Top right is Death's armor in this story.

I watch them all come,
Gotta watch the rest go,
I'm married to the devil in the city of angels,
So come all you wicked,
To the world of the empty,
I know I need it all,
So baby, don't tempt me.

-Hollywood Undead, We Are

2

"I thought that we were supposed to meet War here," grumbled Strife, shooting an accusing look at his twin sister, Fury. "You were the one who was supposed to tell him."

Fury pursed her lips at him, deciding that bickering with him wasn't something that she wanted to do at the moment. Her hair, a deep purple in color, swayed slightly out behind her as she sank on one of her wide hips that were accented by the belts that crisscrossed over them. Yellow eyes studied the forest as the set of claws on her left hand. They clicked mechanically against the spiked decorations that hid her ears. The collar of her tunic crawled up her neck in several layers, being held on by a belt that crossed over her chest. Her outfit, being made of the strongest and lightest metals possible, clung to her like a second skin. Gloves on both of her arms reached her elbows and most of her toned belly was exposed through the hole in her armor. Tattoos, dark in color and delicate in nature, decorated the bare skin of her left shoulder that was visible, including a set that were on her forehead. Hooked on one of her hips was her whip, rolled up tightly but still pulsing as if it was alive. Plump lips formed a frown as she turned her head toward her twin, one eyebrow lifting.

"Of course, brother," she replied. Her voice was deep for a woman, but still feminine, and had contained a silky and authoritative tone to it. It was only to be expected of a woman who was the last of her kind.

A woman who had killed them herself.

Strife huffed, shooting her a glare. The similarity between the siblings was almost impossible to catch unless he wasn't wearing his mask. Fury was slim, lean, having a body that was made for moving quickly. Strife was thick; he was built much like his brothers, Death and War, with a bulging chest, wide shoulders, and huge muscles. He was slightly different though. Being more agile than the two, Strife was taller with a slightly longer torso and a more graceful body. Unlike his brothers, he was not burdened with carrying large weapons like Chaoseater and Harvester. No. He had the guns. Two pistols, neither identical, but two separate pistols named Redemption and Mercy, Mercy being the smaller of the two. He had accidentally.... misplaced them when he had been chasing down the shape-shifting demon named Alooc by the commands of the Charred Council. As it turned out, War and Death had possession of them when he hadn't. Normally they would be resting on the harnesses that he had on the belt about his waist; he had never felt so naked without them before. Otherwise Strife was decked out in a tight black suit, having the thicker white pieces of armor that protected him. A maroon scarf that he had since he could remember was wrapped about his neck and shoulders, the tails having been ripped from age and slightly discolored. He, also like his sister, wore gloves that went up past his elbows. And, peeking just above the top of his scarf, was a tattoo of two pistols above a skull.

The thing was about being a Nephilim was that the Horsemen were the only ones left. That made things slightly trickier but also simpler. Under the pledge from the Council, the Horsemen were immortal. Strife had tried to kill himself for the hell of it several ways; he had jumped off a cliff, he had decapitated himself, and he had stabbed himself until he couldn't tell it was him anymore. And, guess what? He hadn't died.

There were some advances to being a Horsemen though. They had literally had the entire galaxy on their fingertips -all he had to do was call his horse, say a few things under his breathe, and he could go to an entire different universe- and they had their horses. His horse, Turmoil, was large, had white fire sprouting from his mane, tail, and hooves, and could bulldoze over demons like it was nothing. What more could he ask for?

It was the Charred Council, however, that had brought the Horsemen to Earth. Strife had been at a bar when the last connection that the Horsemen had to the Council had been severed. While it had been a gradual thing supposedly, the second that the Council had disappeared had been the second that Strife had actually felt a deep, deep pain cut through his chest. Even though he was immortal, wounds he could still feel, but this had been a different kind of pain. It had been a pain where he had excused himself from the demon that he had been flirting with to find a secluded area and crumpled to the ground for a few hours to recover while Turmoil, who was unaffected, stood nearby, snorting in confusion. A type of pain he hadn't felt since he was mortal. His siblings had felt the same thing, which was exactly why they were on this miserable planet on the first place.

"You may not want to turn at that angle," Strife piped up after a moment's silence and then added when his sister had turned, "It makes your butt look huge." While Fury gasped, looking over her shoulder, Strife burst out laughing and almost succeeded in falling off the side of his log that he was sitting on.

