The inhumans' chittering screeches rang in Jean's ears beneath the drone of the Dragonflies. Without prompt, the flying crafts trailed after the fastest of the creatures locked in their sights. Aided by the Dragonflies' searchlights, he and his men raced after the large forms scampering over the ground.

These were Infernals, no doubt about it. By their appearance, they were insectoid, one of the worst of their varieties.

He sidestepped in time to miss a sticky projectile one of the insects threw at him. He didn't stop to purify the ground, leaving the cleanup to Celezar further behind the six of them. After stepping aside, he aimed with Ringe and shot at the insect, relishing the screech it made when it was hit. Again, he raced by it, unbothered by its curled, dissolving form.

"Boss, the Dragonflies have trailed the demons to some sort of underground passage," Calvin's voice said in his ear. "Can't go further in as is."

"Await orders; we're not far behind," he said.

"Sent."

Further ahead of him, he saw small explosions as groups of the demons were killed, no doubt from Sarkis' bombs. Groups of them all gathering meant they must be close to the nest.

"Seems some of these are carrying eggs," Celezar said in a grave tone. "No telling where the hell else they've been carrying these things."

"Then, we're definitely close to the nest, I reckon," said Nicholae, one of those ahead of Jean.

"Most likely," said Calvin. "You can't miss the hole; a thick yellow trail lead to it."

Jean wasn't the only one who softly groaned with disgust over the radio. Despite it, he actually felt strangely buoyant.

All of his men were together again, working together. Visually, it was more than he could ask for.

In truth, it wasn't the camaraderie it appeared to be...

He pointedly ignored the growing thought.

Indeed, after some while, they spotted a trail of the insects' slime, possibly from some injured ones, possibly from a larger one. He began to slow once he caught up to his men.

As his men also slowed, surveying the area for more demons, he went ahead. The trail brought them to a hole in the underpass of earth. It was roughly the size of a fox's hole. More of the dark yellow slime coated its entrance and marred the ground with the same liquid. It gave off a putrid smell.

Jean crouched near the hole, exhaling deeply. "You have to be kidding me," he murmured to himself. He took a nearby stick and prodded the slime.

The moment the stick touched the viscous liquid, it began to blacken from the taint. He quickly let it go, his expression darkening. The damned creature was tainting the whole earth with its secretions. Taking out his dagger, he poked at the slime again. Once a good bit of it was on the blade, he raised it and waited.

Nothing happened.

He glanced back. "Get another Dragonfly over here. Give it a new coat."

As the sound of movement indicated the fulfillment of his order, he flicked the slime off his blade, then took a flashlight from an inside pocket of his coat and turned it on. The beam of light traveled deep into the hole, but there was nothing to see but more slime lining the inside of the dirt.

He flicked the light off and stood to face his men. One of the Dragonflies was perched on the ground, its wings folded back and its legs turned so they were vertically under its form. Gulliver was spraying it with water from a canister, covering every inch of it from its wings to its spidery limbs. It took seconds to complete, and as Gulliver raised up, Calvin controlled it remotely from a console in the helicopter towards the hole.

The Dragonfly moved like a crab would, sideways, directly into the darkness. Moving from the hole, Jean turned to approach Gulliver, who had a small, portable screen with him, and watched the screen display the Dragonfly's view.

For some time, nothing of great interest happened. The night vision view displayed nothing more than the inside of the tainted earth. After roughly three minutes, the long tunnel turned to the left. When the Dragonfly also turned, it revealed a horrifying sight.

"Creation," Nicholae murmured, raising a hand to his mouth.

The tunnel widened into a large space full of large nodes covered with slime. They covered every inch of the lower ground and were nestled into some of the sides.

"They're eggs," said Sarkis, his voice grim.

 Jean trailed a thumb over his lower lip, then glanced at him. "Bombs would work. Problem is, we don't know how far this damn hole goes. We might end up bombing the whole field, if it's the worst possible scenario."

"Yeah, because the Dragonflies can go on for some time," said Calvin. He kept the Dragonfly going in further past the nest but no further than another large hole that led into another direction.

When the robot flashed a bright light inside, Jean's eyes went wide.

As he feared, several other passageways lead deeper into the earth.

"Pull back, Calvin," he ordered, moving from the screen to look above the underpass.

"Sent."

Nicholae came to his side, arms folded and eye following his gaze. "You were right. This is far beyond just us, at this point, depending on how far in it goes."

"Or how deep down it goes," Gulliver reminded with a huff.

