TITLE: Youngstown
AUTHOR: Maureen S. O'Brien
DATE: September 4, 1997
SUMMARY: XF/Bureau 13/Scooby Doo/? crossover.
DISCLAIMER: The X-Files belongs to Chris Carter and
Ten-Thirteen. Bureau 13 belongs to Richard Tucholka
and Tritac. The Bureau 13 novels are by Nick Pollotta.
Scooby Doo belongs to Hanna-Barbera, which belongs
to Ted Turner these days. Everything else is by me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Dedicated to all the gamers I have
known, particularly the folks back at UT-BASH, my
old DM Todd Scheve, Shannon Bosh, Nick Pollotta,
and Richard Tucholka for making it possible.
Scully was covered in mud. Her shoes were caked with snow. 
Her eyebrows were singed and the tip of her nose felt 
sunburned. And let's not even mention the acid that had 
burned through the belt of her trenchcoat. 
Now, multiply by two and imagine the state Mulder was in. 
"My head hurts," he said conversationally. "I hate trying to 
play computer chess with red and black pieces." 
"You're the one who hid your colorblindness from the Bureau, 
Mulder. Just think -- if you hadn't memorized the answers to  
all the vision tests before you applied, you could be home  
watching your videos instead of slogging through tunnels." 
They ducked in unison, and a deadly flight of arrows passed 
over their heads.  
Actually, Scully noted, _she_ could have kept right on  
walking. Whoever designed that booby trap was too tall. 
So what came next? 
Scully glanced at Mulder. They both sprang into the air,  
seconds ahead of a swinging blade at ankle-height. 
"This is getting too predictable," Mulder warned darkly. 
"Time for them to throw us a curve." 
Just about then, the floor dropped out from under them 
and the gravity went away. 
Hours later, the tunnels ended in front of a pair of 
gleaming metal doors.  
"Special Agent Fox W. Mulder. Special Agent Dana K. Scully." 
The agents looked around. Hidden speakers, obviously. 
"You have come here looking for the truth. And I am here to 
tell you as much of it as I know. You have passed all my  
tests, so you have earned your answers -- and more. Enter." 
The doors swung open. 
Mulder's eyes swung to Scully's. Another trap? 
Scully's eyebrow went up. What's the point? We'd be dead now  
if they wanted us that way. 
The agents stepped through the doorway,  ready for anything. 
Unfortunately, what they faced looked a lot more like 
_everything_. The sun shone. The grass stretched on for 
miles, interrupted only by buildings, houses, and gardens. 
They looked back through the doors and did not see the 
tunnel. Instead, they saw a huge warehouse, its vast 
expanses filled with shelves full of weapons, camping 
equipment, and -- pinatas? 
And that was only in the rows they could see. 
Scully's eyes were wide. But we were under a mountain! 
Mulder's voice broke the stillness. "Where are we?" 
"Youngstown," the voice answered. "That's the codename, 
anyway. A pocket universe, accessible only to authorized 
personnel, and used to store a great deal of Bureau 
equipment. A refuge and supply base maintained against a 
rainy day." 
"A base for whom?" 
"For Bureau 13, Agent Scully." The voice almost chuckled. 
"To anticipate your next question, Bureau 13 is an agency of 
the US government. It was instituted by President Lincoln 
after the Werewolf Incident to protect the United States 
from all supernatural, paranormal and extraterrestrial 
threats, foreign or domestic. The Bureau's existence is a 
closely guarded secret. It reports only to the President, 
requires no funding from the government and makes a yearly 
donation to the Office of the National Debt. Its operatives 
are recruited from the ranks of ordinary citizens who have 
encountered extraordinary things. They are trained to use 
and encounter both magical and scientific weaponry. And you 
both would have been recruited almost immediately after your 
assignment to the X-Files -- if not for the circumstances 
the Bureau found itself in." 
Mulder's eyes had been narrowed through most of the voice's 
monologue. "What circumstances?" 
"The Massacre of 1977." The voice paused. "In 1977, every 
Bureau 13 facility large and small, except this one, was  
attacked by unknown malefactors. Every agent in the Bureau  
was killed." The computer paused. "Except for J.P. Withers, 
of course. And he doesn't really count, because he's insane
and immortal, which rather puts him beyond the mandatory
retirement age for Directors."
"I thought you were an agent," Scully said. 
"No. I am part of the equipment for a rainy day." The voice 
almost smiled. "I am TRITAC-13. An artificial intelligence 
activated only by emergency conditions, told to guard the  
premises until Bureau agents claimed the contents. But in a  
worst case scenario, I was also permitted to recruit any 
person who could pass the Bureau's tunnel test. You both 
have done so. You did particularly well in the moral 
phases," the computer complimented. "All the resources of 
the Bureau are now open to you. 
"Welcome, Bureau Directors Mulder and Scully." 
"This is incredible, Mulder," Scully found herself gushing 
again. "Look at these books. Magic laid out as a branch of 
science, with logical, reproducible results to double-blind  
experiments. Anthropological studies of alien beings. The 
biology of lycanthropes, mermaids, and unicorns. Psi 
ability, its advantages, disadvantages and reliable use.  
"It's amazing! It's fascinating! I could spend the rest of 
my life studying this, Mulder!" 
She looked up. Mulder was nowhere to be seen. She sighed. 
