A circle of robed, hooded figures stands waiting in a clearing in the thickest part of the woods. At the altar, the sacrifice waits passively between two tall silver candelabra, having already accepted its fate, hypnotized by its own reflection in the ritual blade, and the potent incense wafting about. One of the robes silently, deliberately makes his way to the DJ table and brushes the fallen autumn leaves off of the decks with his hands. The PA thumps on, the needle crackles for a moment, and thunderous, cascading lockstep beats full of cinematic fury and drama burst forth from the towering speakers. Melancholy acoustic guitar lines fall on the scene like the first wet storm of winter. Orchestral arrangements pierce the night as the robes begin their dance, raising their fists, circling, and nodding their heads. The spirit of Nobody has been invoked. Beware.