Freeze Cain

The X Files (1/5) Movie CLIP - Underground Poison (1998) HD

"Harry Dean Stanton and Yaphet Koto are The Two Most Working-Class Guys on The Ship.

And they -- unwittingly, maybe, but maybe intuitively -- KNOW, 

That if They can Just FREEZE CAIN : 

Everything's going to be okay."

And NOBODY Listens to Them.

The Boss :

My God.

What The Hell is that?

Parker :

Jesus Christ.

What is that, man?

Hey, how the hell is he breathing?

Is he still alive or what?

Why don't you guys freeze him?

How come they don't freeze him?

What's going on in there?

What the fuck is going on?

How come they don't freeze him?

Hey, how come you guys don't freeze him?

The Robot :

All right, you can 

Take Your Mask off.

The Crew Boss :

What's it got down his throat?

The Robot :

I would suggest it's feeding him oxygen.

The Crew Boss :

Paralyses him 

Puts him in a coma

Then keeps him alive.

Now what The Hell is that?

We gotta get it off him.

The Robot :

Just a minute.

Just a minute.

I mean, let's not be too hasty.

We don't know anything about...

it.

Now, we're assuming 

it's feeding him oxygen -- 

If we remove it --

It could kill him --

The Crew Boss :

-- I'm willing to take that chance.

Let's cut it off him now.

The Robot :

You'll Take Responsibility?

The Crew Boss :

Yes, yes, yes, 

I'll Take Responsibility.

Get him out of there.

Parker :

She's great. Beautiful.

Walk in The Park! 

When We Fix Something, We Stay Fixed.

Don't we, Brett baby?

Brett :

Right.

Parker :

What I think we should do is just freeze 'im.

He's got A Disease, 

why don't we Stop it Where It Is?

He can always get to A Doctor

when we get back Home.

Brett :

Right.

The (Only) One Who Will Survive This :

Whenever He Says anything, 

You Say "Right.", Brett. You know that?

Brett :

Right.

The (Only) One Who Will Survive This :

Parker, what do you think? 

Your Staff just follows you

around, and Says "Right."

Just like a regular parrot.

Parker :

Yeah. Shape up.

What are you, some kind of parrot?

Brett :

Right.

The Crew Boss :

Come on. Knock it off. 

Kane's gonna have to go into Quarantine.

That's it.

Yes, and so will we.

Doc : 

Damn! It blew the fuel injection manifold. Strong stuff all right. 

(holds up the broken part to show Marty.) 

It'll take me a month to rebuild it.

Horus : 

A month?! 

Doc, you're gonna get shot on Monday!

Doc: 

(moves over to his desk by the window) 

I know, I know, I know! 

I wish...wait. I've got it! 

We can simply roll it down a steep hill!

No, we'd never find a smooth enough surface. 

Unless...of course..!

Ice! We'll wait until Winter...

When The Lake freezes over...

Horus : 

Winter?! Doc, what're you talking about? 

Monday! It's three days away!

WMM: 

What is A Virus, but a colonizing force that cannot be defeated? 

Living in a cave, underground, until it mutates ... and attacks.

 

 

MULDER: 

This is what you've been conspiring to conceal? 

A Disease?

 

WMM: 

No! For God's sake, 

you've got it all backwards! 

 

AIDS, the Ebola virus, on an evolutionary scale they are newborns. 

This Virus Walked The Planet long before The dinosaurs.

 

MULDER: 

(smiling in disbelief) 

What do you mean “walked"?

 

WMM: 

Your aliens, Agent Mulder. 

Your little green men arrived here millions of years ago. 

 

Those that didn't leave have been lying dormant 

underground since the last ice age

in the form of an evolved pathogen, 

waiting to be reconstituted by the alien race

when it comes to colonize the planet -- using us as hosts.

 

 Against this we have 

no defense, 

nothing but a weak vaccine. 

 

Do you see why it was kept secret? 

 

Why even The Best Men, 

Men like Your Father, 

could not let The Truth be known. 

 

Until Dallas we believed The Virus would simply controlus, 

that mass infection would make us a slave race. 

 

Imagine our surprise when They began to gestate. 

 

My group has been working cooperatively with the alien colonists, 

facilitating programs like the one you saw, 

to give us access to the virus

in The Hope that we might be able to secretly develop A Cure.

 

MULDER: 

To save your own asses.

 

WMM: 

"Survival is The Ultimate Ideology" 

Your Father wisely refused to believe this.

 

MULDER: 

But he sacrificed My Sister. 

