He was in utter shock and confusion. The crusader that he though was a man... Wasn't. "Well this is nice... As well as surprising." He said as he stood there with everyone. He felt as though he didn't quite fit in with the group. A modern day human with one arm around these different crazy demons, a crusader, a king, and a weird bug guy who liked mushrooms. He also happened to be one of the smallest, which wasn't a problem to him really. "So... Now what?" He asked, not quite sure of what the plan was from here. But they succeeded, he thought to himself. He just wished that he had his arm back.

"Excellent question, young Toby," Villiam stated, arriving at that moment with Betty in tow. "I am pleased to see that Nefas has been dealt with. Kritch and I have obtained our goal and now our ride should be appearing momentarily. The next phase of our mission can then begin."

The poison spirit made his way forward, engaging with the crowd of his comrades. What they had achieved in his absence was really quite impressive. The spirit had to admit he was thankful that this army of misfits was on his side. Of course, as news spread throughout Hell of what they could do, the challenges would only become more frequent and dangerous. That meant that what they could do had to be improved upon. Ah, now that was where V could really shine, yes! Naturally he would have to help improve the weakest link of the chain first, which meant...

"It should take some measure of time for us to reach our next destination and learn of the next goal. While that happens, I would like to craft something you should find very... Useful, Toby." Though made of semi-fluid semi-solid toxins, the spirit's voice was quite smooth. "A mechanical arm, several times stronger than a normal human arm with multiple functionalities."

As the prisoners rioted on outside the prison, funneling out at the behest of both Deprave and Poncho, the rest of the group exited as well, Betty in tow of the rat and poisonous cloud. Surprisingly, she wasn't feeling that social, maybe because of the bombshell of Mike possibly betraying her or the chaos of the prison break. Either way, the max she did was shoot the muscly Deprave a wink.

Over the roar of the mass of unchained men and women, the screech of tires could be heard. The RV was here, it seemed. It was practically huge, most definitely able to seat all 9 passengers, probably even allow the to bed. It was also quite fast and light, judging by how quick it hit the scene and the sharp turn it pulled to get the door facing the prison. Out of it stepped a rabbit looking woman, oddly scarred and torn like an overused plush doll revealing muscle and pale skin beneath the surface of her fur. Stepping out onto the scene, absentmindedly tugging at her trenchcoat, she gave the prison a once over.

"What in the hell..." She muttered to herself. Quickly, she got over the surprise and replaced it with a dry sarcasm. "Looks like you guys had fun but mommy's here to pick you up. Get the hell in the van before whoever you pissed off wakes up." She commanded, motioning to the vehicle.

Once everyone was inside they'd notice how nice it was. The entire place was lined with shining granite and somehow unrotted wood. It had full amenities, a bathroom with a hot standing shower, a sink, and of course a toilet. The kitchen had a few pots, pans, dishes, bowls, and cups in the cupboards, though noticeably nothing to cook. If anyone did want to cook, though an electric stove, as well as a microwave and fridge were there. Finally, there were a few couches near the front and two bedrooms with a queen sized bed each in the back.

"Here's where you'll be staying. Don't get any blood on the couches Conan, or your ass is out." She mentioned, pointing an accusatory finger at Deprave. "We don't have any food but Barkeep stashed some alcohol in the fridge. Use the coasters in the kitchen draw. I'll be needing one of you to switch off with at some time so if anyone wants to volunteer, feel free. Just to clarify, everyone's here?" She asked. Once she got confirmation, she'd close the door and start driving.

"Here we go."

Before anything, Jen went up to Kritch once he arrived and very kindly asked him a question. "Hello Kritch. I would like my tent back soon, but you can keep it for the time being... also your paw is going to be ok." Sure she had a lot of shit in that tent, but she didn't want to be rude to Kritch. He seemed like a good guy in the long run, and Jen saw his little rat face as oddly adorable.

When the RV pulled up, Jen was relatively surprised at the condition it was in. She'd never seen an RV before either, so this was incredible to actually witness. The crusader went wide eyed and ran inside the RV filled with excitement and marveled at everything in it. From the chairs to the kitchen to the shower to the bedrooms, Jen was absolutely stupefied by it all. Out of haste, Jen quickly took one of the bedrooms for herself and placed her helmet on the bed very orderly, as well as her shield. Her mace stayed with her though, in case she needed to beat the shit out of anyone who took her room. Afterwards, she returned to the main room of the RV and kept marveling at everything. "What sort of besieging machine is this, Weaver? I have never seen something quite like it."