"Or both," Raphael muttered.

Three head bobbed in agreement. "It explains why the ground lacks grass or any other sign of life," Nicholae continued. He cleared his throat, beckoning back with his head. "Problem is, said life began dying about a quarter of a mile back."

The Dragonfly exited the hole. It was spotless from its coating of holy water, but when it came back to Gulliver, he resprayed it anyway.

Jean ran a hand down his face. "I did not notice that..."

"We're definitely in over our heads."

A soft hum came from Sarkis. "Yes, but...where did they go?"

Moving away from the hole, Jean nodded. "Something's wrong. They're not even defending their nest."

"I know exactly why..."

"Why?" The worry in his mate's voice made Jean stiffen.

"You guys need to come back. NOW."

Not needing to be told twice, Jean beckoned his men to fall back. The Dragonflies took to the air again, and as they began to run, he asked, "Celezar, what's going on?"

"I'm coming your way; you aren't going to make it!"

"Wha—?"

All at once, the six of them went still. A horrible sensation of danger and potent power that could crush them with its potency alone ran through Jean's form. It went through all of them.

The sensation was familiar to Jean. He knew it was familiar to all of those who had seen the footage from Hugh, Artie, and Butch's cameras.

The devil is near.

"Form!" Jean managed to shout, and they all snapped out of their stupors to make a circle formation with their backs facing each other, guns drawn.

It was all they could do, really.

"What is this?" Sarkis whispered.

"A devil," Nicholae whispered back.

"C-Creation..." came Calvin's swear. "It's right on you!"

They simultaneously panicked, looking in all directions.

But there was nothing they could see.

"W-wait! Celezar got to it!"

A loud ripping noise erupted behind Jean followed by a heavy, earth-shattering thump. Stumbling, he spun to see the Celezar's large Infernal form fighting a larger form of what could only be Domien's own from Ridridge.

But Jean knew what this meant.

"RUN!" he shouted, creating platforms beneath him and his men.

They sped away, just in time to miss the two massive forms rolling on the ground. Snarling and growling continued behind them, becoming distant in moments, but he knew they couldn't outrun what was coming next.

"The mist! It's the fucking mist!" Calvin screamed in their ears. "It's moving—oh, Creation, it's fast!"

Jean spared a glance back. Said mist was upon Celezar and Domien by mere inches. In said mist was a tall form even larger than they were.

His heart skipped a beat, but he fought the overwhelming urge to stop and turn around.

There was nothing he could do to help.

"We're not going to make it, are we?" Raphael asked, his voice surprisingly even.

With a shaky exhale, Jean looked forward. The helicopter was too far away despite its visibility on the low horizon. "We're not going to make it."

Abruptly, the platforms dissipated beneath their feet. With shouts, they all went tumbling to the ground. Rolling into a crouch, Jean recovered first. He erected a large blue shield around them, eyes shutting as he felt the stark fear creeping into his being.

He didn't want to see it.

His men started screaming as they beheld the Entity's form.

His shield shattered, and he fell over, vomiting blood.

We're dying.

I'm going to die.

The last thing he heard was an enraged roar from his mate.

Sleep was greedily welcomed.

*    *    *

He awoke with a gasp, shooting upright in bed. "Celezar?" he called without thinking.

He spotted forms in the bright room with him, but he winced and shut his eyes from the headache that throbbed in the back of his head. Groaning, he placed a hand to his forehead, swearing softly.

"Good to see you awake, Jean-Luc."

His body froze.

He knew that voice.

He hated that voice.

"M...Mother?" he muttered, blinking through the pain and slightly blurred vision.

He was in the Cellar's infirmary, to his relief, but he seemed to have quite an audience. He focused on the sight of all of his men, except Celezar, standing around the room. Sarkis and those who were on the hunt with him, however, were upright in their beds.

All their expressions were grim. Some weren't looking at him.

Then, there was the woman at his far left.

His mother.

Gwendolyn Lowell.

What the...?

He slowly shook his head, eyes flickering at all of them. "What...What's going on?"

As if to answer his question, he became pointedly aware of his mate's presence beside him. At his far right, standing closer to the infirmary bathroom, stood Celezar. The hybrid's expression was a mix of peeved, deep sadness, and unrestrained anger.

He blinked at him, and then the cogs began to work in his head. "Mother, what's the meaning of this?" he demanded, moving to stand off the bed. "You aren't supposed to be here."

Sharp sapphire eyes bore into his. "When it regards the safety and purity of my family, I can do what I want."

