MDW:

I hope that by now the letters make sense. If not, please, ask for help in the comment section.

Also, remember that the story makes mentions to real life people only for entertainment purposes. We do not claim endorsement or criticism of those public personalities.

Terrell Starr High School, Forest Park, Clayton County, Georgia. Monday, October 7th, 2019. 07:22e.

"What the hell!?! The horse is on fire!" A kid shouted.

"FIRE!" Someone else shouted too.

Everyone on the school bus panicked and tried to vacate the vehicle as fast as they could. They broke windows, soiled themselves, pulled the emergency exit strings dropping the whole window down, used the tiny hammers everyone always wanted to use to break the glass. One even took the fire extinguisher by the door and blew a cloud of CO2 smoke at the pale horse.

Sara cursed and stood up. "Let's get out of here."

The Pale Horse agreed. She (it was a girl) walked out and left the bus through the front door, Sara right behind.

Every student and most teachers were watching. Sara facepalmed. The horse nudged the girl with her muzzle.

"I guess we're partners again, right? Chloe?" Sara rubbed the horse. "How fast can you run to Washington, D.C? Are you really bulletproof?"

Chloe snorted. Despite her appearance, she was a full-fledged Celestial, not a half-breed like Sara. Oops, she didn't intend to sound racist.

"No offense taken, partner," Sara grinned. "Let's ride!"

*

*

I-85, North Carolina. Monday, October 7th, 2019. 08:10e.

She was too distressed to worry about silly stuff like not riding the God-given horse and becoming Death. She doubted Fourth would try to force her a third time. And yes, Chloe could run like the literal wind, if the wind was a hurricane that could destroy the east coast. They rode up the up the I-85 at about 130 MPH, triggering a ton of police cruisers to chase them across four states and the District of Columbia an then give up in tears.

Sara made it a point to wreck every police car that attempted to chase her. She used her scythe to cut cruisers in half, separate the engines from the chassis, all the while giving zero fucks to the 9mm bullets the cops shot at her or Chloe. It led to them escalating shit and trying to tase her, calling helicopters, and in one occasion, even the SWAT team.

"Girl with the scythe on the flaming horse! Stop and surrender!" The cops shouted over a loudspeaker.

Sara gave Chloe the go. They charged, both Celestials circulating enough ice mana to cause mist and snow to form on their wake. The cops opened fire, a dozen assault rifles roaring in the highway. The bullets froze and shattered on Sara’s wings, a shower of shrapnel ricocheting everywhere. Chloe’s flames reached four feet above her neck and hooves now, sapping even more heat from the world and looking absolutely fucking terrifying. Sara reached the line of riot shields and surgically split all of them in half horizontally. Then she flashed her wings with strobe lights as the SWAT cops moved to more defensible positions. Then Sara cut the armored van like tinfoil and Chloe kicked the cars out of the way.

She made eye contact with an officer. “Tell your boss I have a pressing need to talk with the President and that I mean business. Get the army next time, these BB guns of yours just tickle.”

*

*

I-95, Doswell, Hanover County, Virginia. Monday, October 7th, 2019. 10:30e.

Across many realities, Doswell was the place of choice for the US military to try and stop mystical threats northbound on the East Coast highway system and attempting to reach Washington, DC for some mayhem. It was true on this one as well.

Sara knew something was up when the southbound road became completely empty of cars. She expected a blockade but not what she thought to behalf of the East Coast military. She was mistaken. Tanks, helicopters, sandbag barricades, and a lot of fifty cal rifles pointed her way.

"Winged Girl with the scythe on the flaming horse! Stop and surrender!" Someone shouted over a loudspeaker system.

Time to put what the President told her. She needed to make them know she meant business. Sara made her wings glow and spread them, just to be a backdrop for her scythe.

Chloe flared her flames to the point the duo looked basically like the most radical heavy metal album cover ever.

"I am Death, Fourth Herald of the Apocalypse!" Sara shouted. "Today is the day of judgment, as decreed by the Lord above! America has one chance to be spared most of the wailing and suffering but only if you heed my words! Get out of my way, mortals. It is not my wish to test your mettle but I surely will! My task is divine, my path inexorable."

