Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. Agent Keyes monitors the feed from Pepper Anderson's spy camera on a computer screen as Pepper herself steps into the kitchen through the back door and good Lord, this is stupid. The camera's meant to be concealed in a brooch that Pepper's pinned to her jacket lapel. Unfortunately, Pepper insists through all of what follows on so blatantly manipulating the thing with her hand, while ensuring her long, flowing tresses aren't obscuring the lens by tilting her head back at an angle so unnatural, she looks like Geri Jewell on Deadwood, that she might as well have strapped the fucking thing to her goddamned forehead with a big, pink neon sign hovering above it that says, "HEY, YOU PEOPLE I AM SPYING ON FOR THE DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY! I HAVE A CAMERA TAPED TO MY HEAD! ISN'T THAT CRAZY? NOW SMILE!" Rather a large neon sign, I realize, but she should be able to anchor it to her massive boobs with no problem. Anyway, Pepper confirms the feds "have visual" before venturing further into the apparently empty Manor. Gosh, this is tense. Not. Is this scene over yet? It is? Good.
National Lampoon's Doormat Vacation. The smiling detective exits the "Fulton Arms" with his dazzling wife and their shape-shifting, oddly Asian children as the Dolt quite unexpectedly rays onto the patio from points Not!warts. Long story short, the Dolt urges the Doormat to call Pepper Anderson and make sure she stays away from the Manor, as "something big is gonna go down, soon." The Dolt then bails, leaving Sheila and her Doormat to bicker their way through a scene that's meant to be touching and special, but is actually dreadfully acted and dull. The Doormat insists that if the Dazzling Sheila wants to ensure a better future for their shape-shifting, oddly Asian children, she'll let him help the sisters this one last time. Sheila reluctantly agrees. And...scene.
Establishing shot of the wood-frame apartment building that once housed both a sniveling, snot-picking Goth chick and a sniveling, snot-picking retiree. Unfortunately, only one of those two died. Inside, Daddy Dearest Victor (Jones) Bennett enters his darkened flat with a bag of groceries, only to find himself slung bodily onto the sofa by a couple of leather-clad ladies of the night. I wonder how much extra he has to pay for these elaborate role-playing games? Oh, sorry. They're not hookers at all. They're actually meant to be dark demonic forces sent from the flaming maw of Hell. "Who the hell are you?" Victor demands. "Who are you?" one of the demonic whores snaps back. Daddy Dearest responds with his name. "Do you think it's really him?" one of the intruders asks the other. "If it was Zankou," comes the reply, "he would have attacked us by now." The leftmost demonic whore, with an exaggerated flourish, lifts her right hand into the air and snaps her fingers. A swirling cloud of glowing golf balls promptly assaults the demonic whores, quickly morphing them into Phoebe-and-Piper form. So, I guess I was half-right with the "demonic whore" thing. For one of them. "Whaaaa?" Victor squints. Piper and Phoebe babble out apologies and hasty explanations that answer exactly none of Daddy Dearest's quite valid questions until Phoebe eventually calls out, "It's safe!" Raige orbs in immediately with poor, neglected, and doomed Tiny Gay Chris and his evil, bemulleted Psycho of a brother. Tiny Gay Chris is drooling all over one of his hands and has shiny new white baby Chucks on his feet. Awwwww. The Psycho has a murderous glare in his eyes and a menacing manila envelope in his pale, clammy hands. Eeeeeeew! Piper retrieves the envelope from the sociopath as Daddy Dearest wonders once more what, exactly, is going on.