He narrowed his eyes, sweeping his gaze over his men, and turned his mic on. "Someone better explain what the fuck is going on." No one responded. He glared at them. "Now."

Celezar softly began, "Hugh called for your mother—"

Gwendolyn's eyes snapped onto Celezar. "Do not speak in my presence, fiend," she said tersely. To Jean, she said, "You brought this thing here? To our sacred isle?"

Jean returned his mother's stare. "I imagine you already know."

"I want to hear it from you," she said, her voice taking an accusatory tone.

"No, Mother. You know. That suffices me." Moving his gaze from her, he took a few steps from his bed.

He felt her glare of outrage. "I raised you better than this, Jean-Luc. We do not consort with inhumans. Or have you forgotten?"

Celezar emitted a low, barely audible growl, and Jean shut his eyes to take a deep, steady breath.

There was no reason to fear this woman anymore.

Calmly, he said, "I won't explain myself again. You know why Celezar is here. For how long? As long as we need. He then goes on his way, and we will not hunt him." Before she could speak, he interjected, "He saved our lives again. For the fourth time, for me. He's not leaving, and I won't have my men get killed due to arrogance."

Gwendolyn wasn't a very tall woman, just reaching his chest. But she was fast.

Her hand darted out, just inches from his face, when he grabbed it without so much as batting an eye. Her eyes widened, so wide he could see all three corners of her sclera.

He was faster. "He is not leaving," he said evenly, enunciating every word.

She tore her hand away, hands clenching into fists. She stared upon him as if she didn't recognize him.

Taking advantage of her merciful silence, Jean continued, "You haven't seen what we've seen. You don't know what we know. We must work with inhumans, some way or another for a while, or we're all going to die."

Her eyes blazed with unfathomable hate and disgust. "If you do not kill him, YOU will be killed." The second of shocked hesitation in Jean's eyes was all she needed to point to Celezar. "Kill him."

A low, menacing growl was the response, and Jean's head snapped back to see Celezar inching forward, his eyes blazing red.

Red. Jean had never seen this before. Even he startled, turning to face his mate, but the sound of familiar clicking met his ears, as did the sound of a whispered incantation.

His head spun around to see Friedrich with two fingers raised to make a quick symbol, causing his jaw to drop.

"Sto—!"

He was blown away from where Celezar stood, and the sound of an inhuman scream brought his attention back to his mate, who was in a hauntingly familiar pose surrounded by light.

His head snapped back, a mouthful of needle-thin teeth on display, and his eyes rolled into his head, Celezar was barely visible in the glow of magic. Despite that, Jean saw his skin peeling, his hair flying up and out of his scalp.

Jean's mind brought him back to the day not too long ago when he used this very attack on Celezar.

He quickly went to his feet, unable to do anything but watch.

The energy eventually disappeared. The sight brought a choked feeling in his throat.

Burnt, charred, blackened. Celezar was beyond recognition. He fell over, and he used his hands to catch himself against the wall with an audible, pained groan.

Glaring back at Friedrich, Jean growled, "Stand DOWN." There was a commanding authority in his voice he never used before that made not just his uncle but several of his men flinch back.

Slowly, he turned his gaze onto his mother. She looked upon Celezar with a gleeful expression, and he wished he could do so many things to her in that moment, none of them pleasant.

Turning to face her, he took several steps forward. "Woman."

This address brought her attention to him, her eyes wide again.

"You dare waltz in here, unwanted, unannounced, and start ordering my men around? I will drag you the fuck out myself, if I have to." He bore his own dark gaze into hers, and he beckoned towards the doors with a nudge of his head. "Get OUT."

She was breathing hard, looking him up and down. Hers was an expression he had never seen before, but it told him this wasn't over. One last glance was sent towards Celezar, and with a sound of derision, she turned on her heels. She stormed towards the double doors, and the men gladly made way for her. She quickly disappeared up the short hall to the antechamber.

Once the doors stopped swinging, Jean slightly stumbled on his feet with fluttering eyes, but he caught himself.

He glanced back to see Celezar had healed, but he rested against the floorboard, eyes closed. "Celezar?"

The hybrid's eyes slightly opened. They weren't looking in any direction, gazing off into the ether. His expression of hurt broke Jean's heart, and he wished he could hug his mate in that moment.

"Well, then..." Celezar moved to his feet. "I see I'm not welcomed here."

"Wait." Lowering his hand, Jean took a step towards him. "Cele—"

Auburn hair swayed. "It's...pointless. I'm tired..." He didn't look at any of them.