Now that was something that he had missed about being Horsemen. While traveling was great, he didn't get the chance to tease his siblings or play jokes on them. But that was just Strife. None of his brothers or sister thought that his jesting was funny and that only made it so much better in his eyes. As a Horseman, all he ever did was kill things -which was great, but he had had his full from that after finally succeeding in bringing Alooc's slimy head to the Council. Body unattached.

"Why are you even looking at it?" Fury mumbled, shooting him a glare.

Strife shrugged. "I'm not trying too. It's just right there, ya know?"

"I don't know why you're laughing. Your scarf makes your head look small," Fury remarked, yellow eyes narrowed into slits as Strife only laughed some more. Crossing her arms, she leaned some more on her hip, impatiently looking around. "Where's our brother?"

"Which one? War or Death?"

"Both," Fury snapped. "Are you oblivious to the fact that neither one of them are here?"

"Does caring count? Because really, I don't." Strife smirked as Fury gave an annoyed sigh, shooting him one of her oh-so-famous glares. He watched the Horsewoman pace for a few moments before sighing himself, propping his chin up in his hands. "Look, Fury, they're going to get here when they get here. Besides, Death comes to us all right?" He chuckled at his own joke.

A small thud of a footfall made Strife and Fury whipped around. Standing there, a frown upon his face, was Death himself. No longer did he need the skull mask that he had once had; there was no point any longer when the souls of the Nephilim that had been trapped in his chest had been sacrificed to bring the Kingdom of Man back. There was a scar now where it had been, settled in darker patches on the right side of his stretched chest. Without the mask, Death was still recognizable. It was partially due to the gray color of his skin and the way that his skin seemed taunt against the bones and muscles of his body. About his neck, just above the scar on his chest, was a dark purple hood, a network of interlacing bones keeping the fabric from falling off. Gauntlets with bones and other symbols had been made them on either of his arms. Belts that covered his stomach kept the sight of his muscular stomach from view and heavy armor was hanging from his hips, protecting his hips with skulls yet again designing them. More dark purple cloth fell from the belts around Death's narrow hips and Strife smirked as he gestured at the worn fabric.

"Nice skirt, brother."

Death smirked. "Indeed. I thought that the purple was just my color. I see that it is yours too."

While Fury huffed at her brothers, the Firstborn sobered immediately, turning his piercing orange gaze on them. "Where is War?"

"We were assuming that you would know," Fury replied.

"Didn't this happen last time and we ended up having to fight off a fake End War?" Strife couldn't help but to remind them.

A scowl appeared across Death's face. It had been a long time that Strife had seen his eldest brother without his skull mask. His face was strong, built thickly like their youngest sibling was, but had a different nose and a thinner face. His nose had a lump in it -that might have been where he had been training with Strife one day and Strife had been lucky enough to land a hit- but still shared similar traits with the White Horseman. Since he was older, there were some wrinkles under his eyes, though most were from stress instead of from age. Orange eyes, brighter than Fury and Strife but darker than War's, burned intensely. There was one scar; it split the left side of his lips in two with its little arc. It was the one mere imperfection on his face. Being the offspring of an angel and demon had its charms. And, as Firstborn, there was literally nothing wrong with him; besides from maybe a cocky and sarcastic attitude with a strong protective instinct toward his siblings.

"We need to find him. Summon your horses," Death snapped, already turning his back to hold an arm up. A crow landed on it seconds later, slightly larger than the average crows on Earth and, if it turned its head just right, had flashing green beady eyes.

Fury and Strife exchanged a look between each other. Without a single word, the Horsewoman lifted a hand and placed her fingers in her mouth, releasing a shrill whistle. The ground rumbled; a few seconds later, a black blur darted by so quickly that the whinny that the blur had given as it passed was a few milliseconds late. Smirking, Fury flicked her flowing hair back over her shoulder and turned to greet her horse. Strife glared at the mare that trotted up. She was as black as the night itself, her eyes matching her fur so perfectly that almost not pick them out. The saddle that was on her back was light and served more purpose as a decoration. Delicate black hooves, chapped from the fire that leaked through them, were sharp and dangerous. She was just like an Arabian horse; she had a long slender neck with a long flowing tail that she flicked up as she trotted to her Horsewoman. Her head was surprisingly narrow and, when she passed Strife, the mare's tail smacked him across the face.

"Aw, poor Remorse," Fury cooed at the pitch black mare as she reached her. Her hands rubbed affectionately at the mare's muzzle as she smirked at her scowling brother. "Did my mean brother upset you?"