He let them take Samantha.

 

WMM: 

Without a vaccination, the only true survivors of the viral holocaust 

will be those immune to it - human-alien clones. 

 

He allowed your sister to be abducted, 

to be taken to a cloning program, for one reason...

 

MULDER: 

So she would survive. 

As a genetic hybrid.

 

WMM: 

Your Father chose Hope over Selfishness. 

Hope in the only future he had, his children.

 

His Hope for you was that you would uncover 

The Truth about The Project. 

 

That you would stop it, 

that you would 

Fight The Future.

Way of The Supermen

“ Gerard Way, the lead singer of the band My Chemical Romance, was a very different kind of entertainer, a New Jersey art-punk rocker who’d been an intern at Vertigo back in the days of The Invisibles and a fan of my Doom Patrol run, although we’d never crossed paths.

  

In mid-2006, with Final Crisis on my mind, I caught the video for his band’s song “Welcome to the Black Parade,” a searing slice of punk psychedelia I was primed to like anyway. What really made me sit up were the outfits the band was wearing.

  Dressed in black-and-white marching band uniforms as they led a procession of sexy walking dead through a bombed-out city, My Chemical Romance looked like a glamorous postmortem Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. 

They had fused the images of two opposites—the tough soldier and the frail emo kid—to create an image of what was to come. 

Nor was the sound morbid or dark; it was triumphal, chiming, imperial rock. The new psychedelia would learn to Make Friends with Darkness. It would come from The Goth and alternative frontiers of the last twenty years into the mainstream, laughing at cancer as it put a beat to the Dance of the Dead and began to have fun again, however dark that fun might seem to grown-ups.

  That fall, I listened to The Black Parade over and over and over again, to inspire cosmic mortuary scenes for Final Crisis and Batman’s mental breakdown. MCR had shown me a picture of the new superhero, posttraumatic, postwar, the hero with nothing left to believe in. 

The supersoldier was home from the front, jumping every time a car backfired, staring at his hands.

  Neil Gaiman put me in touch with Gerard, and we met in Glasgow before a gig, forming an instant connection. He led a new young generation of musicians who had grown up with superhero comics and had no qualms about saying so. He walked the walk too, with Umbrella Academy, his own award-winning re-creation of the superhero formula with artist Gabriel Ba. It was a kaleidoscopic tour de force. There was no shaky start, no cramming of balloons with words (a common tyro error), and none of the familiar missteps that dogged so many other celebrity-fan forays into the comics biz. Umbrella Academy was the end result of years of reading and thinking about superheroes and science fiction: Funny, scary, cerebral, arty, and violent all at the same time, it harvested all the fruits of Gerard’s own “iconography tree.” The Heroes of Umbrella Academy were a group of outsider kids who grew up to be the world’s greatest superheroes. It was the story of his band. It was my story too. It was a premonition of where we were all headed.

  These days, it’s no longer enough to be a star or even a superstar. Today even the most slender and ephemeral talents are routinely described as “legends.” There’s no need to slay ten-story sea beasts, endure complex and life-threatening quests or epic military campaigns: Simply release a couple of dodgy records or do some stand-up, and you too will be elevated to the ranks of the mythical King Arthur, heroic Lemminkainen, or mighty Odysseus. You too will become legend.

  With our superlatives and honorifics devalued so that star, legend, and genius will suffice as descriptors for any old cod with half a good idea he stole from someone else, what lies next on the upward trajectory of human self-regard from star to superstar to legend? Once upon a time, a star was an individual of exceptional sporting, musical, or acting talent. Then it became every child who could grip a crayon and scrawl a daisy for Mother’s Day. When we all became stars, stars became superstars to keep things straight, but they were swimming against the tide. In a time of Facebook and Twitter, where everyone has a fan page, when the concept of “genius” has been extended to include anyone who can produce a half-competent piece of art or writing, where is there left to go but all the way? We may as well crown ourselves kings of creation. Why not become superheroes? Supergods, in fact. Isn’t it what we’ve always known we’d have to do in the end? Nobody was ever going to come from the sky to save us. No Justice League; Just Us League.

  Back in 1940, Ma Hunkel, the Red Tornado, was the first attempt to depict a “real-life” superhero in comics. Not a spaceman from Krypton, not a billionaire playboy with a grudge, Ma had no powers except for her formidable washerwoman build. She wore a homemade costume to dish out local justice in the stairwells and alleyways of the Lower East Side in some aboriginal memory of the early DC universe.

