Lynda watches the Fleet gliding down, and marks their destruction of continents: "Europa. Pacifica. The New American Alliance." The screen shows things going south. "Australasia's just...gone.
God: "This is perfection. I have created Heaven on Earth." Only a fake bastard God could think that was beautiful.
Jack hurries onto Floor 499 with a gun, calling out to the remaining men: "We're the last defense. The bullets should work, if you concentrate them on the Dalek's eyestalk. I've got the forcefield at maximum, so the Dalek fire should be at its weakest." There's a junky barricade, all jury-rigged pieces of office equipment and stuff. It's totally cool. They settle in to wait. The male programmer tells the lady one that he's only here because of her: "I joined the program because you were on it." She messes with him, and says, "Am I supposed to say, when this is all over and if we're still alive, maybe we could go for a drink?" He admits that that would be good, and she clucks, "Yeah, well, tough." But when he looks at her, she winks, and they smile, and it is very cute. Their asses are so dead. They click off their safeties and get ready to fire.
Mickey and Rose lean on the Beetle and look at the TARDIS, and now it's good old Mickey refusing to wave the flag: "There's gotta be something else we can do." Rose is like, "My dad died, the Doctor died, Jack's about to die, my dog died, my cat died...." But Mickey's not having her leaving the TARDIS on a street corner -- he understands love: "I'm not having you just -- just give up now. No way. We just need something stronger than my car. Something bigger. Something like that." And right on cue, there's the roar of an engine, and behind them they see a huge tow truck. And in the driver's seat is Jackie, and if you're wearing my emo/overanalysis glasses, you can see Peter Tyler sitting next to her, and that's how you know this is going to work: it's always love that gets you in.