Christy wasn't surprised when she saw Carver's limp body fly through the air and land in the open doorway, but she was still relieved. It was finally all over and they could just go home. Okay, first they could take Sean to a hospital, then go home. Okay, save the children's hospital or whatever, then take Sean to the hospital (Lucky- they'd be there anyway), then go home. But inevitably, something got in the way.

Oh nu-uh. Christy didn't want to believe it when she saw Carver stir. He was dead, like, really dead. Her dad just tied him in a knot and snapped him in half. There was no way he was still alive. So why is he moving?

Vito was walking toward the car with his back to Carver. He didn't look as happy as one might expect, but Christy knew better than to think her father would ever look happy. He would have been even madder if he saw Carver lurch to his knees and grab the gun lying next to him.

Christy had a split second to decide what to do. If she warned her father, he'd have to turn around and leap onto Carver before he could pull the trigger. She wasn't sure she could warn him fast enough, and it would be all her fault if she died. Her father's teaching took over, and her foot shot forward on reflex.

I don't have a license! She thought as she floored the accelerator. Oh, screw it. Eat this, asshole!

Vito's blank face twitched slightly in surprise and concern when Christy turned up the gas and the car shot toward him, missing him by mere inches and wheels scraping at the ground. He turned and saw Carver standing up as Christy drew nearer. Carver turned and Christy relished his shocked expression as she rammed the car into him at full speed. He folded over the hood like an empty shirt and bounced off, flying through the air and crunching to the ground. Christy slammed on the breaks and managed to avoid running him over again. She opened the door and fled into her father's arms.

"It's okay! I got him!" she said, as though he could not see the carnage inflicted both upon Carver and the hood of the car.

"Are you all right?" Vito asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine but Sean's all messed up," she said. As soon as he heard that she was okay, Vito charged into the front seat. Christy ran around the car and followed him.

"We're going to the hospital, right?" Christy asked. Vito was too preoccupied to answer, but she was also used to that. She felt better about driving without a license when she saw the way her father ran stop signs, didn't signal his turns, and wove crazily in and out of traffic. Sean faintly protested from his bumpy perch in the backseat.

"Stay here," Vito said when they arrived at the hospital, which was surrounded by reporters and crowds.

"Hey! Why can't-" Christy started, but Vito was already gone. He shoved his way through the crowds, flashing his badge.

Vito sprinted down the halls with all the grace of a determined pickle with legs. Reporters and VIPs squawked at him as he barreled past them, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. He thundered into the newly finished wing and saw the mayor perched over the ceremonial red ribbon, a giant pair of scissors in his hands. A cluster of pale, sickly children watched on from the front row.

There was no time for formalities. The mayor looked up at the sound of shouting children and saw an airborne Vito heading straight for him. He tried to straighten up and back away and instead was flattened when Vito hit his target. The people nearby tried to rush to his aid and Vito waved them off fiercely, pushing them back and away from the ribbon.

"Everybody out! There's a bomb!" Vito yelled. Usually protocol called for a much more tactful approach to matters that might panic people, but time was still of the essence. Nurses ran up and scooped away the screaming children while the mayor ran around the room helping open doors and clear pathways. Vito stood by the ribbon, making sure no one jarred it while he waited for the bomb squad to arrive. Despite all the panic, the real danger was over. After he discovered the circumstances, the mayor wouldn't even be mad at Vito for tackling him.