Mulder walked out of the convenience store, swerving to avoid colliding with the dark-suited man in the sunglasses, and did a double-take as the other man went through the door. He stood watching the stranger peruse the Tastykake rack until a blast from the car horn reminded Mulder that he had a hungry partner waiting for lunch.

"Scully, did you see that guy?" Mulder asked as he climbed into the Taurus, carefully keeping the tray of hotdogs and soda level.

Scully grabbed a frankfurter and a packet of mustard. "What, was he three feet tall, with gray skin and big black eyes?"

Mulder looked wounded. "No. He was about six-two, with a black suit and Ray-Bans."

Scully finished chewing the bite of food in her mouth and swallowed. "Friend of yours?"

"I don't think he's a friend of anyone's. I think he's one of the Men in Black."

Scully rolled her eyes and took a swig of her root-beer. "Mulder, do you have any idea how many black suits Lord & Taylor sell every year? Or Wal-Mart, for that matter?"

"Yeah, but there was something just a little too... impeccable about his." Mulder stared through the plate-glass storefront. "Look, he's wearing his sunglasses inside," he said, as if he rested his case.

Scully shook her head. "Mulder, eat something. I think you're suffering from low blood-sugar hallucinations."

"Come on, Scully, don't you find it at all suspicious that in the middle of all this unusual activity, there are sinister men in black suits prowling around?" "Mulder, I hardly think going into the Quicky-Mart for breakfast qualifies as prowling."

Mulder didn't take his eyes off the man inside the convenience mart. He was handing the clerk some kind of credit card. It was black and featureless, and it didn't look like any MasterCard he'd ever seen. Mulder started to reach for his binoculars in the glove compartment, but the man in black was walking out of the store with a carton of Malibus in one hand and a packet of Twinkies in the other. "Look, there he is."

Scully glanced up from applying the relish to her second hotdog. "Unless you count second-hand smoke inhalation, he doesn't look like much of a threat."

"Even shady government operatives have bad habits," he said darkly.

"Mulder, according to the mythology, what kind of cars do the Men in Black drive?"

"Big black sedans, frequently described as immaculately preserved vintage Cadillacs."

"So does the fact that that man is getting into a silver Honda suggest anything to you?"

Mulder considered the scene for a second. "Maybe the Caddy's in the shop," he said with a straight face.

"Eat your food, Mulder," Scully said, barely suppressing a grin.

"There are two of them," he protested, "and they're wearing identical suits..."

"Mmf-mf-fmfmffmmf," mumbled Scully.

"What?"

"Scully finished chewing and swallowed. "I said, they're probably just Jehovah's witnesses."

"Jehovah's Witnesses can smoke?"

"Maybe they're not devout."

The CRX started up and reversed out of the parking space. "Let's follow them," suggested Mulder. "If they drive around knocking on people's doors and handing out religious tracts, we'll know they're relatively harmless."

Scully rolled her eyes. "I think we have some real work to do?"

"Yes, Mistress Scully," Mulder relented, tearing open a packet of ketchup and globbing it onto his first hotdog. "But if we cross paths with them again, I reserve the right to lapse into rampant paranoia."

"Fair enough. Are you going to finish that?"

Mulder looked down at the half-a-hotdog in his hand. He was about to say yes, but then he had a better idea. "No, go ahead." He handed the dog to Scully and opened the car door. "I'll be right back. I, uh, just remembered I wanted a pack of gum."

Latest issue of Penthouse is more like it, Scully thought as she watched the guilty slump of Mulder's shoulders as he hurried back into the mini-mart. It was only when he flashed his badge at the clerk behind the counter that she decided to follow him.

Mulder didn't notice his partner enter the store. He was too intent on getting a straight answer out of the scraggly young man behind the counter. "What kind of credit card did that man in black use?"

"Men in Black? Where, dude?"

"Here! Just ten minutes ago! Guy about my height, dark suit, sunglasses?"

"I don't know, man, I don't remember anybody like that..." Mulder shook his head in exasperation. "Well, do you remember the credit card? It was black."

"Sorry dude, doesn't ring a bell. Look, are you gonna buy something, or what?"

