textfiles/sf/theoedip

O'Tay... this is my first story that I am posting. I hope you like it.
But, before you begin reading this, a (what I will call) warning. This
isn't a character driven story. I wrote this in kind of a rush and just
wanted to get the basic plot down. I feel it came out pretty well without
too much characterization. I know more can be done with this and would
like your thoughts and critiques. There are some references to government
agencies. I don't know if the ones I used actually do what I say they do,
but I'm the author and have artistic license so they do. Also, there are a
few graphic descriptions of dead bodies. If you're squeamish, well I
warned you. If not, then let her rip. :)

This story is based on the characters and situations created by Cris
Charter, Ten Thirteen Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Company. No
infringement of copyright is intended.






The Oedipal Complex
by.
SciNut
( Karen D. Enriquez )

Part 1...Tuesday, August 2nd
***

	He sat, alone, with his back against the building just outside the
warm reach of light provided by the street lamp. He was hungry. His dark
eyes casually scanned the sidewalk for the Man. He had bumped into the Man
two days before but it had been too early. He had never stalked a person
before, it was too time consuming and he would've had to be out during the
daytime. That was a danger he could not afford. For him, it was easier to
just pick a spot and use the first person to come by, but for some reason
this time was different. Maybe it was because the Man was a Suit. Suits
were not tainted by alcohol like the bums he usually took.
	Well, at any rate, it didn't matter. The Suit would come down the
street soon and then he would feed his hunger. 

***
	Albert Kent turned a corner grumbling to himself. Today had been a
long day and his boss, the Senator, had been more of a bastard than
normal. The only reason Al stayed with him was for the money. Hell, who
wouldn't stay with all the money he pays me under the table, Al thought.
The only down side was the guy's attitude. You'd figure he'd be nicer for
all Al did for him. Al knew all the best whore houses this side of D.C.
Plus, he had all the best excuses to feed the guy's wife.
	It was then that he saw the young man sitting by the side of the
building. Dark haired with his elbows resting on his knees and thin. There
was something odd about him but then there was something odd about all the
bums in this city. It's a good thing I work for the Senator, Al thought as
he cautiously passed the bum. I could be in that position all the same.
	Suddenly, Al realized the day hadn't been all that bad. At least
he had work and a nice place to live. And as he replayed the days events
with a different perspective, he didn't notice the young man slowly stand
and begin to follow him.
	The next morning, the police found Albert Kent.

***
	" I can't believe they got the FBI involved in a local homicide
like this."
	Richard Edmands listened to his partner rant. He'd never had a
woman partner but he knew that Dana Scully was not an ordinary woman. They
were in an elevator and on their way to met the task force they'd just
been assigned to. " Come on, Dana, this is D.C. You know how it is...
politics."
	" Sure, I know. But just because Senator's Aide Albert Kent gets
killed shouldn't warrant the FBI. It's not like this is the first time.
There have been five other similar deaths in the past ten weeks."
	" Well, don't get in a snit. We been assigned to the task force
and there's nothing else you can do about it." Richard responded. He liked
to banter with Dana. She could go at it as good as any of the guys and he
was glad she was no longer hidden away in some basement office with the
"pride" of the FBI.
	Good old "Spooky" Mulder finally got his. It was about time that
the brass finally cut the X-files loose. They were a waste of money and,
as far as the matter of Dana was concerned, a waste of talent. He had
never met Fox Mulder before and he hoped he never would. He had heard the
tales regarding "Spooky." Sometimes, he told them himself. One thing was
clear though, for some reason Dana respected Mulder. More importantly,
Richard respected Dana. For that reason, Richard had not yet made a
"Spooky" crack in her presence. He smiled.



Dana smiled back. It felt nice to smile for a change. Two and a half
months had passed since Skinner had disbanded the X-files. For the first
time in a long while, Dana felt able to just  relax and smile. There were
no government cover-ups to be exposed, no strange events leading to aliens
or mutants. There was only the normal, average, psychopathic kidnappers
and bank robbers. 
	The only difficult thing about the whole arrangement was Edmands.
He had a nice personality and was easy on the eyes. A ten year veteran of
the FBI as a Forensic Chemist, he had dark, slightly receding hair and
soft blue eyes. He was tall, dark, handsome and obviously had feelings
towards her; he even seemed to respect her as an equal. Despite all that,
Scully just could not trust him. Edmands wasn't to blame for this, of
course. Dana knew that she'd never be able to fully trust another person
as long as she lived. A side effect of her last case with Mulder.
	Poor Mulder. She hadn't seen him since they'd been reassigned. She
knew he had been upset about the split up, even more so because he
couldn't do anything about it. He'd also been upset at the loss of Deep
Throat, whoever he was. She also knew that he wouldn't want her pity, just
her support.
	The elevator came to a stop and the doors slide open. "I'm not in
a snit," she replied to Edmands earlier comment. "It's just that this
isn't our jurisdiction and it looks bad for the Bureau to be pushed
around."
	" Whatever you say." Richard said knowing she enjoyed winning an
argument even though this, technically, wasn't an argument. Besides, he
liked losing to her.
	They walked down the hallway to a bland looking conference room
door. It was slightly ajar and parts of friendly conversation filtered
out. Richard allowed Dana to enter ahead of him.
There were not many people in the room, ten at most. Some were engaged in
serious conversation and some were just catching up. But, Dana's eyes were
drawn to the man sitting alone at the conference table. He was sprawled in
a chair with his feet propped up on the table reading the newspaper in
such a way as she could see the front page but not his face. She didn't
need to see him, though, to know who it was. The headline read:

Vampire Killer Stalks D.C.


