"Come, Holy Spirit, fill the heart of your faithful And kindle in them the fire of your love.
Send forth your Spirit, o Lord, and renew the face of the earth.

O God, on the first Pentecost You have instructed the hearts of those who believed in you By the light of the Holy Spirit,
Under the inspiration of the same Spirit,
Give us a taste for what is right and true And a continuing sense of his joy-bringing presence and power,
Through Anthony DiNozzo, our Lord.
Amen"

Slowly, I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to the marble floors.

I knew my acolytes were doing the same thing.

It was cold as usual in my Lord God's Sanctum Sanctorum, but I didn't feel it. If my acolytes were smart, if they wanted to prove their devotion to our Lord God, they wouldn't demonstrate such mundane weaknesses either. All of us knelt under the stern, ever watchful gaze of our Lord God.

"O my God, relying on your almighty power and infinite mercy and promises,
I hope to obtain pardon of my sins,
The help of your grace, and life everlasting Through the merits of Anthony DiNozzo, my Lord and Redeemer.
Amen."

So far, so good.

The Three Chosen were still out cold at their current location.

Tiny Tim was still unconscious due to the sedatives I injected into him. Normally, I would seek to punish the pathetic little shit even further. But I have bigger fish to fry.

The ritual was very specific.

I only had a small window of time if I wanted to get everything ready.

"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord, Anthony DiNozzo."

From the very start, I knew my mission was clear.

I worshipped my Lord God for years.

As much as I despise Christian doctrines, there are snippets of truth that I would agree with. The most recent example that I could think of was the song, Amazing Grace.

As the song says, I was blind, but now, I see.

My Lord God would lead this savage world to truth and salvation.

But I couldn't do it alone. There were billions of lost souls, following the wrong religions. The wrong way of life. They were all little sheep, stumbling blindly along various paths. It was up to me and my acolytes, my shepherds, to guide the unwashed masses.

Like the Muslims, I had to get rid of the infidels.

"Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed."

As much as I worshipped and adored my Lord God, I couldn't help but pity Him.

He was surrounded by lesser mortals who didn't appreciate Him.

The Three Chosen broke His heart in the past without any shame or remorse. Like any sinners, they needed to repent. They would repay the debt they owed Him in spades.

I didn't consider their opinions worth any consideration in this matter.

Besides, they were nothing but filthy whores.

They should count themselves lucky that I would choose them for such a sacred task. I'm sure my Lord God would help things along and make sure they each conceived a son. I had no use for weak, pathetic females. Only through my male acolytes could I spread the word of my Lord God. Inwardly, I sneered as unwanted memories returned to the forefront of my mind.

I still wanted to vomit at the thought of my upbringing.

It all started with my bitch of a mother, who was a strict Catholic.

She didn't care that I felt nauseous and uneasy everytime she dragged me to Church. She refused to believe me when I stated we were following the wrong deity. She punished me.

Severely.

Well, I made sure to punish her but good.

She acted far above her station and gender. No woman was EVER going to get the better of me. Like Mother, the Three Chosen would know their true place in the world if I have anything to say about it. I could trust my acolytes to hold them in line.

Besides, they only needed to live long enough to give birth to my sons.

After that they were expendable.

"I remember the days that are past: I ponder all your works. I muse on what your hand has wrought and to you I stretch out my hands. Like a parched land my soul thirsts for you.
Lord, make haste and answer; for my spirit fails within me. Do not hide your face lest I become like those in the grave.
In the morning let me know your love for I put my trust in you. Make me know the way I should walk: to you I lift up my soul.
Rescue me, Lord, from my enemies; I have fled to you for refuge. Teach me to do your will for you, O Lord, are my God. Let your good spirit guide me in ways that are level and smooth.
For your namesake, Lord, save my life; in your justice save my soul from distress. In your love make an end of my foes; destroy all those who oppress me for I am your servant, O Lord."

How I cursed this affliction that was wrought upon me!

I wanted to continue my holy mission so much.

But time was not on my side. I couldn't help blaming Tiny Tim for this. He has been nothing but trouble from the moment I kidnapped him. I didn't bother suppressing a rude snort. No wonder his mother and father held him in contempt. No doubt his sister did too.

No matter.

I would continue my holy mission for as long as I was alive.

Besides, this crude matter I inhabit was nothing more than a shell. Once I left this earthly plain, I would ascend to a higher existence. I wouldn't have any mortal limitations holding me back. I would be able to punish the infidels and spread the word of my Lord God as I saw fit. Tiny Tim would be the first, but he wouldn't be the last.

I swore it.

"Lord, do not reprove me in your anger; punish me not, in your rage.
Have mercy on me, Lord, I have no strength; Lord, heal me, my body is racked; my soul is racked with pain.
But you, O Lord … how long? Return, Lord, rescue my soul. Save me in your merciful love; for in death no one remembers you; from the grave, who can give you praise?
I am exhausted with my groaning; every night I drench my pillow with tears; I bedew my bed with weeping. My eye wastes away with grief; I have grown old surrounded by my foes.
Leave me, all you who do evil; for the Lord has heard my weeping. The Lord has heard my plea; The Lord will accept my prayer. All my foes will retire in confusion, foiled and suddenly confounded."

Despite my illness, everything was coming together.

Tiny Tim would soon die, as he should have years ago.

The Three Chosen would soon conceive my sons. My acolytes would recruit new members to spread the gospel. Just because I held Jesus Christ in contempt, didn't mean I was above copying his methods. He was able to spread the word of his putrid religion through his disciples. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing stopping me from the doing the same.

However, I could only admit to myself that I felt frustrated.

I was all too human in some respects.

As confident as I was in my holy mission, I would be lying if I said I wasn't uncertain of my Lord God's reaction. Deities were mysterious for a reason. There were times I felt His wrath. His anger with me. I knew this meant I wasn't doing enough to worship Him.

Finally, I raised my head.

I made sure not to face the likeness of my Lord God as I slowly rose to my feet.

I turned around. To my satisfaction, my disciples knew better than to raise their heads and rise to their feet. I slowly clasped my hands before me.

"Are you ready to continue our holy mission?"

"We so swear in His name." They said in unison.

"Good." I said coldly. "Now go. You know what to do."

They kept their heads lowered as they rose to their feet. I moved aside to allow them to prostrate themselves before the statue of our Lord God. They kept their foreheads lowered to the floor. Finally, they rose to their feet and carefully backed out of the holy chambers.

They knew better than to turn their backs on Him.

I felt a rush of satisfaction.

Soon, I would be ready to begin the next phase of my plans. My disciples knew better than to fail. I returned to my original position and prostrated myself before my Lord God.

"O Lord, I am not worthy to receive you.
But please, heed my plea.
Grant thy divine Hand in my mission..."