Extract from Chapter 2

Background: Pestilence wants to kill a chemist who has cured one of his diseases, but the rest of the Horsemen have refused to help. He's going ahead with it anyway, ably assisted by his very competent assistant Warren.
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"Knife."
"Knife."
"Lockpick."
"Lockpick."
"Condom."
"Cond- eh?" said Warren, looking non-plussed.
"Just testing!" Pestilence grinned impishly. He had recovered from his bout of peevishness and was now quite looking forward to tackling the Dryden problem alone. Having decided that there was no time like the present he was currently filling a bag with assorted tools from Death's workshop. "You know Warren," he intoned "There's nothing like a tricky task to lighten the heart!"
Behind him, Warren looked sceptical. He'd seen Pestilence take on tricky tasks before and knew from bitter experience that, when push came to shove, his boss's solutions usually boiled down to "Warren - deal with this would you?" He grunted non-committally as he handed over a hammer. Pestilence continued.
"Yes indeed - the thrill of testing yourself, the rush when you succeed - you can't beat it! Especially when it's a dangerous job like this one. One against one, mano a mano - to the death!" He swished a hacksaw through the air exuberantly, making a light-sabre noise under his breath as he did so. "Take THAT Darth Vader! You're not my father!"
Warren sighed inwardly. It was going to be one of those nights.
*
Dryden's garden was bordered by an ornate twelve-foot high wall. This formidable barrier was screened off by fir trees which threw shadows across the lawn as they swayed softly in the breeze. Beneath the trees two slightly smaller shadows now appeared and a husky whisper broke the silence.
"Ready?"
Warren nodded breathlessly. He shrugged out of the rucksack, wondering if his shoulders would ever be the same again. It was ridiculous, quite frankly. They'd only come here to killl one chemist after all. With the amount of equipment in that damn bag they could have taken out the Hitler Youth.
Pestilence looked thoughtful. "What do you reckon then? The knife maybe? Or the pistol?"
"Oh the knife sir, definitely. Lot's less noisy." The thought of Pestilence with a gun was frightening.
"12 inch or the short dagger one?"
"Errmm¦ short dagger one? Easier to use probably."
"Good point. Don't want to overkill him I guess. Smooth blade or black matt commando?"
"Black matt, definitely." Warren's eyes were darting here there and everywhere. He didn't give a damn what kind of knife they used, he just wanted to be back home in bed. He wasn't enjoying this at all. Pestilence, on the other hand, was loving every second.
"Black Matt it is then. Shoulder sheath or an ankle job?" He rummaged a bit deeper in the bag. "Maybe I should take two knives, just in case one doesn't work or something? Then I could use both sheaths. Or maybe even '"
"Gahh!" Warren had had enough. He grabbed Pestilence by the shoulders, stood him upright and rammed a dagger hilt first into his hand. "Just take the fucking knife and let's get on with it! Jesus! Do you WANT to get arrested?"
Pestilence stood there, stunned for a second. Warren had been working for him for 6 years and had never so much as raised an eyebrow to him before. He searched blankly for a reply. Eventually he just shrugged.
"Ok. Let's do it."
Keeping to the shadows cast by the hedge, they ran for the house.
*

Up in Valhalla Death was worried. He was sitting in his bedroom watching Some Like It Hot on DVD, and was having trouble concentrating. He'd been feeling guilty all day about not helping Pestilence with the murder, and it had got to the point where he couldn't even enjoy Marylyn properly. Not even the St Valentine's Day Massacre scene managed to raise him from his thoughts.
Thinking back on the argument that afternoon he couldn't even remember why he'd been so against the idea of the killing. It wasn't compassion or morals that was for sure. He'd killed more people than he cared to remember so it was a bit late to claim the moral high ground now. It wasn't fear of being caught by the Ancestors either ' quite frankly they could go to Hell, the bunch of interfering old tossers. Finally he realised it had been Pestilence himself that had turned him against the idea. Pestilence's attitude. The overt enunciation that they WOULD help him and there would be no two ways about it. If there was one thing Death hated it was being bossed about. But looking back on it now, that seemed almost petty. An overbearing nature and tendancy to boss people about were just Pestilence's way of coping with life. Like Famine's gluttony or War's obsession with winning at Risk. It was just his way. And this afternoon he had asked for help in the only way he knew how, and they had turned him down. What sort of friends did that make them?
