The undertaker assures the doctor that they haven't met, but adds that he's a great fan of the doctor's published studies on "cell degeneration," which the undertaker deems "ahead of their time." Get it? You will. To his credit, Dr. Mitchell seems unnerved by the undertaker's flattery, and attempts to slide past him to his car. The undertaker, however, blocks the good doctor's escape with his cadaverous form. "I found your article on mutant retina genes to be particularly intriguing," the undertaker continues, pushing his face uncomfortably close to the doctor's own. The doctor, startled, wonders how the undertaker knew of that study when it has yet to appear in any of the appropriate journals. The undertaker smirks coldly, then goes on to congratulate the doctor for his work on some as-yet-undeveloped vaccine. "A vaccine?" the doctor asks. "Against what?" The undertaker's mouth twists into an ugly sneer. "Against this," he replies. We don't see what "this" is, exactly, because the camera shifts to an undertaker POV of Doc Mitchell's horrified face. We get a good idea of what "this" does, though, because a blue laser bores into the doctor's skull just over the bridge of his nose. The doctor screams as the irises of his eyes vanish, replaced by milky cataracts. The laser cuts off as suddenly as it appeared, and the doctor drops lifeless to the concrete.
Just around the corner, a vast crowd of theatergoers throngs the entrance of an unidentified movie house, there to see the San Francisco Cinema Society's presentation of Love's Deadly Desire. I'll take this moment to note that the San Francisco Film Society is unlikely at any point in the near future to screen the Holly Marie Combs estro-fest Love's Deadly Triangle, and I'll leave it at that. In any event, among the anonymous crowd are, unsurprisingly enough, the Glamorous Ladies of Halliwell Manor. Phoebe wanders along the sidewalk to Piper and Prue with a fan of tickets in one hand and a Magic Eight Ball in the other. You want to hear something absolutely pathetic? An acquaintance of mine who shall remain nameless has a Magic Affirmation Ball. He "visualizes" a personal quality of which he should be proud, shakes the Magic Affirmation Ball, then turns it over to receive messages like "Good for you!" and "I knew you were special!" Isn't that raging? True story. Swear to God. Of course, I wouldn't mention this if he actually read these recaps, but he doesn't, so screw his maladjusted, dysfunctional ass.