The Four Horsemen of Apocalypse

It's time. They are here.


8. -Where

Where is it coming from? This... Maniacal laughter fills my head, obscuring all sound. Whatever I do, it just won't go away. But sometimes it's louder than others, sometimes it's unbearable, stinging my ears, giving me headaches and such. Sometimes it's soft. It's always maniacal. It won't go away, when I sleep it fills my dreams. A dark figure, surrounded by fighting, laughing their head off. It's unnerving.

Laughter filled the ears of all around her. A sword flashed, swerving between bullets. She didn't care who it cleaved through, as long as it tasted blood. It was sickening the amount of gore the blade met, as it danced through the battle. Many questioned the sanity of the young woman, as she twisted and turned as if she were on some giant dance floor. Around her, tough, trained men were firing at each other. There was a clear distinction between the sides. But her? She wore the colours of both, and was the target of both armies. United against her, they failed even more.

She wove between streaking lumps of lead and gunpowder, a manic grin on her face matched with her laughter. Later, the survivors would wonder what she found so funny, and why she enjoyed it so much. But that was later. That was after they survived her sword. With hair like fire fluttering after her, she gradually made her way to the edge of the fight. She was on a tight timetable, and still had much to do in the waning hours of the day. After at least an hour of fighting, she wasn't even tired. As the last shots were fired after her, she crossed over a hill and sighed. She loved her job. She really, really, loved her job. The woman wiped her sword on the grass, leaving two long lines of red staining the green, before sheathing it at her waist.

She turned and walked away, as if nothing had happened. No one seemed to notice her as the battle raged on behind. They were too busy being killed or killing.


She stretched out, her legs resting on the arm of the sofa. In the distance, a horse whinnied. The red-head sighed contentedly, twiddling her hair around one finger, watching the moving pictures with a smile on her face. She was watching the news. The wonderful news. The wonderful thing that told her of all the havoc she was causing. All of the wars. All of the battles. It was wonderful. It left a proud feeling deep inside herself. She swung her legs down, resting them on the floor, before pushing up, twirling around, and grinning. It wasn't a nice sort of smile, simply a pleased one. The man stepped out of the shadows. "Look at what we have here!" She cried.

The man snorted, before crossing his arms. "Could you give the wars just the teeniest breaks?" He complained, fixing her with a hard stare. "Conquest is hard to create if you keep putting my lands into war."

The woman smiled. "But that'd be no fun, Conquest, you should know that I hate mortals not having fun."

Conquest sighed, shaking his head sadly. "The thing with you, my lovely War, is that you don't know when to stop."

"Stopping's no fun." War pouted, acting very childish for someone her age. "Why can't you just take a... break? Loosen up a little?"

Conquest rolled his eyes, looking at his watch. "I'd better be going, or he's gonna start grumbling again." His eyes flashed playfully as he turned away. War waited for the door to close, before lying down on the sofa once more, and watching

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