Michael fell to the floor just as the words escaped his breath. He expected to be taken to the alliance in order to calmly conclude the situation, to take in the bodies and be at peace until everyone was ready to head out to the seven churches. What he got was the bloodiest massacre that he had ever seen, and for the most part, he was powerless. Even he had fear in the bestial presence of the gunman of Tsavo.
He barely kept consciousness as Bella supported his movement towards the armory. He couldn't even shield his thoughts as his marked some of his companions as new adversaries.
"Twice, now. The actions of my new companions had severely damaged the opportunity for new relationship. This cannot happen a third time." Michael gave open connection to the armory through psychic connection. "This is Michael Hadyn of artificer unit 21573. The blind man who is with you is a new companion of mine. I want a background check on him immediately. Currently I am heading to your position with two psychics, a servant of sheol, a theurgist and a hired gunman. Be advised: the gunman has exhibited cannibalistic behaviors and should be treated with extreme caution."
Cutting off connection he spoke in mutters. "This chaos ends...now."

Before they get very far, Shealtiel notices Michael's injuries and approaches the artificer. Meeting his eyes with a grave intensity, he grabs Michael about the shoulders. "This will not be... pleasant," he says flatly.

Once more, the old man's eyes empty, becoming twin portals to the same abyss. All at once, Michael feels a surge of harrowing cold, like needles of ice piercing every pore of his skin. And yet, for all its freezing agony, he can feel his wounds mending, bone knitting and flesh sealing itself with scars.

When it is over, Shealtiel does not appear winded and simply looks upon Michael as though assessing his work. "There," he concludes. "Much better. I cannot mend minds, though. You may carry trauma from this, phantom pain, perhaps--"

He notices that the psychic woman has continued on with the others without them and moves to follow with Michael in tow.

Lev registered the kick to his being as merely an acknowledgement, a footnote that it had happened, to be filed away in a dusty corner of his mind. He cackled a bit, the effects of his feasting still pouring over him. With a start he trotted to her, loping casually by her side. There was something different about him now. Something off. He tilted his head a bit, speaking with a voice like the offspring of both crude oil and sandpaper.

"And just where must we go, Ruebella?"

He fell back a bit, running the tips of his fingers down her arms, as if judging her skin, how fair it was. How enticing it looked to a man of his tastes. He leaned a bit lower, and smelled the ghost of what was once flowing blood from her arm. The smell caused him to shudder, whispering in her ear.

"It would be wise to satiate my hunger. I can be very useful to you, when I'm out of my box. Possess this moment while you can. I have an inkling of what you want, spawn. Maybe we can use each other."

He laughed softly, letting go of her as he picked up his pace.

Feenai numbly followed Shealtiel, clutching Jeanne's arm without much hope of deadening the panic inside her. The Tsavo man's actions didn't make any sense at all. Why is he eating...PEOPLE!? Despite her reservations about reading minds the previous night, a mixture of alcohol, panic, and Ruebella's laughing face in her mind pushed her to delve into the gunman's mind. She was expecting the usual pain from him but felt none. Instead it had been replaced by a ravenous hunger, one that seemed intent on eating everything it could get it's teeth on.

What...what IS he? My earlier assessment was right, there is something wrong with him. I doubt it has much to do with the torment he has gone through, because if he was that far broken to be comfortable with eating people, he wouldn't be so competent at everything else he's done. Curiosity was starting to overcome her panic and Feenai dropped further into his mind. So, your name is Lev...I will figure out what's wrong with you, I swear it.

Feenai pulled herself from his mind and hoped whatever the ravenous presence was, it couldn't tell that she had been there. She was ready to ask Shealtiel about it when she realized they were almost to the armory. She filed away the information on Lev for later, and opened her mind back to the Network to prepare for anything she might need to find out about this place.

The man stopped for a moment, as if listening to something, then, "Even your...companion...would like to know more about you," he reported with a wide wolfish grin.

Dante growled. "Mind you own business! My past is my past, no need for you to--!"