	She walked over to him. "Mulder? Is that you?"
	Mulder had seen Scully come in the room with What's-his-Name. To
say he was surprised was an understatement. 
	 " Scully," he said. "Long time."
	" I wasn't expecting to see you here." 
	" Me neither. I didn't think Skinner would've assigned us to work
together again. So what've you been up to?"
	" Oh," she replied." Same old thing."
	" It's not the same old thing, Scully." he said coldly.
	She was about to reply when Edmands cleared his throat too loudly
to be discrete.
	" I'm sorry. Special Agent Richard Edmands this is Fox Mulder."
Dana said with the usual tone of introductions.
	Richard couldn't resist, " So, you're 'Spooky' Mulder."
	" And you're ...Dick." Mulder replied politely.
	" I prefer Richard."
	Suddenly, another voice from the front of the room broke in. "
Excuse me everyone... if we could get started?"
	All conversation in the room stopped and the other agents flocked
to the table. As they seated themselves, it seemed, a fair number of  "Oh,
God" looks were sent in Mulder's direction. He seemed to ignore them and
Scully wondered if that had been happening since their departure from the
X-files. She wondered if it was hard working with people who thought you
were insane. 
	A short, dark haired, forty-ish woman sat at the head of the
table. Special Agent Nancy Spiller, alias "the Iron Maiden" of the FBI
academy, was assigned to lead the task force. " Okay guys and gals, I know
you've all heard of the 'Vampire Killer' as the media has so helpfully
named this psycho. But this meeting is to fill everyone in on the
unreleased information." She looked around the table, making sure she had
all the agents' attention.
	" Ten weeks ago, the body of a twenty-eight year old 'Jane Doe'
was found hanging upside down from a meat hook that had been forced
through both ankles. The cause of death was determined as 'excessive blood
loss'... it seems that two small puncture wounds were found on the
victim's neck penetrating the jugular. Small traces of chloroform were
discovered and it appears that several pints of blood were missing. The
next victim was a forty-two year old 'John Doe' who was discovered two
weeks after the first in the same manner. The third, fourth and fifth
victims were also vagrants. The sixth victim, as you already know, was
Albert Kent..." She stopped to sip from her coffee cup. " Albert Kent was
the aide to Senator Micheal Smith. He was found five days ago in an alley
approximately two blocks from his home. It seems that this psycho has not
decided to stick to the homeless population of DC. Senator Smith has
pressured the Bureau to get involved." At this point, Spiller's voice took
on a harsh tone.


At this point, Spiller's voice took on a harsh tone. It was obvious that
she didn't approve of the Bureau being pushed around either. " Agents
Scully and Edmands, I'd like for you to re-examine the six victims and
report your findings. We are starting fresh on this people so I want this
done correctly and thoroughly. Agent Mulder, since you are the only
psychological analyst assigned to this task force, I would like for you to
form a preliminary profile with the information provided by the DCPD. The
rest of you will be assigned to re-investigate the previous crime scenes.
We need a connection so we can catch this psycho. Any questions?" She
looked expectantly around the table.When no one responded Spiller
continued, "Okay, let's get to work. We'll assemble again this time
tomorrow. Agent Mulder, I want your profile ASAP." With that she stood,
ending the meeting and began handing out folders to the separate groups. 
	She handed Mulder a stack of folders that looked as if it
contained information on every person in the country. He immediately began
flipping through the various reports and stopped at the police report of
the first murder. The picture that confronted him on opening the file was
far worse than the quick synopsis by Nancy Spiller.
	The picture was in full, unmerciful color. The woman was indeed
hanging upside down. A vile meat hook had been thrust through the Achilles
tendon of the right ankle and stuck out through the left ankle. A rope had
been tied to the end of the meat hook, then looped around the railing of a
nearby fire escape and finally secured to the handle of a dumpster. The
woman's hands were bound by ducktape that had been wrapped completely
around her waist pinning the hands to her torso. Blood had caked to the
side of her face, in her blonde hair and all over the ground.
	Mulder felt his stomach twist in disgust. Someone had taken a lot
of time to string that woman up and it was obvious they'd been very
meticulous in doing so. He turned to the pictures of the next five victims
knowing the pictures would be identical. There were both male and female
victims, all verying in age, height and race. The only strange thing was
the fact that Al Kent was not homeless. It was as if the killer were
intentionally focusing on the homeless knowing that they were the
"invisible" population of D.C. 
	Suddenly, he had the familiar feeling of someone reading over his
shoulder and he knew, instinctively, that it was Scully.
	" There's something very wrong with this guy." Mulder said almost
to himself.
	" What do you mean?" Scully asked. She knew better than to
question his instincts.
	" This is too methodical. Look here at the penetrating points of
the hook..." he pointed to the place in question. " They're all in the
same place... through the right ankle and out the left. And they're all in
alleys. This guy took his time." He looked her directly in the eyes.
	For the first time, the intensity she saw there scared her. You
just haven't been around him for awhile, she told herself. " There has to
be more of a connection than that, Mulder."
	" There is... I just can't see it yet. I need to see the jugular
puncture points."
	" I'll get over there and take a look at 'em. Come on, Richard,
let's go."
	" Seeya, Spooky." Richard said with a smile.
	" Bye... Dick."
	The answering glare would've killed had it been a blow.

		*               *               *



The Oedipal Complex  Part 2...Monday, August 8th

	" You know... Mulder's a real jerk." Richard said in disgust as he
took a sample from under Victim No.3's fingernails.
	" Mulder's... Mulder, but he's not a jerk." Scully replied,
glancing briefly up from the neck. "You have to understand and except the
fact that he tends to be obsessive. If you do that, you'll like him."
	" Maybe..." He sighed.
	It was late. They had been here in the morgue for over four hours
redoing all the autopsies. Usually, it wouldn't take so long, but Spiller
wanted them thorough and thorough she'd get.
	" These puncture wounds look almost parallel. Have you noticed, on
all the victims, the holes are exactly an inch apart?"
	" The media named him well. 'The Vampire Killer' No wonder they
assigned Spooky to this case." He said jokingly.
	" Mulder's a great agent. I've never met anyone better." Scully
shot back with a vehemence that shocked even her.
	" Hey, Dana. Don't jump down my throat. I was just kidding."
Richard replied defensively. " Maybe we should take a break... it's past
dinner. I'll buy?"
	Dana smiled and took a deep breath. " Sure, it's been a long day."