He'd run off again. With a physical effort, she tore herself 
away from the shelves. They'd still be there when she got 
back, she told herself, knowing that wasn't always true. But 
maybe this time she could trust that they would be. 
She followed Mulder's footprints in the dust on the floor 
(the dust that never touched the furniture, the bookshelves, 
or the electronics) back outside. She found him staring up 
at the sky. The stars were very large and very bright. And 
they formed no recognizable constellations. She sighed in 
wonder. Mulder heard and turned to her. 
"Even the stars are strange, Scully." 
"We're in another universe," she reminded him. "Logically,  
there's no reason for the stars to parallel our own unless 
they were programmed to be. And I think the Bureau mages who 
made this world wanted people to remember it wasn't the 
normal world." 
He laughed harshly. "'The Bureau mages who made this world.' 
You say that so easily." 
Scully shrugged. "I never believed in magic because there 
was never any proof. Now I have proof. And a logical 
explanation. And several tons of thaumaturgical technology 
in those warehouses, apparently. Occam's Razor demands that 
I believe, and so I do." 
"I want to believe." Mulder grimaced. "I want to believe 
that perseverance has its reward, for once, and that now we 
have the power and the budget to defeat the shadow 
government. But it all seems so...easy. So convenient. Like 
a trap." 
"You don't really think all this was set up just for us." 
Mulder sighed. "Not really." 
Scully touched his shoulder. "Cheer up, Director. Even with 
all of this to help them, every agent in the Bureau was  
murdered. That sounds like Cancerman, doesn't it? And didn't 
Cancerman tell you about protecting the public from the 
truth? Maybe he used to be in the Bureau. Maybe the Massacre 
of '77 was an inside job." 
"You have such comforting thoughts, Director. But you could  
be right. Maybe that's why the Consortium is so much more  
open about its activities than in the past; they're 
exploiting the vacuum left by the Bureau's temporary demise. 
It would only seem fair to re-introduce a natural enemy." 
Scully held back a smile. Mulder was starting to get 
"We'll have to look into the Massacre first," Mulder mused. 
"No, first your cancer. Then Samantha and your abduction, 
then the Massacre. We also need to find out what those 
warehouses of files have in them that might be helpful -- no 
use duplicating an investigation finished twenty years ago." 
"We can't do this one alone, Mulder," Scully realized. 
"We'll have to recruit some trustworthy, skillful people 
with strong survival skills and open minds." 
"The Gunmen. They won't like being employed by the 
government, but they won't be able to resist the 
opportunity.  Hmm. Maybe I can hire them as consultants. 
Less moral problems for them than civil service. Beyond 
that?  Hmm. Pendrell's good in a lab, and he'd come if _you_ 
asked him. Hell, he'd take a bullet for you." 
"Aren't we amusing. But you're right about his lab skills, and 
he keeps an open mind....But who else can we recruit?  Who else 
can we trust?" 
"Well, I was thinking."
"Thank you. TRITAC said that all the current Bureau
agents had been killed. But what about the retired ones?"
Mulder was in awe. Only Elvis himself commanded more respect
and instant recognition. But Elvis was not female. Elvis had
not been the first celebrity he'd ever had a crush on. He had
never seen Elvis' life story on the Cartoon Channel. 
And she still looked so fine!
He let his partner talk while he drank her in. She still wore
those kilts. Mm mm mm. But her hairstyle'd changed, and she
wore contacts, alas. But that voice. That smile. That mind.
Smart was _still_ sexy.
"...so the Bureau gave us a van and some equipment which we
kept hidden. Shag was a mage, of course, and Scoob was his
familiar. Fred was our fighter, Daphne was psychic -- she
could sometimes cause disasters for our enemies, but it
backfired on her a lot. Hence the 'Danger-Prone' monicker.
I was the science and occult expert, of course."
"Of course," said Mulder, breathlessly.
Scully went expressionless. Inside, she was about to burst
out laughing. Well, at least it wasn't another Bambi or
"We'd like to hear the whole story, Professor," Scully said.
"We need all the help we can get. But we also hoped we could
persuade you to rejoin the Bureau. We need someone to teach
the ropes to all the new agents, and to us."
"Gee, Dana. I'll have to consult with my husband before I make 
that kind of decision," Velma said pensively. "But unless I'm 
mistaken, here he comes now."
The door opened. A tall, gangling man stepped through, his 
shoulders slightly stooped. His light brown hair was thinning
and he had the bare beginnings of a beer belly, but it didn't 
seem to bother him. He stretched with great gusto and then 
waved at the visitors.
"Like, hi! I see that you have already been made welcome to
our humble abode." He gave out a high-pitched laugh.
A brown Great Dane stuck his head around the man's leg. "Reah. 
Rumble arode. Ee-hee-hee-ee-hih!"
Velma smiled. "Director Mulder, Director Scully, my husband
and fellow professor, Dr. Norville "Shaggy" Rogers. And his 
familiar, Scoobert 'Scooby' Doo. They want us to go back to
the Bureau, Shag!"
"Reased roo reetcha!"
"Like, likewise! Let me cast a MindMeld so Velma can get Scoob
and I up to speed." One gesture later, the three of them were
staring at each other, deep in magicopsychic communication. 
Scully stared, fascinated. Mulder scuffed his shoes. Big deal,
he thought. Scully and I can do that without the spell.