"And He shall judge among the nations and shall rebuke many people:

And they shall beat their swords into plowshares,

And their spears into pruning hooks:

Nation shall not lift up sword against nation,

Neither shall they learn war anymore."

-Isaiah 2:4

-Ω-

The Oklahoma day was hot and humid, and Frank wasn't enjoying it in the slightest. Sure, it was better that there wasn't any winter or cold that they had to worry about, but hot days and walking 24/7 weren't high on his list of things he liked. He'd already turned three T-shirts into disgusting sweaty messes, and eventually opted just not to wear a shirt at all. Considering his incredibly muscular physique (seriously, since when did he get a six pack?), the Oklahomans weren't at all upset by this.

Percy seemed a bit uncomfortable in the heat as well, the skin on his nose peeling and the tops of his ears sunburned from being exposed out on Blackjack's back, and it didn't help that he was forced to wear wrist-high gloves. This was partially because he needed to hide Beelzebub's Print and partially because he accidentally killed a cashier in Taco Bell while he was getting his change back. That had forced them to slaughter the whole town and then move on faster than they would have liked, fully aware of the growing amount of patrols that were beginning to prowl the highways in search of the terrorists.

Now they were passing through a small town, and its inhabitants gawked at Blackjack and the boys that accompanied him. The trio tried to keep to the shade, but the heat was inescapable, permeating everything it came into contact with.

"I think I might kill myself," Percy groaned, leaning against Blackjack's neck. The horse was the only one who didn't seem at all affected by the blistering day. "My hands are so damn sweaty."

"Wait until we get back to the highway," Frank told him, his baseball bat hanging at his side. People passed them without even batting an eyelash at the serrated weapon; next to Percy and the horse, Frank looked like he was cosplaying rather than actually carrying a weapon. "When there's no one around."

Percy frowned as people snapped pictures of him from across the street, shaking his head.

"If they keep posting pics of us on social media, the Feds might be able to trace the attacks back to us; we come through town right before the attacks."

"I don't think they're posting anything," Frank responded, gesturing with his chin at a pudgy woman holding up an expensive-looking camera to her eye. She snapped a few pictures, the shutter clicking, but when she looked down at her camera, she frowned, her brows knitting, and tried snapping a few more. "The pictures aren't showing up."

"How convenient."

They passed through the town without incident, and on the way Frank snatched a newspaper from the nearby stationery store, checking the date and chuckling at all of the articles that were centered on the "terrorist attacks". As soon as Frank was sure that there weren't any prying eyes watching, he allowed Percy to shed his gloves, which the green-eyed boy was beyond grateful for.

"I thought I was going to die of heat stroke," he snapped as they walked along, rubbing circles into Blackjack's hide, which the gelding seemed to be enjoying immensely. What little trees Oklahoma had were skimpy; the few that they passed offering little to no shade, and all that left them with were bushes and grass. They'd purchased a fuck ton of sunscreen and had been applying it liberally, but they still got sunburned as the sun bore down on them.

"I don't think you can die of heatstroke if it's just your hands that are covered."

"Since when did you become an expert on heat stroke?"

"Since now."

Percy rolled his eyes and maneuvered himself on Blackjack's back so that he could take his shoes and socks off without falling and cracking his head open on asphalt.

"Finally, my feet can breathe," he sighed, wiggling his toes and stuffing his shoes and socks into one of the bags that was draped over Blackjack's back.

"I can smell them from here," Frank groaned, crinkling his nose, but he was slightly jealous of Percy; the road was too hot and the land around it was too rocky to forsake shoes, and he could feel his feet blistering within the confines of his boots.

Percy was so lucky that he had a horse to carry him everywhere, and for the rest of the day he stewed in his own juices, grumbling to himself and causing the nearby wildlife to quarrel with each other. He wasn't mad enough to make them tear one another apart, but a low-lying blanket of annoyance simmered just below the surface.

Eventually, night fell, finally freeing Percy and Frank of the deadly heat of the daytime. As the sun set to the west, the sky was painted with an array of reds, yellows, and oranges, tinged at the edges by purple as the Earth was slowly overtaken by darkness. As dusk retreated and was replaced with night, a sprawling navy sky that was spangled with stars was revealed, and it was, needless to say, awe-inspiring. It was beautiful, and the trio actually stopped to stare at the clusters of white pinpoints, all of which were just glowing balls of gas that were millions of light years away. It made Frank feel small, knowing how big the universe was, and how he was just a speck of dust on a huge tapestry of galaxies that was almost infinite in size.

