A/N So, 1000 reviews.
I am absolutely astounded that one of my stories has such a following and I am incredibly grateful to all of you who have followed and enjoyed the story, the reviews spurring me back into writing after what I realise was quite a long break. Digi Bonds PM-ed me and asked for an early update in honour of the 1000th review. This is only one day early, so what I plan to do is update now and update again tomorrow when I was planning to anyway.
There is one last note I would like to make. I have had a number of messages now telling me that I have made a mistake as the Marvel Death is female and mine is obviously not. There is a very simple reason for this. When I first started planning the story, I wasn't really in the know about the "Marvel Death" and was instead inspired by a representation of Death from one of my favourite series. A few people have recognised this character and while I always intended to clarify what series he was from, I wanted to see how many people would notice him. I was very careful in my disclaimers not to claim responsibility for him. Everything you need to know about his his history is explained within this story, with a couple of references for those who watched the original series. Pestilence is my character, but I crafted her from tidbits revealed in Death's parent series.
I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'll update again tomorrow.
Disclaimer: I now own two of the character. The rest are the creations of others.
Sweat laced her brow and tremors shook her fragile body. She lay as one of the many groaning figures in the hut, the latest caught in the surge of the illness that had already decimated her village. The air was thick and humid with the remnants of the monsoon season and it stuck in her throat with each desperate gasp for breath.
She was going to die.
She was under no illusions about that.
The man was. He replaced the cold cloth on her brow regularly and swat away the insects prematurely settling on her. He talked in a low voice, his accent barely decipherable. Yet, she appreciated his presence. She didn't want to die alone. Part of her had liked the idea that when you died you would join your loved ones, but now staring into the abyss, having already seen her parents ravaged by the illness, her faith was wavering.
He coaxed her mouth open and placed something on her tongue. He said something but the words were muffled. Some sort of remedy. She swallowed it reflexively when he trickled water into her mouth. It hadn't helped her parents… why should it her?
Nature buzzed around her, the rustling of her fellow dying people and the movement of those trying to change fate. She could barely make it out over the rushing in her ears. Time passed her while her body burned. Then it froze. Then the fire blazed again. The foreigner remained by her side. If he wasn't directly next to her, he was by one of the other figures in the room. His presence enabled her to ground herself. She drifted when he wasn't there. When she was aware she would strain to see him. She would be able to make him out, with the other victims. She was aware of them distantly, conscious of when they slipped away. The woman would stand over them and they would stop moving. The man would growl and the corpse would be taken away. When the world wasn't spinning she would wonder where they went. She was going to follow them after all.
And then her fever was how he described it. The time she spent lost in the colours and the heat lessened and she remained conscious enough to drink her own water. It scratched past her throat and the first time she choked. All the while, all she could ask, all she could think about, was why she was still alive. The man was sure the worst was past, he smiled when he looked at her and spoke to her kindly. He would bring her food and wait patiently while she struggled to force it down, helping her if she was struggling too much.
Bruce, he named himself, and she didn't know whether to be grateful or not. What did she have to live for? Without her parents, she had nothing. She would be sucked into the faceless shadows, powerless and with no control on her own life.
She opened her eyes.
It was night.
Standing at the foot of her bed was the woman. She looked past the lanky hair to the gaunt, pocked face.
"But I'm not dying." She breathed.
The woman's thin lips pulled up in a small, lopsided smile.
"I know. That is the problem." The woman's voice was hoarse but clear.
Problem? Her breath hitched. Was this it? Would she die after all?
"You weren't supposed to live. If not for that creature, you wouldn't have. You were suppose to be mine, but you cheated me."
"I didn't mean to." Maybe her fate was to be worse than that of death. This woman had power. She could feel it permeating the air. That was her life, passing ownership from one person to another.
"I know you didn't, child." The smile continued to play about the woman's lips as she walked around the cot and gracefully knelt next to her pillow. "But the fact that you did is very important."
She twisted her head to watch the woman's face. Her eyes apparently conveyed her fear, because the woman put a bony hand on her cheek and spoke in a low voice.
"You don't need to fear me, child. I can help you."
The smile twisted and grew until it transformed the woman's face.
"And you can help me."
"Wow." She breathed, looking out over the city from their perch. "It's beautiful."
"It is." Her companion agreed, sitting on the railing with a supernatural balance. "You humans are capable of some truly amazing feats. We can travel over to Egypt next if you desire, we can see the pyramids."