Remorse flicked an ear at him, stamping down a hoof as she tossed her head from Fury's hands to turn and pull her lips back at Strife. Evil bastard, she exclaimed, causing Strife to scowl as the mare's voice, which reminded him of the sickly sweet one of a rich brat, echoed through his mind. Every single time he does.

Strife scrunched his nose up at the mare as he too summoned his horse. The plants that were near erupted in flames, pearl white in color, as a huge horse appeared from the ground at a trotting pace. His mane, long and white, bounced with every step that he took. Underneath the curtain of his forelocks, the stallion's white eyes, shining like little diamonds, could just be seen. Unlike Remorse, Strife's horse, Turmoil, had the body structure of a Shire horse. Muscles throughout the horse's thick legs jerked and he circled about Strife calmly as the Horseman continued to glare at Fury and Remorse. A saddle, designed from a metal that was pure black and decorated with skulls, clanked as Turmoil completed his last circle about his master. Lifting up one large white hoof, he slammed it down into the ground. An explosion of white flames burst out and Strife coughed as he waved the smoke out from underneath his hooked nose.

"God, Turmoil! That smoke is definitely a weapon!" Strife coughed as he fanned his hand back and forth dramatically as the white stallion glared at him through his forelocks.

Because your mouth isn't a weapon itself.

Scowling, Strife opened his mouth to say something just as scarastic to his horse, but Death made a growling noise. All turned their heads to look at the Firstborn Nephilim, sitting upon his own horse. The scene was horrifying. Even if you ignored Death upon Despair, the horse itself made a hideous sight. Everything about the creature was decay; skin was peeling off his hide, revealing darkened muscle and organs in some cases, and bones in its face and legs were visible. Beady eyes stared ahead and drief blood was flecking off what skin was still there. Green flames sprouted from along the stallion's neck, his hooves, and then his tail, which started with its skeleton before once again turning into flames. Despair, for that was what Death brought, resembled a Throughbred stallion; his legs were long, his body lean and muscular while built for riding. While there was a saddle upon Despair, there were no reins. Death's hand simply rested upon the horn of the huge as he rode and the other normally held upon Harvester, his famous scythe.

"We must move to find War," the Firstborn announced. "We shall not rest until we have at least found a clue of where he is on this damned planet. So far, as far as I know, he could only be found where trouble is."

"Seems like our brother," Strife commented as he slung himself onto Turmoil's large saddle.

"He is not the only one, I am afriad."

Frowning, Strife glanced at his sister as Despair began walking down a path that had been made by deer traveling through the woods. Turmoil fell in step behind Remorse and Strife couldn't help but to glare at Fury's back. She was the one to talk about trouble; when War had spent his time on Earth, trying to redeem himself, his siblings had been taking care of other things. Death had restored humanity; Fury had restored the rightful leaders of Heaven and Hell (the Demon Lord Rasha and then the angels that were still true to God); Strife had been sent to do what he did best. He had spent almost an entire century hunting down Rasha's remaining sons and daughter. Most of them had been easy. Oscuro had only taken minutes, Mayline with her shadow dogs had taken a little longer, Ferago had managed to somehow become an angel through the help of a young human girl, and then there had been Alooc. Strife had spent the majority of this time hunting down this demon. Ferago had supposedly been the strongest of Rasha's children, being the eldest, but Alooc had proved to be the most difficult. The shape-shifting demon had sent Strife on the longest, toughest chase of his life. Though, of course, Strife had won in the end.

Several minutes walking in the woods was enough to make Strife so bored, that he began to pick at Turmoil's saddle, mumbling song lyrics under his breath. Human music was much more interesting than Nephilim music.

"If you can lose it all, then welcome to Broadway, Silicone dreams and your name on the marque. And I can hold it up, but I hold it up hardly, It's hotter than hell, but it's getting real dark, see? So all you sick and the bitterness of the lonely, To all of you overdosed and you miles of-"

"What the hell are you singing?" Fury barked out, looking over her shoulder to shot a glare back at him.

"It's called a song. Have you forgotten what they are, dear sissy?" Strife continued despite the scowl on her face. "And every step, another step you're walking on my dreams, every breath, another breath, you're breathing the air that I breathe. I watch them all come, gotta watch the rest go. I'm married to the devil in the city of angels, So come all you wicked, to the world of the empty, I know I need it all, so baby, don't tempt me."

"I apologize, dear brother, but that is an incredibly annoying song."

