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He was alone.

The scythe - Circe - dragged behind him as he walked slowly, the scraping noise against the ground barely registering above the humming. The humming wouldn't stop, a whining pitch, loud, making everything grey, bleeding to white-

- "Hey man, nice prop."

The scraping noise stopped. Caelius turned around, looking right at and through the person talking. Person. Human. Grey. He continued to move onwards, shoving past the crowds, the masses of grey, grey, greygreygrey-

-black.

She was elegant in her own right, the Horsemen of Famine, riding on a monstrous tanned steed, a horse perhaps, crackled with ribs heaving, the rider beautifully complimenting. The click-clack noise seemed to be drawing closer, with the mound of black - her pungent presence reminding him of something else, yet not Fear but simply an intense hatred. His grip on his weapon tightened, and he could hear the humming growing louder.

Everything was, after all, black and white. The greys in between did not matter.

Perhaps at first, the Horsemen of Famine was even, for just a few moments, confused. What was this insect doing here instead of her brethren?

Yet all those questions remained insignificant to one other matter. She was hungry, and even though it was just one small insect, he saw her for who she was. Oh, she would tear his limbs apart slowly, so slowly first, expose his fragile flesh, and then she would devour each and every bit of his fear, the most delicious nectar. One could never have too much Fear after all.

"The little insect wants to play with us," she licked her lips, anticipating each moment. They were always the same, the ones who tried to bite back. Didn't they know their rightful place in the food chain? "Tell me little insect, have you seen our brethren?"

Silence, of course. She could not sense it from him yet, that delicious Fear.

"Then we will make you jump." The next second, her steed had unfolded into the purest form of Fear - her Fear - before changing into a long set of scales, a long ornate masterpiece decorated with every skull of every insect she had encountered.

Famine gave a purely delightful shriek as her weapon clashed against the insect's, oh she just loved to play this game.

She didn't like that weapon, the one the little insect was holding: thought it only clashed against her scales, it had hurt, just like those items those other insects had been trying to use. Not just the shock of the pain but also the indignation of the insects fighting back, no no nonono they were HER PREY. They were her food to eat.

That weapon was really annoying though, loud and noisy and shrill and chaotic. Famine covered her ears, taking a few steps back, groaning in annoyance as another insect joined them. She was still hungry yes, she was always hungry, but she didn't like these insects. These were the poisonous types, the stinging types. They hurt her and most of all, they were not scared. Oh, why weren't they terrified, she would show them, she was the HORSEMEN OF FAMINE.

In a second, she had unfurled her wings, taking to the skies in a single wingbeat, her shrill screech sending both insects to their rightful place, crawling like worms on the ground. This was better, this was good, now she would eat them. Arms outstretched like claws, she went for the closest of the two, the other one, the one who's weapon was insect-shaped itself.

Glancing toward the boy, the man's eyebrows lifted, his smile twisting into a smirk. Looked like all the deaths, weapon bonding, and general state of trauma were taking their toll. Hopefully he'd manage to be useful before going off to join Daddy in Heaven.

The man in black slid closer as Famine rose into the air, a hissing angel of hunger without end, Marie glowing calmly in his hand. The weapon, as ever, was a cold coil of reptilian regard in the back of his mind. She offered neither words of encouragement or concern, but then, he never had use for such. As the creature dived toward him with taloned hands, the bladed whip of jade and gold met her in the air, wrapping about one of the wings, tearing into brittle, pearlescent flesh.

It wouldn't stop her, oh not all, but he did so like to leave women with something to really think about.

There were exactly ten seconds until the artifact would be activated. The crowds were screaming now, chanting in unison a number, a timer. All Caelius heard was the humming, louder now, almost unbearable as Famine screamed and buckled, stretching both of her clawed hands as she tried to regain something lost.

A couple of steps away from her was the last of the three artifacts in plain sight.

He could have, in those very few seconds remaining, walked away. There was a second, just as he brought his weapon blade-end down, as he hesitated, where he seriously wondered why. Why he was saving them. If he walked away now, he would never have to hear that word again.

His arm froze and he simply stared at his weapon hovering over the orb. A second ticked by, another. Blue, white, black, grey-

- Violet, lighter than blood, darker than flesh, softer in tone. A scarf wrapped around one arm. It had meant something. It felt for a second like someone else was guiding his hand.

The scythe weapon buried itself into the artifact, shattering the object in two. The artifact shrieked just as angrily as the anguished Famine, but both noises were drowned out by a loud roar in the distance, stronger and more powerful than any Horsemen.

"HAPPY NEW YEARS." It was the cheer of thousands of humans gathered together, of people who believed in themselves, their families, each other. Of the same humans who, in their strength, brought forth Hunters, and brought protection.

A duty. A <******** duty that was just a glossed over word for death, to continue the legacy as Hunters. The weapon clattered out of his hands as the wheels of fate continued to push him forward.

She did not understand. Her form wavered, edges, fabric, wings, already starting to dissipate into a misty black smoke. Her Fear was strained, not from just this man's attack alone but from what was happening around her and she simply did not understand.

"WE WILL MAKE THEM STARVE." She struggled, one hand lashing out, tasting her captor's flesh, taking pleasure in the gouge she left on that insect's face, how dare they stand so close to her? She was the horsemen of Famine, royalty, a leader, a ruler, a conqueror-

-sheltered, a glass cage princess, who had seen so little of the Human World other than in passing. And as she looked, in anger, in defiance at the her assailant, she saw the same look her other brethren had given to her in passing. He knew. They knew.

They had left her here and she was so very alone.

"WE WILL MAKE YOU FEAR US." She screamed, as loud as she could, shrilly, enough to make her captor drop his hold, enough to make both insects fall to the ground, in their rightful place. She was Famine and she would have both their fears, and the fear of those around her, drink on it, feed on it, make her stronger-

- But there was none. Not from the insects, not from the oblivious humans around them shouting and screaming, entirely void of fear.

She simply did not understand. Hadn't she been the perfect epitome of fear?

She did not understand. She took another step backwards, then two. Where was it, where was her appetite, her hunger?

She did not understand. She opened her mouth to say something, a retort, her form unable to keep herself together any longer. Where the others were. Why she was left here, alone.

She did not understand. It was that simple as she fled.

The side of his face burned angrily, a vicious piece of punctuation to her last desperate exclamations. Possibly they'd save the eye, preferable but of little importance when one has just saved the world and all that such business. Desummoning Marie, he wondered, with no little amusement, if this made him the good guy. The big damn hero of mankind.

The man in black gave the other so-called hero a droll smile, "Won? Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that." Conquest had left little doubt in that regard. He stared out at the cheering crowds and wondered, not for the last time, if he would have even minded their mass annihilation. Most likely not.

His cell rang, and he answered it with a smoothly pleasant, "Happy New Year."

A burst of cheering on the other end, "Then we can assume the world is not ending tonight?"

"Oh yes indeed, the day is saved."

"And..." a paused, another rise in tension as those on the other end quieted to listen in, "...how many for triage?"

"Two."

A pause, and then a cheer, even louder this time. He could hear several people crying, even more laughing and cheering. The man in black smiled a terrible smile.

"No casualties, then?"

"Oh...oh yes. One hundred and ninety-eight, to be exact."

He ended the call and lifted his eyebrows at the other man, "Are you ready then?" Liam's boy looked ready for a nice, long coma, and so he smiled even wider as he continued, "We've got work to do."