***
	Mulder leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was tired
and he didn't want to do this. He knew only too well what was going to
happen. It was in his nature to become too involved in his cases. It
happened over and over. First, when he was just out of the academy and
starting in the Violent crimes department. Then with the X-files and now,
again, with his return to Violent Crimes. He needed to prepare himself for
the sleepless nights ahead that would be filled with too much thinking and
too much frustration. What he really needed was to go home where he could
relax. Well, relax as much as he ever did- which was never enough. 
	He stood up, suddenly, to relieve a cramp that had developed in
his lower back. He missed his old chair. The one in the now closed
basement office. The chair that squeaked every time he moved. Scully had
found the noise annoying but Mulder liked the sound. However, when they'd
closed the X-files and given him a new office, they'd given him a new
chair as well. 
	He looked at the chair and frowned. It would take years to break
the damned thing in and he wished he could just go downstairs and get the
old one. But he'd tried that only to find the office had been turned back
into a storage room and the chair gone. Oh well, he thought. Nothing ever
turned out the way you wanted.
	His gaze returned to the open file on the desk. The Vampire Killer
was a very disturbed person. From what he'd read so far he knew that the
killer was male with a high intelligence. What he couldn't figure out was
why? What has caused this guy to lose it? What's so important about the
blood?
	Usually, serial killers who took the blood of their victims took
most of it, but this guy was only taking two or three pints and then
letting the person slowly die. But why? The question repeated itself over
and over again in his mind until his head began to hurt.
	He shut the file in front of him and began putting the folders
into his briefcase. He'd go home and think about it there. God how he
hated this office. He would have to try and stay detached this time or
he'd probably wind up in a mental institution. Suddenly, a strange thought
came to him. He'd need to do more research on it though. He shut the
briefcase and nearly bolted out the door. He'd wouldn't be going home
tonight.

***
	Night slowly turned to day and the members of the task force again
assembled in the conference room. Dana and Richard arrived to find Mulder
already there, browsing through a stack of medical files. He looked as if
he had stayed here all night. Which, Dana thought, he probably had. He was
in the same grey suit as the day before and the same tie which was only
slightly askew. He didn't look all that out of place, however, as most of
the other agents looked as if they'd been up all night as well.
		 " What are looking at, Mulder?" She asked glancing over
his shoulder.
	" Just checking on a hunch." He replied, dismissive.
	Dana looked to Richard who just shook his head and shrugged. Just
then Nancy Spiller entered the room commanding everyone's attention.
	" Okay, let's get started." She turned to one of the other
agents." Agent Burke, has your team turned up anything new?"
	Agent Burke was a short man. He was about the same height as
Scully but all muscle. Dark haired and slightly receding he was no man to
trifle with. " We concentrated mostly on the last three murders. Since
they were the most recent and the evidence was warmer. However, the DCPD
did a pretty thorough job this time and we've found nothing new. No
prints, no hair, no skin traces... What evidence there is was already
collected by the police." It was obvious Burke was disappointed at not
turning up anything.
	" All right, then let's move on to the autopsies. Agent Scully?"
Spiller wasn't called "The Iron Maiden" for nothing. She liked getting
things done and getting them done right.
	" We really didn't find anything new either." Scully began as she
passed out copies of the results. " We discovered traces of chloroform,
which we are assuming is how the killer overpowered the victims. The two
puncture wounds on all the victims are approximately one inch apart and
three millimeters in diameter, penetrating the jugular. None of this is
new of course. However, the interesting thing is the ankle wounds." Scully
paused. " They seem to be the same. The meat hook was inserted severing
the Achilles tendon of the right foot and then through the left ankle
separating the talus from the tibia and fibula. It's a nonfatal but
painful position. It's obvious these people were meant to slowly bleed to
death from the neck wounds." 
	Spiller nodded and then turned to Mulder. " Do you have a working
profile yet, Mulder?"
	He simply nodded and retrieved his notes even though he knew he
didn't need them. However, it gave the other people at the table the time
to roll their eyes and whisper about good old 'Spooky'. Mulder wasn't
bothered by this, however. He'd had over two months to get used to the
jokes again. To get used to other agents not taking him seriously. It had
been hard at first because he'd been so used to Scully's acceptance of
him. At the beginning, she thought he was as crazy as the 'Spooky stories'
made him out to be. After some time, she had accepted him for who he was
and why he acted the way he did. He realized, suddenly, he had missed that
unconditional acceptance and wanted it back. 
	He looked over at her and found her staring back, acting oblivious
to the whispered comments, waiting for him to start. He wondered if her
professional reputation had been damaged because of him. More than likely
it hadn't. Everyone knew that her being assigned to the X-files had not
been voluntary. But it bothered him that her reputation might have
suffered.
	He sighed. " It would take some muscle to get the bodies suspended
like they are so it is clear that the suspect is a young male between the
ages of 25 and 30 with an above average IQ. and in good physical
condition." He paused to look around the table. There were a few agents
who were looking off in the distance feigning uninterest. " I believe he
is acting out a traumatic event and the identical injuries to the victims
support this conclusion. The position of the bodies as well as the ankle
wounds suggest, possibly, witnessing an execution or murder. The
methodical and time consuming process of suspending and exanguination of
the victims suggest obsessive compulsive behavior and I believe he may
also be delusional."
	" Delusional?" Scully asked. " What makes you say that?"
	This was the part the would either make him or break him. After he
said this they would either kick him out or keep him on. He looked at
Scully, " In this case, the media actually named him well. I believe he
suffers from a vampire fetish."
	The table burst out in laughter. The only three people who weren't
were Mulder, Scully and Spiller. Everyone else lost it.
	" You can't be serious." One agent howled.
	" Here Spooky, I think I have a cross you can borrow."
	" I thought I smelled garlic." Richard added.
	Scully simply sighed and looked down resigned.