Kritch had finally made his way out of that horrible prison, he had been hobbling behind the other two hellscapers to the escape vehicle while dodging those unruly prisoners that were swarming back into the terrible place called Hell. His hand was still mangled from the previous encounter, the initial pain had subsided but having a broken hand throb and bleed was still pretty inconvenient. Still, while escaping Kritch had the pleasure to see the desecrated corpse of the one that gave him quite the scare while in the vents. These even more unruly creatures seemed to have some sort of fighting capability that Kritch could rely on as he sticks towards the back watching them fight from the shadows. It was a thought, but it had to wait as an even louder noise than the screaming and yelling prison crowd was overpowered by a high pitched squealing that caused Kritch's back fur to stand straight up. The noise came from a large and fast vehicle hurdling towards their position, the squealing came from when it stopped ahead of the group before the supposed escape driver told them to hop in before that horrible beast wakes up again to start a rematch. The rat demon quickly hurtled towards the entrance, even if the vehicle was a bit smaller than he liked, it would provide ample time to recover and hide with his injuries.

Entering the surprisingly nice vehicle, a bit too nice for Kritch's standards, all seemed to be inside the vehicle as it drove away from the crowd of angry rioters outside the prison. He was still gripping his the wrist of his broken hand tightly, he would need this to be fixed as fast as possible in case of things got violent. Kritch took a few steps, sniffing and eyeing every corner and shadow to find any thing that the rat would find suspicious. He had also dropped the tent in the middle of room, sliding it off his back releasing the weight from his shoulders and allowing him to move his arms in a more free motion. Still, it seemed that this velchile was safe for now, he still didn't trust his surrounding but let himself relax just an inch more allowing him not to murder anyone that would touch his shoulder unannounced. So, he took his butt to a far corner of the RV and sat with his weapons on his lap and his eyes switching rapidly from area to area.

Clambering into "that thing with the wheels", or however it was called by those more proficient with the latest technological advancements than someone who had not spent a single hour of his millennia-spanning life bringing his knowledge of the outside world, nether or not, up to date, had proven for Old N fraught with more than a few difficulties. For one, the door leading into its interior was too low and, more importantly, too narrow for him to easily make his way through it; adding to this the fact that his pincers were in no condition for him to grip something inside and pull himself through (which was just as well, as he probably would only have succeeded in uprooting whatever he would have grabbed and falling back out) or to huddle into a hopefully more manageable position, as the pain of having them crushed between the door-frame and the rest of himself would have been too much to endure. Having inconclusively prodded his head through the door a few times, however, he was suddenly struck by what seemed to him the best idea he had had as far as he could remember, which was sometime last week.

Moments later, Old N's pincers came sliding through the door, followed by the demon himself, who, lying precariously on his side, propelled himself through the door with his lesser ventral limbs. Having finally succeeded in bringing his entire armoured bulk through the forbidding portal, he was met with another minor inconvenience - the corridor he was in was too small for him to stand up. Producing a sound vaguely resembling a grunt, he proceeded to crawl sideways further along, knocking his head against a few walls and assorted items as he navigated the unfamiliar complex. Finally, frustrated with the continuous impediments to his progress, he miraculously contrived to turn into the nearest enclosed space - which happened to be the bathroom. Filling most of the chamber, Old N spread himself over the floor, his head thrust into the shower (he contemplated turning it on for a moment, but then decided he had already moved enough for the day, and remained still) and, before long, the sound of his snoring, which was not altogether unlike the grinding of a sawmill, could be heard through the entire vehicle.

Soon enough, everybody else turned up at the appropriate place at the appropriate time, including the hot as hell lizard lady they'd come to retrieve from the prison. Her wink in Deprave's direction did not escape his notice, and he grinned back at her whilst raising his eyebrows in her direction. She'd be a real priority when the time came to seduce some bitches, all things considered. In short order after that, their transport turned up, a fuckhuge RV driven by rabbit lady who was all trenchcoat and torn-up skin. Weaver, he believed she was called: quite attractive in her own right, and certainly readily ogled, but she was already snarking off at everybody. Exactly the sort of person he loved breaking down into tiny little pieces, in every way... but alas, he was once again reminded of his need to not do that, not least because she was driving them where they needed to go.

