09x15 - Jump the Shark

[bunniefuu]

Once up a time, there were three - how shall I put this? - geeks.

Three more unlikely heroes there never were.

We defend the defenseless. I don't see any other way.

It wasn't long before their naivety nearly got them k*lled, so they hooked up with an FBI agent...

That's why we like you. Your ideas are weirder than ours.

..and began publishing a - what shall I call it? - rag called "The Lone Gunman".

The guys at the NSA and the CIA tremble every time we put out one of these babies.

From their cramped basement office, they pointed fingers at powerful evil forces.

And some not so evil.

In their own unique way, the three Gunmen were patriots, fighting the good fight...

We tell the stories others refuse to tell. Yeah, that's one way to put it.

..and provided... expertise for their friends at the FBI.

She's hot.

For a brief time, it looked as if they might make a difference in this cold, cruel world.

They acquired an intern who believed in them...

Let's fight for lost causes. I wanna help.

..and a powerful, beautiful nemesis, who became an ally.

But the world is not kind to idealists. and those who fight the good fight don't always win.

Morris.

Morris, it's going "ping".

Oh, it most certainly is.

Ping!

You're gonna make me spill.

Morris, what is all that stuff anyway? Don't make me talk shop. It is so boring.

But I wanna know.

All right.

Well, where do I begin?

We're in the Bermuda Triangle, right?

That place where all those planes and ships have mysteriously disappeared.

Who named it the Bermuda Triangle? Wait. You?

Yeah. That was in my former life, before I joined the private sector.

There are things I can't talk about owing to national security, but I will say this: there are powerful forces out here.

Primal, otherworldly forces, hidden beneath the waves. just waiting to be plucked by man.

Somebody's coming.

Whatever you're selling, we don't want any. No ganja.

Whoa! Wait, wait, wait!

You want the girl? I can dig it. I'm down with that.

Wait, wait, wait, guys. This is a rental. There's a $15,000 deposit on this.

Oh.

Your employer wanted me to tell you... you're fired.

Morris Fletcher? Finally.

What took you so long? You must be Reyes. Enchanté.

Yeah, Mr Fletcher, we've been told you requested us by name.

We're very curious about that.

You two head the FBI's X-Files unit, do you not?

I thought you'd appreciate what I have to offer.

Which is?

You have no idea who you're sitting here with, do you?

A guy who's up fudge creek for violating the Federal Secrets Act.

I've got top security clearance. I'm meant to check in every month with my ex-employer.

So I skipped a few phone calls. Big deal.

Let me give you a hint.

I used to work at Groom Lake, Nevada.

Area 51?

I was a man in black! The men in black. What? You've never heard of us?

I saw the movie. Yeah, well.

There are a lot of technical inaccuracies in that thing.

Anyway, I'm ready to make a deal.

What deal would that be? The one that saves my furry pink ass.

People are trying to k*ll me. Did you hear about my boat?

Yeah. Your female companion told us what she witnessed.

My fem...? Oh, you mean they didn't k*ll...

Brittany? Brittany.

Thank God she's still alive. Look, I need protection.

I need to get outta here. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.

I can give you guys the keys to the kingdom -

UFOs, aliens, the whole 50-year cover-up.

I was there for all of it. Tell me, Mr Fletcher, these documents of yours, are they indicative of the kind of secrets you can reveal to us?

Honey... they're just the tip of the iceberg.

This is the Jupiter 2 from Lost in Space.

OK. Yeah, those are BS. But only those.

Yeah. I was freelancing for this foreign billionaire.

I told him the air force lost a flying saucer in the Bermuda Triangle, and that I could recover it for him. I just wanted to cruise the Bahamas.

I never would have given him the real thing. That would be un-American.

Coming out. He found out. He wants to k*ll me.

I need protection. Super-soldiers.

What do you know about super-soldiers?

A bit.

It may be... there's one I can help you lay your hands on.

This super-soldier, he have a name?

Not he. She.

What the hell do they want?

Gentlemen.

What happened here? Did you get robbed?

No. We're upgrading everything.

We gave away all our old crap to the Salvation Army.

We're buying totally new stuff.

What can we do for you? We were hoping you could help us out.

For months now we've been investigating this secret cadre, the so-called super-soldiers.

Genetically altered humans. That want to k*ll Mulder.

Exactly. We'd like your help tracking one down.

This woman.

You recognize her?

She's, um...

She's a fellow hacker. Damn fine one.

She calls herself Yves Adele Harlow. It's not her real name, She disappeared a year ago and nobody's seen her since.

We have reason to believe that she's resurfaced, and that she's become one of these super-soldiers.

What in hell are you talking about? She's no super-soldier.

Absolutely not. Who told you that?

This is pointless.

These three monkeys couldn't find stink in an outhouse.