"Lucifer Dante Kaan, now age 25. Parents were killed--"

Dante snarled, kicked off the wall behind him with a raised fist, and was promptly slammed back and held, with a rifle barrel pressed against his throat, parallel to the wall.

"--in the riots in the slums of New Jerusalem twelve years ago. Lost his sight in the fire of the rioting. Trained with companions who joined the military, but refused to join himself."

Shut up.

"Worked for various small organizations and bosses as an assassin, and gained some reputation around New Jerusalem as the "Raven". Later had a bounty placed on him for the murders..."

Shut up.

"...of military heads and business leaders. Started working outside of New Jerusalem some four years after the death of his parents. Traveled with his brother, Gabriel Kaan, to Babylon, and settled there. Gabriel later died..."

Shut...up...

"...from water poisoning. After his brother's death, Lucifer all but vanished from public view for several years, excepting brief sightings of a blind man in all-black clothes at various taverns and brothels."

The doorman looked up from reading out facts. "Michael Haydn. Did you get all of that?" he said, asking the artificer at the same time. He turned to a rather limp and silent Dante.

"So. Where have you been, the past several years?" he asked in no more than a whisper. "I think much of the authority around here would like to know the same."

Just...shut...up... Dante thought to no one in particular, refusing to either confirm or deny anything.

As they wend through the streets of Corinth, heading to the Alliance Armory, Shealtiel makes his way to the fore of the group and asks Michael and... Ruebella, whose name he finally knows, "How do you propose we get inside? Are we going to attempt diplomacy, or unleash our Lion on them? As formidable as we seem to be together, something tells me that those within will be well armed." His last words drip with sarcasm. In truth, though, Shealtiel is almost eager for another fight, to unleash the energy he stole and consumed. He has never been able to work Sheol's magick with impunity before, and the opportunity is... thrilling, in prospect.

"Hmm, I've do doubt we'll speak later, "it" and I. I have many questions for it. But first..." Shealtiel advances ahead of the group and approaches the door of the armory. It is solid wood, several inches thick, reinforced with steel banding, likely barred from the other side.

Reaching out a long-fingered hand, he rests his fingertips against the door, closing his eyes briefly. Something leaks out from the points where he touches the door: a web of decay spreading over the wood and steel. Cracks appear, and rust, and then... dust, as the entire structure falls away to nothing.

That spell took a noticeable toll on his plundered power, but Shealtiel is still unwearied by the sorcery, with enough reserves to spare should things turn violent.

The entrance to the Armory stands open before them.

Lev stood just behind the old man, almost salivating at the prospects before him. An entire armory, and what was more, soldiers...strong wills, discipline. Physical power. The thought of devouring even more made him almost giddy. He licked his lips, finding it hard to restrain himself from rushing in first.

"I am a plague. I have not yet ran my course. But today, I will claim many more."

Shealtiel quirks an eyebrow, finding himself somewhere between amusement and contempt as the (presumably) demonic presence makes itself so shamelessly apparent.

"A fiend with ambitions, hmm?" He chuckles, then steps back from the threshold, gesturing within. "By all means, after you." If nothing else, the Lion will make a good distraction from the no-doubt impressive array of armed adversaries within. Shealtiel checks his Interdiction shield on his chest to make sure is covering many of his vitals as possible.

Jeanne followed Fee and the old man silently, feeling uncomfortable with the situation but not knowing what to do to change it. It didn't take long for the three to meet the others, and the theurge was horrified at Shealtiel's next move. Though she was sure the others didn't know what was happening, she could tell all too clearly that it was something wrong.

"S-stop!" But it was too late for the man whose soul was stolen. Jeanne gazed at Altiel as new emotions, a mix of fear and anger, replaced the disdain she had held previously. For the first time she began to seriously consider traveling on her own again, maybe taking Fee with her.

The upsetting images and horror continued as Lev decided to butcher the guards outside the armory. Though blood and wounds were nothing new to her, his savagery was, and Jeanne had to fight her gag reflex as her eyes filled with tears. If only she had the strength to interfere!

