If Hell truly exists, it probably looks like this: the air is suffused with heat and the scent of blood, with flesh and blood sprawling like wild vines, densely consuming everything around. They spread along the damp walls, tendril-like veins weaving through crevices, dense and tangled like a fungal mat.
"Maintenance is simple, really, as long as the Demon doesn't get out of control. These rampant flesh masses need to be dealt with periodically, or else containment failure may occur... By the way, I'm planning to call this Demon 'Mother,' what do you think?"
One has to admit, the Plague Doctor's naming sense is truly atrocious.
Lawrence ignored him, focusing instead on the twisted flesh and steel. From below came a low sobbing growl, mingling with the Demon's breathing, causing this mountain-like body to sway gently, stirring the sparks within the furnace.
