Gnaw Bone, Indiana seemed especially desolate at this time of night. It was ten minutes until 3 AM, the witching hour, and there was so much to do. Everything had to be just right, because at 3 AM, they would hold the ritual. And with the ritual, they would be ready to make the sacrifice.
"We're running out of time," Daedalus opined as he paced back and forth.
The Astro-Creeps weren't actually at the farmhouse they had come to call home. This sort of business was best done away from one's domicile. "Don't shit where you eat" is the phrase that best came to mind for the mouthpiece of the group, but truthfully he didn't want any bad juju to linger at the place where they planned to write the final chapter of their prey.
Instead, they found an area of the woods nearby, several miles away, where they could do as many rituals as they wanted without tainting the energy they wanted to carry into Monday. Tempest sat nearby in a chair, hands parallel to each other, one on each knee, grasping each kneecap firmly. He drummed the fingers along the bone, but that was the only noise he made.
Ny-Otep came in carrying a large drum, all on his own, and set it down in the middle with a thud. A plume of dirt kicked up along the sides as he did so.
"The sacrifice," Tempest whispered, barely able to contain his glee. Even as he did, he kept his static seating arrangement.
"Yes, the sacrifice," Daedalus agreed. "But the ritual comes first, doesn't it?"
"The ritual," Tempest agreed. He was barely human on this night, if one could ever describe him as human at all.
Ny-Otep continued gathering the items, stepping forward again and placing a small bag in Daedalus' hand. Daedalus opened the bag.
"Never quite sure if the parts you gather are from humans are not," he said, bemused. "But that's part of the fun, isn't it?"
Ny-Otep nodded as he passed. He was too busy to talk, and Tempest was off in another world. As was often the case, Daedalus was the most talkative of the bunch, at least for now.
The largest of the Creeps came forward again, setting down a jug of gasoline and a book of matches on top of it.
As for Tempest, he rocked slightly where he sat and began to roll his head around. He was growing impatient. Daedalus eyed him warily.
"I suppose everything is gathered, except the last piece," he said.
"Sacrifice," Tempest mumbled.
"I do love how you throw yourself into these things."
Daedalus and Ny-Otep surrounded the rusted-out barrel that sat before them. Inside were various twigs and branches, not big enough to interfere but big enough that they wouldn't burn up. The biggest Creep turned over the jug of gasoline and poured its contents into the top.
"Not so much," Daedalus warned, and Ny-Otep backed off.
The two both did, as Daedalus lit a single match, before holding it to the rest. Tempest's eyes finally opened, as he watched the matchbook go up. Daedalus released it as soon as it did, and a fireball flew from his hand down into the barrel. The gasoline ignited a miniature explosion, a tower of flames that shot out briefly. It was enough to singe the hairs on anyone within its range. It lowered enough to be safe for the Creeps, ready to complete the ritual.
"Now," Daedalus started, looking at the other to. "Now for our other...items."
He withdrew a few items himself and handed the rest to Ny-Otep. The most important parts, the parts that needed to be cleansed, remained under Tempest's seat. Tempest only stared forward, his knuckles turning as white as his facepaint as he gripped his knees firmly.
"First, we have the teeth of a dog," Daedalus said without an ounce of shame. "I won't ask how you got them."
Ny-Otep smiled, as if he were remembering that exact incident. Daedalus dropped the teeth inside the still-burning canister that stood between them. Ny-Otep reached into the cloth sack himself.
"Fingers of a madman," he grunted. He held out a hand and in his palm were three human finger bones. They were old and dirty, brittle. Likely obtained from a bit of grave-robbing. Likely. He dropped them in.
Daedalus plucked another item as Tempest watched on. His contributions were last. The final achievements. A bit of himself.
"Skin of a snake," he boomed. "Such as the snake that threatens our own Garden of Eden." A large chunk of snakeskin, recently shed from the looks of it, dropped down into the fire. Daedalus held both of his hands outward to show his comrades that he had contributed his part.
Ny-Otep reached inside again, grabbing his own final items. "Feathers of a vulture," he announced.
"Yes, the scavenger," Daedalus agreed. "A parasite hoping to feed off our now-dead hospitality."
