"Nngh! Oh God," he groaned, his head dipping. Fear laced his blood, pushing adrenaline through his heart. Fingernails scrapped with dirt and grime of the city street, broken glass and soiled sidewalk. His lips drew to those armored feet, hate and spit hissing between his teeth. He paused, quivering, before looking up at Azrael.

"I did this to you," he whispered. "I confess. I made you feel like this. I did it with Desire. You're not a god. You're just Michael Lane, a man beneath his own blood."