  She was joined by characters like Wildcat, the Black Canary, the Mighty Atom, the Sandman, and other tough but good-hearted vigilante crime fighters who took to the mean streets in nothing but their underwear. They had no special powers, just fists, and an attitude—at best, a gun that shot darts or gas or bees.

  Seventy years after Ma Hunkel, sixteen-year-old Dave Lizewski, the hero of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr.’s Kick-Ass, asked the question “WHY DOES EVERYONE WANT TO BE PARIS HILTON BUT NOBODY WANTS TO BE A SUPERHERO?” 

Leaving aside the cynical response that nobody in their right minds wanted to be Paris Hilton, Dave’s question had already been answered by a handful of brave souls, real people in the real world who dress up in capes and masks to patrol the streets and keep people safe. You can read all about them online if you type “real world superheroes” into a search engine. They even have their own registry, like Civil War veterans who fought on Iron Man’s side.

  The TV and film hopefuls, the half-baked actors, are easy to spot. But to the others, fierce behind homemade masks and hoods and helmets, the superhero’s calling is as important as religion, or at least as important as the youth cult demographic you conformed to at school. They are the future.

  Who are these valiant harbingers, concealing their identities behind colorful masks and costumes to serve their communities as best they can? There’s Portland’s Zetaman, who patrols the city with gifts of food and clothing for the homeless. Atlanta’s Crimson Fist hits the sidewalk of his city twice a month “to help those in need.” There’s Geist, “the Real Kick-Ass.” Thanatos, Phantom Zero, the Death’s Head Moth, and the Black Monday Society, a team of activists including Insignia, Ghost, and Silver Dragon. Captain Prospect. The list echoes the mesmerizing lullaby of Golden Age character names except for a lightning-stroke realization that these are real people, with curtains and light switches. This is what it’s like to be a superhero with no plot, no Aristotelean thematically interconnected story arcs, no cliff-hangers, no tidy resolutions. Only raw motivation.

  Many of them, like Entomo, the Insect Man, construct their own personal continuities on elaborate websites with animated graphics and voice-overs that hint of adventures we will never know or comprehend. These are florid private worlds glimpsed to best effect—like Phil Sheldon’s photographs of Marvel heroes—from a distance, and fleetingly, but they speak of the power of pretend to ennoble ordinary lives. These real-life superheroes are waiting for a world that’s not quite here, but one day soon they might be recognized as pioneering neonauts, part human, part story.

  We allow people to tattoo themselves and even change sex: Can we deny these supervestites the opportunity to take it all the way and physically become the lunar-dwelling, light-speed-racing amphibians they’ve always wanted to be? Like a flock of wingless, fabulous missing links on a hostile shoreline, they seem to await the day when the skies will be filled with their kind, when they’ll be able to hurdle tall buildings (one-eighth of a mile will do for a start) or stick to sheer glass the way nature intended. Ask real-life superhero Angle Grinder Man from England if he awaits the holy day as he goes about his business breaking council wheel clamps on behalf of grateful motorists. Does he dream that one day he’ll be called upon to shatter the restraints on Batmobiles and Fantasticars?

Papa Spooky

If you release Eugene Tooms, he will kill again. 

It's in his genetic make-up.

He needs to kill, he'll do it the first chance he can. 

If he makes an attempt, 

I'll be there to stop him.

FOWLEY: (smiling) You just need some coffee.

MULDER: No. I'm serious. I have commitments-- to the X-Files, to Scully, to my sister...

DIANA FOWLEY: (sighs) You think you know what that means... commitment. It's all just childish, Fox.

MULDER: (staring at her) "Childish"?

DIANA FOWLEY: Yes. You've been a child... with only the responsibility of a child to your own dreams and fantasies but you won't know the true joy of responsibility until you plant your feet in the world... and become a father.

MULDER: Wow... (sighs and laughs nervously) Diana, if... you lay all this on me after I sleep with you one time what's it going to be like tomorrow?

DIANA FOWLEY: You have to let go, Fox.

MULDER: Just like that? I'm just supposed to slip into domestic bliss even after I was dropped off here by a man I have every reason to believe left here to carry on his dirty work.

DIANA FOWLEY: (soothing) Hey ... he lives the next block over.

Do you swear that The Testimony 

you are about to deliver 

is The Truth, 

The Whole Truth, 

and 

Nothing but The Truth?

MULDER: 

I Do.

(He is seated. The prosecution attorney stands up and walks towards Mulder.)