The big man turned his hand and the feathers fluttered down into the flames. He and Daedalus then took a step back as Tempest began to rise from the chair. In the middle of the rest of the ingredients being added, Tempest had been gathering his own. He stepped forward with a wicked grin, barely able to contain himself. In his arms were an outfit he had only worn recently. A gaudy, sparkling ringmaster coat colored red, white and blue. A cane. A top hat with similar colors.
"The remains of J Cheever Loophole," Daedalus spoke for him. "We won't be needing him anymore after we're done."
Tempest let the items fall from his arms into the barrel. The flames died down due to the size of the contents, which nearly smothered them. However the material was very flammable, so they quickly caught and the fire grew brighter, bigger and hotter than it had before.
Daedalus pulled a switchblade from his pocket and passed it over to Tempest. "Our special child," he said. "Born to corrupt the wastes that plague our profession. You corrupted your Final Girl. You tainted the one called Kenzi that came before you. Now...you must eliminate the one known as JC."
"Jaaaaaaaaay Ceeeeeeee," Tempest added, grinning and taking the knife. He popped the button and the blade flew out. The light from the flames glinted against it in an otherwise pitch black night.
"Brother," Daedalus continued. "Feel the earth. Taste of the air. Do you hear the sound of the clouds? The scent of the wind? They are all becoming one."
As he spoke, a loud thundering boom could be heard in the distance. A storm was it approaching. Was it the cause of what they were doing? Was it coincidence? Did they report the weather on Channel 13? Only three people knew for sure, and they weren't telling.
"The whores and the deceivers in UGWC continue to gather," Daedalus warned. "Tempest, you are the blade by which they will bleed."
Tempest held the blade up to his palm directly along what is normally considered the 'lifeline'.
"Dear Tempest, bleed us a victory. Cleanse yourself of JC Loophole and then cleanse the world of the broken old fool that arrives here to stop us."
"Bleed us a victory," Ny-Otep echoed.
"Bleed us a victory," Daedalus and Ny-Otep yelled in unison.
Tempest paid no attention to them. His eyes were drawn to the steel, which remained cold against his palm.
"Bleed us a victory," he murmured. Then he yanked the blade downward against him and the line on his palm began to grow red. If the cut pained him, his face never showed it. He held his hand out over the fire as the blood began to accumulate, then closed his hand into a fist. It poured from the wound and drizzled downward into the flames. He stood that way for what felt like an eternity, until the blood flow managed to cease to mere drops. He wearily stepped backward as the thunder drowned out all noise momentarily.
Tempest let himself fall into his seat. Ny-Otep grabbed the cloth bag he had been holding and ripped it at the seams. He went to Tempest's side as he extended the bloody palm. His large companion took a surprising amount of care when wrapping the cloth around his hand, before tying it off.
"Congratulations," Daedalus said. "JC Loophole is no more. You have been cleansed."
"Cleansed," Tempest repeated, tired.
Ny-Otep reached down on the ground and pulled forth a large skull, which still had antlers. The skull of a ram, with its lower jawbone removed. He went around behind Tempest on his makeshift throne and placed the skull on top of his head. Whatever had been done to it in preparation, it fit him perfectly.
The sky opened and rain began to pour down, as if it had been holding back for this very moment. Daedalus smiled at his charge warmly.
"All hail Tempest, slayer of giants."
"All hail Tempest," Ny-Otep agreed, his voice almost drowned out by more thunder.
"Do you have any last words before this ritual ends?" Daedalus inquired.
Tempest thought for a moment. He watched as the rain flew down onto the fire they had just painstakingly put together. The flames had begun to die down quickly after doing their work. Everything was being washed away. Doubly cleansed, by fire and water. The filth of JC was no longer haunting the Creeps, and soon he would put the final nail in the coffin.
Tempest considered what to say. He wasn't in the mood for a lengthy speech. He felt drained. The ritual had taken a lot out of him. The slayer of giants needed to prepare. The ritual was over but there was still so much to be done.
"Well?" Daedalus pressed.
"Goodbye Jay Cee," Tempest said, that same wicked grin growing on his face again.
The rain continued to fall and the fire finally died.
“Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?"
