"So, all this time we should have dedicated our resources to offing Kay instead of her cousin Charity?" The Demon Elf asked.

"'Resources', don't you mean my aunt Tabitha and that little troll Timmy?" Damien asked, still fiddling with the magic bowl. "Seems to me your 'resources' are one big joke, elf."

"Whats with you kid? Can't you carry on a conversation without every word out of your mouth dripping with sarcasm?" The elf asked.

"Its part of those Lenox genes I was born with, get used to it." Damien replied. "Besides, I doubt Tabitha would have had much better luck if she had tried to kill Kay. Kay is far more conniving than Charity, not to mention resourceful. If she had been the one to receive the full brunt of my aunt's wrath, she would have given it back ten-fold. And who knows, if she had awoken to her powers sooner, she may have very well been capable of destroying my aunt. Yes, if anyone could outsmart Tabitha, its her." Damien explained.

"What are you doing with that thing anyway?" the elf asked.

"Trying to get more insight into what exactly is happening with the timeline." Damien replied.

"Ah, you having any luck?" the elf asked.

"None whatsoever. The most I can get this thing to pick up is reruns of The Addams Family and The Weather Channel."

"Dammit, its no use!" Damien complained. "We'd have a better hope of the ABC daytime lineup being resuscitated than this bowl working!"

"That bad, huh?" the elf asked.

Unbeknownst to Damien and the Demon Elf, Zombie Charity continued to eavesdrop.

"So, my hated doppelganger isn't so special after all. All this time the forces of goodness were so enamored with her, when in reality Kay is the one with all the power. Its ironic, Kay has the ability to harness the power of goodness, despite all the terrible things she's done. I think its time for a little payback, show my creator what it feels like to suffer. Maybe I'll try my hand at getting Miguel for myself, have a little fun at Kay's expense. Perhaps even rid myself and everyone else of Kay Bennett, once and for all. Besides, its about time she got her comeuppance, which she so richly deserves. And I'm just the person to make it happen." She thought to herself, a wicked smile came across her face.

"You know, its thanks to your demonic buddies Alistair Crane isn't maggot snacks right now." Damien complained.

"Kid, the boys don't tell me anything. They do what they please, when they please."

"That one act alone is responsible for throwing the entire space time continuum out of whack. That bullet from his granddaughter should have ended him. Hasta la wago, goodnight Irene, bye bye baby. Instead we have a timeline in tatters, a witch with ungodly power, a magic bowl that's consistently out of order combined with the wild card of a madman like Alistair Crane, who's ambition rivals even that of the very Dark Forces you and I serve. Alistair Crane could be quite the obstacle."

"You give the old man too much credit, kid."

"Oh really? I don't think you give the old man enough credit, elf. This is the same man who nearly succeeded at gaining the power of God himself! And that was only one of his many plots, which thankfully for us was foiled! You should be thanking your lucky stars we don't serve under that old despot and calling him master!"

"The forces of hell calling Alistair Crane master?"

"Yes, quite a horrible scenario to contemplate, isn't it?" Damien replied.

"That kind of power in Alistair Crane's hands..." The elf trailed off.

"Yes, one shudders to think of the consequences." Damien replied. "Which is precisely why we cannot afford to underestimate that tyrant. Whatever deal the Dark Side made with Alistair needs to be rescinded, and pronto." Damien said.

"Why are you looking at me like that, kid?" the elf asked.

"You need to get on the horn to your boys in hell and tell them to drop this deal they made with the old man."

"What makes you think they'll listen to me? They don't even like me! They abandoned me and left me for dead at the hands of that brat Endora!" the elf said.

"Its not my problem you didn't realize you were expendable sooner."

"I'm the Demon Elf, I clean up messes on behalf of Satan, I'm not supposed to be expendable!"

"My, someone has an overinflated sense of superiority not to mention an overinflated sense of importance. You really think you're something, don't you?" Damien said. "Obviously someone down there thinks you're expendable, otherwise they wouldn't have sent you here to babysit little old me!"

"Someone has to! You're untested! An amateur! The boys in hell don't even trust you! And why should they after your aunt betrayed them?!" The elf yelled.

"I'M NOT MY AUNT!" Damien yelled.

Meanwhile, Zombie Charity continued to eavesdrop.

"As entertaining as this farce has been, I can't stick around. People to see, people to suck the life out of, that sort of thing. I'll have Miguel wrapped around my little finger inside of a week, and Kay Bennett will be left with nothing other than the bitter memory that her 'cousin' Charity stole the love of her life away from her." she thought to herself before walking off.

Meanwhile, Dr. Oppenheimer sat silently in his office.

FLASH

"Dr. Oppenheimer, I presume?" Alistair spoke as he visited Oppenheimer in an interrogation room.

"Who's asking?" he asked.

"Alistair Crane is asking." Alistair replied.

"I don't know an Alistair Crane." he replied.

"Well I certainly know you. Dr. Alan Oppenheimer, world renowned geneticist who's theories in gene manipulation and molecular biology were once considered groundbreaking. Pioneering even. Now look at you, locked up in this prison, rotting away. Depriving the world of your unique talents. I'm hoping to rectify that."

"What exactly do you want from me, Mr. Crane?" Alan asked.

"Simple, I want you to come work for me. You'll have all the money and resources you'll ever need. You will be able to continue your research unimpeded. Finish the work you started before it all went to hell."

"What's the catch?" Alan asked.

"The catch? The catch is you do me a little favor."

"Just a little favor?" Alan asked.

"I want you to put your talents to use for me. There's a little pet-project I have with your name on it." Alistair took an envelope out of his coat.