On the screen Tony Curtis was running along a railway platform in a dress. It was no use. He flicked off the tv, picked up his sword and headed down to Pestilence's wing of the house. If you didn't help your friends when they needed you then you weren't fit to have any friends at all.

*

Dryden's bedroom looked like a scene from a 30's film noir. The defunct chemist lay in the darkness, surrounded by rumpled bedclothes whilst clinical moonlight turned the pooling blood into black holes. Floor length curtains fluttered in the breeze from the open window. All was silent. And then it wasn't.
"In you go then lad ' quick as you like"
"What? You're the murderer ' you go first!"
"Just get in there before I fire you ' you're on thin ice already. Go. Before someone sees us. Here, I'll give you a boost up."
The curtains were abruptly ripped from their rails as a man sailed through the window and landed, cursing on the floor beside the bed. Through the newly moonlit square the shape of Pestilence's head was outlined against the sky.
"OK in there?"
"Just about. Get in here before he wakes up!"
Pestilence grabbed hold of the windowsill and tried to clamber through. He'd got about half way in before his natural awkwardness got the better of him and he lost his grip. He let out a short oath that was abruptly cut off as his face slammed into the wall beneath the window. He lay across the sill for a few seconds, like a towel on a waiter's arm. When he spoke his voice was muffled. "I think I hate everything."
Warren flung the curtain off his head and groaned as he saw Pestilence. He crawled over to the window and pulled his boss fully through the opening, wincing as a flying boot glanced off his head. This was turning into a disaster. It was a wonder the police weren't here already. He manhandled Pestilence to his feet and shoved him in the direction of the bed.
"Just do it and lets get the fuck out of here! Quick ' before he wakes up!"
Pestilence stumbled towards the bed. His enthusiasm for the task at hand seemed to be draining away with every second. He brandished the knife uncertainly. Raised it slowly above his head as he approached the bed. And then stopped.
"Boss?" Warren's voice was low and worried. "What is it? Is he waking up?"
Pestilence shook his head slowly. "No. We're alright there I think."
"Then what's up? Let's do it and get out of here."
From where he sat beneath the window Warren saw Pestilence's shoulders begin to quiver. He groaned inwardly. A Horseman of The Apocalypse who was getting the shakes because he had to kill someone. Fantastic. He figured that he better offer some encouragement or they'd never get out of here. He raised his voice a little.
"Go on Sir ' do it. Nice and easy now. Just slip it in where his heart is and it's all done. No bother now. You can do it no problem and then we can go home."
Pestilence began to shake even more. Warren cursed, and was about to offer some more support when his boss suddenly turned to face him, and he realised that it wasn't fear making him shake ' it was laughter. There were tears rolling down Pestilence's cheeks and a grin as wide as a canyon split his pockmarked face. He was trying desperately to stifle the laughter that was apparently trying to force its way out of every blocked pore. Warren felt a little baffled, to say the least.
"Sir?"
Pestilence swallowed hard and managed to force out an explanation between gasps. "He's de ' dead! Already! Someone got there first! Fantastic!" He sat down on the floor with a thump, slowly gaining his breath as his assistant scrambled to look for himself.
Warren winced as he saw the body on the bed. There was no doubt about it ' he was definitely dead already. Very dead by the look of it. Dead with Extreme Prejudice even. Someone definitely hadn't liked that portly chemist one little bit. Someone quite strong by the look of it, too. And quite angry. Probably psychotic. Warren's face lost all it's colour as he stared at the corpse. Somewhere, deep down, he knew they were in deep shit.
Still sitting on the floor beside the bed however, Pestilence had no such reservations. He let out a drawn out sigh and raised clasped hands up to the ceiling. "Ohhhh what a result! Thank you God! All my problems solved at once ' you little beauty!" He began to blow kisses in the general direction of the sky.
Warren was backing steadily away from the bed, his eyes searching the rest of the room as subtly as a lead cosh. He reached his boss and hesitantly reached down to tap him on the shoulder.
"Errm, boss?" His eyes were still frantically scanning. "Errm. Maybe we should kind of, well, leave? Sort of now? Before the police come?"
Pestilence looked bewildered. "Let the police come! We didn't kill him!" He grinned again. "Fantastic!'"
