Mulder aimed his gun at the man’s chest. “Stay where you are.” The man continued forward. Mulder realized there was something off about his face. The man’s eyes seemed strangely overdilated. He was looking right at Mulder— but he seemed somewhere else entirely, locked in some sort of daze. “Not another step,” Mulder warned, flipping the safety off his automatic. “I said stop!” The two wingmen were within fifteen feet, now closing toward him. The man with the syringe was barely ten feet away. Mulder aimed directly at his chest. The man paused—but not because of the gun. He was looking at the syringe. He tapped it against his arm, knocking away an air bubble. This was going to get ugly. Suddenly, all three men dived forward. Mulder fired twice, the gun kicking into the air. The lead man jerked back on his feet, then regained his momentum and continued toward Mulder. Before Mulder could fire again, incredibly strong arms grabbed his wrists, twisting his hands behind his back.