She brandished her scythe.

"Open Fire!" The military called.

She boosted Brawn, put her wings in front of them like two shields, trying to protect Chloe, and had the Pale Horse charge forward, her scythe ready like a jousting lance. Sara felt the bullets rain down on her wings, the cannon shots bounce off her Celestial feathers. It hurt like someone had thrown pebbles at her with a rubber band but Spirit matter was not something that could be harmed by mundane weaponry. Especially not one empowered by her magic. She reached the barricades and brandished her scythe as Chloe jumped over the soldiers.

Sara caught the nearest rifle in the nest and sliced it in half. She then put her wings to the sides and cut off the cannons and split the turrets of the tanks open with an infused scythe as she rode sideways along the barricade instead of pushing past it. She talked to Chloe over their bond and the horse turned back as they went over the tanks on the other side, causing maximum property damage while trying to keep the human casualties low.

With Sara riding in the middle of the formation, the military had to stop with the heavy ordnance out of fear of friendly fire. Death galloped freely over the tanks and among the soldiers, breaking weapons, equipment, slashing tank treads, guns, her wings bouncing off grenades like a boss, laughing like a madwoman. A few lucky shots had drawn blood but they were superficial cuts which healed ridiculously fast thanks to her half-Celestial constitution.

"SURRENDER!" She demanded. "Today is not the day Death claims your souls for it is not me who's the real threat! Get the President on the phone, I need to talk to him!"

She cut a tank open like a can of sardines, the soldiers inside climbing out and running for their lives. Only those far away from Sara dared shoot her.

"Retreat!" The commander shouted over the loudspeaker.

Sara snapped her head in that direction. Of course! While she was having fun causing tens of millions of dollars in damages, if she wanted to really get them to consider negotiations, she needed to go for the head. Chloe got the memo instantly and changed directions. Soldiers fled from her in all directions, leaving the path to the command tent open. But it left the area around her open and free of friendly units.

Then she heard the whistle of the missiles.

"Motherfuckers!"

She moved her wings above her and joined them together like a canopy. The guided missiles exploded a few yards above her, pummeling her wings with the shockwave and shrapnel. Despite their resilience and boosted Brawn, her wings broke. Sara winced in pain and dropped her scythe.

Chloe understood her intention and rushed to the command tent. Sara shifted her Boost to Rapid Healing and dismounted, resummoning her scythe as she entered the tent. "Attention, motherfuckers! So far, I kept casualties down. You keep shooting me, and I'll do my God-assigned job. I'm Death, Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse. Killing, for me, is not a sin but my God-given job description."

They all had handguns pointed at her. A few were averting their eyes which caused Sara to check her clothes for any wardrobe malfunction. She didn't have any wardrobe malfunction. No, she had the mother of all wardrobe malfunctions. Her clothes were entirely torn and she was completely exposed with only scraps of fabric hung to her body. And not like people usually drew the Incredible Hulk. Yeah, no. Anyone who snapped a pic of her would go to jail for the same reason Mr. Taylor should. Her front, legs, back, and everything else were all exposed for all to see. Her wings ruined, she put her hands to cover her modesty and Boosted Presence for a moment.

"Gentlemen, can anyone lend me a jacket. And please, those things in your hands might be airsoft guns for all I care. I literally walked through tank cannons and grenades out there. Let's be civilized and talk."

Someone threw her a jacket. Sara put it on with the back in front of her. She had wings and stuff.

"What are your demands?" An older guy with too many stars on his uniform asked. Sara would give him a seven out of ten if she wasn't so livid.

"Get the President on the speaker. I have an... ugh... important message from above to him," She winced as her wing bones snapped back in place to continue mending. She was hemorrhaging Mana to stop hemorrhaging blood. "Damn missiles."

A voice came on the speaker. "This is President Ted Cruz. Death, is it?"