At about ten in the evening, they reached a dingy motel that had to be miles away from any sort of civilization. An old, weathered pickup was parked out front, along with a sleek motorcycle and a battered truck, and Percy slid off of Blackjack's back, taking their stuff with him. He patted the horse's haunch and let him wander off to be left to his own devices. There was miles of absolute nothing around, and horses loved nothing, especially when that nothing had grass.

Percy handed off their bags to Frank and slipped inside the main building to pay for a room, and while he was gone, Frank watched Blackjack's form grow smaller and smaller until his bleached white hide was out of sight. He knew the horse would find his way back, no matter what the terrain and no matter how blind he was, and Frank couldn't help but envy that. He was supposed to have a horse like Percy, but because the man in charge couldn't communicate with Frank for some reason, he had to scour the country in search of it. How unfair was that?

Their motel room was just as disgusting as all of the other ones they'd stayed in, the carpets grimy and the white-tiled bathroom having yellowed from age. Though the sheets looked clean, Frank certainly didn't want to see them under a black light, and the shower he took was miserable to say the least. He even went so far as to air dry, because there was no fucking way he was letting one of those towels touch his naked body; he could probably get ten kinds of herpes from that.

Percy had long since fallen asleep by the time Frank stepped out of the bathroom, and Frank felt like he'd been hit by a dump truck several times, his body aching all over as he collapsed onto the mattress which, no matter how lumpy, creaky, and uncomfortable, was still better than standing up. He pulled the scratchy sheets over his shoulders and stared into the dark for a while, watching the light reflect off of all the sharp objects protruding from his baseball bat, which lay forlornly on a rickety table nearby.

When he was finally able to fall asleep, Frank dreamt of a crimson horse carrying him across a battlefield. War raged around them, bullets shredding the air and smoke pluming, but nothing touched them as they flew along. Once they were out of danger, the horse turned and spoke to Frank, his voice startlingly familiar:

"When you and your bud get back onto the road, walk for two miles and then turn south. I'll be waiting."

-Ω-

"Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"Did Blackjack come to you in your dreams before he actually came to you?"

They'd just gotten back onto the road, refreshed and ready to go, and the day was, thankfully, milder than the one before; they no longer felt as if they were going to melt into the pavement at any moment. Blackjack had been waiting outside of their door once they were ready.

Percy turned to Frank, frowning. "No, I don't believe so. Why?"

Frank shrugged noncommittedly, considering lying and telling Percy that he was just curious, but decided that it would be more detrimental to withhold the information, "I had a dream about a horse the other day. A red one. It told me in a man's voice that I had to walk for two more miles and then turn south."

"Why didn't you tell me this the moment I woke up?" Percy demanded. "That's a huge deal! Haven't we been looking for your horse all along?"

"I thought we were supposed to meet up with the others and then find my horse."

"You clearly don't have your priorities straight," Percy scoffed, but his eyes were sparkling. "If you get your horse, we can find the others sooner and we can complete the job that was given to us faster."

"Yeah, I know," Frank mumbled, swinging his bat lazily back and forth in time with his steps. He kept his gaze on the ground. "I guess that's good."

"You're not excited?" Percy prompted, his eyebrows climbing up to his hairline.

"Well, it's kind of hard to be excited when you're going to be killing innocent people. Men. Women. Children."

"I thought you were past feeling guilty."

"Clearly not. If I don't think about it, I'm fine with it happening, but I get all nervous and my throat gets clogged whenever I linger on it too much," Frank admitted, a bead of sweat dribbling down his temple. "It's just…I would feel better knowing I was killing bad people, you know? Like some sort of vigilante rather than a terrorist."

"All of these people's souls are going to Purgatory to be judged on whether they're being sent to Heaven or Hell," Percy pointed out. "So unless you have a super special weapon or some shit, you're not really killing them."

"Yeah but they can still feel pain. I'm going to make parents eat their children, brothers tear their sisters to shreds, and people smash their infants' heads onto rocks…"

"It's already done. You've made those things happen to plenty of towns before."

"Yeah, but there are still towns left to go to. What happens when everyone's dead and it's just the four of us alone amongst piles of rotting corpses?"

"Zeus has promised to raise us up and join our families in Heaven," Percy replied firmly, a smile slowly spreading across his face, as if he were longing and hoping for the day to finally come when it was just the Four Horsemen, alone and left in the dying world. "We'll be rewarded."

"After what we did?" Frank scoffed, scowling and twirling his bat. "Killing all those people means us going to Heaven?"