"This..." he began "Is the patient." he said as he took several photos out of the envelope. It was Chad, at least what was left of him. He was lying on a metal slab. "You see, that decaying corpse happens to be my bastard son. You see, I have several people on my payroll working at the morgue. I was able to smuggle his body out of there and replaced it with a mannequin. A dummy, a fake. So lifelike, it was able to fool his widow and the funeral director. That's the thing about the fine citizens of Harmony, they've always been easy to fool."

"And you just happened to hold onto the body this entire time, yes?" Alan asked.

"Indeed. I've read about the study you and your colleagues conducted, the re-animating of dead tissue."

"We all due respect Mr. Crane, our experiment focused on severed limbs, nerve endings. You're asking me to essentially re-animate a dead body."

"I've read your thesis from cover to cover doctor, you were convinced that given the time and the resources you would eventually discover the secret to immortality. You were confident that you could succeed where everyone else had failed."

"You're right I was confident. Overconfident in fact. And its that overconfidence that cost me my daughter."

"Yes, I read about that. Such a tragic fate for such a bright, young lady." Alistair replied, feigning sympathy.

"I had it all figured out. I was on the cusp of a breakthrough when it all went wrong. My lab was destroyed, my colleagues slaughtered. My dear, sweet daughter Abigail gutted like an animal. We unleashed something unholy and terrifying that day. It looked at us with those evil, red eyes. Not a hint of humanity. Just pure unadulterated ferocity. I made the mistake of believing I could play God, and in turn I lost everything."

"Your story doesn't have to end on such a tragic note, doctor. I can give back what was taken from you."

"Really? Can you bring my daughter back?" Alan asked.

"I can give you the next best thing. I can give you your freedom."

"My freedom means nothing to me without my daughter in my life. You can forget it, you can take your offer to someone else, I'm not interested."

"Well then, I believe I have something that will interest you. And perhaps give you second thoughts about saying no."

"What can you possibly offer me?" Alan asked.

"This." Alistair said as he took a portrait of Viki out of his coat and laid it down on the table.

"What is this? Who is that girl?"

"Notice any similarities to your dearly departed daughter?"

"My God. She's nearly identical to my Abigail."

"Her name is Victoria Crane. She's my granddaughter."

"Your granddaughter?" Alan asked.

"Come work for me and I can indeed give you back your daughter. You can pick up where you left off with your Abigail. Viki can make up for the daughter you lost."

"No, no. You can't be serious." Alan replied.

"Oh, but I'm very serious. Come on, wouldn't you give anything just to spend one more day with her?"

"This Viki isn't my daughter. Will never be my daughter."

"Don't be so sure. You'd be surprised by the power of suggestion. You can make anyone believe anything. I can turn Viki into Abigail. I can give you back the life that was so cruelly ripped away from you. All you have to do is accept my offer."

FLASH

"I'm sorry Abigail, but I'm doing this for us. We'll be together again soon, I promise." Dr. Oppenheimer said as he kissed the portrait of his daughter.

"Dr. Oppenheimer?" a female voice came on over the intercom.

"Yes?"

"Our agents found the patient."

"I'll be right there." Oppenheimer stood to his feed and gave the portrait of Abigail one final glance as he walked out of the room. Outside two agents dragged a semi-conscious 'Chad'.

"Well, I'm certainly glad they found you. You should have never tried to escape this place, Chad. Your molecular structure is unstable and is breaking down further and further every hour. Soon there will be nothing left but a husk that barely resembles anything remotely human. You'll be a walking zombie, a shell of your former self and I'll be left to contend with your father's wrath. And I cannot have that. I can't go back to prison, I won't. The procedure must be perfected. Take him back to my lab."

"No, I... I won't go back there!" 'Chad' struggled against the guards, but it was no use. "I won't let you torture me again, I'd rather die!"

"Unfortunately I cannot allow you to die, Mr. Harris. You see my entire future depends on you. Your father Alistair Crane gave me orders, and I intend to carry them out. Once your molecules have stabilized, you will become your father's assassin, whether you like it or not."

"I'll never kill for Alistair Crane do you hear me?! Never!"

"I'm afraid you won't have a choice in the matter. You will be your father's loyal mercenary. I'll make sure of it. By the time I'm through you'll be the ultimate killing machine. You'll finally be the son Alistair Crane can be proud of."

"You won't get away with this, you madman!" Chad yelled.

"I already have. Didn't I just tell you goons to take him back to my lab? What are you waiting on?" Oppenheimer asked, getting annoyed, they quickly complied.

"Once I perfect this procedure and iron out all the kinks, I'll use it on that Viki girl. Having her think she's my daughter isn't good enough. I must have my Abigail back. What are the odds she'd just happen to have the exact blood type as my daughter. I can't help but wonder, how is that possible? Just what has Alistair Crane been hiding all these years? Why do Viki and Abigail look so much alike? I know nothing of Abby's birth parents. I adopted her when she was just a little baby, and I've loved her as if she were my own ever since. We'll be reunited soon enough, my dear."

In Alistair's limo, he too was flashing back to his encounter with Dr. Oppenheimer.

FLASH

Alistair had just exited the room where he had been talking to Oppenheimer, he had just successfully convinced him to come work for him.

"What a fool! I have no intention whatsoever of handing over my granddaughter to that quack. Once he's accomplished the task of resurrecting my son Chad and successfully brainwashed him to do my bidding, I'll dispatch the little murderess Viki to take care of the old fool. What irony, to be killed by the spitting image of his dead daughter!" Alistair chuckled as he walked off.