What are you? (a Daimon) Oh please, let me give you the job description. Me, Dark-Hunter. You, Daimon. I hit, you bleed. I kill, you die. (Zarek)

Hop in? Dude, are you out of your ever-loving mind? I can’t touch this. I might leave a fingerprint or something. (Nick) Oh the horror. Guess I’ll have to trade the piece of junk in and get a new one if that happens. (Acheron)

For the record, we’re not friends. (Stryker) For the record, I don’t care. (Savitar)

I wonder why no one called the police about the rocket launcher? God knows my neighbors usually report it if I so much as fart in my backyard. (Bubba)

Yeah, I’m thinking it’s a reunion or, since it is our classmates, a collection of idiots. Let’s call it a meese. Like geese, only with morons. (Caleb)

People are basically irritating. Myself included.

I have you – a god of mixed heritage – on an expedition that could unleash the Destroyer from her hole. Arikos, another god, on the same team who is masquerading as a human. The demigod Solin, who I have to ride herd on constantly anyway, who gave them their permits. Megeara, a human who is sensitive and subjective to the voices of the gods. And the pissed-off goddess, Apollymi, who will do anything to be free, and once free wouldn’t hesitate to destroy every one of us. I can’t imagine why I’m concerned over this, can you? (ZT)