You son of a...

Let me at him! I'll hold him down.

Whoa, fellas. You got a nerve coming here.

Miserable son of a bitch!

Told you they wouldn't help. All right. Everybody just shut up.

This man is a professional liar. Every word out of his mouth.

He used us to track Yves down a year ago. And then he abducted her.

Which is why I know what happened to her. I facilitated a meeting is all.

And the man I was working for, I didn't know in advance what he was planning to do to her.

Not my finest hour, I'll admit it. Every word out of his mouth.

Agents, I'm telling you, you don't want these three involved.

They don't even have their gismos.

This place is like "How the Grinch Stole RadioShack".

All right. You three know this woman. I want your help.

We need to track down this Yves Adele Harlow.

Knock, please.

Oh.

My office hours are 3 to 5, Mondays and Fridays.

You'll make time for me, Professor.

Douglas, are you ready to go?

Douglas?

Airline reservation database. What name do we look under?

Try her old standby - different anagrams of Lee Harvey Oswald.

"Area 51 Expose"? Ooh.

Where's your new issue? This is a year old. Back off, skeezicks.

You'll never find her that way.

He's right. No anagrams for Yves Adele Harlow.

So who's Joey? What?

Joey Ramone.

Leader of the greatest punk rock band in human history. Now shut up!

What?

What are you? 34? 35? Why don't you cut your hair and grow up, huh?

Need I remind you that Doggett and Reyes aren't here to save you.

Yeah, well. Get yourself a real hero, anyway. Not some dead teenybopper.

You wanna know why Joey Ramone's my hero?

Cos people like you never managed to grind him down.

They never stole his spirit. He never gave in, never gave up, and never sold out.

Right till his last breath.

And he's not dead.

Guys like that, they live forever.

Langly, just ignore him.

Look, if we have to work together, let's work together.

We don't have to work together.

Watching you three trying to find your butts with both hands is not my idea of a fun time.

Wouldn't it be easier tracking Yves if you knew her real name?

You know her real name?

Lois Runtz.

Lois Runtz? Uh-huh.

I'm telling you the truth. If you were, it'd be a first.

Nobody knows about that door. That's our secret door.

Does Lois know about it?

Yves?

Jimmy?

Guys.

Jimmy?

How you feeling, man? Oh, right. The old errand boy.

Guy used to intern for you losers, right? I wondered what happened to you.

Why is he here?

FBI business. It's a long story.

Where the hell you been, big guy?

Zurich, then Malta, then Yemen.

And just now New Jersey.

It's been a real geology lesson.

I ran out of money, so I hitchhiked here.

I snuck in the back cos I didn't know if the place was being watched.

I just had to see you guys.

It's about Lois.

Lois Runtz?

That's Yves' real name. I told you so.

Wait a minute.

You tracked her all over the world? You?

Mr Brainpower here is lucky to be alive.

Why did you send him? Were you trying to get him k*lled?

He sent himself. We tried to talk him out of it.

Yeah. Now I almost wish you had.

Jimmy, what is it? Are you all right?

Last night... I traced her to a little college in New Jersey.

It's the closest I've been in a year of searching.

I saw her. I actually laid my eyes on her.

I called to her... but she ran.

Later on, I found out...

Guys, I think she m*rder*d somebody.

One down.

John Gillnitz? I'm Agent Reyes, and this is Agent Doggett.

Is this the woman you saw last night?

It was dark. Uh... It could have been her. Do you have her in custody?

We're working on it.

What can you tell us about your friend?

Any reason why he may have been targeted?

Absolutely none. Douglas was a wonderful teacher, and an even better researcher.

What did he research? Elasmobranchii.

Sharks, rays and skates.

He was a marine biologist? An immunologist.

Sharks have a remarkable immune system.

Toxins that would k*ll any other vertebrate pass right through them.

So he did medical research?

Douglas wanted to save the world.

Cheer up, Gomer. You're bringing the whole room down.

This is a computer, Langly. Com-pu-ter. Step away before you embarrass yourself.

Always a pleasure, Kimmy. Yeah, yeah.

So, then, how do you wish to partake of my hacking genius?

Thanks to Jimmy, we know Yves' real name.

Hey! I told you before he did.

Jimmy also told us what kind of car she's driving.

A silver X5 with New York plates.

Really? Way to go, special ed.

The New Jersey Turnpike has cameras at every tollbooth.

Langly spotted her southbound at Newark. Somewhat creative.

We spotted her again going through the Fort McHenry Tunnel not 20 minutes ago.

We're betting she's headed for DC. We'll try to intercept her, with your help.

Think you might find a m*llitary satellite to give us a bird's-eye view of the Beltway?

Intriguing.

Stand aside, ladies.

We'll be on the cell. I got shotgun.

Dream on. You're staying here.

