Faith, consistent to the point of being obvious, notes that no one has come to rescue them yet. Bosco has found a romance novel and is poring through it, seeking tips in the arts of seduction and Throbbing-Member Management 101. ("Management" training, Omar? Sure.) "Shirtless men and desperate women," Bosco says, describing both the cover and his concept of a perfect world. He then strikes gold -- a box of chocolates is sitting next to the dead guy, and it contains five confections. Unanimously, they agree Doc gets the extra chocolate. Suddenly, Doc starts crying and freaking out, begging Carlos for morphine to numb the searing pain. The wound has stopped oozing, Carlos notes, but that means there is internal bleeding and that's arguably worse. Buoyed into action, Carlos and Bosco flee to find another exit and Faith agrees to watch out for Doc.

Alex fusses with a door, then calls for Joe to come help her because the damn thing is stuck. When Joe bends over and successfully heaves it shut, a pot of flour dumps its fluffy cargo all over the noggin that he wasn't using. Everyone laughs. Joe silently offers a retaliatory challenge -- he gets a fireman's overalls and invites Alex to step into the boots. She does so, and Joe and two others pull up the overalls and hang her on a coathook. The gang leaves, laughing, and Alex is left alone to sway.

Carlos casually asks Bosco if he has extra flashlight batteries. Bosco snaps at him, freaked and trying to avoid any discussion of impending darkness. Meanwhile, Doc's trembling hand grabs at his tummy. Knowing Carlos, he probably told Doc it was just bad indigestion, and damn he left the Tums tablets in the ambulance. He breathes funny and looks mournfully at Faith, who is quiet but quaking inside.

The XFL has arrived, everyone. And if you're wondering what that is you're feeling, it's probably "total indifference," or even "disinterest."

Roaming around the catacombs, Carlos and Bosco clap to scare away the rats. "There's seven million rats in this city," Bosco grumbles. "We're outnumbered eight to one." What is that -- new math? Maybe Bosco's just deep and he realizes he is not one. He is 875,000. Unfortunately, none of his several-hundred-thousand facets can figure out where the hell he and Carlos are. They bicker and Bosco runs off, insisting he is right.