		   Scully simply sighed and looked down resigned.
		   There was a sharp crack as Spiller struck the table. "
Enough!" She roared. Spiller knew Mulder passably. They'd worked together
once before on the murder of Benjamin Drake, CEO of the Eurisko
Corporation. She knew he was a brilliant agent despite the 'Spooky'
rumors. She didn't know what he'd found in the X-files but she knew it was
important enough that they had shut the investigations down. Spiller had
her share of cover-ups in her time mostly dealing with the shadowy goings
on of certain powerful people.
	The room grew quiet as the agents got control of themselves.
Mulder just sat, patiently and unfazed by the outburst. He had known that
his response would get that kind of reaction. He was mildly surprised at
Spiller's apparent support. He looked to her with gratitude in his eyes.
	She nodded slightly in return. " Please, Mr. Mulder, explain
yourself."
	" Exanguination in serial killings is somewhat rare. However, not
unheard of. Most of the time the killers are delusional, believing that
they are immortal creatures. They remove the blood for consumption. The
most recent example was John Harper, a 48 year old male who murdered
twelve people before he was finally captured. They found him sleeping in a
coffin and when they tried to remove him he became violent, screaming that
they couldn't take him outside during the daytime because he would be
burned to death by the sun. Plus, the fact that there are two puncture
marks when the same effect can be accomplished quite well with just one
and the approximate distance between eye-teeth is one inch." Mulder
stopped to look at the assembled agents and wanted to laugh. 
	The expressions on their faces seemed to say, " Am I really
believing this?"
	" But Mulder," Scully broke in. " Isn't it true that, in those
types of murders, hardly any blood is found at the scene?"
	" Yes it is.  However, we can't forget that there is two to three
pints of blood missing from each victim and the fact that there is a
substantial amount of blood at the scene seems to show that this guy is
interested in slowly killing these people. The binding of the hands so
they don't hang down seems to indicate that the blood is meant to be on
the ground and not settling in the extremities. I believe the suspect
suffers from a severe form of schizophrenia and has probably been
institutionalized at some point for a lengthy period of time. I feel that
he probably was just released within the last two years and we should
begin looking through the medical files of patients within that time
frame."
	Spiller nodded in agreement. " It's also probably safe to assume
that we could limit our search to this region. We'll get started as soon
as the material is available."

		*               *               *



The Oedipal Complex Part 3...Monday, August 15

***

	Sifting through the files of all the mental patients released in
the past two years turned out to take longer than expected. For now, the
task force restricted their search to people suffering from psychoses,
schizophrenia, and other delusional disorders. However, the list included
all psychiatric hospitals in the states of Maryland and Virginia as well
as D.C. The number of people suffering from psychological disorders was
daunting. The fact was that after six days they had narrowed it down to a
list of just over a dozen suspects, all between the ages of 25 and 30.

***
	" So Scully, where's Dick?" Mulder asked getting out of the car. 
	Mulder and Scully had been running around all day talking to the
various suspects on their list. Spiller had divided the task force up in
order to cover them all quickly and some how Mulder, Scully and Richard
had been teamed up. Earlier in the day, Scully and Richard had spoken to
the doctors of the suspects they were to question and when Mulder had gone
to meet them to question the suspects only Scully had been waiting for
him.
	" He had something he wanted to check on." She answered also
stepping out of the car. They had arrived at the next suspect's home. They
crossed the street together and approached the front door cautiously.
	Harold Richter, according to his doctor, was a quiet, withdrawn
man. At only twenty-six, Harold also suffered delusions caused by
emotional anxiety. Harold had a father who liked playing with little boys,
especially Harold. His mother had abandoned the family just after Harold
had been born and it seemed that Harold's dad needed a replacement for
both his desire and his anger. But, according to his doctor, the sexual
and physical abuse inflected on the boy was only a contributing factor to
his psychosis.
	Mr. Richter had started abusing Harold when he was nine. On
Harold's nineteenth birthday, he started abusing back. When he was done,
Harold's father had been stabbed sixty-two times. The police questioned
him only to discover that Harold believed he'd killed a monster that had
been trying to eat him. He then turned on the police, believing they were
monsters as well.
	Expectedly, the courts found Harold incompetent to stand trial for
murder. His lawyer pleaded an insanity case which no one was going to
contest. Harold was, after all, as much a victim as his father. He was
institutionalized, given medication and therapy to control his
hallucinations. He was finally released just under a year ago.
	Harold Richter was a good suspect. The fact that he had killed
once before and, from the word of his doctor, hadn't shown up for work or
any appointments in the last week only re-enforced the hypothesis. It also
made him more dangerous.
	The house was the normal, low income sort of thing where the
asylums placed newly released patients. It was a simple one story job with
white siding and no frontal windows. There was a small patch of grass that
served as a yard, which was more than what most people got in D.C. The
doctor said Harold found cutting grass soothing but it looked as if it
hadn't been mowed in quite sometime. Three steps led up to the ancient
looking front door.
	After repeated knocks on the door were met with no answer, Mulder
tried the knob without climbing the stairs and made sure he was at an
angle safe from gun shots. He had no desire to catch a bullet today.
Scully took up a position opposite him.
	He shook his head... locked.
	Scully nodded her understanding and made a motion indicating if
Mulder wanted to kick in the door. He surveyed the position he'd have to
put himself in order to do it and shook his head. He would have to put
himself in front of the door with no means of quick cover. He really had
no desire to be shot.
	Instead, he knocked on the door again. " Hello? Is anybody home?"
He said loudly.
When they heard no answer, Mulder motioned with his head for Scully to
follow him. They circled around to the back of the house. The area of the
back 'lawn' was also overgrown. The two small windows had been painted
over which was not a good sign. It amazed Mulder that no one had come to
check the place when Harold had gone missing.
	Mulder and Scully took up the same positions, flanking the door,
as before. Mulder again, tried the knob and found it, too, was locked. He
signaled Scully, faced the door, and kicked it open. The door swung open
and Mulder rushed through with Scully right behind him.
	The sight that greeted them was sickening. The back door opened to
the kitchen. There was so much garbage on the floor that the linoleum was
nowhere to be seen. Filthy dishes and old decaying food covered the
counter tops and filled the sink. Dirt hid the bottom half of the walls
and old bits of meat had been left out in the August heat to attracted an
amazing number of maggots and flies. Worst of all was the stench, it
smelled as if something had died.
	Mulder gave Scully a look that said, " This is not a good sign
and, by the way, I think I'm gonna be sick." She knew the look she
returned said the same.
	A trash covered hallway led out of the kitchen to the right, and
Mulder and Scully made their way silently to it. The hallway opened onto a
living room that was in the same condition as the kitchen. The couch had
been ripped open and the stuffing had been thrown about the room. The
television had been smashed as well as most of the other pieces of
furniture. Another hallway led off to the left and they made their way
slowly to a destroyed bedroom.
	The bed had also been torn apart and the closet door had a rather
large hole in it. The only other door in the room was closed. Mulder
crossed the room and found this door was locked as well. He kicked it in
with no trouble and gagged.
	 The door had opened on the bathroom and Harold Richter. He was in
a bathtub full of bloodied water and it was obvious that he'd been dead
for quite sometime. One arm had been flung over the side of the tub. Dark
blood had dried and caked to the floor as well as the porcelain. His
bluish skin had swollen to the point of cracking and the surface writhed
with hidden maggots.
	Scully quickly covered her own look of disgust with a clinical
expression usually reserved for autopsies. 
	" I'm gonna call a Coroner.." Mulder said weakly as he backed
quickly out of the room. "Will you be okay for a few minutes?"
	" Sure. Get out, Mulder, you're turning green." She replied as she
bent for a closer inspection of the corpse.
	She logged the evidence in her mind. The cause of death was
obviously suicide. The victim had cut his own wrists causing massive
hemorrhaging. She didn't immediately see the instrument used but they
would probably find it in the tub beneath the body. From the amount of
swelling, decay and insect infestation, Scully placed his time of death at
just under a week ago. 
	Harold Richter had been a victim. He was the product of a sick
man, his father. He had suffered everyday of his short twenty-six years in
this world. At least now he could rest if the expression on his face was
any indication, he had been at peace while he'd slit his wrists. If Harold
Richter had been the 'Vampire Killer' this case was over.
	Scully stood, turned and left the room as a wail of sirens rose in
the distance.