She turned her eyes to the woman in wonder and fascination. She had never thought that she would leave her village let alone be standing in a foreign city looking out over more people than she had ever thought existed.
"What is that?" She asked, pointing to one building that stood out from the others around it.
"That, my child, is the Colosseum."
"Colosseum?" She asked, trying the foreign word in her mouth.
"Yes. In Ancient times, it was where men would fight to the death. It was a grand show, thousands would sit in the Colosseum to watch the spectacle."
"Wow." she murmured again, trying to wrap her mind around the sheer number of people se that were implied and imagining the fights that might take place.
"Sometimes they would flood the arena and orchestrate sea battles." The woman added thoughtfully. "I never witnessed it, but my parents did. Sometimes fighting and Death is necessary. The only way to justify your existence."
She looked up into the pale grey eyes and rather thought that they were smiling at her.
"But before that, you must learn. And before that, you must live."
She opened her mouth to ask what was meant, but she was second guessed.
"Go down into the city child and explore, enjoy yourself and live a little. You have a hard road ahead of you, and I will help you as best I can. Here."
She received a small bag. She opened the drawstrings and found a roll of strange paper.
"Euros. I will find you later."
She couldn't restrain her thanks and scrambled away to the stairs, with a glance back before she descended.
Barely a week ago she had been lying on what she had thought would be her death bed. Now she was exploring a city full of colour and life. It was like nothing she had seen before; the density of the buildings, the striking architecture and the vibrant atmosphere that filled the streets. There was a couple, one playing an unfamiliar stringed instrument with other strings held taut by a long smooth piece of wood, the other with a long wind instrument. A young girl apart from them was keeping the beat with a drum. She lost time while she watched them, caught up in the music and the joy that emanated from them as they played, smiling into each others eyes when they stole glances.
The sun was high overhead and she bathed in it's glow; it was dryer, and kinder than the sun she was used to and it seemed to feed the spirits of people rather than relentlessly stripping it away.
She couldn't read, and she didn't understand the language but neither of these things mattered during her exploration.
Several hours later found her sitting outside a small cafe, under small twinkling lights held aloft by wooden posts with leaves growing up the stem. She was sipping at a sweet, fizzy drink brought to her by a smiling waiter who was able to understand her broken english when she asked for just anything. She showed him her handful of euros and he came back with a tall glass and a bowl with a small pile of multicoloured glace. It was cold, which she found surprising with her first mouthful, but began to appreciate when she risked a second spoonful.
Lying on the table in front of her was a large sheet of paper that she had unrolled when she'd sat down so that she could continue to appreciate the beauty of it.
The woman had been kneeling on the side of the street surrounded by multicoloured cans filled with paint that she would spray on whichever sheet of paper lay before her at that time. It was stunning, the skill with which the woman, roughly dressed and paint covered, worked with the colours captivated her and she had stayed longer than anyone else, watching the woman create new worlds in minutes. It didn't take long before noticing that she had several different designs that she repeated, but even then, each was individual.
She had seen one with a stunning blue and green sky divided by a red craggy mountain with plant life and trees climbing up it's slopes. A small waterfall cascaded into the pond at it's feet creating ripples that ran to the edge of the page. She had held out some of her notes and the man helping the young woman took a few and gave her the picture she was pointing at.
She looked at it now.
Had she seen it just last week, she would have thought of it as a part of world she would never seem out of her reach. But now… There had to be somewhere with this tranquility and beauty in the world and now she had a chance of finding it.
"It's beautiful isn't it."
She looked up to see the frail woman who had changed that had wrought so many changes in her life.
"Yes. She replied softly.
A half-sided smile crept up the woman's face, but after a moment it fell and she looked grave.
"Come with me, child."
She paused to roll up her picture and slip the band around it and scurried after the woman, remembering last minute to leave the euros on the table. She noticed that the woman's tread didn't affect the world it passed. She was led down the roads away from the light and music.
After a while the atmosphere became heavy. A nervousness fluttered in her chest, despite the woman's presence and the darkened shadows seemed to lurk in the corners.
"Here."
The woman stopped and she nearly tripped into her in her anxious distraction. She looked where the woman was gesturing and saw a huddled figure, a skeletal man dressed in rags. His breathing rattled through his chest, his ribs visible through rips in his clothes. The smell of him caused her throat to contract. He didn't react to her presence.