Strife clucked his tongue. "You have poor taste then. I find it rather fun." The way that Fury's muscles clenched in her back suggested that she was rolling her eyes and Strife gestured rudely at her. "Death! What do you think?"

Death's back clenched slightly. "I would prefer if both of you could remain silent longer than ten minutes of travel. I do adore my silence rather fondly."

"I agree."

"Don't agree with him, ya suck up!" Strife exclaimed, glaring at Fury as she turned her head away from him with a smirk. "That was We Are by Hollywood Undead! Damn good band! Maybe you'll appriecate older music! Like Def Leappord!"

While he began singing Rock of Ages, he couldn't help but to notice how Death's shoulders tensed and Fury face-palmed. This was what he missed the most when it came to his siblings. It was even better when War was around; the youngest of the Nephilim refused to make any noise and Strife loved to try and get something out of him by poking his arm and playing cruel jokes. His siblings didn't know how to have fun. It was Strife who at least knew how to enjoy a good joke.

A good time passed, by which Strife spent most of it either singing or humming different songs, before Despair halted. Remorse followed Despair's example before Fury could even move and Strife had enough time to pull Turmoil to a stop a few lengths behind Remorse. He was about to ask what was wrong when Death lifted up an arm, silencing him. Despair's ears were flicked up and Remorse had became skittish, dancing underneath Fury's command to stay where she was. Death's fingers curled into a fist and Dust, Death's crow, landed upon the hand. "Dust, what do you see?"

Strife already knew that his brother had his ways, but he couldn't help but to raise an eyebrow when Dust ruffled his wings, dipping his head up and down several times with a small caw. And Death seemed to understand him; he nodded once before tossing the crow back up into the air. Black feathers spiraled down from the bird as it flew back up into the air.

"What did the crow tell you, brother?" Fury asked as Remorse continued to snort. Strife shot her a funny look. She acted like it was perfectly normal that their eldest brother had just shared a conversation with a crow.

"There is an area of sickness just a mile ahead of us. It is about five miles in perimeter while the center is a lake darker than charcoal. Nothing lives in front of us," Death replied.

"Then that is what Despair sees," Strife commented. The horse's ear flicked back to acknowledge him before returning to the same spot that it had been before. "That sounds very interesting, though."

"Indeed. I assume that our brother shall be in there, as well."

"He could never stay from trouble," Fury shrugged her slim shoulders as she frowned.

Remorse jumped a little then, causing the Horsewoman to gather up her reins and jerk her back under her control. As Fury cursed under her breath, she smacked Remorse smartly across her haunches and the mare straightened out, giving a loud snort. "What is your problem?"

Something shrieked and they all froze, their gazes turning in the direction that the animal noise had came from. The horses' ears flicked up and their nostrils flared. Remorse danced back a few steps and Turmoil snapped at her when she got close to him. Tightening his grip on his horse's reins, Strife pulled Turmoil's head up and stared intently at the woods in front of them. He noticed something... off. The woods were eerily silent -his singing had filled it in before, which explained why they hadn't noticed sooner- and before them was almost all shadows and dark, the trees bare despite the season and seemed to be hazy. He paused, taking a moment to remove his white mask from his face. There was a heavy scent of death and garlic (for some reason) in the air and he shared a glance with Fury, who too was focused upon the dying scene in front of them.

Death signaled to them with his hand, Despair darting off to the left only seconds later. Once again, the other two Horsemen exchanged a look. "Did he tell you what he was planning on doing?" Strife asked, wondering if he had missed anything. Fury's shoulders raised in a shrug and she opened her mouth-

Turmoil reared as a large creature slammed into the Horseman's side. He was ripped off the white stallion's back instantly, his mask flying from his hand and then yanking Turmoil's head to the side forcefully when he failed to release the reins for a second. Claws ripped at his armor on his arm and chest and, ignoring the jaws that were snapping near his face, Strife grabbed the bottom set of jaws. A tongue, long and whip-like, smacked at his face. Drool fell through the thing's teeth and he glared at its mouth. Seconds later Strife had one of his pistols against its forehead, pulling the trigger and tossing it off him as he stood to his feet.

The thing was the strangest creature that he had ever seen. The jaw that had been snapping centimeters from his eyes was hanging loosely, its fangs strangely misshapen and pale. There were no eyes and the entire thing seemed to be made of ash; already it was falling apart, a clear puddle of ash pouring from the wound that Strife had shot in its forehead. Its arms were long and disportionate. It was almost unrecognizable until the White Horseman reached out, grabbing one of the arms and lifting it up into the air to inspect it before he dropped it in surprise, taking a step back.