PROSECUTION COUNSEL MYERS: 

Mr. Mulder, as An Expert Witness 

for The State of Maryland, 

can you list your qualifications?

MULDER: 

I'm a Special Agent 

with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, 

I worked for three years 

at the F.B.I.'s Behavioural Science Unit 

profiling Serial Killers.

DEFENSE COUNSEL NELSON: 

Your Honour, I know where he's going with this -- 

May I remind The Court that Mr. Tooms was placed in psychiatric care 

solely for the previous assault on Agent Scully. 

He has never been charged, 

nor has any evidence linked him to another crime.

JUDGE KANN: 

You may proceed... with caution.

(Mulder sees Scully walk in and take a seat in the back.)

PROSECUTION COUNSEL MYERS: 

Agent Mulder, I understand that you've drawn upon your experience 

and developed a profile on Mr. Tooms.

MULDER: 

Yes, I have.

PROSECUTION COUNSEL MYERS: Please.

(He motions for Mulder to show it. Mulder starts a slideshow. The first picture is of a woman, face down.)

MULDER: These murders span nearly a century. Nineteen homicides, five occuring every thirty years since 1903, all in the Baltimore area. In each case, the liver was extracted and presumably eaten.

(The slides cycle through, showing various people lying face down. The judges are disturbed by the pictures. The pictures change to knick-knacks with a tag marked "Evidence" next to them.)

A trophy was taken, many of which were found in the living quarters of Eugene Tooms at 66 Exeter Street. Records show that a Eugene Tooms has resided at that same address since 1903, the same year a man was murdered in that building.

(Scully looks down, knowing the testimony seems incredulous. The judge looks at Mulder warily.)

Besides the liver extraction, the most notable element connecting these cases is the undetermined point of entry. Many of the victims were found with their windows and doors locked from the inside.

(Various fingerprints are shown in the slides.)

These elongated fingerprints found at seven of the nineteen crime sites match Eugene Victor Tooms.

(Mulder motions to Tooms.)

JUDGE KANN: 

Agent Mulder! Look at his fingers. 

Look at him! 100 years old?

MULDER: 

I contend that perhaps through genetic mutation, 

Eugene Tooms is capable of contorting and elongating his body in order to gain access to victims so that he may extract the livers which provide him with sustenance for the hibernation period of 30 years. 

He needs one more liver to complete this cycle.

Everybody finds this testimony incredulous, and slight murmuring can be heard from the back.

DEFENSE COUNSEL NELSON: 

Your Honor...

MULDER: 

A preliminary examination done at the time of Tooms' arrest revealed abnormalities in his striated muscles and axial bones. His attorney blocked further study...

PROSECTION COUNSEL MYERS: 

Thank you, Agent Mulder!

MULDER: 

I must ask that you place the safety of...

JUDGE KANN: 

Counsel?

MULDER: 

...The People first and foremost...

DEFENSE COUNSEL NELSON: 

No further questions, your honor.

MULDER: 

This is a rare and unusual human creature...

JUDGE KANN: Agent Mulder!

MULDER: 

...who should not be released, 

but should be retained for further study.

JUDGE KANN: 

You may step down!

MULDER: 

If you release Eugene Tooms, he will kill again. 

It's in his genetic make-up.

(The judge bangs her gavel. Cut to Mulder, sitting on a bench in the hallway outside the courtroom. Scully walks out and over to Mulder.)

You think they would have taken me more seriously if I wore the grey suit?

(She sits down next to him.)

SCULLY: 

Mulder, your testimony, you sounded so...

MULDER: 

I don't care How it Sounded 

as long as it was 

The Truth.

(Scully sighs.)

And where were you? 

Your Testimony was important.

SCULLY: 

I was called into a meeting by 

Assistant Director Skinner.

MULDER: 

What did he want?

SCULLY: Just wanted to reel me in.

(The door opens and Prosecution Council Myers walks out.)

PROSECUTION COUNSEL MYERS: They're ready.

(Back in the courtroom, Tooms and Defense Counsel Nelson are standing. Mulder and Scully sit in the back of the room.)

JUDGE KANN: It is the opinion of this court that Eugene Victor Tooms shall on this daybe released from Druid Hill Sanitarium.

(Tooms smiles. Mulder sighs a heavy breath.)

The court also attaches these conditions. One, that Mr. Tooms remain in counseling under the care of Dr. Aaron Monte; that he retain his job at the Baltimore Regulations Animal Shelter; and last, that he take residence in the house of Mr. and Mrs. Arlan Green...

