....and they took his advice. According to one holy man, God and all enlightment could be found upon the highest mountain. Only the holy man knew of the exact location. For a large fee he took seven devoted disciples on a month long pilgrimage to the summit. Trough snow, blood and sickness they struggled to the top. However, once at the summit, they were met only by silence. Nothing. No God, no enlightment and no answers. High upon the cold snow the holy man slaughtered each of them. With the belief that only God can take a life, the holy man became convinced of his calling as the chosen one. The son of God.
He quickly retreated from the blood soaked mountain with a powerful vision of what he had to do. He headed to the safest place he knew; the desert. There he could roam undetected and be at one with his thoughts. It would here that plans for his supercult were laid down.
Upon stealing a motorcycle he rode around for days picking up runaways and forgoten highway children to join his new cult of enlightment. He showed them love and violence. The balance of the world. He gave with one hand and took with the other. At times he new disciples would question the harsh techniques of their holy master. However, trough drugs, fear and repetive mantra, he persuaded them to stay in the desert with him until the time was right. "The time", he said, would come when the voices told him what to do.
Soon the disciples became heavily dependant on drugs and random violence. The worldly teachings of the holy one had changed their outlook. They had fallen completley under his spell. Suddenly the curtain of darkness fell. The voices had spoken... "Tonight's the night".