"That looks just like a bear," Fury exclaimed from the back of Remorse. "That makes no sense though. The bears on this planet-"

Its shoulder twitched and Strife trained both pistols on it, continuously pulling either gun's trigger for several seconds. By the time that he felt like it was enough, the thing was a smoking pile of ash, its body having been ripped away by the bullets. Just to make sure, Strife kicked at the thing's body. When it didn't move, he shot it once again.

"Well, now the damned thing is dead," he announced, turning to look at Fury.

She dismounted, crouching down beside the smoldering ash. "I have never seen anything like this before," she whispered just loud enough for Strife to hear as he examined the area for more and their eldest brother. "I cannot even remember an account on any planet's history that I can think of with this. But, it is definitely ash." She scooped some up, causing Remorse to nicker and strike her hoof against the ground several times nervously, and allowed the ash to fall through her fingers. Then she sniffed at it, which Strife made a disgusted noise at as Remorse tossed her head around. "And neither does it smell of Heaven or Hell."

"That was so gross. You don't have to do that every time you discover something that you haven't seen before!"

"And what would you like me to do?"

"Not smell it."

Another shriek like before sounded and Strife spun around as Fury pulled free her whip, the weapon uncurling with a snapping noise. Their horses whinnied and Remorse bucked a few times, smashing the head in of one of the ash creatures that had leapt at her when one of her sharp hooves connected with it. Her master slung her arm up, her whip flying through the air in a similar motion as her limb had. Another creature, one that had just appeared, screeched as the whip sliced through it. Its torso fell, cut perfectly, from the rest of its body. Strife was about to shot two more when his sister gave a small shout. Out of the corner of his eye, her whip snapped around, decapitating both of the ash creatures and then slicing through the wing of one that Strife hadn't seen. A pained noise sounded behind him and he happened to turn soon enough to see Turmoil playing tug-of-war with another of the winged creature, his jaws clamped around the thing's wing. Turmoil won; the white stallion jerked as he ripped the limb clean from the creature and Strife shot seven bullets up its screaming body a second later.

Strife looked at his sister immediately, whistling for Turmoil. As the huge stallion trotted to his side, he told his sister, "We need to find Death, now. I don't think he knows what he's going up against."

"I think that's a rather decent idea," Fury agreed as she mounted Remorse.

He had just placed his boot on Turmoil's stirrup when he heard Death shout, a few crashings coming from the woods as their eldest brother and one of the creatures rolled onto the path before them. The creature appeared to have the upper hand; there was a wound upon Death's other shoulder and it currently had one of his hands in its mouth. Strife lifted Redemption, shooting the creature in its neck. As it reared back, turning its eyeless face toward them, Death swung his now free arm, succeeding in cutting clean through the ash creature.

"What the hell is that?" he barked as he stood, hooking the two scythe form of Harvester on his hips before reaching up to touch at his wounded shoulder. Ash instead of blood dribbled from the wound and he curiously rubbed it between his fingers. He brushed it away afterwards, revealing the torn skin and muscles.

"I have no clue. But we definitely need to find War before these things find him. They're harder than shit to kill."

Death glowered at Strife as Despair joined him. The horse had several more rips and wounds to add to his already rather large collection, though the ash seemed to cling to his skin. "We killed them. They are not impossible to defeat."

"I say that going to the lake that your crow mentioned earlier would be the best place to start to search for War," Fury announced as she trotted past both of her brothers.

Mounting Turmoil, Strife paused while he looked at one of the ash creatures dead on the ground. Goosebumps arose on his skin and he watched as part of it dissipated before his eyes. The others were in the same process it seemed; little ash particles floated in the air and landed upon some the remaining green plants, affecting them almost instantly. They withered, the green turning into different shades of gray, and fell toward the ground. What landed on Strife he brushed away quickly.

"Whatever the shit this stuff is," he told Turmoil. "It is some freaky shit."

Turmoil snorted, nostrils flaring. It is as if it's a disease, but it spreads through the ash instead of the air or touch. Almost like Corruption.

Strife thought for a moment, thinking of the Corruption that he had seen earlier. His siblings had seen more of than him and most of his current knowledge was through their words. "This doesn't seem like any Corruption that I have ever heard of though. And why ash? It doesn't make sense."

I truly do not know anything that does.