[ WP ] You are one of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse . As the time approaches to wipe out all life on earth you have a change of heart and decide to lead a rebellion .

`` I wo n't, you know'' He coughed, thick brown clods of phlemb spraying their beautiful mist above the table. with titanous effort he shifted forward, jowly face scowling and ugly. Pestilence sat upon his beanbag chair like a cherry on a pudding, but far less sweet. 
 
 `` I wo n't damn do it'' 
 
 War was the first to respond, a broad billowing laugh. `` O'course you will, buddy. it's gon na be just like old times. remember Krakatoa? we had some fun times there, did n't we?'' his was a throne of bone and iron, snapping and twisting as he stirred in his seat. men's skulls were the only festivity. 
 
 Famine did n't say anything, the damn coward, preening like a vulture and looking to death. he perched, as he always had, on a seat of children and mothers. the first to die and be eaten, when he called. 
 
 And death. He sat at the head of the table, a skeleton. Not skeletal like famine, but pure bone, a shining skull in a black tuxedo. A skull should n't be able to frown. Should n't be able to do aught but grin. still, death frowned. 
 
 THIS IS NOT FOR DEBATE 
 
 Death never spoke. he hand't the lips. when he wished to say something, he merely changed matters to that he had. Pestilence had always suspected he could, if he wished, do things the normal way, but the old fraud seemed to like the finality he could impose. 
 
 `` No'' Pestilence agreed with a snort, reeling back a bloody lump from his infinite sinus. `` It damn is n't. I'm not riding. You can if you want, but I wont. Famine?'' 
 
 `` I...'' he paused, and famine watches the swells of passion and hunger flow though him. `` I find myself compelled, Pestilence. I can not refrain'' 
 
 And, of course, War spoke. `` Listen lad, I only want us to all be together. Cmon, it'll can be like old times'' he said, a voice of iron and pitiless eyes. 
 
 THIS IS NOT FOR DEBATE 
 
 famine and war looked to death then like children before their mother, fearless but compliant. 
 
 But not pestilence. He had always hated death. 
 
 `` Oh, then what is this?'' he coughed, sputtering bile down his front. `` are we not talking? is this not debate? juicy as a rotten peach, you'll find the conversation has the potential to be quite lively, when we get to it'' he chuckled, breaking in'to a dark, hawking cough before spewing up, in a grotesque parody of birth, four fat, writhing maggots. 
 
 Famine eyed them hungrily. 
 
 Death's look was legendary. a being so ancient and powerful he glowered with the force of the infinite, with the power of a homicidal galaxy, crashing and burning billions of lives. He looked out with a force greater than any in mortal physics. One of death's looks could escape a black hole. 
 
 The one he gave famine was cold and black, payment for a bad joke. 
 
 Pestilence smiled. `` Famine, what do you expect there shall be to eat in a dead universe?'' 
 
 Famine looked panicked then, and Pestilence knew that he had won. `` Pestilence, the rules?'' he pleaded, head bobbing like a panicked bird. 
 
 THE RULES ARE IMMUTABLE. LIFE MUST END. 
 
 pestilence wished he'd covered his ears, but when Death had spoke, he had n't yet changed things so he had. 
 
 Pestilence really hated death. 
 
 `` And what is there, beyond us?'' he grinned though rotted teeth. `` What force beyond death? I say now that I, Pestilence, am beyond you.'' He paused, coughing with triumphant agony. `` I may have served you, but I am life. When you come, I come after, with my rot and my children, feeding and living in your leavings. Come, famine. let us blight the crops and make mankind hunger, and grow and consume in their agony. let us mutate and devour in the immortality of life. Mankind dies not today, nor ever. Not until there is something more worthy to mutate and consume.'' 
 
 There was victory in his pale eyes, and death looked on in mute fury, and did not speak again. 
 
 That was almost too easy, thought Pestilence. But fammine was his only true threat, and sickening his mind had n't posed too great a challenge. After all, Famine existed to consume, and Pestilence existed to invade. 
 
 So ended the Apocalypse.