Mulder sighed. "I just bought something fifteen minutes ago. Do you remember me?"

"Huh?"

"Have you ever had a UFO experience?" The clerk perked up. "Yeah, man! One time me and Reynaldo were dropping acid, and-"

"Mulder, I think we've seen enough here," Scully finally interrupted.

"But they've obviously used some kind of a memory erasure ray on him," Mulder protested.

Scully eyed the cannabis-leaf pendant around the young man's neck. "Mulder, something erased this boy's memory, but it wasn't any ray."

Mulder opened his mouth to object when behind them a black-velvet voice drawled, "If you don't mind, sir, ma'am, I gotta be takin' care o' business, here." The jumpsuited man in sideburns and gold aviators stepped in front of the FBI agents and set a box of Twinkies on the counter.

"We were just leaving," Scully said, grabbing her partner by the arm and hustling him toward the door.

Mulder kept turning around to stare at the new stranger. "Scully, did you see-"

"Mulder, we've got business of our own to take care of. Out-of-work Elvis impersonators are the least of our problems." Scully bundled Mulder into the passenger's seat and closed the car door.

"Don't forget to move the seat up," Mulder grinned as Scully sat down in the driver's side.

She shot him a withering glance and put the car in gear. "Do you think the police station's open yet?"

"Maybe. Hey, isn't that your pal, the Eminent Sage & Humanitarian, Dr. Arcane? Guess Hell was afraid he'd take over."

"Huh?"

"Mulder pointed over toward the other end of the parking lot, where three scruffy figures were scrambling out from between the hedges. "Looks like he left his dress sense back in the swamp."

The same way you left your maturity back in D.C.? Scully thought. "He seems to have recovered from his catatonia," she said.

"Is this the part where you gloat and chide me for ever doubting your medical expertise?"

"Mulder, have you ever known me to gloat at you?" Scully asked through a smug smile. "I wonder what they were doing?"

"Maybe they went to a Village People revival concert to celebrate his recovery," suggested Mulder, as Graham emerged from the shrubbery. The trio shambled across the parking lot toward the mini-mart.

Arcane was staring at the "2 FOR 99 CENTS!" hotdog poster in the storefront, a ravenous gleam in his eye. "Splendid idea for a detour, Graham! I can taste it already... succulent, delicious meat! And bread, real bread, as opposed to soggy pot noodles... a veritable banquet of culinary delights! And the 'Slushie'! A magical confection of glucose, triglycerides and Red # 5! Ah, bliss!"

"I think the head trauma's affected his brain," Graham whispered to Stella.

"He'll be better once he's gotten something to eat," Stella whispered back reassuringly.

Arcane's reverie was interrupted by several honks from the Taurus in front of the building. The three of them looked over and saw Agent Scully waving at them. Arcane smiled winningly and waved back. "Oh, hello, Dana," he called, "lovely morning, isn't it?" Through clenched teeth, he growled at Graham, "'Let's run up to the Quicky-Mart for some breakfast!' Remind me to test that new strain of Ebola on you when we get back!"

As they approached the agents' car, Arcane addressed Scully again. "So, can I entice you into joining me for a delicious repast from this-" he gestured toward the mini-mart, "-fine establishment?"

Scully shook her head. "Thanks, but we already ate. We'll give you a lift back to the complex when you're done, though. I want to take a look at that data you've been correlating for me."

"Splendid," smiled Arcane. "Well, we'll see you in a few minutes, then. Come along, Graham, Stella, breakfast awaits."

"Are you positive this place has Ben & Jerry's?" Tressa asked as they pulled into the Quicky-Mart parking lot.

"Absolutely," replied Will. "Well, more or less."

"Hmmph," Tressa growled. "Well, I guess a Fudgesickle is better than nothing. Just as long as it's frozen, and chocolate." She hopped out of the Jeep as soon as soon as it was inside the parking space and stalked toward the door of the convenience store. As she was reaching for the handle, she suddenly stopped short. "Oh, GREAT!"

"What?...oh." Will saw who she was looking at inside. "Well, just ignore him. It's only a mini-mart, how long can he hang around?"

