...the campus security lounge, where they plow through the relevant tapes until they land on an image of the tubby schlub mere moments before he was slaughtered. Unfortunately, the image disintegrates into televisual snow just before the attack begins, and by the time it resolves itself, the janitor's already dead.

Sometime later, Dean sits in the Impala, ignoring yet another call from Bendy Lisa as Sam emerges from a nearby brownstone to climb in beside him. Sam'd been interviewing the dead janitor's significant other, you see, but the lady in question had little to offer aside from assurances that her late lamented was a fine, upstanding member of the Paterson community. Oh, and "he rubbed her feet during Glee." "Kinky!" Quiet, Raoul -- I'm trying to hurry us along to the next murder. "Ooops! Okay!" In any event, as the hapless janitor's record is "spotless," and as the science building itself has nothing in its past to indicate a propensity for paranormal activity, the boys are at a loss to explain the previous evening's events. With their investigation thus at an impasse, Sam and Dean sigh and mope, respectively, until the camera jumps forward in time to land on...

...the nighttime exterior of a nearby warehouse district. It passes inside one of the buildings to linger on a laundry cart stuffed to overflowing with disassembled mannequin parts before leaping across the room to follow along as a diminutive watchman makes his evening rounds. The wee gent sweeps his flashlight beam across several silent sewing machines and cutting tables, for we've apparently found ourselves in an old-fashioned sweatshop for this portion of tonight's festivities, and when he's done looking around, the tiny security guard turns to leave. Just then, a squeaky ruckus erupts from an especially dim corner of the workroom floor, and the now-imperiled gnome calls out, "Hello? Who's there?" "Johnny?" he grins, obviously thinking he's fallen prey to some coworker's prank, but when he turns to train his flashlight on another corner of the room, he finds himself spinning straight into the arms of... a featureless white mannequin! DUN! "Very funny!" the startled gnome calls out, but when he does so, the words stream forth from his mouth on a cloud of vapor, because the temperature's just dropped about forty degrees. DUN! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!"