Morning. Destino hated the mornings. As far back as as the Padre could remember, which in all honesty was not a very long time at all, he had always hated the mornings. The brilliant orb creeping up over the horizon always seemed to cut his sleep off early and bring him back into the waking world before he was ready. Waking up was that part of the day when Destino regretted not staying asleep, immersed in a blissful dreamland of destruction and torment. Waking up brought back the ever-present throbbing in the Padre's temples. Just a few seconds awake and there was not the faintest glimmer of hope that Destino would be able to sleep again, at least until his body once again collapsed on the desert sands in exhaustion. Alas, those seconds had already passed, and the searing in Destino's forehead was already too great to be ignored.

So the Padre stood up and looked around, trying to get his bearings. He had absolutely no idea where he was until he saw the Las Vegas skyline distant on the horizon. Ahhh, that's right. He said to himself, as parts of his memory came rushing back. He had spent most of the last week attempting to spread the good word to the citizens of Sin City, hoping they would be receptive to a creed that spurned no potential believers for being "too sinful." Alas, everyone he had spoken to was less than receptive. When the Undoing came it was their souls that would perish in the flames, and they would cry out to Padre Destino for mercy he would not provide even if he could.

But that was the week before, and more importantly that was in downtown Las Vegas. How in Gehenna had Destino ended up in the middle of the desert about 10 miles away from the city in just one evening that he could not remember? The Padre owned no car that he knew of, and kept all of his important possessions with him at all times: namely his robe, the Tome of Scriptures, and his staff. Thankfully, the old priest still had all of these close at hand. Strangely, there seemed to be no way for him to have made it this far into the desert in such a short time. Either the man had walked all night and barely slept a wink - a possibility, at least to the objectively-minded - or it was, as Destino quickly concluded, a miracle.

Padre Destino was no stranger to miracles. Throughout his ministry, the old man had become accustomed to frequent visions and hearing the voice of the Lord commanding him to spread the holy words written in the Tome of Scriptures. So when his eyes had adjusted to see into the bright light of the rising sun, and he saw the abandoned military warehouse standing a stones' throw to the east, Destino knew he had been sent here by his master to find much needed supplies that would aid in his quest to convert the world. Finally, the Great One would command the respect of the billions of people he would one day destroy!

Destino stumbled towards the warehouse with the deliberate strides of a man in intense, unending pain, and found that the gate was unlocked. Strange. The army depot was plastered with signs reading "DO NOT ENTER - USE OF DEADLY FORCE AUTHORIZED!" and seemed to be in active use, but today it was completely deserted and the front gate was left ajar. Clearly this was another miracle brought forth from the Flame, sweeping away all the base's guards so that the Padre could collect his needed supplies. And so he did.

There was an armory on site, complete with a large cache of illegal fully-automatic weaponry, as well as a large compliment of explosives and sidearms. But all of this paled in comparison to what Destino found sitting in the back, keys in ignition: a gassed-up, mint condition, state of the art half track in which he could transport all his worldly possessions. It was a glorious sight indeed! Truly the Dark Lord is generous to his followers, the priest said to himself. Destino knew that this was his chance. He loaded up the vehicle with all the supplies he could and sped off into the distance, intent upon founding the First Church of the Undoing in the unholy halls of sin city. Surely, it seemed to him, if he could preach the end times in a proper edifice all the followers he needed would follow shortly. As they say, "if you build it, they will come." And so, that very day, Padre Destino founded his church on the outskirts of the city of Las Vegas and awaited the appearance of his flock ...

Kilroy walks down the crowded street with look of grim determination on his face. He moves with a purpose into the middle of the street. Tires screech as cars swerve to avoid hitting the man. Two cars collide head on in front of him and Kilroy climbs to the top of wreckage.

People! People!

Ladies and gentlemen listen to me!

Do not take lightly the message brought to you by Padre_Destino. Do not write it off as the ramblings of a mad man. There are forces in this world that the masses cannot and will not ever understand. There are a luck few...a chosen few...that will be granted an understanding. Padre_Destino and his church are the portal by which these understands my come to pass for these luck individuals.

I have spent my life waiting for my purpose to be known to me. Long have I wandered aimlessly around these streets looking for that which I was meant to serve. I have found. I warn you all that in the coming years there will be a great destruction. Millions will die. Cities will burn and be reduced to rubble. Nations will fall and nations will be born. Some of these nations will be the source of conflict for centuries. There will be a common message spread across these battlefields which will span across continents and engulf the world.

Kilroy was here.

What is your purpose? Who do you serve? Will you be one of chosen few to understand? There is only one way to find out. You must make your pilgrimage to Las Vegas and find the church.

What church you may ask?

If you are chosen you will know.