		*               *               *



The Oedipal Complex Part 4...Wednesday, August 17th

	Mulder had been almost sure that Harold Richter had been the
'Vampire Killer'. Harold was, really, the only one that had fit his
profile. He had been between 25 and 30, released under a year ago and
psychotic. The doctor, however, had forgotten to mention suicidal and with
the discovery that Harold was dead everyone had thought it was over. But,
another body had been found earlier this morning and Mulder knew the
killings were far from over.
	Currently, Mulder was slumped in the back seat of "Dick" Edmands
car with his eyes closed. He hadn't really felt like driving and didn't
feel like taking the passenger seat that was, now, occupied by Scully. He
hadn't been sleeping well since he and Scully had found Harold. Two
sleepless nights tended to make his eyes sensitive and he really wasn't
looking forward to arriving at their destination. They were on their way
to the crime scene and knowing, already, what they'd find there had a way
of killing conversation. The only sound was the hum of the engine and the
whiz of passing cars.
	Mulder was tired and the hours ahead of searching a bloody crime
scene and the following autopsy seemed endless. Had they missed something
in searching the patient files? Had he missed something in developing his
profile? The questions continued to haunt him and 
he had no answers.
	" Well... here we are." Richard said as he braked the car to a
stop at the police barrier.
	Mulder, Scully and Richard all exited the car and flashed their
ID's to the officer who began to stop them from crossing the police line.
Most of the officers from the task force were already searching for
evidence, taking pictures and taking measurements. Then they saw the body.
	The victim was an adult male. Unlike the other bodies, however, he
was not suspended from the ever present meat hook. Although it was clear
that he had been at one point in time.
With one look at the man, Mulder had known what had happened here.
	The killer had chloroformed the man and proceeded to hang him from
the meat hook. Putting the hook first through the tendon of the right foot
and then through the ankle of the left. He then tossed the rope over the
fire escape railing and lifted the body into position. After tying the
rope to the dumpster, the killer proceeded to tape the man's hands to his
waist so they wouldn't hang down. The killer then punctured the jugular
and took however much blood that would be found missing later. 
	But, the killer had made a mistake. He hadn't used enough
chloroform. The man had awakened and discovered the pain of his
predicament. No doubt the man had screamed. So the killer, aware of the
problem the noise presented, gagged him by putting tape over his mouth. At
some point, the man probably panicked and struggled. The finale result was
what Mulder saw before him.
	Like a wolf who would chew off it's own leg in order to get free
of a trap, this man had fought and struggled. Finally ripping the hook
from his right ankle and completely severing the left foot. Those bits of
flesh, including the left foot, were still impaled on the meat hook some
seven feet from the ground.  The body itself, lay in a crumpled heap on
the pavement.  Blood had splattered on the sides of the alley, the
dumpster, the ground... it was everywhere.
	Mulder closed his eyes to shut out the scene. What had he missed?

***
	" Where did he say to meet him again?" Richard asked Scully for
the fourth time in as many minutes.
	" He called and left a message on my machine telling us to meet
him at the crime scene." Scully answered just a little annoyed. Mulder had
started acting weird since Harold had been found. But, then again, Mulder
had always been a little weird. Actually, Scully had started to worry
about him. She hadn't seen him since they'd split up at the scene
yesterday and she'd been looking for him. 
		  " Well... here we are. I don't see him anywhere."
Richard said annoyed now as well. Climbing out of the car he called, " Hey
'Spooky'! Where ya at?"
	" Richard, please." Scully said in a tone that suggested
frustration. " Mulder?" She called out louder.
	" Back here..." Mulder's voice echoed from the alley.
	Scully and Richard walked into the alley to find Mulder standing
by the dumpster holding a meat hook in one hand and a length of rope in
the other.
	" Mulder... what are you doing?" Richard asked, confused.
	As if just noticing him, Mulder responded. " Oh, hi... Dick."
	" I prefer Richard." Was his reply.
	" I'm trying to figure something out," Mulder continued, ignoring
him.
	Dana sighed, " What's that?"
	" I'm not sure yet. Here... Dick, hold onto the end of this."
Mulder said handing him the meat hook.
	" Why?" Richard asked grabbing the curled end. " And it's
Richard."
	" Just hold it and don't let go." Mulder turned and tossed the
rope up and over the fire escape railing. The rope easily slid over the
top and down through the grating of the first landing. " Okay, now don't
let go." He said again as he grabbed the rope and pulled hard lifting
Richard several inches off the ground.
	" What are you doing?" Dana asked, confused at Mulder's bizarre
activities.
	" Hold on a sec." He grunted as he pulled down again on the rope.
Richard raised several more inches.
	A minute went by as Mulder continued to hoist Richard off the
ground. When he was almost a foot above the ground, Mulder turned and
proceeded to tie his end of the rope to the dumpster. Finishing he turned
back to the now suspended Richard Edmands.
	" Can I let go now?" Richard asked looking rather annoyed that
he'd actually followed Mulder's directions.
	" Not yet... Dick."
	" Richard," Edmands again corrected.
	Mulder continued as if Richard hadn't spoken, " It's not any easy
thing lifting an adult male like that."
	" Maybe you should work out more," Scully teased.
	" Right," Mulder replied with a small smile. " The killer is
obviously in better shape than I."
	" Well," Richard said still hanging from the hook. " It is kinda
sad that someone your age has these kinds of problems, maybe you should
see a doctor." He finished with a smile knowing he'd gotten them both.
	Mulder looked up at him as if seeing Richard for the first time. "
Okay, you can let go now, Dick." 
	" Richard," he said again as he dropped to the ground. " The
really sad thing is that my little brother would have no problems lifting
or throwing me around.  He doesn't even work out. I wouldn't mind it if he
weren't SO much younger than me. Heck, he was doing this kinda stuff when
he was nineteen. He was always bigger, ya know? Football player, wrestler,
etcetra... Mulder, you okay?"
	Mulder looked as if he'd just been punched in the stomach. He
looked again to the meat hook and his eyes seemed to glaze over.
	" There he goes again..." Scully said to Richard. " Mulder what is
it?"
	" I got it all wrong." Mulder said as if he'd just committed a
mortal sin.
	" Got what wrong?" Scully asked him all to familiar with trying to
get him to say what he was piecing together in his mind.
	" I knew the killer was young but I thought late twenties. What if
he's much younger than that?" He looked to Scully then back to the hook. "
Let's get back to the Bureau. I need to talk to Nancy Spiller."