"Hey, isn't that Will and Tressa Kipp?" asked Scully. "We needed to talk to them again, anyway."

"I don't think this is a very good time," Mulder said, watching the drama unfold.

"I don't want to ignore him! I'm SICK of ignoring him! He's like a nasty rash, that just keeps weaseling back every time you think you've gotten rid of it! Well, I've already had my daily dose of Arcane, and it was MORE THAN ENOUGH!"

Will caught himself backing away in alarm. A vein was starting to bulge on Tressa's forehead. "Um, maybe we should just come back later..."

"I don't want to come back later! I want Chocolate Macadamia ice cream, and I want it... RIGHT... NOW!"

Will was wondering whether he should try to calm her down or just run for cover before her head exploded, when a low, ominous rumbling started to shudder up from the ground.

Inside the store, Arcane was trying not to salivate too obviously at the Jumbo-Dogs being set on the counter in front of him.

"That'll be $2.19," said the clerk.

"Jolly good," Arcane replied, grabbing the first of the hotdogs. "Pay the gentleman, Graham."

"Uh, you've got my wallet, sir," Graham said, patting the pockets of his tie-dyed flares.

"What?" Arcane glared, the Jumbo-dog halfway to his mouth. "Oh, yes. How silly of me." With a look of supreme annoyance, he reached for the back pocket of Graham's former trousers and pulled out Graham's billfold. He was rooting around for something smaller than a fifty when something in the credit-card flaps caught his eye. "What the-?" Arcane stared at the snapshot across from Graham's Diner's Club card, and turned an accusatory eye on his assistant. "Graham, where the bloody hell did you get this?"

"I, uh, um..." Graham stammered, as his face turned the color of well-steeped red beets.

"I'm waiting," glowered Arcane.

"Uhh..."

"Hey," Stella interrupted, "do you feel that?"

Arcane stopped his glaring and Graham stopped his stuttering long enough to notice that the ground was shaking. "Oh, bloody perfect," snarled Arcane.

"Maybe we'd be safer out there," Stella suggested. The three looked at each other, then bolted for the door.

"Hey," yelled the clerk, "who's paying for this stuff?"

"Oh, you dumb putz," cried Stella, running back toward the counter. She grabbed the clerk by the neck of his Grateful Dead t-shirt and dragged him out from behind the counter. Over his protests, she shoved him out the door, just as the ceiling collapsed.

"Damn, man," coughed the disheveled clerk, "what'd you do that for?"

"It wasn't us," said Stella, brushing plaster dust and bits of acoustic tile off her shoulders.

"Thanks a lot, Arcane!" Tressa shrieked."Now where the hell am I supposed to get some chocolate?"

"I don't know, why don't you get your mossy green friend to summon you up a crop of cocoa beans?" Arcane suggested.

"Oh, drop dead!"

"Already have. Three times."

"Encore!"

"Was anybody else inside?" Scully called from the store doorway.

"No, man, just them." the clerk shambled over to look over Scully's shoulder.

"Are you absolutely sure?" Not only had the ceiling caved in, but apparently the floor as well. Any stragglers would have been buried under a pile of rubble and junk food about 20 feet down.

"Yeah, dude, I was just about to play a few rounds of Mortal Kombat when they came in."

Scully stepped around the young man and walked over to the pay phones. She picked up each receiver, but finally had to give up. "Mulder, these phones are all dead. If nobody was inside, we might as well get moving, and call Disaster Services when we find a phone that works."

"Man, the manager's gonna kill me," the clerk said, staring dejectedly into the wreckage of the store.

"Is everybody all right?" Scully asked.

Arcane, Graham, Stella, Will and Tressa responded with various nods, mutters and grunts. "I'll be fine," said Tressa, "once I get rid of this annoying pain in my... neck." She stared daggers at Arcane.

"Likewise," Arcane said, flashing his most winning smile at Tressa.

"Are you two going to be at home later?" Mulder asked Tressa and Will. "We just wanted to check on a few things."

"Depends whether or not Wonder Boy, here, can find me some chocolate." Tressa smiled sweetly at Will.

"You heard the lady," Will said. "We'll be seein' you around." He took Tressa's arm and attempted to steer her toward the jeep.