Warren tried again. He was trying very hard not to look at the far corner of the bedroom, where there were definitely too many unexplained shadows for his liking. "Someone killed him though boss, and '"
"Yeah, but not us!"
"And we'd have a job persuading them it wasn't us" He gestured to the sack of equipment. "Look at all the shit we bought with us."
Pestilence had to concede the point. He began to scramble to his feet, then paused as a thought hit him.
"Hang on. If we didn't kill him¦"
Warren was halfway to the window and didn't pause. He was already a good two minutes ahead down this line of thought and wasn't going to stay in the room a moment more than he had to. He reached the window and began to climb through. There was a thundering of feet behind him as Pestilence finally caught on, and then they were both out the window and legging it for the trees.
*
Death was well ahead of the other two Horseman, who were still showing a marked lack of willing. He wasn't really surprised, to be honest, as he'd had to bribe them to get them here at all. In a way it was kind of sad that modern Horsemen could be bought so easily with two roast chickens and a nudey snap of Marilyn Monroe, but cheapness had it uses. He shook his head and picked up the pace, paying no attention to the police sirens wailing in the distance.
*
Pestilence reached the safety of the trees and launched himself at the wall, scrabbling for grip. There wasn't any. He slid back down again, taking all the skin off his hands. He tried to jam both palms in his mouth and uttered a muffled curse. Warren pushed past him and began trying to clear the wall in a single bound. Bouncing up and down repeatedly he resembled nothing so much as a small child leaping for a cookie jar. Abruptly they both froze, ears cocked to the sound of running footsteps from the street. Simultaneously Pestilence noticed the police sirens that seemed to be getting closer every second. A strange calm overtook him as he looked Warren in the eye.
"I think we're fucked."
Warren nodded wholehearted agreement and returned to leaping at the wall.
The footsteps had stopped now and Pestilence could hear the sound of heavy breathing in their place. Without warning a grappling hook sailed over the wall and lodged itself in the fork of a tree behind him. Then two more followed in quick succession and were pulled taught. He didn't hesitate. Turning his back on the wall he sprinted back to the house.
*
The sky was flashing blue as Death clipped himself on to the rope and began to scale the wall, War and Famine a few seconds behind. He'd noticed the sirens now and had realised they were probably too late to help, but he figured what the hell. In for a penny and all that. He pulled himself over the top of the wall and found himself looking down at Warren, who was still jumping up and down beside the wall in a vain attempt to escape. Death paused in his climb, legs straddling the bricks and the rope dangling behind him into the street below. He kept his voice low, so as not to draw undue attention to himself.
"Warren! Where the hell's Pestilence?"
Warren didn't stop his bouncing as he replied, and Death's head nodded along in sympathy.
"No idea!" He hit the ground and rose again.
"He ran," Down. Up.
"When he saw," And down. And up.
"The ropes."
Death's neck was starting to hurt. He reached down and caught Warren's arm before hoisting him up onto the wall beside him. All three horsemen were on top of the wall now, peering anxiously into the garden below.
"PESTILENCE!"
No reply. And no sign of him either. Famine turned to look at Warren, who had calmed down markedly since being plucked from the garden.
"The chemist?"
"Dead," Warren shuddered at the memory. "Not us though ' someone else got there first. Hell of a mess."
Famine looked incredulous. "Someone else?" Warren nodded, scanning the bushes for Pestilence. "Who else would want to kill him?" Famine continued. "It doesn't make sense. I thought he was just a chemist."
Death flapped a hand behind him as he too surveyed the garden below. "It doesn't matter who, lets just find Pestilence and get the Hell out of here." He glanced behind at the blue lights getting ever closer. "If we're still here when the police arrive we're fucked, plain and simple. So lets just sort it and go." He jumped down into the garden. "I'm going to look for him. Anyone coming?" The others looked dubious. Death felt his frustration rising, but before it could develop into a row it was all made academic anyway, as Pestilence appeared next to him in the shadow of the wall.
"I see the cavalry's arrived then. Late as always" He slapped Death on the shoulder. "I knew you'd turn up ' never could resist an adventure could you?"
Death bit back a reply and gestured at the wall. The sirens were almost deafening now. "Never mind that, let's just get out of here. The police are coming."
"Good plan. Give us a hand then."
With a bit of help from the others Death and Pestilence scaled the wall and presently they were all running full tilt for the alleyway halfway down the street. They reached it not a moment too soon.