(Mr. and Mrs. Green stand. Tooms looks back at them.)

... trained in a program to assist patients released from Druid Hill in their transition to society.

(They nod at him.)

Mr. Tooms?

(He looks back at her.)

Do you understand and accept these conditions?

EUGENE TOOMS: Yes, your honor.

(He nods.)

JUDGE KANN: 

Very well. You're free to go.

(She bangs her gavel again. Mulder and Scully walk out of the courtroom.)

MULDER: I'm not taking my eyes off him.

SCULLY: 

Mulder, wait...

MULDER: 

He needs to kill, 

he'll do it the first chance he can but he won't kill the old couple. 

He won't be that obvious. 

Tooms didn't remain a secret for a hundred years by not being careful. 

Think of him as An Animal. 

He'll only kill 

out of necessity or self-defense. 

If he makes an attempt, 

I'll be there to stop him.

(They stop walking.)

SCULLY: Okay, well then I'll keep surveillance with you.

MULDER: No, I'll watch him. If he can't be tied to the most recent evidence, you'll have to go back to the earlier murders to prove it was him.

SCULLY: That was thirty or sixty years ago.

MULDER: There's no statute of limitation on murder.

SCULLY: 

Mulder, that's going to entail unorthodox methods of investigation.

MULDER: 

Look, Scully, 

if you're resistant because You Don't Believe, I'll respect that. 

But if you're resistant because of some bureaucratic pressure, 

They've not only reeled you in --

They've already skinned you.

(Tooms walks out of the courtroom followed by Mr. and Mrs. Green. Tooms slows down a bit as he passes Mulder and Scully and smiles at them. They keep walking, turning the next corner.

ARLAN GREEN: I hope you'll be comfortable, Eugene. The room in the back is small, but I'm sure you'll be able to squeeze in.

EUGENE TOOMS: I'm sure. 

Fox Mulder : 

Do you have that sandwich I asked you to bring?

Dana Scully : 

It's liverwurst.

Dana Scully : 

Mulder, you know that proper surveillance requires  

Two Pairs of Agents, 

one pair relieving the other after 12 hours.

Fox Mulder : 

Article 30, paragraph 8.7?

Dana Scully : 

This isn't about Doing it by The Book. 

This is about you not having slept for three days. 

Mulder, you're gonna get sloppy and you're gonna get hurt. 

It's inevitable at this point.

Fox Mulder : 

A request for Other Agents 

to stake out Tooms would be denied. 

'Til then, we have no grounds.

Dana Scully : 

Well then, I'll stay here. 

You go home.

Fox Mulder : 

They're out to put an end to the X-Files, Scully. 

I don't know why, but any excuse will do. 

I don't really care about My Record, 

but you'd be in Trouble just sitting in this car. 

And I'd hate to see you carry an Official Reprimand 

in your career file because of me.

Dana Scully : 

Fox...

Fox Mulder : 

[Rueful laughing]  

I... I... even made My Parents 

call me 'Mulder'. 

So... 

‘Mulder’.

Dana Scully : 

Mulder, I wouldn't put myself on The Line 

for anybody but you.

Fox Mulder : 

    If there's an iced tea in that bag, 

it could be Love.

Dana Scully : 

Must be Fate, Mulder -- 

Root Beer.

"There really are 

Four Quarters of a Whole. 

And I think that maybe threw some people at the beginning of last season, 

and even at the end of last season. 

But I think that you see, 

as you have seen, that they were puzzle pieces, 

Four Puzzle Pieces to A Circle.

I wanted to tell 

Mulder’s Story — Mulder's Struggle.

I wanted to tell 

Scully's Struggle.

I wanted to tell 

The Cigarette Smoking Man's Struggle,

and I wanted to tell 

William's Struggle.

For me, 

The Four Characters 

who are central to The Mythology.”

— Chris Carter.

Ahab

NORTHEAST GEORGETOWN MEDICAL CENTER; WASHINGTON, D.C.

In Scully’s mind, she is laying on a table in a white dress. All the walls are white except for one, which is a black void. Through The Void walks Her Father, dressed in his Admiral’s Uniform. 

He walks over to her :

Hello, Starbuck. It’s Ahab. 

People would say to me, "Life is short." 

"Kids, they grow up fast," and 

"Before you know it, it’s over." 

I never listened. For me, life went at a proper pace. 

There were many rewards... until the moment that I knew, 

I... understood that... 

That I would never see you again... My Little Girl. 

Then my life felt as if it had been the length of One Breath, One Heartbeat. 