She looked up at the woman.
"What?"
At her words the man looked up and she saw stained eyes that once upon a time had probably been full of life, shining out from above and filthy, mangy beard. She tried to swallow, finding her throat to be dry and looked back at the woman who had yet to answer the question.
"He is one of the homeless." the woman finally started, her thin hair hanging across her face as she looked down upon the man. "They are the most susceptible to me. To us."
"Por favour…."
"The world is out of balance. There are four of us… Death, Famine, War… And Pestilence." The woman turned her head to me. "I am Pestilence. While the others thrive, I dwindle. Thanks to modern advancements in medicine, souls that should be mine are living on, and disrupting the balance. You are one such a soul." The woman's fingers brushed my face, feeling cool against my skin.
"Por favour…"
"As such, you can help me, help the world. If the balance isn't righted, it will fall into turmoil and destruction. It is not an easy burden I lay upon you, but I know you are the only one capable of fulfilling it."
Her mouth fell open in shock at the declaration.
"You are my hands on earth. It is only through you that the world can be righted. Otherwise it will fall. And we are running out of time."
Her heart was pounding gin her ears and her breathing quickened as she tried to wrap her head around this knowledge.
"This man is the beginning." The woman continued. The woman knelt and unbidden, she mimicked her. "Take his hand."
She did as she was told, finding the mans hand among the rags. The skin was rough and dirty ,the nails thick, yellow and cracked. She looked up and met his confused gaze.
"Alcuni denaro, o cibo, por favour"
"Now, feel inside for the power. You will know it."
She closed her eyes and attempted to 'feel' the power. She hadn't known what to expect, but she'd seen so much the past few days that she was open to anything. She found the flickering power dancing around her conscious thoughts and it entranced her. She reached for it and suddenly was lost in the rush of pure power. It hurt. But it was beautiful.
She could still feel the mans hand clasped gently in hers. She directed the surge towards him. She didn't know what her logic was. She knew she was important. The woman-Pestilence- had told her so. He was in such a pitiful state, maybe a small part of her thought that the power would invigorate him as it was her. Maybe she knew that the direction of power was natural. The way it had to be.
It left her in a rush and she gasped as the alley came back into focus. The power hadn't left her, it was still there, twisting at the edges of her mind but it wasn't enveloping her now that it had achieved it's purpose. She was aware of it now and it left her giddy.
She looked back at the man, with a grin, but his pale eyes were still staring confusedly back at her.
He hadn't felt it!
Such a thought bemused her.
"Well done child. You are a natural."
She looked up at the woman.
"But nothing happened!"
The woman took the hand that was still grasping the old mans and gently unclasped the fingers before standing and drawing her up with her.
"More happened than you realise now." The woman said. "You are untrained but you shall learn and be able to identify the nuances of your power." The woman cut her off before she could say anything else. "Come child, I shall explain later."
"What about him?" She pointed at the man who had returned to huddling his head on his knees.
"He has not long left to live. You have done him a kindness."
It took a moment for her to process those words.
"What? You mean…" horror robbed her of speech.
The woman looked down on her and for the first time, she felt belittled by her gaze.
"That man's life-" The woman pointed imperiously at the huddled figure, "was in tatters. All he had left was a long, slow and degrading death. You have done him a favour!"
She looked down at the man but the woman took her chin and forced her to look up into her eyes.
"He is the result of the worlds heightening injustice as it spirals into deeper depths of imbalance. By helping him and others like him, you are taking the first step. My influence has been forgotten - I need your help to demonstrate my authority and bring the world back into balance."
She nodded.
"Good." Pestilence said. "Come."
With one last look at the man who had curled further in on himself and started to tremble, she followed in the woman's wake.
She was sat in a small but cosy room, cluttered with papers and lit in an orange light that cast shadows on the complimentary brown and red furniture. Under Pestilence's tutelage, she had learnt to read, in English no less, both feats she had used to think beyond her, and was making use of her new skill to read through the small library that Pestilence had presented with her.
The door opened and she looked up from the text she had been leafing through to see Pestilence standing in the doorway.
She rose to greet her, inclining her head slightly. Pestilence's eyes glinted and she stepped into the room.
"How are you finding your reading?"
She looked around the room at the collections of accounts on Pestilence, and it's role amongst the Horsemen, the scrolls about it's different representations thought out numerous religions and events attributed to it through the centuries. And it was an 'It'. Though it resides in a female figure at the moment, the power could take any form. The faces were irrelevant, only the power mattered, and it's place in the balance.
