[Suzerain of Sheol]

Unperturbed by the girl's minuscule attack, Thomas calmly aligns the sights of his rifle over her bobbing skull as she sprints away. With his battle hormones suffusing his blood, she seems to barely move at all, his focus perfect, his finger curling around the hair-trigger...

Until a BLASPHEMY erupts just next to her. That wracked form of the angel dissolving, transmuting, Hellish, serpentine... a hundred vipers exploding from the carcass.

The brunt of them leap at Kadia, as she runs past, crashing against her with their fearsome weight, fangs sinking deep, venom flowing... More scrape their teeth uselessly against Rurik's steel hide.

One surges at Dante, jaws snapping at his left eye, only to seize upon lifeless cloth, hanging dangling...

More attack the strange, sea-smelling wanderer standing so near, unnoticed, biting into the meat of limbs, the sinew of his neck, one launching itself into his mouth, piercing the back of his tongue with its fangs, and slithering down his esophagus, injecting poison all the way.

Several fly at Diogenes, repelled by the ceramic plates in his robe. he catches one and tears it half, throwing it down stamping its brain to pulp upon the filthy floor. He sees several writhing over toward Lev, and assumes the vicious man can take care of himself. He instead stalks forward to the milling, devastated body in the wheelchair and promptly sprays fire from his right wrist, modulating the flow so as not to catch any of his allies, as much as to conserve his dwindling accelerant. He does not relent until nothing but ash decorate the charred steel of the wheelchair.

Thomas snaps a fist up to forestall his men as they reach for weapons, and hurls his rifle away. Rolling his wrists, the blades shoot forth once more, and he begins dicing apart the few serpents who advance down the hall. His soldiers follow suit, drawing combat knives and setting to work.

In all, unimpressive for the powers of Hell. Though an irritating distraction.