		*               *               *


***
	Mulder had spoken to Nancy Spiller. He had told her his theory and
she had agreed. Mulder now knew that 'the Vampire Killer' was younger,
anywhere between sixteen and thirty. The task force had assembled most of
the records on Friday.
***


The Oedipal Complex Part 5...Monday, August 22nd.


	Mulder shut the folder in front of him, rubbed his eyes and looked
around the room. All the members of the task force were busy searching
through mental patient files like the one he'd just closed. Everyone
looked tired, they'd been here all weekend digging through files.
	The hardest thing about these cases was the fact that juvenile
patients, when they reached eighteen, were turned over from Child Welfare
to Social Services. The agents, when reading through the Welfare file, had
to change to the Social Service file which, sometimes, hadn't yet been
brought down to them. The whole thing was a huge headache. However, with
the final delivery of case files an hour ago, things had sped up.
	Mulder rubbed his eyes again and pulled out the next file in his
stack. He read the file and, reaching the end, discovered the inevitable
pink form that stated in bold type: Turned over to Social Services. Mulder
sighed.
	" Hey, Burke..." He called to the agent across the room.
	" Yeah," came the response.
	" Could you dig out Nicholas Sandecker from Social Services.
Handed over in..." He glanced at the date "...February '94."
	" Sure," Burke got up and dug through a stack of files in a box
marked "SS files for Feb. '94" After a few minutes Burke turned and said
confused, " There's no file for Sandecker in SS."
	" What? Are you sure?"
	" Yeah, I'm sure."
	Mulder got up and began looking through the box himself.
	" Mulder," Scully added. " Sometimes these kids don't get picked
up by Social Services. I've come across a couple that have slipped
through."
	He turned to her. " What happens?"
	" Child Welfare releases them from custody and if Social Services
doesn't pick them up they usually get free. Social Services tries to get
them back but mostly it's too late and they're loose on the streets."
	" That means this guy's been out on the street since February."
Mulder said going back to his seat and grabbing up the file.
	" More than likely," Scully answered more interested in the
thoughtful look that crossed his face.
	" This is him." Mulder stated with such certainty that all action
in the room stopped.
	" Mulder," Richard spoke up. " We've come across lots of guys that
could be the killer."
	" No, this is him. Nicholas Sandecker age twenty. He lived on a
cow farm and his father was employed as a butcher..." 

***
	Little Nick was five years old and his mommy and daddy were
fighting again. He hated it when they fought. The fights always ended in
his daddy hitting his mommy or Nick or both. He didn't know why his daddy
got so angry but he knew when to stay as much out of the way as possible.
	At the moment, Nick was in his room on the farm. He liked the farm
with all the animals, especially the chickens. He thought chickens were
funny animals, they made him laugh whenever he watched them for too long.
	He heard a crash from downstairs. He knew what the sound meant and
knew he shouldn't go down and see. However, he needed to be sure his mom
was okay. Slowly, he rose from the bed and decended the stairs.
	" You lying bitch!" Nick heard his father shout followed by the
sharp crack of flesh hitting flesh. " I know you're sleeping around with
that guy at the gas station. You can't fool me!"
	Nick turned the corner of the kitchen in time to see the blow his
mother received. She went down hard holding the side of her face and
started to cry. Seeing his mother cry, and being only five, tears formed
in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Nick hated to see his mother cry, he
hated more when his father hit them. He didn't know why his father was
angry this time; he only knew that he wanted his mommy to stop crying and
his daddy to stop hitting.
" Daddy," Nick's voice quivered. " Please stop."
	His father spun in his direction. " What the Hell are you doing
down here?" He screamed at the little boy. " Don't you know what a private
conversation is?" His father stalked towards him and Nick was expecting
the blow before it came. He didn't move or try to avoid it. His father had
already taught him never to outrun his punishment.
	His father hit him with his right fist that landed on Nick's left
cheek. The blow knocked Nick to the floor and his vision blackened. Then a
pain filled scream erupted in the room and when Nick looked up it was to
the sight of his mother slowly backing away from his daddy. The front of
her pink dress had been soiled with the red stuff that usually came out
when you hurt yourself. Nick was very familiar with it for he'd hurt
himself a lot.
	" Oh, God..." His mother whispered as Nick's father fell to his
knees. He looked down to find something sticking out of his father's
stomach. 
	Nick watched in confusion as his father grabbed the end of the
thing and pulled it out. Nick recognized the big knife that daddy always
used to carve the turkey at Thanksgiving. Suddenly he felt himself  being
picked up by his mother and carried out of the house.
	" We're going to hide now, Nick. You're daddy's very angry." She
told him as she ran. "And I don't want him to hurt us anymore, so it's
okay to hide from him. Do you understand?"
	He nodded distantly as he looked to see where they were heading.
His mother was running to the "barn" where daddy killed the cow's. "
People come from all over for my cows." Nick could hear, in his mind, his
father saying with pride. His father had let him watch, once, while he
killed a cow. His father would lock the animals in a crate like thing and
then hit them real hard in the head with a big hammer. Then his father
would cut them open with a knife and take all the inside stuff out.
Afterwards, his father would cut off the hooves, head and take off the
skin and then cut the cow in two.
	They reached the "barn" and rushed inside. The light was dim and
Nick could just make out the crate for the cows. The floor was dark brown
from the insides of the dead cows that no one could ever seem to clean up.
His mother ran down to the refrigerator were they put the cows when they
were done. She opened the door and went inside.
	The cool air hit them both in the face and she put Nick back on
his feet. The door swung shut behind them. Along the walls, hanging from
hooks were the dead cows. The quiet sound of the cooling fan clicking on
made them both jump. However, the floor here was a sterilized shade of
white and Nick was glad. He hated walking in the stuff from the insides of
the cows. When he did, his shoes stuck in the sticky stuff and made a
gross squishy noise.
	His father always made him help clean the stuff up. " You're going
to have to learn the business someday, Nick..." Nick could hear the voice
echo in his head. " The best meat in the country comes from this farm."
	Suddenly, the door flew open with such force that a metal hinge
was pulled from the wall. Nick's father stood, silhouetted by the light of
the setting sun, in the center of the doorway. Blood soaked his shirt and
jeans to the extent that he'd left a trail of bloody foot prints. A look
of madness and pain was half covered in shadow and he leaped for Nick's
mother and grabbed her hair. He brought up his blood covered left hand and
in one effortless motion drew the knife across her throat.
	" Take that Bitch." His father rasped as he threw the woman to the
ground. Blood spurted from her severed jugular and her scream of fright
came out as a strangled gurgle. Her blood covered the floor, the hanging
meat and it sprayed onto the walls and across Nick's face. He watched as
his mother writhed on the floor and, finally, stilled.
	Nick looked up at his father as his daddy turned in his direction.
He took a step, turned a pasty white and collapsed. Nick stood, unmoving,
and stared. Was his daddy sleeping? Nick knew he was in trouble now. He
looked down at the floor and at the red pool collecting at his feet. He
wasn't about to leave. He hated stepping in the red stuff from the cows
and he wasn't about to step in his mother's. He looked at his mother. She
was unmoving, silent and blood still flowing from her throat.



