Thanks for the reviews from Guardian's Light, BLeaf, Wynnfire, Crownbreaker, and Equilibrium for your reviews and support. Kdh.

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"Hello again good sir," a voice said to me as I was cooking. An increasingly familiar voice.

"Good to see you again. Um… who is your new friend?" I queried the sickly man who had brought along not only his portly chum but a man dressed in shiny blood red armor like some sort of cheesy fantasy game knight. He was definitely taller and more built than either of his companions.

"I am the Red Rider, the Lord of the Crimson Sword, and the master of the dogs that bare my name," the man's infuriated deep voice reverberated from within his helmet, "I am War."

"Right… so same thing for you two gents?" I casually questioned the two fellows from the previous day. They both nodded their heads. "And for you?"

"I will have sandwiches," he responded.

"Any particular type of sandwich?"

"No, just fifteen sandwiches."

"Right, whatever you say gents," I acknowledged as they left to take their seats on the patio. Now they were joined by a third, crimson horse as well. Something about this situation started to seem somewhat familiar to me but I just could not put my finger on it. I shrugged and went to cooking up their meals which was a bit easier than usual due to the fact that so many people whereat home today.

"Here you are gents, will there be anything else for you?" I asked them as the ladies and I handed them their orders.

"No thank… ACHOO… you," the sickly chap stated.

"I'm fine as well sir," the rotund gentleman agreed.

"This shall be sufficient, mortal," War, as he called himself, admitted, "A gift for your services."

He held out his large, gauntleted hand and in it were a large number of tarnished silver coins. On top of those coins was a stone disk similar to those given to me by the other two but with a red sword painted upon it. Something was especially familiar about the three stones now, but it was beyond my memory.

"Bill, how are you today?" I queried the librarian as he sat behind his desk reading one of his old tomes that he prided. He squinted at me as I walked in through the door with the bright light from the setting sun flooding in behind me. After a few seconds his face lit up with recognition.

"Ah, Peter my boy… I didn't order take out and forgot again did I?" Bill asked hurriedly as he got up and fumbled for his wallet. Old Bill Walters was getting a bit forgetful but was still spry for the age of seventy one.

"No, no Bill, I just came by to chat. This-," I held up the takeout bag, "-is just a gift."

"Why thank you young fella," Bill said as he gladly took the doggie bag with him. He shuffled back to behind his desk and rubbed his hands together gleefully as he took out various tasty morsels. Peter took a chair from another nearby table and pulled it over to face the aged library clerk. "I assume that you haven't come just to treat an old man to some delectable eats?"

"You know, you're too smart for your own good sometimes," I said with a slit grin as I pulled the three stones out of my coat pocket and laid them in a row in front of the elder scholar. "I need to know what these are."

"Ah, I'm not an archaeologist or an anthropologist Peter my boy," Bill said doubtfully as he looked on the three stones curiously none the less. He inspected each one in turn, turning them around in his hands and tracing the patterns with an index finger. "Where did you get these?"

"Three strange guys with horses over the course of the last three days that they came into my restaurant," I replied, "Do you know what they mean?"

"I believe so; the fist stone is white with the bow and arrow, symbol of pestilence. The second is a black set of scales, the symbol of famine. The third is the blood red sword, the symbol of war," Mr. Walters finished gravely.

"Aren't those three of the four horsemen of the apocalypse?" I questioned and got a nod in reply. "But that's just impossible for them to be… they're just three weird guys that happen to look like horsemen and have horses."

"I would normally agree but the events of the past few days…"

"Coincidence."

"Perhaps young man, perhaps, but I am a man of faith in the mysteries of the world. I will come to your restaurant tomorrow and I shall talk with your three friends," Bill suggested.

"Yes, that might be prudent…"

Ring.

I do not pay any mind to the bell on the door; I am just too busy cooking to notice. A minute later I notice the utter silence and poke my head out of the kitchen. The gazes of all of my regulars are focused on the small group of the three strangers as well as their new friend and another companion. The fourth horseman, Death, wore black, tattered robes that were open in the front to reveal a skeletal, bleach boned body. The little creature with them was a small fiery imp, for lack of a better word for it.

"FIRE!" the little imp suddenly shouted shrilly and started spitting fire into the air. People started screaming and ran out of the door with many trying to stay as far away from the group as possible. After a few hectic moments, the restaurant was cleared out of everyone but myself, old Bill Walters, and the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

"Fire?"

Oh, and their little imp friend too.

"Greetings, how are you on this lovely day?" Death queried in his deep, resounding, and oddly comforting voice as he pulled back his hood to show his skull. He waited and waited because I was so shocked that I nearly plottzed myself and I can only assume Bill felt the same. "Are you alright?"

"You know… sniffle… mortals Death, they fear you so," Pestilence told his companion.

"Yes old boy, they don't see the dead walking like they used to back in the good old days," Famine added in his usual jovial manner as he patted his stomach.

"My humblest apologies, you need not fear for I am here to simply enjoy time with my colleagues," Death assured us.

"I came for more food, it was most delicious," War cut in.

"Good God," Bill whispered to himself, barely audible to me.

"What the hell going on?" I asked with as much steadiness and calmness as I could muster though my voice was admittedly still shaky.

"Who," Death corrected me.

"What?"

"No, who. Hell is a who," Death explained.

"Out rode a pale man on a pale horse and he was death, and hell followed with him," Bill said simply as he looked at the little imp. It cocked its head to the side and stared at him curiously.

"Fire," Hell hopped happily.

"Exactly. I would like to talk to both of you about saving the world," Death said solemnly.

"You want to save the world?"

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I'd like to say that I based Hell on my friend Soul Decay. I would suggest you try his stuff out, you might enjoy it.