"Informative." she decided on, levelling her gaze back upon Pestilence who nodded.
"Come with me."
She inclined her head and followed Pestilence from their residence and into the streets of the city they were staying in. It was crowded and busy and full of life. But not life that interacted with itself. The people who pushed past them never spared a glance to anyone around them. Since she had begun her work with the homeless, she had become more aware of how they were ignored by the more affluent. She pitied them in the way that one who used to be in such a situation did, but unlike thousands of others in that position she was spurred to do something about it. With each new city there were hundreds of such people which she had helped, and the more she did, the more the need to grew.
She stopped behind pestilence to and followed the taller woman's gaze up to the glittering tower. She had grown used to such a sight and merely regarded it to try and figure out what her mentor might have in mind.
"You have been doing well child." Pestilence rasped and she glowed at the praise, "but at the end of the day, you have been treating a symptom. Homelessness is a symptom. You need to attack the disease at it's head."
Pestilences gaze drew her to look back at the shining building, the pinnacle of wealth and prosperity in this country. Her mouth went slightly dry.
"How…"
"You know how, my child." Pestilence chided me. "That man there. He is responsible for thousands of peoples suffering. To use on him your gift is not only what reserves but will right the balance more than anything you have done so far. They were but grains of sand to his sea glass."
She had heard the beach metaphor before, many times, the peaceful calm of the sea's mass was the balance while she was the tide lapping sand and debris into it's depths. Pestilence had adapted it many years ago on a balmy day by on some island rocks. She had never seen such an expanse of water and the salty air had entranced her, the rhythmic pulls susurration of the water calming her. Pestilence had stooped and drew up a hand of sand and small rocks, letting it trickle into the breeze which caught them and dragged them playfully into the sea.
She looked at the man. He was in the prime of his life, defying the silver in his hair while holding an assertive stance. There was a phone to his ear which he was holding a conversation with, trading glances with the young good-looking man at his elbow. He was dressed sharply and laughter lines stood out on his face
"You must move now, before he enters his car."
She started moving down the pavement. A flutter was rising in her throat but she pushed forward. Pestilence knew best. The woman always did. She had been but an ignorant child before Anann had found her and pulled her off her Death-bed, given her power and a purpose. A reason to be that she had never had before. The man was near now.
He was stern, she decided, a slanted brow and furtive eyes. He wasn't speaking down the phone but snapping down it at whoever was quaking at the other end. When he glanced at the younger man, it wasn't with humorous camaraderie but with frustration with the youth and jealousy of his looks and time yet to be had. His suit wasn't just smart; it was crisp and severe and had cost enough to feed many of her past cases. Those lines weren't from laughter but from false smiles and disdainful smirks.
But he wasn't near the end of his life. He had a job, his life was in full flow. Maybe he had a family. Maybe he was having a bad day, or the man on the end of the phone had wronged him.
But Pestilence had directed her to him.
There was a jostling of shoulders and she brushed her hand against his leg. The rush surged through her and she embraced the flow of colours, indulging in that fleeting moment in her power before it was over.
It was done.
Heart still fluttering, she kept her head down as she walked away, looking back once as he ducked into his car, followed by the young man.
She came to a halt and watched them drive away. Soon he would begin to notice an increase in temperature. This would be followed by sweats and sore throat. A rash would start in the night and a fever would over take him. If he was lucky he wouldn't live past the end of the day. She had wanted it over quickly.
A hand appeared on her shoulder.
"That was good. Soon you will learn more finesse, and understand the value of long acting diseases as well as the quick acting. But that will be another time."
She looked up at her teacher's pale feature and Pestilence looked down at her approvingly.
"Come. You still have much to do."
It had been several months since she had started working against the corrupt in the world and she had grown so much since then. She looked into the mirror and found herself comparing herself to how she had been. A frail child. Now, she was strong, her build still slight, but there was a confidence in her. Her features were strong and her cheekbones while defined, didn't look hollow. Her dark eyes unwavering and quite possibly attractive instead of starring out of the hollows she had been accustomed to. Her hair, which she paid special attention to, now that she had access to the means to do so, gleamed in the candlelight, falling across her shoulders. Her clothes didn't hang loosely offer her, but accentuated her budding figure, coming in belated due to her early malnutrition. The colours glowed against her tanned skin and as she looked at herself, she felt strong and in control.
