Poisyn was once more her silent self, unaware of her lapse and even of the name Nathaniel Essex any longer. That pleased Master Apocalypse to no end; however, the very change gave him cause for alarm. It was too easy. The woman behind those green eyes had never been easy. So he sat back, hands in a gesture of penitence before him, winding his way through the maze of his mind. The Chancellor was sitting, lotus position, on the edge of the dais looking at nothing in that disturbing to some fashion that he had of looking at things.

"If I may be so bold, Master," though he had not opened his eyes, the Chancellor didn't need to. "If she is so much as to cause disquiet, why do you allow her to exist?" The question was one that he would not have asked in the weeks previous, but the more time that his sovereign spent brooding over this woman, the more he wondered if perhaps there was too much pride connected to her possession. After all, why does one keep a vicious dog if not for the status that such a creature conveys? Certainly not for hope that you will get your own hand bitten off. "Would your cause not be better served by disposing of her before she can become the seed of its downfall?"

"I will dispose of her when the time is right," though he knew what he held in his hand was a torch burned almost to the nub, the deity called Apocalypse was loathe to let it go. All that was required to make his possession complete would be the destruction of Sinister, not an undoable feat by any means. The only question was when was the best time to get rid of his former protégé? Calmed by the contemplation of Sinister's demise, Apocalypse sat back on his throne, aware of the return of his other horsemen. War and Famine had brought him the Death he had been keeping an eye on for a time. No one would have expected his choices of horsemen, but seeing them in action would put to rest any doubt. Already, though he did not know, the ripple 

of awareness was passing through the human world. Seeing Famine in action was only a taste, but even that was enough. More than enough truthfully.

Death, formerly Mystique, stepped into the throne room and looked around with eyes that were less curious and more interested in finding whatever escape routes there might be. She wore nothing more than a sarong tied around her waist, blue skin reflecting the light. Her eyes had shifted to topaz, a darker yellow than they had been previously, but what difference did it truly make? War and Famine were sitting off to the side as Death entered. Pestilence reclined on the stairs of the dais. Death walked up to her and nudged her with her foot. Pestilence simply looked up at her with flat green eyes. These were two women who on their best day hadn't gotten along well, not since the years they had worked together, a conning team capable of scores that would have made most men eternally jealous.

"We have a job to do," she wasn't just addressing the woman lying at her feet, but also the other two sitting on the sideline. "So let's get about doing it, ladies." Her scales fluttered and her skin went from blue to warm brown.

"Where?"

"The mutant nation," not a single pause. "They provide the most possibility of resistance, so we start with them."

The mutant nation also provided the most likelihood of bringing the horsemen down before they could truly begin. The only thing that could draw them away from the power that 

Apocalypse held over them was the care of another. Famine had her husband and son. Pestilence, her husband. Death, her son. Even War had her old loves and family. All of them had someone who could crack the wall built around their minds.

Better to have them destroy those who had any hope of drawing them away first than to allow them to possibly foil his plans later. The flyers picked up those who could not and carried them away toward the stronghold of the Mutant Nation. Apocalypse watched them go, eyes unreadable, the Chancellor at his elbow.

"Get in touch with our operatives in the U.S.. It's time to move against what's left of the human government." Precision. His horsewomen were on the move, he didn't want to give anyone time to mount a defense. Three days. Within three days, he would rule the world.