"Shall we?" Arcane gestured toward the agents' car.

"Can we drop you anywhere?" Scully asked the clerk.

"Nah. I think I'll just chill for a while. I'm still on the clock."

"Okay." Scully wondered whether she should mention that the time-clock in question was under a ton of rubble, but decided the kid didn't need any further confusion. "Let's go." She unlocked the rear doors and Graham, Stella and Arcane piled into the back seat.

"So," Mulder said, as they finally left the Quicky-Mart lot, "getting towards the end of the laundry week, Dr. Arcane?"

"What are you going on about?" Arcane looked down at Graham's suit, which hung ill-fittingly on Arcane's frame. "Oh, this. We, ah, ran into a bit of a mess in the swamp. My suit was damaged beyond repair, and Graham, ever the loyal employee-" at this, Arcane let the faintest touch of irony drip from his words, "-insisted on lending me his. Rather than let the poor man walk home in his y-fronts, we imposed on Mrs. Kipp, who kindly outfitted him."

"What exactly did you run into in the swamp?"

"Alligators." "Leech-infested mudslides." "Rabid chihuahuas." All three of them answered at once.

"Oh," said Mulder, profoundly sorry he'd asked.

Meanwhile...

The silver Honda CRX screeched to a halt at the red traffic signal, an inch away from the bumper of the pickup truck in front of it. Red lights flashed on the dashboard and the driver hit the clutch just in time to keep it from stalling.

"Been a while?" asked the dark-suited man in the passenger seat.

"Just experimenting with the stopping distance. You never know when it'll come in handy." The identically-dressed man behind the wheel lit another cigarette from the butt of his last, and raced the engine. The pickup truck's taillights cast glowing red reflections on his black Ray-Bans.

"Tell me again why we're driving this micro-machine?"

"Because explosions and fission reactors don't mix."

"You mean the LTD doesn't have any anti-deathray shields? What, was the motor pool over budget so they had to skimp on the options?"

"We just don't want to take any chances with an unauthorized meltdown until we know exactly what we're dealing with. Don't worry, this car can still perform. It just does a few different tricks."

The younger man shrugged, and stared out the window at the grove of cypress trees. Five seconds later, he nearly got whiplash when the light changed and his partner floored the gas pedal. The CRX slammed through the gears, speeding past the pickup truck and swerving back into the right-hand lane as a 4x4 sped through the space where it had been a second before. Yeah, he thought, Five years of chasing down drug dealers, demons and hostile aliens, and I'm gonna get killed by a redneck in a Chevy Suburban.

"Hey Sparky, make yourself useful and call the office. Either that or get us some decent tunes on this thing." He gestured toward the Honda's am/fm radio, currently playing one of Pat Boone's lesser efforts.

Agent Jay picked up the receiver and switched it on. "Hey Zed, any news?"

/Scanning local electromagnetic and geothermal patterns.../
/Irregular readings southwest of your location, point-eight-seven kilometers and closing. Proceed with extreme--FZZZZZZ/

"AAH! DAMN!" Jay dropped the crackling, smoking communicator to the floor as it exploded in a burst of blue electricity. "Man, I hope that thing was still under warranty." He nudged the inert piece of equipment with his boot.

"Jay, is your seatbelt fastened?"

"Yeah, wh-" Jay looked up and saw the 50-foot wide chasm yawning across the road in front of them. "KAY!! Those brakes we were talking about?! NOW IS THE TIME!"

"Sorry, champ, not enough room."

"We're gonna die..." Jay grabbed the armrest and held on for dear life.

Agent Kay finished lighting another cigarette and reached for the switch under the dashboard. Both agents were slammed backward against their seats as the car's horsepower went from a respectable 240 to a downright ludicrous 850. The CRX hit the edge of the chasm and kept going. Jay looked out the window and saw the pavement disappear, and then blacked out as the front wheels touched down on the other side.

Everything was dark. From far away, sound rumbled indistinctly. In the formless, lightless void, a hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him. He turned his head, almost feeling his brain rattle against the inside of his skull. Then the far-off sound resolved itself into a familiar voice.

"Up and at 'em, sleeping beauty."