One moment he was there.

A blink later, he was gone.

An unpleasant silence ensue, but the sensation of relief was also noticeable.

Hands tightening into fists, Jean gritted out a long swear. Once more, he rubbed his forehead. He had a legitimate headache.

"I see one of you told...Mrs. Lowell...about Celezar," he said, lowering his hand to stare at the floor.

His ears picked up the otherwise inaudible sound of someone swallowing. Yes. His men should be worried. Rarely was he truly angry, but it wasn't pleasant.

He raised and waved a hand at them. "Now, don't bother coming forward. All I want to know is why? You knew exactly why he came here. You knew I went and took the time to find him, and I so happened to find him at the right place at the right time. He didn't even want to come back, you know." He looked up. "So, what was the point, in the end? Time wasted?"

No one said anything. No one moved. He looked at each of them, shaking his head.

"And worst yet, you get my fucking mother? What, you couldn't talk to me? You had to go behind my back?" His eyes narrowed dangerously, and he began to motion for emphasis. "Who the fuck do you think I am? She isn't your leader. I AM. I bleed with you. I fight with you. Does she? No, and she has no business so much as stepping a foot in this outpost. Furthermore, if this devil incident has told me one thing, it is this: These creatures are so far out of our league, we might as well not be hunters, anymore.

"That is our reality, now. That is our threat. You all know damn well we're useless against such creatures, which is why I asked for Celezar's help. Like it or not, inhuman or not, Celezar was with us for six years. He bled with us, fought with us. I don't know why, but I do know that he had every chance under this barrier to attack us, manipulate us, kill us, do Creator knows what, and he didn't. Instead, he laughed with us. Drank with us. Cried with us.

"Do you have any idea how difficult a decision it was to bring him back here? It was the one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. And I've had some fucking choices. After all we've been through, I would think at least some of you understand the gravity of the situation we're in, because of that ineptitude.

"So, now, men," he exhaled, rubbing his temples. He then dropped his hands to turn a simmering expression on them. "I need to know something that I am damn fucking serious about. How many of you can I trust to make the right decision and where the fuck does your loyalty lie? How many of you want to mindlessly go about the life of a hunter, and how many of you want to actually live to fight the next day?"

His eyes flickered upon each of them, if waiting. Robin shifted, looking uncomfortable. Raphael pursed his lips. They knew better than to try answering; he wasn't looking for one.

Without warning, he turned to face Hugh. "What say you, Hugh?" he asked.

Jaw locked, Hugh avoided his leader's gaze. "You know why I did what I did—"

"No. No, actually, I don't." Jean slowly came closer. "Celezar had nothing to do with what happened to my sister."

At the mention of the late Lowell daughter, Hugh closed his eyes.

"Inhuman? Yes. The inhuman? No. I would have hoped that registered to you, despite everything. An inhuman killed my father. An inhuman killed Elijah and Wade and Jasper, my childhood friend. An inhuman killed my sister," he said, and then pointed to his face. "An inhuman did this to me. I ask you, do you think it was easy, making the decision to bring Celezar back here?"

Hugh shook his head.

"So, why do you think I did it?" Jean stared hard at him. "To be friends with an inhuman? To prove something?" He looked at them all. "Or was it me pushing aside my personal beliefs, my personal prejudices, to prevent what happened last time from happening again, to prevent us from dying as we would have today for the third fucking time? We're stretched thin. We're putting our lives in jeopardy in more ways than the typical norm, and it's not right. I did not and do not want you all to die from arrogance and for the sake of dogma."

Friedrich tightened his jaw, and Jean looked directly at him.

"Would you rather we died to keep face?" he asked challengingly.

"We don't consort with inhumans," the older man said solemnly.

"We don't consort with inhumans," Jean repeated, nodding his head. He shifted, raising a hand in anger. "We are right back where we started! We're in the same danger we were in before! Nothing has changed!" he bellowed, much to the visible shock of his men.

Baskerville whined as he rested near the jukebox.

Folding his arms, he quietly asked, "Now. Again. I ask you all: Where do your loyalties lie?" This time, he didn't look at them. With a humorless chuckle, he added, "Because I really don't want to get a new group."

He heard the audible gasps and soft sounds of shock.

Nodding, he pinched his nose bridge. His hair hid his face, and he sighed heavily and wearily.

Hands raising, he shook his head. "I can't..." He walked further into the room towards the exit.

No one stopped him when he left the building.