"I know you already got the NSA report on me. You can call me Sara, no surname. Surnames make me pissed especially when they are fake."

He didn’t sound pleased. "Very well, Sara. What do you want?"

"I'm here to give you a heads up. The Apocalypse is today, at five-forty eastern time. We need to prepare. Unless you say you are willing to cooperate with me to coordinate emergency measures, I'm riding to New York, flying in front of the United Nations with glowing wings and black scythe, and give a press conference. Short of dropping a tactical nuke on our heartland, you can't stop me."

"What happens at five-forty?"

"Read the goddamned Book of Revelation. That's the softcore version. We need to get as many people to bomb shelters as we can. It's going to start with a meteor shower. Before you say NASA detected nothing, it's coming from another dimension. The sky will rip open and the heavens will fall on Earth. Oh. And take a sample of the toughest steel plating you have to our meeting."

“Give me a moment.”

“Dude, we’re wasting sunlight of the last day of civilization. I did this only to get your attention, Mr. President,” she tried to sound derisive at that. “So, please, don’t give me that shit. You are either in or out, and I swear to God that you will regret not heeding my words. This is me handing over the only fuck Death has to give to you on a silver platter. Squander it at your own risk. And if you got more missiles of the non-nuclear type, let’s keep playing if that’s what you want. I’ll cut as many tanks in half as I need to to get the point across your damn thick Texan head.”

The military officers in the tent looked like they were constipated. The radio went dead for a few minutes, then Ted Cruz came back on it.

"Gentleman, I'm classifying all information regarding this incident as Top Secret under code word Sara's Armageddon. Escort Miss Sara and her horse to DC on the fastest thing you have there. I don't want nobody to see her. Round all personnel involved in this operation and commend them."

*

*

Helipad 3, Pentagon, Arlington County, Virginia, Monday, October 7th, 2019. 12:40e.

Her wings got completely healed while she flew. Nobody tried to take her scythe away after she showed she could summon it back to her hand with a thought. She needed to look tough and intimidating but the truth was another. Sara was burning through her Mana reserves with no way to recover any before Armageddon and Magic struck Earth. With her body healed, Sara shut down the firehose on her Mana pool, lamenting how low it had gone.

Oh, and they gave her some military clothes. Too big for the tiny girl but she just tied stuff up, rolled sleeves, and adjusted things to look halfway decent.

The helicopter landed with the access ramp open. As the aircraft touched down, a female officer ran up the ramp with a laundry bag. The helicopter crew vacated the vehicle and Sara stayed inside to change clothes to a cotton dress, noticing they had already sewn holes for her wings. She was amazed at the military’s efficiency.

Sara climbed down with Chloe by her side and they were ushered into a garage through a ramp. The garage had no vehicles and was illuminated by floodlights. President Ted Cruz was there, waiting for her.

"Sara, welcome to the Pentagon."

“Took you long enough,” she joked. “Let’s hope we can cooperate now.”

They shook hands.

"President. Thank you for receiving me, and sorry for straining the defense budget. But I assure you, the equipment lost today is inconsequential. The stuff we are going to face in the next month requires magic to defeat."

"Tell me about this Apocalypse. You mentioned a meteor shower. Heaven falling."

She explained what would happen. Every detail. At one point, she was describing the Celestials and they brought an artist with a digitizer to draw. The mythological mashup was a bit harder to explain but she just sliced the naval armor plate like butter, then floated six inches above the ground, crated snow and ice out of thin air, flew around, then reversed her body and pushed herself against the ceiling to prove her point that magic was real. She even offered them a feather to study her DNA or some shit like that. All to earn their trust and cooperation.

They went to the operations center where she marked places and buildings she knew wouldn't be destroyed by the falling debris. She had only traveled between Atlanta and DC though.

Finally, the military asked about the Mana infusion and the death toll. She said what she knew and even called, by name, those two Secret Service agents she knew would survive. On a whim, Sara suggested she could even trigger a controlled awakening on them in hopes they wouldn't fall unconscious during Armageddon.

The President nodded and called those two agents.