It's hell.

It has been raining every single day I've been back here. Add to that the repressive heat, the smog, and the high humidity, it's like the paragon of...well...hell.

I'm sure Diablo actually lives in the sewers here. In fact, I can probably guarantee that this is his kitchen, because I'm absolutely roasting. I know I'm quite tender and delicious, the sweet nectar that is my sweat flowing from my pores. Yet I'd much prefer not to be eaten at all, at least I'd look better in the coffin at my wake if I was in my complete self.

Thank God for inventing air conditioning...