[Suzerain of Sheol]

Thomas ignores Dante's hands upon him. He ignores the man's very existence, sitting transfixed, exhausted, drained in his very soul -- staring at Lev.

He cannot bring himself to rise, cannot even move. His hands remain braced on the floor, away from the weapons that might destroy the creature before it attacks them in this moment of vulnerability.

"What..." he speaks on shuddering breath, "are you?"

He can sense the creature's aura, its maleficence, its sublime hunger, shameless wantonness and manifest rage. An ancient spirit, fallen from Heaven so long ago, twisted, corrupted, beaten down in shame by the golden scepter, and somehow... evolved.

The priest weighs his options. Diogenes shows no weakness, but he felt the damage in his flesh and knows the warrior is in no shape for such a battle. His men still have their grenades, but would it be enough? The damage he would sustain in the crossfire would be... devastating. It would certainly end the mission.

Hatred seethes through the priest -- helpless hatred of his own powerlessness. They hedge failure here, the Law is in tatters, and Hell has gained a foothold on the doorstep of their empire.

Almost pathetically, he demands of the demon, "What in God's name do you want?"