"New York." Nighttime. Limo. Head MWF finally gets a name: Mr. Nash. He's on a cell-phone call, but quickly hangs up to inform Clayton, who's in the back seat, that he just got a call from his desk-sergeant friend who reported a "wild man" who fought four men with his bare hands. Has he been driving around in his limo since last night? Clayton is open-mouthed, shocked, blinking. He smiles. "He's alive, then. Thank God. Everything depends on him. Everything." There's a swell of music and then blackout. Commercial.