ellen?

(Guns out, they search the apartment. Computer monitor with INCANTO’s face is on the floor sideways. MULDER looks out window, sees someone running down the street. Sound of ELLEN whimpering.)

SCULLY: Mulder ….

(SCULLY begins pulling slime out of ELLEN’s mouth.)

SCULLY: You go ahead. I’ll stay here. Go.

(MULDER jumps out the window and down to the street)

SCULLY: (dials phone) This is Federal Agent Dana Scully. I need an ambulance right away to 658 South Hudson Avenue, Apartment number 23. Request special chemical burn unit.

(MULDER catches up with running figure.)

MULDER: Freeze! Federal Agent! Now put your hands up and step out where I can see you.

(It’s a YOUNG BLACK MAN.)

YOUNG BLACK MAN: (scared) Just … just don’t shoot me, man.

(Mulder lowers his gun in disgust.)

(Inside. SCULLY’s gun is on the floor next to ELLEN. She leaves ELLEN to go to the bathroom to look for medical supplies, including a Vaseline, bandage, and a small pair of scissors. Stands up to see INCANTO coming up behind her in the mirror. He smashes her head into the mirror, shattering the glass. She gets in a couple of good kicks before he pushes her to the floor, and begins going for her mouth. SCULLY grabs and uses the nail scissors and stabs INCANTO in the chest. GUNSHOT hits INCANTO. He falls on SCULLY. SCULLY looks up to see ELLEN, face mutilated by INCANTO’s acid, holding the gun, staring down with hatred at the unconscious INCANTO.)

(Prison interrogation room. INCANTO is in prison jumpsuit looking at list of names. His skin is falling apart. MULDER and SCULLY watch him.)

MULDER: Jennifer Flackett. Kathy Miller. Hillary Turk. 47 women reported missing in five states. At least give their families some peace of mind and tell us how many are on that list because of you.

INCANTO: (almost proudly, creepy) They’re all mine.

MULDER: (disgusted) Come on, Scully. (to guard) Open the door.

(MULDER leaves. SCULLY stares at INCANTO.)

SCULLY: Why?

INCANTO: When you look at me, you see a monster … But I was just feeding the hunger.

SCULLY: You’re more than a monster. You didn’t just feed on their bodies. You fed on their minds.

INCANTO: My weakness was no greater than theirs. I gave them what they wanted. They gave me what I needed.

SCULLY: Not anymore. (starts to go)

INCANTO: (speaks Italian, then translates for SCULLY) "The dead are no longer lonely."

(SCULLY glares at him then turns to the door.)

SCULLY: Let me out.

(Door opens and she leaves. Last shot of INCANTO’s nasty face, staring straight ahead.)

[THE END]