"Things look clear in black and white,
the living color tends to dye our sight,
like dynamite.
Just imagine my surprise,
When I looked into your eyes and saw

your disguise.

If we dare expose our hearts, Just to feel the purest parts,

that's when strange sensations start to grow.

We are not alone, find out when your cover's blown

There'll be somebody else there to break your fall.

We are not alone, 'cause when you cut down to the bone,
We're really not so different after all…"

X-

"WE NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE, HORSEMAN."

The Eldest and most feared of the legendary Four Horsemen stands before the three stone heads that control his very being. His hair, long, and pitch black, move with the very brief and gentle gusts of wind that pass through the court of the Charred Council. His eyes, the color the very same of the magma, dripping steadily down the maroon colored rocks, blink every sixty seconds, almost on the dot. He stares at the heads, almost with an annoyed glare, and with the angle of which he is looking, the chilling bone white mask makes it all the more intimidating. Though, in comparison to the Council, he could be an insect.

"What of this time?" Death's voice could make anyone shutter in a wave of relentless fear. Baritone, but soft, and raspy. A combination that will never work in anyone's favor.

"We want you travel to the Earth. Each half-century, we send one of the Four to the Third Kingdom to study their habits. We will know how strong they are becoming over the years-"

"With all due respect, I have heard this all before- Strife, Fury, even War are the ones to volunteer. Why not now?"

"The other three are busy on their own missions. Strife and Fury are in Hell, studying a mass murder- War, in the Maker's Realm. There is no one besides you to do it."

"Very well. Any restrictions?"

"You are not to use your magic's. You will be in a human disguise- using them will only draw attention. All you have to do is blend in as much as physically possible."

"And when will I leave?"

Death can feel his form shifting. As the Horseman practically shrinks, both in height and in muscle, the Council says, "Now. But, you will use the Void walker to not draw attention to yourself upon arrival." The transformation is complete. Death, who seconds ago was a tall, beast of a Nephilim, is now appearing to be a small human, towering a minor six-one, with choppy short black hair, dressed in mostly black, with piercing orange eyes. His signature mask is gone.

The Council opens a flaming blue portal, showing nothing on the inside besides black, black, and more black. With a slight hesitation, Death sighs, rolls his shoulders once, and steps into the darkness.