The screen flares white for a moment, then settles back down as Hagnes fades into the frame, clutching her wounded stomach. She groans a bit, and -- oh, Christ. This next scene features a bloated, cretinous, talent-free "actor" who yowls, growls, and wails his lines with a faux-Cockney accent so hideous, I'm convinced the casting director found him while trolling Orange County dinner theater productions of Oliver! in search of underage trade. Seriously, who'd this guy screw to get this gig? I really want to know. Actually, the guy's so vile, I don't think an exchange of sexual favors factored into the decision to cast him, so I suppose he's Brad Kern's nephew or something. In any event, it's all so awful that I'm going to fast-forward through it and tell you what I remember. The Hateful Embodiment Of Everything That Is Wrong With This Show's Casting Process flickers into Hagnes's cavern to tell her his "master," a skeletal demon named "Necron," has sent him to collect the mermaid immortality she'd promised him earlier. Hagnes tells the foul freak to flicker the fuck back to wherever it is he came from. He does so, but not without a lot of yammering and howling and shitty acting before he vanishes. Hagnes rises and staggers to the glimmering pool of water. She stretches her arms out over its surface and intones the following:
Water, rise up from the sea --
Find the one who fled from me.
Follow where the winds are cold,
Then fall ten-fold like days of old.
The water roils, and a flash of light bats us over to a city plaza as storm clouds gather in the sky. Mylar calls out to her perfect heterosexual gentleman, who arrives as the plaza's fountain leaps to life rather photogenically. Mylar's intended, "Craig," is -- wait for it -- a tawdry knockoff of Tom Cruise. Yeah, I know. Tom Cruise has been scraping away at the bottom of the barrel of tawdriness with his Scientological fingernails for nigh on twenty-five years, but trust me: This guy is worse. He's even more shark-like in his appearance than Mr. Cruise himself, which while appropriate for this evening's storyline, is something of an achievement. If you could call being more shark-like than Tom Cruise an achievement, that is, but you know what I mean. Anyway, Mylar tries to get Craig to profess his undying love for her, but Craig finds the entire conversation strange and off-putting. By the by, Mylar really should have a doctor take care of the sinus infection through which she's been honking her lines. It's most unladylike. Despite his obvious misgivings, Craiggers eventually begins to tell Mylar how much he loves her, rotten sinuses included, just as Hagnes's storm clouds begin to unleash a torrent of rain upon the city. A drop splashes onto Mylar's thigh, whereupon a rash of golden scales blooms. Mylar panics and flees, pulling at her skirt to cover the scales, leaving a befuddled and somewhat irate Craiggers to be soaked, alone, in the downpour. Um. If you were a mermaid and you knew that the smallest amount of water striking your bare thigh would result in an outbreak of golden scales, wouldn't you wear slacks? Idiot.