I never knew how much I loved my daughter until I could never tell her. 

At that moment, I would have traded every medal, 

every commendation, every promotion for... 

one more second with you. 

We’ll be Together Again, Starbuck. But not now. Soon.

He slowly turns and walks back into the void. In "Reality", Nurse Owens is standing over her again. 

She leans in and whispers to her :

NURSE OWENS: 

Dana? I know Death is at arm’s reach tonight, but Dana? 

Your Time is not over.

At the cafeteria, Mulder is eating lunch with Melissa.

MELISSA SCULLY: 

You know, Fox… 

Sorry, Mulder --

You could spend The Rest of Your Life 

finding every person who’s responsible 

and it’s still not going to bring her back. 

Whoever Did This to Her 

has an equal horror coming to them.

MULDER: 

Including myself?

Melissa looks at him strangely. 

SCULLY'S HOUSE; WASHINGTON, D.C.

William Scully walks over to a small Christmas tree with an angel ornament on top.

WILLIAM SCULLY: 

Are you going to leave this up all year?

SCULLY: 

Yup. All year. 

Since you always made us take the Christmas tree down the day after Christmas, I'm making up for lost time.

(She starts piling plates on the kitchen table.)

WILLIAM SCULLY: 

If your idea of a good time is picking up dried pine needles, treat yourself.

MARGARET SCULLY: 

As if he's an authority on having a good time.

She walks over, carrying plates from the dinner table. 

William crosses over to beside Scully.

SCULLY: 

That's okay, Mom, I got that.

MARGARET SCULLY: 

Oh, okay.

WILLIAM SCULLY: 

Okay, Maggie, let's shove off.

MARGARET SCULLY: 

Oh, okay.

(She puts the plate down and goes over to Scully. She hugs her.)

Well, thank you for having us. 

Dinner was delicious as usual.

SCULLY: 

Thanks, Mom.

(Scully walks over to her father and salutes.)

Good sailing, Ahab.

(He hugs her.)

WILLIAM SCULLY: 

Goodnight, Starbuck.

Margaret gives William an urging look as if to ask his daughter a question.

How's Work? Good?

SCULLY: 

(withholding)

Yup. It's Good.

WILLIAM SCULLY: 

Well...

(William and Margaret cross over to the coatrack by the door and put on their coats. Scully throws down the napkin in her hand onto the table and walks over.)

SCULLY: 

Well, drive carefully.

MARGARET SCULLY: 

Uh-huh.

Scully unlocks the door and kisses her mother goodbye.

SCULLY: 

Goodnight, Daddy.

The parents walk out. She watches them go, then closes the door. 

Later. It is now 1:47. 

On TV, a man is talking on an informercial under his picture, it says:

"Ron Popeil

Inventor"

RON POPEIL ON TV: 

Here on Incredible Inventions though, you're not going to spend 110 dollars for it. 

You all know that. 

You're not even going to spend a hundred dollars.

The caption changes to:

" Approximate One Month Supply

Time May Vary Depending On Frequency

of Use or Size of Area to be Covered"

There's an approximate one-month supply here...

They show two videos, one in the upper right, the other in the lower left, of "hair" being sprayed onto bald people's heads. In the upper left it reads "Only $39.92."

And all you'll spend for this entire package is just 39 dollars and 92 cents.

There is applause and cheering. 

Scully is sleeping on the couch, a blanket draped over her.

Her eyes open.

WOMAN ON TV: 

Mr. Johnson?

RON POPEIL ON TV: 

Yes?

Scully sees her father sitting in a chair in front of her, blue light shining down on him. 

His mouth is moving but no words are coming out.

WOMAN ON TV: 

I was kind of interested that Allen used a blond and I hadn't seen anyone use a blond.

SCULLY: 

Dad? I thought you guys left.

She sits up.

Where's Mom?

There is no answer. 

He is silently mouthing The Lord’s Prayer.

The phone rings, startling her. 

She looks back at the phone, then to her father. 

The chair is empty. 

Scully is very confused as the phone rings again. She gets up, blanket still covering her, and starts walking to the phone. It rings twice more before she picks it up.

Hello.

(There is no answer except for some muffled crying.)

Hello?

MARGARET SCULLY: 

Dana?

SCULLY: 

Mom? What's the matter?

MARGARET SCULLY: 

We, um... we lost your dad. 

He had a... a massive coronary... about an hour ago. 

He... he's gone.

(Scully looks back to where she saw her father sitting. The chair is still empty.)