We need somebody we can trust keeping an eye on Fletcher.

I'm on it.

So how'd you like Malta?

The only thing I can say for sure is what k*lled him.

He was injected with some sort of tiny poison pellet.

But the wound in his chest... was postmortem.

What is that? That's what I said.

My best guess is bioluminescence, but I'm still waiting to hear back from our lab.

Bioluminescence? The stuff that makes lightning bugs glow?

Lightning bugs, plankton, jellyfish. But generally not dead college professors.

So this stuff was put on postmortem? No.

As near as I can tell, it bled out of him.

It gets weirder still.

When I opened him up, I found adhesions that indicate past surgery.

So I'm figuring I'll find he had a bypass or a pacemaker.

Instead, I find... this.

It looks like cartilage. It is.

It was living tissue grafted into him. I have absolutely no idea why.

Look, it held something. Something that's now missing.

Could that be the purpose of this wound? A little ad hoc surgery?

Maybe that was the very purpose of the m*rder.

Whatever was inside him, she removed it.

What the hell was inside him?

I have no clue. Seriously, this is the first I'm hearing of it.

Weird organs?

You've never heard of the man? Professor Douglas Houghton.

You're looking at me oddly.

Perhaps because you've been known to lie on occasion.

Yeah, well, I'm not lying now. I've said from the start I didn't know what she was up to.

Damn it! Crashed again!

I cannot make magic with substandard equipment.

What's the problem? The problem is, it's a freaking piece of junk!

I knew those guys were broke, but this is pathetic.

The guys are broke?

Are you kidding? Look around this dump.

They had to hock all their stuff just to pay the rent.

What about this? Their paper?

Deader than disco. They haven't published in months.

So saving the world doesn't pay the bills. There's a hot newsflash for you, huh?

What chumps!

They were getting by till you put 'em out of business.

Oh. And how exactly did I do that?

When you took Yves. They spent every last dime trying to find her.

They're loyal to their friends. Hilarious, huh?

Reyes. You better get here quick.

By then it'll be too late.

Yves! Don't do it!

Lois?

Should I call you that?

I prefer Yves.

So... we take it you're not a super-soldier?

Super what?

Long story. Never mind.

Yves, you weren't seriously going to smoke that guy, were you?

I know you three mean well, but I can't begin to tell you how badly you've mucked things up.

So this guy just up and bolted? He hit her, and then he took off.

Nobody's seen him. The room is registered to Leonard Southhall of Darien, Connecticut.

It's an alias. It's a stolen ID.

The real Leonard Southhall d*ed in 1996. You wanna tell me who that was?

His real name? I have no idea.

This is your bag, isn't it?

It's quite a party you got planned for him.

Respirator.

Surgical gloves.

Scalpel.

Not to mention this little item here.

You were planning to cut him open, Ms Runtz, like you did the professor. Why?

Yves, it can't be true. Tell them it's not, It is, Jimmy. Time is running short.

Unless you let me finish what I started, innocent people will die.

You wanna elaborate on that? First things first.

Who was it that put you on to me?

Ohh! OK, guys.

So she's not a super-soldier. I made an honest mistake, Ow!

As I suspected. It's a tracking device.

I'm sure he meant to activate it once he knew you had me.

You've been wearing that since Miami. You were running a scam on us from the start.

Blowing up the boat, the girl as your witness - you planned all that.

That and all the super-soldier bull. All that was just to hook us.

So that you two would, in turn, hook us.

And we'd track down Yves for this slime ball all over again.

Well, what can I tell ya? You three always get the job done for me.

Who do you work for, Fletcher?

An international arms dealer, a billionaire, and scum of the earth.

And he's also...

My father.

My father is a m*rder*r and a supporter of terrorism. I hate everything he stands for.

Yves, you're a m*rder*r too.

The man I k*lled was a t*rror1st, Jimmy.

A zealot whose research was funded by my father for its potential as a weapons system.

Houghton was an immunologist, researching sharks.

Yes. And he used his knowledge of their immune system to devise a vessel of sorts that kept him safe from an engineered virus he carried within him.

He had tissue implanted in his chest.

Cartilage. Shark cartilage. It contained something which you removed.

This virus you were talking about. I destroyed it, but it was only one of two.

Oh, man. The bald dude at the hotel, the one that got away.

Think of him as a human time b*mb.

He can pass by any sniff dog, any metal detector, and no one would ever suspect.

What triggers this time b*mb? Programmed cellular death, genetically altered to a high degree of precision.

The way the vessel is decaying inside him is clock-like.

It will lose integrity and rupture at eight o'clock tonight.

Five hours from now? This virus, once it's airborne its k*ll radius is five or six miles.

Potentially it could k*ll thousands. Tens of thousands.

Fletcher, I know you're a dirt bag, but still, how could you be a party to this?