"You should take on a new name." Pestilence said from her place across the room, watching her evaluation of herself. "You have come far, and a new name would be fitting."
She found her eyes again and looked into their golden brown depths, brightened by knowledge.
"Edrea."
Pestilence smiled approvingly.
"It is a good name. Powerful."
"I know."
"There is too much for us two to do alone. We need followers. With your power we can show them the way. I can tell you how."
Her first time was the hardest. She had started with the disenfranchised, a small group at first, and had them bring one they believed needed to learn a lesson. The man they had brought was terrified. Begged that he had a wife and child waiting for him. But his death was for the greater good, the balance of the world.
He audience hadn't expected a girl. She could see it in their faces. They were shifting on their feet, some were looking to leave. There was no point talking until they had seen, so she didn't hesitate. She crossed the empty space that was her stage and with little ceremony touched the man they had brought on the forehead. Within seconds he was doubled over in pain. Moments later he was coughing up blood. This was when she started speaking, raising her voice over his hacking to try and explain to them the Balance. Pestilence's words flowed over her lips: she had taken on her lessons well. She had needed to speak louder when the man started vomiting and explain how these peoples troubles were a result of the loss of balance.
He died sometime during her speech. Had he been autopsied, they would have discovered that his stomach had shrivelled up. She had needed something fast-acting and flashy.
Any who left as un-believers took a strong case of influenza with them.
"That man there." Pestilence showed her, "You'll need him. To plan. He has been wronged by this world, and he will do anything to put it right."
Ian Gready was a government man. Once she had relayed Pestilences' needs to him, he had taken them in his stride and run with them.
"This facility here." He had circled a building on a map. "This, is one of their bioweapon research facilities." His voice had cracked on this statement. He has lost his daughter several years before to a sudden and unexplainable infection that matched a bio-research project he had been involved with at the time. At first he had blamed himself. Then he had blamed the government.
"This is the one you will want to hit."
Her crowds grew bigger and once she was sure of her foothold, she moved on to another city, leaving a lieutenant in charge to continue spreading the word, but with instructions to do so discretely. Pestilence took her back to Europe, to England and introduced her to a new kind of human. One with magic. She wasn't surprised. In fact she took joy in discovering the new illnesses that their kind offered. She began to introduce contagious diseases, to continue her work in her absence. Pestilence explained to her that the wizards hid in secret because of their unnatural ways and that they upset the balance more than humans with their indulgences in power. She also hinted that one of their biggest threats: one she was not yet ready to know, was a wizard, bound to that world. She took great pleasure in infecting their people. She was warned not to infect them all however. Aware that one of her future targets was a wizard, she began to gather them to their cause. Not quite as impressed with her normal display of power, inflated with their own importance, and less than willing to work with muggles, she had to think bigger. Dragon pox had been a rush greater than some of the ones before them. Not quite as good as that first time in Rome, but as close as she had ever gotten. They had come to her later, once they had realised that true to her word, she had infected many of their enemies, in particular their children. Bloodtraitors they called them, and mudbloods. Having infected many of their kind, she could have told them that there was nothing different about their blood. They were just as depraved and puffed with self-importance as each other.
She began to build up more followers, in this country. Showing them how to make a difference. How to identify the plague amongst them and how to disarm and teach them a lesson. And so her followers grew.
It had become quite a military operation. Now that they had started gathering weapons especially.
She rolled out of her bed, leaving her late night distraction sleeping on the other side, pulled a robe about her shoulders and walked out onto her balcony.
Edrea surveyed the city, waiting patiently for the woman to make herself known. She felt in the tickle of her skin the moment it happened.
"You need to tell me everything." She said, without preamble and without turning to look at the woman. There was a silence and she turned to look at Pestilence. "Beyond the righting of the balance. We are nearly ready, but I need to know our true target. You have mentioned him before."
She spoke with the authority garnered after years of leading a following and being in charge and a flicker of what may have been pride went through the woman's eyes. But still she didn't speak. She seemed to be deciding what to say.
"I am not a child." She declared, "for you to withhold information from. Not any more. I may server you, but we are equals, you and I and I shall not be led by the hand."
Pestilence's expression did not appear to change, but something shifted in her demeanour and the air grew colder. Edrea didn't react, but continued to hold her gaze.
"Our opponent is Death."
