Pestilence’s eyes darted around, imitating the onset of a seizure; literally thousands of instances when all four of them had been together ran through his mind, but he couldn’t place this thing at any of them.

Famine shambled over, his right leg still aching from the electrical storm striking him. He locked one finger in hook formation and slowly dug it into the slightly charred flesh of their newfound intruder.

From this single finger grasp, Famine drew the interloper to face level. Breathing in his scent, Famine licked his lips with a smirk.

“He’s one of mine,” Famine stated. “One of my Children of Hunger.”

“A vampire?” inquired Death, his hollow voice echoing in the very void it created.

“tschhh No mere vampire did this,” Pestilence interjected while inhaling.

The crack of rapid, automatic gunfire awakened the night. “Who are you?” the fierce red-bearded War intoned.

“Alexandru Constantinescu,” the stranger’s damaged jaws flapped. “But, please, my Lords, call me Alec.”