 Now no, I meant my left, you imbecile. Now the head is on backwards. I knew you'd be no help." For the cultists of the Church of the Broken God, a long wait was over. After hundreds of years of painstakingly searching, they had collected all of the pieces of their deity, and all that was left to do was to assemble him. Searched around a withered parchment, ancient instructions passed down through generations, they set to work. Okay, so we're looking for one of those little short screw things. No, not that one, that's the wrong shape, see? We want a crosshead one. No, that's a long one. No, that, what even is that? Approximately a week had passed since the final part. The very heart of McCain, he who was broken, was located in return to its rightful place. Yet, all that the assembled disciples of his church had done was screw one of the legs together. It didn't quite look right. Well, we followed the manuals, so why the hell are there six toes? Each part of the broken God was piece by piece brought together in dark, hidden places, filled with ancient magic and cosmic horror, ready for the construction and ascension of him. No, no, this is definitely the right screw, cloup, that's the one. The holdus isn't big enough. Give me that drill. Oh, fuck. He doesn't need both of those, right? For the men, women, and other assorted cultists gathered, their entire lives had been spent in search of the parts of his body. This was the culmination of a lifelong dream, and victory was so close they could almost taste it. None of them had quite realized how difficult it would be, however, to assemble a supreme being with only an allen key and a screwdriver. Where did you even get these instructions, oh Grand High Priest? They came in the box, idiot. It's all flat-packed these days. Oh. It was hard, painful work, sacrifice, blood and oil and sweat mixed in, all serving a single purpose. The Reconstruction of the Ultimate Life Form, the universe's most powerful being. Missing. It has to be here somewhere. Have you checked the box again? You have? What about behind the desk, that's where we found the- no. What do you mean replacement parts may take up to five weeks? Bloody disgraceful. Day and night, without rest, the disciples of the broken god toiled away, slowly piecing their creator together. Fuck this, I'm converting to sarcasm.