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Copia lit his last cigarette and turned his head toward the place of event. It's been half a day since Chalky dumped the final barrel of radioactive waste in the lake, and now it was his turn to do the job.
Normally, ever since he hung his bow and left the crown to his white haired successor, he wouldn't be seen doing this kind of job. Not only would it damage his reputation since he stepped out of the shadows into the light of the media, but he never liked to think about the events he orchestrated in his past life.
Pollution kicked the final barrel into the radioactive water and stepped back They never missed a chance to admire or brag about their twisted, gorgeous and intoxicating art.
"Weaker and smaller than Karachey, but still good enough." they turned around to look at their former colleague, but he was nowhere to be seen. A gust of wind scattered a pile of garbage all over the site.
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One would assume they started working together recently, but you'd be wrong. They had known each other and worked side by side for centuries. It was just that he'd receive the most credit for the job well done, thanks to lack of common sense in these ridiculous humans. It wasn't as much as the streets filled with feces and corpses than it was their own stupidity that allowed all of his diseases to spread so easily. Truly, the middle ages were a heaven sent age.
The two of them were always present among humans, but it seemed like people only half saw them all the time, as if trying to deny their existence, like that of your relative you wish was dead. The white haired horsemen never minded. They liked it that way. Humans were so funny, only seeing what they wanted to see.
They worked together, but whether they liked each other was another matter. Copia, during the time he went under the names of Emery, Niveous, The Scourge, Pestilence and various other, remembers the resentment Pollution held for him during the middle ages, and how they'd openly belittle his moral dilemmas, openly rejecting the remaining shreds of their humanity and fully embracing their dark gift. Even Death was shocked by their blatant disrespect and disregard for life.
But he never thought their anger was misplaced. War and Famine never seemed to have warmed up to them, despite Pollution's many attempts to prove themselves. They always paled compared to the success of the original 4 horsemen. At least before the industrialization began.
Another thing that bothered the new horseman was the
fact that the other horsemen had formed a bond since the day they first set foot on the Earth. Copia, on the other hand, didn't feel like those bonds were of much significance. Him and War were cordial, if not friends. They had a number of successful jobs throughout the times on Earth. War was particularly happy about Pestilence's diseases being able to go around the world which in return caused more and more chaos and conflict to break out.
Death was never present directly unless he was there to tend after the casualties they left in their wake. When they were off duty, Death was surprisingly the one he'd turn to talk to about the things that troubled him, be it his everlasting moral dilemma, or his reluctance to carry on his horseman duties. The hooded entity would let him vent, but never really gave him any real advice or tell him what's best.
Famine was different than the rest of them. The moment they started drying crops and causing malnourishment together, Copia had noticed the way the taller horseman looked at him. The desire in his eyes made the white eyed horseman slightly flustered and would usually prefer to do his duties with Red or even alone.
He wishes he could forget about the time when his weaknesses clouded his judgement and would seek comfort in ways that only briefly give any real satisfaction. It didn't help that Famine would simply forget about him once the former was satisfied, leaving Copia regretting falling into the same pattern of this cursed behavior over and over again. Not even inviting Chalky made things better, and would result in them not speaking to each other for half a century.
He didn't resent them, no. They were his family. His family whose job was to destroy the humanity. That's what he resented. And not even him abandoning them and allowing Pollution to fully take over his position made it go away. He was always the horseman of disease, and he'll always be until humans are finally gone for good. A prison where time was the key no one had.
------
He stood on the cliff above the small village near the lakes they both contaminated, and it was time to give humanity some agony for the day. The quiet rustle of paper and plastic wraps alerted him of Weiss' arrival.
"What was that?" they inquired, but not visibly upset. They observed as the wind blew a plastic bag up in the air. He didn't even look at them as he answered.
"I was feeling nauseous." he knew that wasn't true and that Pollution certainly wouldn't buy it, but thankfully a handful of armed soldiers arrived to the village to evacuate them. It was the middle of the night, and the twisted, poisonous lights that blocked the stars were ominously descending onto the unsuspecting fools beneath them.
Pollution smiled as the soldiers struggled to gather and calm the hysteric and confused citizens of the village whose houses burned and lives were destroyed. Maybe letting them remain as the fire consumed everything would have been more humane then what would ensue when he started his part. The soldiers had come and told them that a "special disease" was on the loose and they would need to burn all of their belongings and houses.
Weiss was amused by those pathetic attempts of keeping their illegal nuclear plants a secret. Copia was less amused, and simply crossed his arms wanting to be gone from this site as soon as possible. Chalky's own amusement died out rather quickly.
"There you go again. Why can't you just enjoy a job well done?"
"Because I don't enjoy it" once again, he didn't even bother looking at them, his hat casting a shadow over both of his white eyes.
"Don't underestimate my job, old man. If it were up to me, I wouldn't need you" Polly's voice shoved visible anger. "But after radiation comes radiation sickness, and we have to do this one together."
"You seem more than capable of doing it on your own. I still don't see the reason I'm needed." a spark landed near his foot, and he watched it slowly burn out.
Pollution spat on the ground
"What's happened to you? You've not been the same since the Black Death. Your greatest accomplishment. It's not your job to worry about them!" they pointed toward the angry sea of people trying to fight their way back into the burning village, on the brink of becoming either a stampede or a crush.
"It's not like we chose this job! We are tools as well. So if this is our life, we might as well do it the best we can." that last sentence bore barely visible hints of pain he knew was present.
"I left for a reason. I am not going back. I aspire to do something great."
he considered throwing the empty cigarette box off the hill, instead tucking it into his breastpocket.
Pollution scoffed at his ridiculous attempts to apparently make up for things done in the past. Was he hoping to prolong life if he suddenly started not throwing trash off into the streets?
"I don't get you. You have always been a weird one. I get human innovations are great and contribute to their doom, but your obsession is not normal for a being like us."
Copia took his hat off, letting the soft breeze which smelled like rot, smoke and metal ruffle his hair. Pollution blew a stray strand of hair out of their face.
"You don't even visit Death anymore. He still likes you, you know."
Copia remained silent. Chalky decided it wasn't worth trying to get answers anymore, and decided to return to the site to try get some souvenirs for War. They took one more look at Pestilence, and gave him one final warning.
"You can't run from your past forever." and began descending toward the still roaming flames.
As they left, Copia took his jacket off, which allowed the empty cigarette box to fly out and off with the wind. He let it fly. He perhaps thought it looked poetic.