Speaking of which, time to hop in (ahaha, bunny puns). He climbed into the van behind Old N, Glug still draped over his shoulder like a retarded, drugged-out, dickless ragdoll, only for the bunnygirl to tell him he'd be kicked out if he got blood on any of the couches. 'Yeah, good luck getting me out even if I do,' he retorted almost immediately. 'Beside, if anybody's gonna get blood everywhere, it's gonna be this guy Flag right here.' That said, he promptly dropped Plug on to the nearest flat surface, then moved forward so he could examine the rest of the van, coincidentally allowing the rest of the crew to get on behind him. And he'd admit, it was a very nice vehicle. Certainly, he'd long since gotten used to the incredible, albeit rather odd-looking opulences that the modern day held compared to when he'd been alive so many thousands of years ago. Especially the beds, made of so much softness he could weep at the sight. And just his size, too! He promptly leapt on to the one that... fffeeeemale Jonathan... had not yet claimed for himself... er, herself... and lay back upon it, his width covering pretty much the whole thing, marvelling once more at how far the world had advanced since his time. Amazing stuff. And he was sure the alcohol would be much-appreciated by all and sundry too.

Being the last one on the bus, he had to take a seat where he could. He scooted into a corner and kept to himself. This ride would be nothing less than awkward for him, considering the rag-tag group. He opened his bag and began to reorganize it's contents. He pulled out his Teddy Bear and sat it in his lap, it was very sentimental to him. He surprisingly still had a picture in his bag from before his death. He eventually closed his bag and sat in the corner of the bus. He didn't say a word as everyone got comfortable and settled in.

Grog's head dangled aimlessly as Deprave carried him into the sickest fucking RV he had seen in his entire goddamn life. The Mayan dropped him with minimal caution, as expected, just as he had entered the surprisingly spacious, and fancy, interior. The vandal fell with an audible flop, and his first thought was, obviously, to crawl towards the kitchen immediately after the strange rabbit-demon informed the lot of what was inside. Jesus, though. Rabbit-girls? Why would a demon fall so low? Before dying, Grog always thought that hell was full of those goat-legged, red skinned humanoids with an insatiable appetite for violence, not some reclusive high-schooler's questionable fantasies with oddly clean motor homes.

Having finally reached the kitchen after a heroic effort, he somehow climbed onto a chair before slowly sliding across the room at small bursts, grabbing onto every available surface and somewhat messing up the neatly organized kitchen in the meantime, he reached his intended destination. He opened the fridge in one abrupt motion, basking in its' golden light and artificially chill gusts of wind.

A few moments later, the masked vandal shouted, in hopes of the rabbit chick hearing him.

"Hey Bugs. If we can somehow unburn my crotch, I could drive this thing like nobody's business."

Villiam had to silently appreciate the vehicle that pulled up to pick the group up. The machine was a work of art, and if anybody could look over a machine to enjoy its mechanics and aesthetics, it was definitely him. In fact he specifically waited for everyone else to board first, just so he could enjoy the visual stimulation of this gorgeous automobile for a bit longer. He took it all in and instantly began to theorize what sort of parts and pieces went under that hood. He could delay no longer though and stepped inside.

The interior was well designed, but the poison spirit just didn't hold the same attention to it. This was more an interior decorator's dream, not a mechanic's. Impressive yes, but not his kind of impressive. Then the bandaged lagomorpha demon shut the doors and took off, while saying something about switching drivers for a longer trip. V distinctly heard the annoying drunken grumblings of Grog calling out how he could drive the vehicle once healed and the spirit gained an instant sense of panic and dread. He cannot be allowed to take this magnificent machine's wheel at any cost! We'll crash in a fireball of despair within seconds!

"Pardon me, miss Weaver," he said, remembering Barkeep's name of their driver. "I have all of my faculties in check right now, both physical and mental. I would be quite proud to have the opportunity to assist in the driving and general upkeep of your vehicle."