Angela's cell phone rings . . . something about an explosion at work.

Jonny's contemplation of the state of things was interrupted by a ringtone emanating from Angela's pocket. U2's "Until the End of the World" serenaded the group for a few seconds before they figured out where the noise came from. Jonny grabbed the phone and looked at it. "It's her husband," she said as she took the call and masked his evil intentions in his host body's girl-next-door voice. "Hey honey," he said with a smile on his stolen face.

"Angie baby are you ok?!?!" came an intense and panicked voice on the other end of the phone, "babe thank god you're ok I--I--I just saw the TV . . . explosion at your job! Are you sure you're ok?!" said the distraught young man. "Yes, yes Tom I'm fine, and the baby is fine too . . . I had a meeting at The Warehouse with some people, but, yeah, oh my . . . an explosion? That sounds just terrible," Jonny said as he smiled and tried to keep himself from laughing at the irony of it all. Some of the others in the room got it too. "Angie I want you to come home now--please? I'm watching the news, and there's panic buying Angie . . . people are rushing the stores. This military guy came on and said the President ordered the city under military protection . . . tanks and Hummers rolling down the streets. They say it might have been a deliberate attack, maybe even connected to the mayor thing. They don't know. Baby please come home," he pleaded. "Oh the mayor thing huh? You don't say," Jonny said, grinning again. He paused for a minute. "Ok. I'll hop in the car and be home soon." A sigh of relief came from Tom. "Ok honey just please please please be careful," he said. "Will do sweetie!" Jonny said as he hit the red button on Angela's phone and ended the call.

"The hubby's worried, it seems . . . nice to be wanted," Jonny laughed as he looked about at the people assembled in the room. "Okay so that bought us some time--bought all of YOU some time," he said, looking particularly at Vanessa, whose men had let Selina get away. "All of you have a mission. Drop what you're doing right now and find Selina McCarthy. Find me my body," he demanded, "I've got some ideas for fun in the interim, but when I come back I expect her to be here, or I can think of someone I'll happily turn into my new meat puppet," he said as he stared daggers at Vanessa. She turned white with fear. The rest nodded silently.

Jonny turned from the room and headed for the door, his bulging belly jiggling slightly with each step. He made it to the van soon and started for the home of the woman he had made his host. The pregnancy made it impossible to put on the seat belt, but what the hell it wasn't his body anyway, right? Jonny rolled through the streets of the panicked city. There were already hummers patrolling the streets. The explosion must have had people thinking terrorist attack because there were fully uniformed soldiers on top of the hummers with full-auto guns. "If you only knew . . . secret'll probably be out soon enough," Jonny mused to himself. At the moment everybody was in panic mode, and it was not clear whether the site was safe. Once people figured out that it was, people would swarm the area with cops and forensic instruments . . . the tape Jonny had made with his host would be discovered or pieced together from the rubble. The hunt would be on. Angela's heart quickened as he pondered it . . . he loved the thrill of the chase, though he was not used to being on this side. He was always the good guy before.

Jonny pulled the van into the driveway of what Angela's memories told him was her home. He parked the car and slowly got out, moving gingerly as his boobs and belly jutted out before him, each barely contained by the lab coat his host wore. He no sooner than made it out of the car than a man of about 35 darted out of the house toward him. "Oh my god honey I was so worried," the man said he as ran up and awkwardly hugged his wife in a way that did not endanger her precious belly. Jonny hugged back meekly as a smile crossed his face. "Tom, honey, I'm fine. I promise, and so is the little one." Tom was a man of 35, a chemical engineer by training and about six inches taller than his young and beautiful wife. He had short dark hair and a pleasant face, plus a set of khakis and a nice sweater. He gave his wife a look of worry. "Let's get you inside," he said as he took Jonny by the arm and quickly ushered him in.

The two stepped into the house and walked toward the living room where there was a TV on. The worried Tom placed his arm around his wife and pulled her close as they watched. The news station flashed the "breaking news" and "crisis grips city" banners across the screen as a man in military dressed stepped up to a lectern.

The figure took a deep breath. "My fellow citizens good evening. My name is General Cyrus Ricks, and I am the commander of the 107th Infantry, United States Army. I stand before you tonight on orders of the President, who sent me here to take precautions to protect this great city. The explosion at a federal facility earlier today earlier today has shaken this city to its core. Our experts assure us that such an event is unusual enough that an accidental detonation is unlikely. We are proceeding on the assumption that foul play has occurred, and a threat of this size demands immediate action. It is to that end that this city has been placed under quarantine. It is now 430 PM. By 7, civilians must be in their homes with doors locked. We have no immediate suspects, nor do we have credible threats of further dangerous activities, but it is only prudent to take precautions. Only emergency vehicles will be permitted on the streets after the appointed hour. I thank you all for your cooperation. Stay safe, and may God continue to bless this great country." With that, General Ricks left the lectern, taking no questions. Cameras clicked, and reporters chattered, but out he went.