From: Starbuck70@aol.com
Date: Tue, 16 Feb 1999 18:41:01 EST
Subject: Deathmatch (1/1)  by Starbuck


Title:  Deathmatch

Author:  B. Fat

Email Address:  Starbuck70@aol.com

Rating:  PG-13 for language

Category:  SH

Spoilers:  A little bit of everything and a whole lot of nothing.

Keywords:  Humor

Summary:  How do *you* want Diana Fowley to die?

Disclaimer:  Ha!  If Chris Carter wants to take responsibility for this sick
work of fiction, he can feel free.  Otherwise, place all the blame on yours
truly.

Note:  Okay, who else was extremely disturbed by "One Son??"  If I didn't want
her dead before (which I did) I sure as hell do now.  If she ever *ever*
touches Mulder again, I swear to god I'm writing Chris Carter hate mail.  And
what was with Mulder being a jackass to Scully?  I think he deserved a good 
poonch in the face for that. . .  Anyway, this is just a little bit of revenge. 
. .  heh heh heh.

WARNING:  This story is sick.  Really.  You shouldn't read it.  Okay, that's all 
I'm gonna say.

X*~*X~* Deathmatch *~X*~*X

The bell sounded, signaling the beginning of the match as Diana Fowley stepped
into the makeshift ring.  The highway had been roped off on either side,
making it close to impossible for either Diana or her opponent to leave
undetected once they were let in.  Not to mention the fact that it was guarded
on both sides by the Lone Gunmen,  a somewhat bloody and very hungry Eugene
Victor Tooms, the top half of the Flukeman, and what had grown back of Leonard
Betts' thumb.  On the other side of the road, a haggard and red eyed Marita
Covorrubias quickly dodged a fast moving Volkswagen.

"Fight damnit!!  The bell rang!"  Screamed an impatient Robert Modell.
Distracted by the sound of his voice, Diana didn't notice the large minivan
headed in her direction.  It slammed on it's brakes but was still moving fast
enough to do significant damage.  It rammed into her side and knocked her onto
the rough pavement with incredible force.  The driver of the van was waved on
and told not to worry about it.  A few ribs broken, Diana peeled herself up
from the asphalt, and lunged herself at the unsuspecting blonde.  Caught
unaware, the Special Representative was thrown to the ground, her head
smacking against the paved road.  She returned the attack with a sharp
uppercut into Diana's already pained ribs.  She winced and choked as the pain
became unbearable for a moment.  This gave Marita another chance at her, and
she buried her fist in the dark haired woman's face.

"I don't care how many viruses you've been infected with, you're gonna pay for
that one, bitch!"  Fowley growled as she spit out a tooth.  Both women now
equally wearied and defeated, they leaped at each other again.  Grabbing at
each other's hair and pulling fiercely, the two opponents screamed and kicked
at each other.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day."  Mulder mumbled from the side of the
"ring."  Beside him, Scully was cheering wildly for no one in particular,
unable to decide which one she wanted to die more.  

Diana dodged a flying-leap kick from the other woman and delivered a strong 
punch to the side of her head.  She was on the ground instantly, and Fowley took 
this opportunity to kick her while she was down.  As she bent over to deliver a
final blow with her foot, the blonde lying seemingly unconscious on the
highway grabbed hold of her ankle and flipped her backwards into the side of a
taxi which zoomed past them, leaving a semi-conscious Diana motionless between
two segments of road.

"ALL RIGHT!!!!"  Scully screamed jumping up from the lawn chair she had placed
alongside the road.  She tossed Mulder another beer, and settled down into her
seat again, waiting for the next bout of combat.  Frohike chose that moment to 
come over to where they were sitting.  

"Um, Agent Scully?"  He asked, a bit wary.

"Yeah?"  She was a little ticked off that he was interrupting her watching the
deathmatch in front of her.

"I think there's something that you should see."  With that he pulled out a
small video camera.  "This is some surveillance tape I came across a few days
ago."  She looked into the small lens and saw Mulder and sitting in Diana's
apartment.  Across from him was the Queen Bitch herself.  She watched her take
hold of his hand and move closer to him.  Scully's face was becoming hot, and
she could feel herself fuming already.  As Diana moved in and kissed him, she
thought she was going to explode from anger.  Especially since Mulder made no
move to stop her.  Scully pulled away from the camera.  Suddenly, she knew who
to root for.  

"Mulder, what the hell was that?"  She asked.  He gave her a questioning look,
and she snatched the beer she had given him from his hand.  "Kissing HER???"  
Mulder gave her a sheepish look and shrugged.

"I didn't want to, she just started kissing me."  Scully glared at him, then
shoved his chair over.

"GO MARITA!!!"  She screamed, paying no attention to her partner, fumbling to
straighten his chair and climb back into it.  Her attention once again focused
on the fight before her, and she saw that Marita was losing fast.  "Damnit."
she mumbled.  Fowley punched the quickly losing informant and she landed just
beneath a large Ford's front tires.  The crowd was a mix of cheers and
"boo's."  

"That's 50 bucks you owe me, worm boy!"  A Peacock brother demanded of the
slimy half-fluke-man standing next to him.

"All right, that's it."  Scully said, growing more and more furious.  "Bring
out the bees!!"  With that, a giant tub of bees was brought out and thrown
towards the remaining opponent.  She flailed her arms and screamed as she was
assaulted by the tiny attackers.  Soon enough, she was passed out on the
blacktop, unable to move.  Scully climbed into the ring only long enough to
give her a good punch in the face before she was run over by a two ton Mac
truck.  


Scully shot up from her bed, shocked and horrified by her dream.  She picked
up the phone and started to dial Mulder's number, but stopped halfway through
and hung it up again.  She thought for a few minutes, then layed back down,
grinning.  What a dream, she thought.  What a dream.

END


Okay, how sick was that??  I know it was kind of a cop-out at the end, but I
had to provide some reasonable explanation.  Feel free to send me feedback
telling me how much I need therapy.  My address is Starbuck70@aol.com