Max gets most of the lights back on as Brody stalks into the exhibition area behind him. The boy's a bit zonked from the brain-frying episode, and there's an extra-special added-bonus side-effect. Brody can remember quite a bit more than he used to about his other life as the Vessel of Larek. He accuses Max both of being an alien and of lying to him all these many months. Max makes with the "I don't know what you're talking about" noise, but Brodek's not having it. He reveals his knowledge of the Not York summit and their roles therein. Max lets out a hesitant, "Larek?" Brodek terms this "an alien name." It actually sounds Slavic to me, but hey. You're the guy with the gun. Speaking of which, the Brodek pulls said gun from his waistband and aims it at our insipid duo. I mean, "intrepid." Max stretches out his right hand, urging Brodek to put the gun down. "Tess and I aren't aliens," he insists. Brodek fires off a round by way of response. Max activates the Lime Green Jell-O Shield Of Royal Alien Protection, which deflects the bullet back into a framed photo on the wall. The dingbat then makes something approximating an "Um...whoops" face as Brodek demands, "So how do you explain that?" Credits.

For a very long time, I've believed the opening credits of this show belong to the far-more-interesting version of Roswell currently televised in a parallel dimension near you. Just thought I'd share.

Back from the break, we fade up on the scene just ended being replayed on the screen of another product-placed iMac. Really, kids. iMacs are not that powerful, so knock it off with this crap. Brodek, wagging the gun around a bit, notes, "The security cameras are on backup power." He slides a CD out of the iMac and announces, oh-so-pleased with himself, that recent events are "all on disk." Max wants to know what the Brodek intends to gain from all of this. Brodek, frantic, demands Max tell him who he really is: Simon from Go? Or Baby Jane Hudson? Outside, beneath the darkened UFO Center marquee, Maria bitches to her mother, "No one's going to be clamoring through a blackout [sic and sick] to buy your 'George W's an Alien' t-shirts." My So-Called Sean, unloading a box from the Jetta, agrees. Amy DeLucawitz natters on about the "entrepreneurial spirit" as she flings open the Center doors to enter. Inside, Brodek wordlessly warns Max and Tess to remain silent while he stalks the entering trio. DeLucawitz, descending the stairs: "These t-shirts are hot off the presses, and I want them on the market now." She spots Brodek, who levels the gun at her head. "Or later!" she perks, wheeling around to scamper out. "C'mon, kids -- let's go!" Snicker. Brodek advances on them. "Nobody's going anywhere," he insists. Lingering, sliding pan shot of Maria and DeLucawitz and My So-Called Sean looking worried. Cut to Tess, fretting. Cut to Max's neck, about to snap under the weight of his head. Cut to Brodek, with the frowny face. Cut to me, getting it.