AND THERE WAS MUCH REJOICING. The crowd inside the bus cheered as a group of mostly battle-priests excised the demons assaulting them, and the injured mother was carried forward, offering her thanks to Grigori. "You saved my baby!" she repeated. "My baby!"
A shaky bus driver exited the bus, and greeted the demon hunters. "Thank you! Is there any chance you can help us get out of the city? The front tires are slashed, and a scythe was lodged in the engine; I think it cut the gas line."

A short distance away, the helicopter pilot picked himself up from the snowbank, taking a deep breath. "Thanks for the save, kid. The name's Lieutenant Left. I don't know what the hell those things are, but they're more your expertise than the army's, huh?"
He reloaded his handgun, and nodded. "I think I can make it back to base, but listen. There's an attache case a grenadier team left on the roof of an apartment building two blocks north. You might like what's inside."


[h3]ELSEWHERE[/h3]
Harold Robinson was a portly, balding gentleman in an ill-fitting and tacky suit, sitting on a bench on Lukewarm Avenue. He was entirely unaware of the city-wide evacuation, as he had spent the morning watching reruns of Friends. He was also entirely intent on suing Baal and a local business owner after the pair had torn his Cadillac in half during a particularly nasty battle.
"Late again, Cane?" he sighed to himself, wiping his sweaty brow with a hanky. "I swear, we make a killing every time that white haired freak smashes my car. Who the Hell passes up easy money like this?"

[h3]ALSO ELSEWHERE[/h3]
A low rider cruised up by Alonzo's ship, blasting what could only be called an obscene mix of heavy metal and Slavic folk music. An Imp poked its head out the window, staring up at the ghostly Spaniard while it puffed on a cigarello.
"Ey mang, you 'ere for the 'thing'? Jus' say the word, mane, I'll 'ave you goin' in an hour, tops."