"That's what he said," Percy replied, shrugging and seeming not at all concerned, which was very worrying on Frank's part.

"Some things aren't adding up," he grunted, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and drumming his fingers on his thigh. "I don't like it."

"We have to trust," Percy chided, patting Blackjack on the neck, and the horse nickered an agreement. "After all, he is…God. He can't be wrong, can he?"

Frank was just about to retort when suddenly a deep, husky voice reached the survivor's ears.

"Hey, kid. You're gonna miss the turn."

"What?" Frank asked aloud, turning to find Percy giving him an odd look. Only then did he realize that the voice was inside of his head.

"Turn now. To your right. No, actually, to your left. Your left, my right."

Without an ounce of hesitation, Frank turned left and began picking his way through the clusters of bushes as asphalt bled into brittle dirt.

"Frank, what is it?"

"The voice," Frank replied helpfully, soldiering onward despite the fact that the bushes' branches scraped at his calves, which were exposed by the lacrosse shorts he was wearing. "It's the same one that belonged to the horse in my dream." Percy was on his tail in no time, and Blackjack's excitement spurred Frank on: the horse was very jittery, his ears rotating this way and that as he gave little hops of excitement.

They walked for what felt like hours, until the highway disappeared from sight. There was nothing out here, though, except for shrubbery and the occasional, scraggly tree.

"Don't be discouraged by the scenery. Keep walking," the voice ordered, and Frank's heart began to pound as something began to make his fingers tingle and his blood leap through his veins. The more his walked, the stronger the feeling got.

Blackjack let out a whinny and stamped his feet, tossing his head as a smudge of crimson appeared in the horizon, silhouetted against the blue of the sky, growing bigger and bigger as they approached.

Frank let out a ragged breath as the smudge took an equine shape, and eventually the details became sharper. The horse was beautiful, built like a Clydesdale, and its coat was the color of freshly fallen blood, its eyes glowing white.

"Hey there, kid," the horse snorted, pawing at the ground a bit. He turned to Blackjack, eying him critically before saying, "We'll make a good team."

"Oh my god," Percy whispered, grinning delightedly as Frank slowly approached the huge horse, which towered a good foot and a half above Blackjack. Despite his smooth words, though, the stallion was still clearly weary, his ears pricked and his nostrils flared. All of his thick, corded muscles were tense, braced to run away at a moment's notice.

"Are you…my horse?" Frank asked, meaning to sound headstrong, but his voice came out hesitant and timid. This beast could easily trample him and, Frank realized as the horse yawned and revealed wicked incisors, eat him as well.

"Who else's horse could I be?" the stallion prompted, seeming smug. "Besides, I am communicating with you, aren't I?"

"I suppose so," Frank grunted, slinging his bat over his shoulder and watching as the horse eyed it warily. "What's your name?" The horse's mouth contorted into a monstrous grin.

"Ares."

Frank felt like he was going to vomit, his hands beginning to shake.

"Ares?" he choked out. His father had left when he was young, and he barely remembered the man's voice, but he'd known him for long enough to recognize it. Now he was embodied in the horse that would carry Frank over the battlefield, like he's seen in his dream.

"Ah, so you haven't forgotten."

"No, I most certainly haven't," Frank whispered harshly. "Why are you here?"

"Zeus sent me."

"Yes, I get that, but why did it have to be you? Percy didn't know Blackjack. Why did it have to be you who came down as…" he waved his hand around. "This."

"I volunteered. I wanted to see m'boy again."

"That wouldn't've been a problem if you hadn't left my mom." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Percy paling.

"You know him already?" the green-eyed boy squeaked.

"Unfortunately," Frank ground out, his fists clenching. Nearby, a mouse screamed as its offspring ripped open her chest cavity.

"What do you mean 'unfortunately'? I thought you'd be glad to see me again. Get to know me." Ares chuckled darkly. "I am a very handsome steed, you know."

"I wasn't supposed to meet you like this!" Frank shouted, and Ares balked a bit, tossing his head as his ears pinned. Frank softened a bit, feeling drained. "It wasn't supposed to be like this." Ares snorted, his tail swishing.

"Fate is cruel, I suppose," he grunted.

"You have no idea."

-Ω-

(A/N) PLEASE REVIEW YOUR THOUGHTS, THEY MAKE MY DAY! I'm so sorry for the long update. I've been busy with schoolwork and editing my novel manuscript and shoveling ALL THIS FUCKING SNOW. I hate winter.

The chapter title is from Imagine Dragons' song "Ready, Aim, Fire"