		 So he stood and looked upon the bodies of his parents by
the ever dimming light of the sun. He stood and watched with the taste of
his mother's blood in his mouth and the echoing voice of his father in his
head. 
	" Well, Nick... you're going to have to learn someday... The best
meat in the country comes from this farm..."

***
	"...The police found him three days later." Mulder said as he
continued reading from the file he held in his hands. " Seems a teacher,
concerned that he hadn't showed for school, was aware that Nicholas was
being abused. She called the police. The report says the police figure he
hadn't moved from the spot and that, when they'd removed him, they'd had
to take off the kid's shoes because the dried blood had glued them to the
floor."
	" That little boy was in that meat locker for three days?" Agent
Burke spoke horrified at the thought.
	" Hold on, there's more." Mulder put in before anyone else could
comment. " Nick was counseled and placed in a foster home. In fact, he was
placed in several homes. When he was sixteen, he was placed with a family
who lived on a chicken farm. His counselors had hoped that this would help
him along in the healing process. Six months after his placement, he was
found, in the barn, eating the prized chicken, al la tartar. He was
institutionalized shortly thereafter and he should still be locked away,
if these evaluations are any indication. Instead, he got loose when Child
Welfare turned over custody." Mulder paused and looked at everyone in the
room in turn. " I'm telling you, this is him."


