SEASON 1

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SEASON 3

SEASON 4

SEASON 5

FIGHT THE FUTURE

SEASON 6

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SEASON 8

SEASON 9

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Mulder says that no one reported much in the way of 'I'm-about-to-kill-lots-of-people'-type behavior beforehand, and I'm suddenly finding this less fun as I realize I'm writing this days after the shooting spree in the Omaha mall, and then the one in Colorado at the missionary dorm. Ack. Uh, wow. Okay, anyway, the only symptoms reported by friends and family of the perps were sleep disorders, headaches, and eating difficulties, although in the last case witnesses did report that the suspect “displayed a claustrophobic reaction.” At this point Mulder looks up, having heard a rumbling overhead.

Then we're back with Scully, as we hear Mulder say he is sure there's some outside factor, but he can't figure out a cause. Cut back to Mulder, the residue on the finger of the last suspect is “an undefined but nontoxic organic chemical found on plants”, cut back to Scully, paranoia has been reported in mass UFO abduction cases. Scully raises an eyebrow and says to herself, “I was wondering when you'd get to that.” Hee. And aww. But even Mulder has found no evidence of that, which amazes Scully.

In fact, as we cut back to Mulder, looking at other crime scene photos, we learn that the only thing tying the cases together is the destruction of an electronic device at each scene: a pager, a fax machine, a (ridiculously huge) cellular phone, a gas pump digital display. “In all honesty, Scully, I've never had a more difficult time developing a profile.” Cut back to Scully, looking pensive as Mulder worries about who will be a killer, and who will be killed.

Then we're looking at someone's high heels, in the dark, which is usually a good sign that the woman is going to be killed – but hold that thought. A nervous-looking woman approaches a car in a mechanic's garage. She asks, “Hello?” as if there's no sign of anyone, although he's there because he's definitely whistling and doing mechanic-y things.

Apparently she needed to ask, anyway, though, because there's no response until she asks again. The guy replies that she's late, and she apologizes and says something came up at work. But if it's ready, she'll just pay and be on her way. The mechanic, whose face we still haven't seen, walks out from behind the open hood. He wonders, “How did you manage to break that anyhow?”

Smiling tensely, Mrs. McRoberts (for that is her name) replies that it's a long story. Hmmm. She wants to know if it's fixed. When he says it is, she opens her purse quickly, asking what she owes. The mechanic moseys over, saying that he found some other problems while he was fixing it. And they're serious problems, so he wants her to come back there behind the hood so he can show her.

We zoom in on Mrs. McRoberts' suddenly terrified, half-lit face. She gasps, but recovers her composure enough to say that her husband is waiting and she has to go. The mechanic shrugs, and states that it's okay, but she won't be getting very far without getting it fixed. He adds, “C'mere” and turns with his back to her, starting to whistle again as she reluctantly does so.

He is bent over the hood when he sees that she's arrived. In her defense, he does stop whistling and just stare at her for a few seconds, but maybe that's because she looks so frightened. When he goes over to his digital screen and presses a button, making the car start, Mrs. McRoberts jumps. Unconcerned, the mechanic explains that it's a diagnostic test of the engine, and that it's supposed to have an output of blahblahIdon'tcare, but she's nowhere near that.

He invites her to come over here, next to him, to look at something under the hood. I admit, I'd be leery of doing that, especially at night, wearing a dress, in a badly-light garage. Anyway, the woman gathers her courage and goes over. The mechanic lists out problems, like something to do with oil leakage and throw rods, but Mrs. McRoberts looks over at the screen. It is now empty except for the word, “LIAR”. Hey, it chimed melodramatically, too. There goes my theory. Another chime, with the mechanic chattering in the background, and the screen tells an increasingly alarmed Mrs. McRoberts, “HE'S A LIAR”. She gulps as it chimes and changes to, “HE'LL RAPE YOU”. Creeee-peeee. Then, “HE'LL KILL YOU”. She gets a steely look in her eye, breathing deeply. “KILL HIM FIRST”.