Kurt's driving. He's so relieved to have escaped Nora's House of Acting Too Bad Even for Soap Operas, And I'm Not Exaggerating that he sticks a cig in his mouth, much the way people like to light up after a good romp in the hay. He's really that relieved. He looks down to flick his Zippo, looks up, and sees someone standing in the middle of the street, staring at him as the car barrels forward. Kurt slams on the brakes, but he can't stop in time. Instead of, you know, rolling over the top of the car and to the ground like your usual hit-and-run victim, however, the Man in the Street stands stoically as his rock-hard abs actually split the car in half. The vehicle finally shudders to a halt, split down the middle. The Man in the Street is still standing. Well, that's odd. Inside the car, Kurt coughs in pain. He stares at the Man in the Street, his bloody face all full of disbelief, and what appears to be a couple of his teeth. "Ray?" he asks. Dead Ray sneers and punches through the windshield, grabbing for Kurt's face. Dude, Ray: Anger. Management. Classes. Look into it.
I don't think I've mentioned how much I hate the new credits in the last few days, so I'll say it again: I don't care much for them, thanks.
We come back from the commercials to a shot from what ought to be Kurt's POV, the next morning. The windshield of the car is cracked and bloody. Scully wanders up close, looking solemn and thoughtful, a remarkable departure from her usual giddy and winsome self. She peers inside the vehicle. According to the Non-Hip, Non-Squiggly Font of Location Introduction, this is Muncie, Ohio, 8:07 am. I wonder how early Scully has to get up to do her hair and still get to the crime scene by eight. Doggett gets to play quarterback in the game of Exposition Ball this morning, and he tells Scully a whole bunch of stuff, which boils down to: we can't find Kurt, and the thing he hit was really, really dense. Not in the stupid stand-in-the-street-in-the-middle-of-the-night way, but in the 4300-times-the-density-of-steel kind of way. Scully makes a face like she smells something rank as the tow truck lifts the car. The agents observe a pair of footprints under the car, which Scully exposits as men's shoes. Good call! "I hope you're not suggesting that what this car hit was a man, Agent Scully, because there's no way." How much do you want to bet that every writer for this show has that sentence on a macro for Doggett? "I hope you're not suggesting [insert paranormal explanation], Agent Scully, because [there's no way/that's not possible/ it doesn't make sense]." Scully IS suggesting it. I wonder if, after she escapes -- I mean, when Gillian Anderson's contract runs out -- Doggett is going to become the believer and this entire cycle will be repeated ad nauseam. And I do mean "nauseam," because if I have to recap that, I will vomit. The agents bicker about what the car could have hit, and if not the owner of the prints, what? FOR, LIKE, FIFTEEN MINUTES. The upshot: How can a man be a block of steel? Scully stalks off to let Doggett think about that. He looks like the concept sounds vaguely familiar.