Disclaimers: The X-Files belongs to Twentieth Century Fox Productions and 1014 Productions. No copyright infringements were intended. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit.

Summary: A new case lands on Mulder’s desk. It’s a murder case, and it appears that the victim had green blood and could shoot fire out of his hands…

*****

Jon walked into the alley. It had been a long day, and on his way home he'd decided to take a short cut. He'd used the same short cut before, so he wasn't really worried about something happening. He couldn't wait to get home.

He started to whistle. It was a song from his childhood. He had grown up a long way from this city and from this country. The music was so complex no instrument in human society could play it. In fact, no human could hum or whistle it. Only the few who were like him could.

He was whistling a few high notes when he heard it. It was so low that no one else could have heard it. He or she would have had to be from out of this world. But he heard it. He had grown accustomed to it during his stay here. It was the faint 'click' sound when a gun is taken off safety.

His instincts were what saved him. Just as he heard the gun go off, he was on the ground and rolling away. Men's shots filled the eerie silence of night, and Jon could hear footsteps coming. He could see the men, too. They had stepped out of the shadows, letting what little light there was to reveal themselves to their prey. Jon got up and slipped into the shadows. Then he ran. He must have slipped into the light, because more guns were fired. Jon dodged them.

As he ran, Jon prepared his own defense. When he turned and faced his pursuers, his hands glowed red. His hands were on fire. Small flames came from his palms, but he didn't feel anything. This wasn't ordinary fire. It was a magical type or fire only aliens possess, for human Jon was not. He threw an overhand fireball at his followers. Some ducked, but others weren't so lucky. The others stopped running, knowing it was futile to come any closer. Instead, they fired bullets at Jon, and he shot fireballs at them or the bullets before they could get close enough.

It left his back exposed, and Jon wasn’t the only one who knew that. He heard the cock of the gun seconds before the bullet entered his back. More bullets made craters in his stomach. Jon's fireballs disappeared as he fell to the ground. He landed on his stomach, dead. Sky blue-colored blood, the blood of his kind, came from the wounds, pouring onto the concrete ground.

Police cars approached from the distance, their sirens making a noise that was heard over several blocks in every direction. "Let's move," the man who had shot Jon in the back said. The other men started running in the direction they had come. Two dark vans appeared at the end of the valley, and they got in.

"What about the body?" another man asked.

"We don't have time." The two men ran over to the vans. The vans pulled out of the alley only seconds before the police arrived.

"Come one, Mike, hurry up."

"Huh?" Mike looked through the window at the two boys standing behind it. He was standing on the sidewalk of an empty street. A few cars were parked next to the sidewalk, including one dark van on the other side of the road. The window belonged to the jewelry store he and his friends had decided to rob. The window was open, and Mike's friends had climbed through and were disabling the security systems on the jewelry cases. Mike had been glancing about nervously. He wasn't as confident as the other members of the gang. "I'm coming," he told the other two, then climbed in after them.

They grabbed as many jewels as they could carry, then turned back to the window. One of Mike's friends was in the lead. He was half way through the window when one set of headlights was turned on, blinding the three of them. "Freeze!"

The boys wasted no time before they turned around and ran for the back door. Mike was the last. He tripped on a leg of one of the cases and went down. As the ground got closer and closer, his right arm lashed out, sending a ball of fire into the wall. Then Mike put his arms under him to protect his fall. It happened so fast that Mike didn't notice the wall was burning until he pulled himself up. He could hear footsteps behind him. "Freeze!" a male voice screamed. He could hear several guns taken off safety, and he was sure he could hear the whoosh sound as the guns were trained at him. How he could hear that in the midst of all this excitement was beyond him.

He put his hands up. Two cops approached and cuffed him. He was then led out to the awaiting police car. Mike sighed. He didn't want to face his parents, but it looked like he had to.

As the police car drove away, a fire truck drove past us. Mike looked back and saw it park outside of the jewelry store, which was on fire. His last thought before the police car turned the corner was, how'd that catch on fire?

to be continued