There was a long dining table in front of them, complete with an equally long bench, both made of matured mahogany that had been polished until its red-brown surface shone like a wooden stake streaked with the fresh blood of Christ. It was bare, but had several dishes set out on it based on flavours.

The teens padded towards the table cautiously, almost as if they were treading over landmine ground. There was no tablecloth, but the dishes had evidently just been set on the table. Columns of whitish steam rose from each bowl, and a plethora of pleasant scents assaulted their nostrils.

"I guess whoever's eating here is taking care of something else, or they just finished cooking for someone else", Kiet noted, casting the table a wary glance.

"Or maybe they cooked for themselves"? Trang Chim mused, looking around at the mostly dark room. "It doesn't look like anyone else is here. Mang, do you see anyone else"?

"Not really", was Mang Cuong's soft reply. He was either nervous or just didn't care much, and it was even harder to tell given that he was looking at the floor and not at any one of them.

Dara took a good look at the table before them. The most she could say was that there were at least seven dishes there, all desserts and from different countries. There was a large Chinese mooncake, a British spotted dick pudding, an African mahamri the size of the average bakery cake, a bowl of akutaq, a tray of freshly-fried churros and a wooden bowl filled with bush apples. All seven dishes were arranged in a circle around a pitcher filled with a sangria-like drink, but that wasn't what shocked Dara the most.

No, what made her want to grab her brother's and their friends' hands and pull them over to the table were the four allocated spots on the bench, each one marked with a correspondingly-coloured napkin and tablemat; red, yellow, green and purple. Each spot also had a porcelain plate set with a standard glass made out of crystal (ruby, citrine, emerald and amethyst) and a fork, spoon and knife each carved out of silver, trimmed with gold and plated with bronze on their holders. The glaze on the edges of the plates were coloured just like the napkins, while the markers put in each place were paper cutouts of...their weapons?

"Hold on", Dara blurted out, making the other three look at her. "I think this table is for us".

"Are you su-nevermind", Kiet was about to ask, but was cut off when his own gaze fell upon what his sister was looking at.

Then as if things couldn't get weirder, a voice spoke to them.

"Welcome, children", it boomed, but not so loudly. "Was your journey fair"?

Trang Chim and Mang Cuong jumped at the sound, while Dara ducked behind Kiet and pulled her hood up. Whoever the hell that was, they sure as hell weren't going to try fricking with them with their guard up.

"Oh dear, I apologize in advance", the voice replied again. "I didn't realise I spoke loudly".

At that, Kiet calmed down a bit, though he gestured for the Johansen twins be careful before pulling his own hood up.

"Who are you"? he asked.

"And why do you sound so familiar"? Mang Cuong asked. "You sound like someone we've heard before...more or less".

"Perhaps we have met before"? the voice answered, sounding just as thoughtful as they did. "If not in this life, then perhaps in a past one".

Dara peeked out from behind Kiet's shoulder, squinting through the low light of the room. At best, she could only make out four black humanoid figures, each one with their own serving plate of food...except for one.

"Aye, children, come on and eat", said another voice, this one lighter than the first. "The food won't eat itself after all".

Trang Chim went first, plunking into the spot set for her, followed by Kiet, Mang Cuong and finally, Dara. Once she had seated herself in and none of them were left standing, only then did the lights brighten a bit, revealing who were sitting at the opposite ends of the table.

If anyone had told them that they'd have the chance to dine with the four horsemen of the apocalypse themselves one day, they surely would've called the person crazy. Yet now they were seated before four black male mannequin-like silhouettes with details Mang Cuong was able to tell from sight alone. The first to the left in front of his sister had tapered claws on his fingers, torn tufts of fur on his elbows and back and scars down his side and one 'X' shaped scar in place of his left eye. The second one, in front of Kiet, had four white lines on each side of his body above his loins that looked eerily like ribs, a long white line going down the front of his throat and down into a white diamond-shaped patch on his chest. Two rings, one small and one large, spun around his neck at a slow pace while a white line around his left eye dripped down his cheek as if he were crying. The third, sitting in front of him, had white lines tracing the unmistakable image of two vein branches and a heart on his chest and abdomen, as well as three pairs of slanted eyes. The fourth and final one, sitting in front of Dara, had only one single eye on his face, plus a white line going down his throat and curling into a spiral on his chest just above two white lines extending from the back of his shoulders which crossed into an 'X' over his chest, under the spiral. He also had a scythe slung behind him.

"Oh dear, has it been so long"? the silhouette with the teardrop marking asked aloud. "I don't recall us inviting anyone for tea".

"Who are you guys"? Dara asked, fiddling with her fork (and making sure she had a good grip on it just in case).

"We go by many names, but to the inhabitants of this world, we only go by four names", the silhouette with the scythe replied, then pointed at each of his companions as he said their names. "War, Famine, Pestilence...and finally, myself, Death".

At that point, Kiet felt his heart beat so fast it felt like the organ was now in his throat. These weren't just any quartet of men looking for company. These were the four horsemen of the apocalypse! Disaster! Whatever... the point was, what in hell?

"Well then, are you going to eat"? Pestilence asked, and Kiet thought he could detect an aura of mischief in his voice. "Go on and help yourselves. We're not poisoning you four, I can assure you".