Then the group began to move yet again. Numbly she followed, knowing that she had to make sure that Fee was safe. She glanced over at the shorter female holding her arm and smiled when she saw that the psychic was unharmed and calming down. "We'll be okay," she said to her quietly; by 'we', she referred to herself and Fee. At this point she couldn't (and wouldn't have wanted to) guarantee the safety of any of the others.

Nor, it seemed, could she guarantee the safety of any of the soldiers. Jeanne had thought it a good thing for those in the armory to know they were there as it made them less likely to attack. Her companions seemed to think of it differently, seeing it as an opportunity to attack themselves.

She reached a hand for Fee's, squeezing it tightly and moving to a position where she could put herself between the others and the psychic if need be.

While they are deciding how best to proceed, Shealtiel notices that the theurge, Jeanne is looking at him with disgust, interposing herself between Feenai and the rest of the group.

In a speculative tone, he asks her, "Tell me, dear, just what do you think your cherished Saint would have done if he came upon that scene back there? I'll have you know, the man I consumed would have felt nothing; he had no spiritual awareness. I'll make no excuses for our Lion, though, at least until I get a chance to... get to know it better."

His eyes slide over to the demon, sidelong, and, noting its smile, he responds in kind, utterly unafraid, which must surely confound the fiend.

A yell of outrage and shock sounded from the first room; the doorman turned. A frantic man ran back, blubbering slightly, "Th-th-th-the doooooor! It....melted?!"

The doorman glared at a now-prone Dante, then glanced at the messenger, then looked back. "...Hmph. Keep him here; I'll see to it." He grabbed a rifle from the nearest soldier and marched out.

Michael waited for his mentality to heal, for the shock to fade, before try to contact the group of soldiers again, aware of the psychic who was intercepting his messages. The pain from Altiel's method of healing made his head throb and his hands shake, but if he wanted this amount of death to end any time soon, he knew that he had to work quickly. He didn't waste the time to speak so he let his mind talk to Feenai, Altiel and Bella, "It disappoints me that hostile force is implemented in a situation that peaceful methods can be supplied."
He locked his mind out to the group and contacted the commander on a more secure line just as he saw Lev eat a guard, "Dammit. The situation has gotten out of hand. I'll try to remove any civilians from the area. Lethal force is authorized against the assailants. Capture if possible."
He waited for his hands to stop shaking, blocking out the world around him.

"Oh Lady, love of Babylon, oh look at what we did.
Unearthing evil catastrophe, we ran away, we hid.
But you, Lady Jeze'bel, came forth to heal and aid.
You told us 'come here, children. Let sorrow to me be laid.'"

Michael looked around again. Altiel was talking to the Jeanne and Feenai, who were pretty much innocent. Lev was already inside the melted doors and Bella stood outside.
"I believe...that it is time to make my move."
"So then. Are we to stop this killing and settle this peacefully?" He asked to Altiel and Bella. "Do the men in the armory need to die, especially after I had informed them of our arrival, informed them that we were in danger from a psychic adversary?!"

Lev screamed in bloodlust as he barreled in to the armory. His scream was answered with the burst of automatic fire. A trio of bullets tunneled through is body, one of them entering one side of his face and leaving out the other. The only thing they affected was his trajectory. Mouth frothing with his own blood, he gnawed straight through a guard's neck. The dying man squeezed hard on the trigger of his gun, spraying automatic fire wildly inside the enclosed space.

The hail of bullets and the several reports of shots fired quickly brought more guards streaming in. Guards formed a half-circle around him, intent on opening fire if they needed to. Pausing from his brief meal, Lev raised his eyes to study those before him. They had not fired just yet. They were not distracted, but even he had physical limits. Too many bullets meant that his body would be useless, no matter how much control he exerted over it. He could heal this vessel, or at least keep it going long enough to serve his purposes. Deciding to save himself for the moment, he began standing slowly, making slow movements to indicate that he wasn't going to harm anyone...just yet.

And as he raised his hands, his thumb slid the pin from his one grenade, causing it to roll forwards as it hit the floor.