The group wanders through the tunnel for, like, the rest of my life. Grousing, walking, grousing, walking, yada. They sweat and walk and walk and sweat. Tubby splashes through a puddle -- which, unnoticed by any of them, glows an iridescent green.
Scully checks in with the crew in the tunnel. Doggett's giving her the 411, when Tubby starts yelping behind him. Something is "burning" his neck. The brainaics manage to figure out that something must have dripped onto him, burning him. Or something. Tubby, in the midst of yelping about his neck, manages to squeak out a bit of exposition: the tunnel they're in is adjacent to the Harbor, and was contructed during "the big dig," which my Bostonian expert assures me is an actual event. Scully directs Lyle to send her a sample of a nearby puddle, assuming that whatever dripped onto Tubby also dripped into said puddle. Lyle makes a crankypants face, but does it, dropping the sample into a handheld tox-screener, which transmits the results to Scully's computer upstairs. Cool. And handy! Yackety-smackety, the sample is basically ocean water. Scully sighs, and says she has to make some calls. Karas, in the background, barks that she has four hours left! Scully purses her lips.
Back in the tunnel, we learn that: it's hot. So hot. So very hot. Super-duper hot. Heatastic. Like an oven. After more boring macho posturing from Dickhead, and several interminable shots of the freaking tunnel, the group comes to a fork in the road. Scully tells Doggett that they're looking at a line that is no longer in use. Behind her, Karas barks that the line is obsolete. Cram it, Bossy McBoston. Scully informs Doggett that he's about a mile from where the original incident occurred. Karas: You're wasting valuable time, you stupid redheaded woman! Damn you! Damn you to hell! TO! HELL! Scully: Whatever.
After some minor bickering, the group enters the abandoned tunnel. It's dark, and still so very hot. Doggett, venturing ahead of his motley crew of whiny brats, gets bowled over by Matt Pinfield, whose own face is half eaten off.
12:37 PM. Scully pleads with Doggett to respond to her. He's dazed by the blow, but basically okay. "What hit me?" he asks. Near him lies Pinfield, who must have run over Doggett with his dying breath, because he's no longer of the living. Doggett peers into Pinfield's eaten-up face -- as does Scully, on the monitor. "Ummmm. Ahhhhh," is her scientific take. Dickhead blurts that this must be the man who killed Costanza. You think? That said, he wants to declare the investigation closed and get the hell out of there. Unfortunately for Detective Dickhead, Tubby -- exploring the remainder of the tunnel -- has found three bodies. Dead. Wrapped in plastic. Doggett gives Dickhead a dirty look. Dickhead gives Tubby a dirty look. Lyle gives her manicure a dirty look. I look at my little Mulder and Scully action figures over on the bookshelf, and wonder whether their little plastic clothes come off. Regardless, I take them and sit them on the sofa next to me. "See what you've done?" I ask the Mulder. "This show has turned to ass! I want the two of you to sit here, with me, and watch this. And think about what you've done!"