By now, Johnny's pretty ready to just do whatever the heck Illyria tells him. "What she said," he commands appeals to his dragon, which is already heading off, firing up its biologically improbable engines and zooming through a gap in the enemy forces. Johnny ducks down avoid being blown off by the wind, and glances once over his shoulder to see Illyria still thrashing around. He feels his mood drop quickly, crashing and burning really, all that manic adrenaline-fueled energy of battle barely surviving gone, replaced with hollow emptiness. His city is totally fucking destroyed. He has no idea how he got here. No idea where Gabriel is, or anyone, or if there's any way out. He's literally in Hell, all alone.

God, wouldn't it be fucking great if he ran into Satan right now? That would just be the fucking cherry on top of this avalanched shit sundae.