They make a break for it, and we cut to the three of them bursting out the front door of the building, an exterior shot displaying how fake fake fire can really be. Once safely a full nine inches from the front of the building (hella good safety precautions there, "Sheriff"), Isabel repeats that Max can't be dead, and Porno confirms for her that, in fact, "I tried to get to him, but he collapsed into dust." But just then, Morgan Fairchild's evil henchmen (aw, man. If "Morgan Fairchild's evil henchmen" weren't already the hidden recap phrase of the week, it sure as hell should have been) run from the front door to a nearby limo, Michael noting, "There they are." Porno tries to warn them: "They're armed! With the obvious silver bullet of sheer predictability!" But no matter. Michael and Isabel make a reflexive bolt toward the car, holding out their hands to enact mad magic powers (here, Michael. Here's a bowl of soup and a can opener. Can you open the soup for me, or…oh, never mind. I'll just do it myself). But Isabel can't get out of the way of one oncoming bullet, the gun in the first act goes off in the first, and Isabel is taken down by a stray bullet before Michael's powers make the evil henchmen trip over their car. Oooh, good one. The limo peels off, and Isabel goes down in slo-mo, shot through the heart and giving love a bad name. Viewers? You're to blame. Michael kneels beside her and thinks, "What does this emergency call for? Think, Michael! Think!" before deciding that one gaping wound to the chest deserves another, ripping off his shirt like the stripper at a fat farm and revealing, however briefly, every inch of his sunken upper body. Viewers? That's your fault, too.
As if hearing the shots ring out and thinking, "That must be my sexy but secretive wife getting shot! I do not know where she was or why, but it's just a matter of pure television that I should be happening past a blazing pharmaceutical company just as my wife needs me and, perhaps later, a shady witch-doctor friend with a hint of bad guy and a 5:01 shadow," here comes Jesse "Boy Oh Boy Oh…Boy" Ramirez, in an advanced state of panic. He asks if they've called an ambulance, and some loud, disconcerting ACTING ensues as Michael insists that they can't call an ambulance, and Jesse is all "You must call an ambulance" and Michael is all "But I can't call an ambulance" and Jesse is all "But you must call an ambulance" until Porno steps in, all gallant, and is like, "I'll call an ambulance." My hero! Curses! Foiled again! Or, what happens is this: Jesse screams that Isabel will die if they don't help her right now, clocking Michael in the face. Heh. Nice. Michael takes Jesse down and climbs on top of him (dum-dee-dum-diddly-um…I have nothing to say on the matter), subduing him with the knowledge that they can't call an ambulance. Why? Why can't they? Michael comes clean: "Because your wife isn't human!" Jesse rolls Michael off of him (hey, sometimes they're just not your type, y'know? It happens), and Porno points Jesse's attention to Isabel's right hand, which burns with red static electricity and a buzzing tone as if she's the really dangerous halogen lamp that's poised to change halogen lamp policies at a college near you. Porno counsels from his knees at dying Isabel's side, "I know you don't want to accept it, but it's true. She's not human." Jesse's all, "Eh?" But Michael clarifies it from behind with the vital punch line, "She's alien. We both are." Who is the "we" supposed to modify in that statement? Maybe that's why Jesse looks so freaked. In other news, I'm totally going to use the expression "clarifies it from behind" eleven times in daily speech tomorrow. And perhaps five or times here in this here remaining recap.