At this Edrea's eyes narrowed.
"Your fellow horseman?"
Pestilence snorted, "We are hardly' fellows'. But yes. He has grown arrogant in his power, more so than our other mutual horsemen. But, as we cannot attack him directly, as he is a spirit like me, we go after his hand on earth. A wizard. His arrogance is apparent in his choosing of an already power-drunk vessel."
She nodded.
"I understand."
"But even then, it is not that simple." Pestilence continued. "As the Hand of Death, he cannot die. The wizard is blessed with immortality."
Edrea frowned. "But so am I."
Pestilences laugh was like cracked glass.
"No my child, you do not age, but you can die. He does not stay dead. Death will not take his soul, so it returns to his body. And you cannot infect him, because a hand cannot directly use their horseman's ability against another."
"Then how can we defeat him?"
A smile cracked across her face.
"Why have you amassed an army of mortals and wizards? Why have you created this great following, now poised and ready to strike? We shall destroy those nearest to him, while you occupy him with the spirit magic I have been teaching you. Come."
They moved in an instant to be standing on a building roof, in amongst other towering pillars of obstinate wealth. Before them was a great tower a large 'A' tacked to the side.
"We are far enough away that he cannot sense you." Pestilence said, and handed her a pair of binoculars. She recognised them as one of the dozens amassed by the military team she had created to attack the facility.
She pressed them to her eyes and peered through them at the lit windows on the top floor of the tower. So sure in their security they were that they hadn't even fitted curtains.
There was a group sat around on couches, talking and enjoying each others company. She fixated on a dark haired youth wearing glasses . He opened a bottle of what she presumed to be beer but an older ginger man removed the drink, waving a condescending finger in his direction before taking his own swig.
"You recognise him." Pestilence breathed almost gleefully. Edrea didn't know how she knew that it was this man, but she did. "Do you recognise any of the others?"
She found that she did, but for a different reason. Their faces had been spread across the television screens after the battle that had given War a fresh throng of souls. She recognised then the kind of battle that she had ahead of her and found herself wondering if she were truly prepared. They weren't just any military group.
She watched them for a bit longer. They were relaxed an apparently happy, enjoying each others company: secure in the arrogance of their safety. They had no idea what was coming.
It was nearly time to act. Pestilence had said to leave the other hand alone but she wanted, no, needed to make a point. She wanted him to know what he was dealing with. To pull him out of that idiotic indolence. She knew the moment she was close enough for him to sense her, because knowledge of him exploded in her senses. It nearly staggered her, but having been prepared for it, she pushed through, dragging one of her followers with her. She wove through the crowd towards him. She pointed him out to her boy, who was eager to please, eager to gain a spot in her bed for another night, slipped towards Him. He was looking for her, but he didn't seem to know it, turning slowly on the spot, his stupid coffee's clutched in one hand. He certainly didn't see her as she slipped closer, his attention so caught up in her that he didn't notice the boy jostle him. From her vantage point, with her sharp gaze, she saw the knife slide under his ribs. It went in smoothly but the boy tensed, putting pressure behind his thrust before he pulled it out. It only required a small tug to pull it out again, coated with a red sheen before the boy melted away, into in the crowd. She heard the scream, but only spared them a single glance, revelling in the group that had begun to gather around the prone form.
She was turning to leave when she saw the red head that he had been flirting with leaving the coffee shop she had spied him in. She was holding her coffee and was obviously rushing to get to which ever obnoxious job required a business suit.
She wasn't necessary. Not really. Even if he had flirted with her, the chances of him ever seeing her again were slim, even if she wasn't planning to destroy his world by the end of the week. But she wanted to any way.
Unable to harm the hand herself, she had a pent up energy that needed release.
She sped up and overtook the woman on her way, brushing her as she did.
It was so needless, but it felt so good because of it. Pestilence had been right all those years ago: she had learnt the importance of long acting illnesses. It allowed the receiver a chance to suffer, to contemplate and realise that they were going to die long before they did. That one had been a taste of what was to come once the bio-weapon was released. When the curtain fell, that woman was just going to be one of the many who had fallen victim to the terror attack.
But when that curtain had fallen and closed its velvet folds over the scene of destruction, balance would finally have been achieved and Pestilence would have taken it's place on the pedestal with Famine, War and Death.
A/N Anyone who recognised the paraphrasing of Dr Horrible take a virtual cookie.