		*               *               *



The Oedipal Complex Part 6...Tuesday, August 30th, 6 PM EST


	Mulder stretched as much as the available space inside the car
would allow. He was again in the back seat of the FBI issued car. Richard
was again driving and Scully was again in the passenger seat. They were on
their way to Nicholas Sandecker's home about twenty minutes outside DC. It
hadn't been too hard to find him. Mulder knew Sandecker would have
returned to his old family home. Most twisted people did that kind of
thing. Plus the fact that Sandecker's father had left the farm to him just
made it obvious. The time consuming part was in trying to get all the
necessary warrants. Convincing the judges had not been as easy as
convincing the other agents. Finally, after a week, they'd received all
the necessary paper work so they could go out and  turn the Sandecker farm
inside out. The frustrating thing was that today was an alternate Tuesday,
which meant if they didn't catch him now he would kill again.
	Mulder turned to look out the window and watched the Maryland
countryside roll past the window. He hoped Sandecker was at the farm. He
hoped he'd read Sandecker correctly. Mulder thought he had but, then
again, he'd thought he'd been right about Harold Richter too. He closed
his eyes and leaned back into the cushioned seat.
	" Mulder?" Scully asked from the front.
	" Hmm?" Was his response. He didn't feel like talking to anyone.
	" I just wanted to congratulate you."
	He open his eyes and looked at her. " Congratulate me for what?"
	" For convincing all the agents on the task force about your
theory." She smiled, " I didn't think they'd listen to you."
	He smiled back, taking the statement as the complement and the
jest that it was. "Thanks."
	" I hate to cut in..." Richard said in the short pause that
followed. " But, we're here."
	Mulder looked out the window again as the small convoy of federal
vehicles pulled into a driveway leading to a two-story white house. The
convoy came to a halt and the members of the task force emptied out into
the yard.
	" Okay, people. Let's clear the house first." Nancy Spiller said
quietly.
	The agents fanned out around the house. They were all dressed in
black slacks and the standard FBI jacket over bulletproof vests. They
stormed the house in efficient fashion. 
	The interior of the house was completely empty. There was no
furniture, no dishes, no curtains on the windows and, oddly enough, it was
so spotless there was no dust. 
	They moved outside and towards the barn fifty yards away. They
entered the building to search. The interior of the barn looked just as
Mulder had pictured it. The room was rectangular with a pen in one corner.
In the center of the room was where the cows were knocked. The floor had
probably once been a shade of white but, after years of slaughtered cattle
and followed by years of disuse, it was a dull brown. At the far side of
the room was a door that lead to the chill room where the meat was usually
hung until it was ready to be quartered. This door was what attracted
Mulder's attention. For some reason it didn't look as though it were
closed. He approached it cautiously and opened the door. 
	He had been right. The door was not shut all the way and he knew
why. One of the metal hinges had been pulled from the wall and it was
obvious that the chill room had not worked for some time. The light was
broken as well but the interior of the room could be seen from the light
of the sun through the door. 
	" Hey, come look at this." Mulder called to the other agents. 
	Scully and Richard were the first to enter.
	" What is it, Mulder?" Scully asked. His only response was to
point.
	At least a hundred meat hooks could be seen hanging from a pipe
along the ceiling. In one corner was a huge coil of rope. Stacks of duck
tape stood in another corner. But the last sight chilled Scully to the
bone.
Along the right wall was a three level shelf. The shelf ran from on end of
the room to the other end. On this shelf were empty glass jars topped with
blue lids baring the words Miracle Whip. Scully drew closer for a better
look. On each jar was a thin white label with a date.
	" Oh God, Mulder." She said horrified. " The dates on these
jars... they're the dates of every other Tuesday for the rest of the
year."
	" Look... Here's today's." He replied picking up the jar. Turning
to Richard he said, " We've got to find this guy now because he doesn't
look like he's going to stop in the near future."
	" Okay, people." Nancy Spiller called out loudly. " He's not here.
We're going to have to set up a stake out in order to catch this guy." The
agents responded by moving to the cars.
	" No!" Mulder cried out suddenly. " We can't leave. He's here! I
know it." The other agents stopped in their tracks.
	" There go the 'Spooky Senses'." One agent whispered.
	" Mulder," Scully said as she approached him. " He's not here. We
looked everywhere."
	" No, we haven't." He replied walking outside. " You're forgetting
what we're dealing with here. This guy is a vampire. At least he believes
he is. He wouldn't be out in the daylight."
	Nancy Spiller stepped in. " Agent Mulder, where else could he be?
Look, we've got to set up the stakeout before he gets back so he doesn't
see us here."
	" But he's not coming back, he's already here." Mulder emphasized
becoming agitated. " The stake out won't work because as soon as it's dark
he can just sneak out without anyone seeing him. He's here, he wouldn't go
anyplace else. If we don't find him now we'll be cleaning up another crime
scene tomorrow." He turned away scanning the view of the house, the barn
and the yard. " He's here." He said almost to himself as a glazed look
crossed his face. " Where would he hide? Where would I hide?" Just then it
came to him and he bolted across the lawn. " Somebody get me a
flashlight!" He yelled back at the assembled agents staring at him in
confusion.
	Scully followed him to where he had stopped. Hidden in the
underbrush by the side of the house were two old wooden doors leading to a
storm cellar. She handed him a flashlight as he turned and pulled open one
of the doors. He drew his gun, turned on the flashlight and decended the
stairs with Scully right behind him. They were soon joined by Richard,
Burke, Spiller and two other agents.
	The room wasn't very big. It was completely empty except for the
cot in the far corner. Mulder brought up his weapon and pointed it at the
form that was asleep upon the cot. From what Mulder could see of him,
Nicholas Sandecker was dark haired and woefully thin for a healthy
twenty-year-old.
	" Well, I'll be damned." He heard Richard murmur from behind him.
	" Shhh..." Came Scully's voice to his left. " We might be able to
take him without a fight."
	Mulder nodded, slowly moving forward as he retrieved his pair of
handcuffs from his belt. Silently, he holstered his weapon and, giving his
flashlight to Scully, stopped directly beside the cot. With well practiced
stealth, Mulder picked up Sandecker's left hand and slipped the cuff on.
Suddenly, Sandecker stirred and, before he could prevent it, Mulder found
himself grabbed by the front of his jacket and pulled, violently, head
first into the concrete wall. 
	He heard a sharp crack which, Mulder assumed, was his forehead
connecting with the wall. Stars exploded behind his eyes, temporarily
blinding him. His legs buckled and he slumped down onto the cot, pinning
Sandecker's legs, as the other agents dove on Sandecker. Mulder's hand
instinctively tightened on the end of the handcuff he still held and he
used his other arm to further inhibit Sandecker's legs.
	" Get him on the ground!" One agent shouted and they collectively
rolled Sandecker to the floor and onto his stomach.
	Mulder got to his knees, still holding onto the handcuffs, and
twisted Sandecker's arm up behind his back. Despite Sandecker's struggles,
Mulder managed to secure the cuff to Nick's right wrist that was being
held by another agent. With that accomplished, Mulder separated himself
from the pile of agents trying to keep Nick under control. He pushed
himself up against a far wall to make sure he wasn't in the way. His head
throbbed and consciousness wavered.
		   " Mulder?" He heard Scully next to him and blinked at
the light she shone in his eyes.
		   " Get him in a hobble!" Mulder heard someone shout in
the beckground before he passed out...


			***

	Mulder woke up in a hospital emergency room. He was flat on his
back on a surgical table. Scully was there putting pressure on a compress
to his forehead. 
	" You took quite a bump, Mulder." Scully said in a voice that
suggested she expected no less from him.
	His response was a strained smile.
	" Ya, Spooky. You gotta watch for that a little more closely."
Came Richard's voice as he moved into Mulder's line of sight.
	" Thanks... Dick. I'll try to keep that in mind..."
	" Well... with whatever mind you may have left." Scully added. "
You need stitches. A doctor will be here in a minute." She informed him
before he could ask.
	Mulder closed his eyes. A simple case and he would get hurt bad
enough for stitches, it figured. He was a magnate for that kind of bad
luck. " What about Nick?"
	" Oh, we got him in custody without any injuries." She paused. She
wanted to rub it in good this time so he'd be more careful. " No injuries
to him anyway. He fought all the way here, to the hospital, and we had to
sedate him."
	The doors suddenly swung open admitting a severe looking doctor
and a nurse.
	" So, I understand you had a little disagreement with a wall." The
doctor said as Scully moved out of the way.
	" You could call it that." Mulder responded.
	" Hey, Mulder..." Richard interrupted.
	" What?"
	" You're one hell of an agent."
	" Thanks... Dick." Mulder said with a smile.
	" I prefer Richard." 


					The End.

Well...there it is. After the painstaking process of posting it's all
there. Let me know what you think...

SciNut(O'tay!)