Fletcher's a con man, not a k*ller. He didn't know about it.

Providing all this is true, how do we track this man down?

Kimmy, zoom in more. Zoom in. Back off, kibitzer. I'm doing it.

This is slower than Stumpy, my one-legged granny.

Where did you get this dinosaur turd? Stop bellyaching and work.

Those things'll k*ll you, you know. Yeah.

So you're too broke to publish, huh?

Pencil neck told me.

It's a shame. This little rag always was such a hoot.

I'm gonna miss it.

But, hey, the world spins on, right?

Maybe saving it is a younger man's game.

Or a woman's.

Maybe it is.

You gotta admit, Byers, it hasn't exactly been our year.

And to top it all off, we screwed the pooch pretty good today.

Maybe we should pack it in. And do what instead?

We never gave up. We never will.

In the end, if that's the best they can say about us, it'll do.

I got him. Hey, it's my hack, Langly. I got him.

We got him, all right?

Our bad guy just rented a blue Corolla under his alias Leonard Southhall.

We picked him up on the satellite. Hauling north like a bat out of hell.

New Jersey Turnpike, 30 miles south of Newark.

I think I know where he's headed.

Long Gunman Newspaper Group, Byers. Byers, John Doggett.

Agent Doggett. Do you have him?

Oh, yeah. We got him.

How much do you trust this Yves Harlow, Lois Runtz, whatever name she's telling you?

Completely. Why?

Because the doctors here have run every kind of imaging and come up snake eyes.

No virus, no cartilage vessel in his chest, nothing.

They found nothing. That doesn't make sense.

They're absolutely certain? 100 per cent.

Agent Reyes and I are looking like a couple of fools on this one.

There must be something we missed.

All I can tell you is, we got the wrong guy.

There must be a second man. I know there is. It's Basic Terrorism 101.

Except we don't know his name or his target.

Good evening.

You're good.

All my information pointed to that man.

He goes by an alias. He traveled to Washington on this very day.

Clearly he's involved somehow. He must be.

He made a beeline to that biology department where the professor worked.

Their base of operation. Yeah.

So if he is involved and yet he doesn't have the virus...?

So how exactly does he fit into their plan? Three card monty.

You ever played it? You have now. What's that supposed to mean?

It means these guys have you running after the ace when you should chase the queen.

Oh, my God.

Southhall is the decoy. That's all he is.

They knew you were on their trail so they gave you someone else to follow.

You said you didn't know about t*rrorists. I don't.

But, boy, do I know scams. I wasn't a man in black all those years for nothing.

They made you work at finding Southhall, which tells me the real guy is hiding right out in the open.

A friend of the dead professor. A co-worker, maybe.

The man who saw me through the professors window.

The one who identified me.

Ladies and gentlemen, scientists, academic leaders and government representatives.

Coming together is our goal this evening, coming together as one.

Those words are easily spoken, but guiding our m*ssile into that fugitive and imponderable target is harder.

Sorry. Conference attendees only. We're reporters.

What newspaper do you work for? The Lone Gunman.

Never heard of it. We're legit, man.

Show him your press pass. It's important we get in there.

Buddy, come on. These expired last December.

We've got five minutes. Listen.

We believe there's a dangerous man in that room.

I need all of you to step away right now.

Look, thousands of people may die.

I got a situation by the main conference room.

John Gillnitz!

John Gillnitz!

Step back, sir.

I'm really sorry.

Where'd he go? Split up. Four minutes left. Good luck.

Hey, wait! What do we do with this guy once we find him?

Hold him till I get there. I'll do the rest. You mean cut him open?

If that virus gets into the air stream, we'll have failed. People will die.

Whatever it takes.

Three minutes and counting.

Don't try to run. I don't have to.

Yves! Jimmy! We've found him! Over here!

What do you plan to do? By my watch, it's two minutes to eight.

Not much time for surgery. Yves! Jimmy!

Now you have a minute 40.

Guys?

Whatever it takes.

Byers! Frohike! Langly!

Yves! Come here!

Guys!

Guys!

Oh, God! No!

Don't! Jimmy!

Jimmy, don't.

It's airtight.

They're already exposed.

No, guys!

Buddy, fight the good fight.

Both of you.

Never give up.

Vayan con Dios, amigos.

Arlington. You must have pulled some big strings to get those guys in here.

It's the least I could do.

Are we ready?

Yeah.

Dana?

I'll catch up.

They meant so much to me.

I'm not sure if they ever really knew.

Nobody knew... what heroes they were.

It's not right.

It's not.

No, it's not.

Langly said to me "the ones who never give up, they never die."

I still don't know what that means.

It means, like everyone buried here, the world is a better place for them having been in it.

It means that they're gone... but they live on through us all.

I made this!