Jay opened his eyes and winced at the light. The face of his partner came into blurry focus. "What happened?"

"You hit your head on the roof."

Groaning, Jay opened his door and hauled himself out of the car. "Damn," he said, surveying the canyon across which the Honda had just leaped. "What did you say that thing had under the hood?"

"Just your run of the mill Acura 2.8 liter V-6, and a good-old-fashioned nitrous hookup." Kay looked at the hole in the road. "Hmm. Never seen this before."

"Man, you are not encouraging me any." Jay stepped up to the edge of the pit and looked down.

"See that?" his partner asked, "No steam, no lava, no seismic activity in the surrounding rock, and no blast pattern. Whatever did this is using some force we don't know about."

"I bet I should be nervous, huh?"

"Don't be nervous, just prepared."

"Uh huh. So when do we visit the local mad scientist?"

"Doing your homework. Good job, Slick."

"Hey, somebody's gotta challenge you for the position of Supreme Know-It-All. You think this Dr. Obscure has anything to do with all this ruckus?"

"Arcane. We've been keeping an eye on him, so it's unlikely."

"But not impossible."

"Kid, nothing's impossible."

"So you didn't notice anything out of the ordinary?" Mulder was questioning Arcane and his employees about the mini-mart disaster.

"If sudden earth-tremors are your idea of ordinary, no."

"No flashes of light, no feelings of disorientation?"

"There weren't any little green men in attendance, if that's what you're getting at."

Mulder was opening his mouth to say something snide when Scully slammed on the brakes. There was some muffled and not-so-muffled swearing as the car skidded to a stop in the ditch by the side of the road.

"Stella, would you pleased get out of my lap?"

"That's not me, Doctor."

"GRAHAM!"

"Sorry, sir."

"Scully, if I get whiplash, you can fill out my worker's comp forms."

"Look at this." Scully climbed out of the car and made her way up to the pavement. After a bit of groaning and heaving, the other four followed her.

"That wasn't here yesterday," Mulder commented, peering down into the gap in the road. "And I thought the potholes were bad up North."

"At least this time we're not on the bottom of it," Arcane said.

Thank God for small favors thought Mulder.

"Don't look now..." Scully nudged her partner.

He looked up to see the two men with the CRX, from the Quicky-Mart.

"Can I be paranoid now?" he asked Scully, reaching for his badge.

"Federal Agents!" He yelled to the other men. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Highway Department, Division Six," Kay called back.

"Yeah, and I'm Wayne Newton," Mulder muttered.

"I'm getting a strange feeling of deja-vu," said Stella.

"Hey, isn't that-" Jay whispered to his partner.

"Yup." Kay nodded.

"I don't suppose their alleged 'Highway Department' paraphernalia includes a lunch basket," Arcane mused.

"Let's see some ID," Mulder said, keeping his eyes on the Men in Black as he inched his way around the edge of the pit.

"Of course," said Kay, reaching into his jacket.

"Um, sir..."

"What is it, Graham?" Arcane turned around as Graham tugged on his sleeve. "Bloody hell! Look out!"

The other five people looked over at Arcane's shouting and saw the white Lincoln Continental heading straight for them. There was a mass dive for the side of the road. Mulder managed to get his head out from under the tangle of limbs on top of him, just in time to see the Lincoln glow a hazy blue as it flew over the chasm in the road. As the car receded into the distance, he could make out the license plate: 'LV ME TNDR'. "Scully, did you see that?"

Scully's response was muffled by Dr. Arcane's chest. She gave him a shove upward and to the right. "Thanks, Anton, but I'm fine now."

"Just looking out for your safety," Arcane gave her his most concerned smile, before attempting to get himself upright. "Graham, you really should make more judicious use of those Richard Simmons tapes on your bookshelves."

How did he find those? Graham wondered. "Stella..."

"Okay, you two, give me your hands." Stella managed to haul Arcane and Graham off of Scully, who sat up, rubbing the back of her head.

"All right, what the hell was that?" Mulder yelled at the MIB's. "I don't know," responded Kay. "And you guys aren't going to, either."

Kay powered up his neurolyser, and a red flash blanketed the scene.