It doesn't work that way, Jonathan. You will help me to bring Hell to Earth; in return, you get to come along for the ride, and perhaps I may even help you to become more than a man, inside and out; a thing of such power that even the bravest of men will tremble to behold you.

[ Perhaps he couldn't make demons here, perhaps the promise was empty, but he hadn't tested it yet. It took more than a word here or there to poison a human soul, even one so corrupted as Crane's already was.

He sniffed, and then smiled, and his seriousness shook away. He pulled himself up to sit on the desk in front of Crane, leaning slightly over the desk toward him, a picture of casual ease. Really, he wasn't any kind of traditional picture of the devil. No pointed beard, no horns and tail, no golden curls, no suit and cane. Just a thirty-something dirty blond man with five o'clock shadow. Here sat Lucifer himself on Jonathan Crane's desk.

He crossed his legs, and swung one idly. ]

I have an abundance of the unthinking at my disposal. My Flock have been awaiting my return for some time, and they're more than willing to further the cause. Your cause. Tell me the skills you need, and I'll find you your tributes.

Humanity is dependent on so much, Jonathan. The things they put into their bodies, spray on them, inject into them. The possibilities are endless.