Dormant

2

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?