Famine was as busy as He had ever been; Sure, the first world had very little work for him. Constant warzones and petty infighting throughout the third world were always rich with opportunity. There was always a new flood, or bomb, or Insect swarm to kick off a round of hunger and Death.

  "Why do I always have to play second fiddle?" Famine asked a starving child as it was taking its last few breaths.

  "Famine, don't antagonize the dead," Death appeared behind Famine and pulled the child free of its now failed husk.

  Famine jumped in surprise, he always jumped, and Death liked to sneak up on Famine.

  "If I were mortal, you would have scared the life out of me." Famine shoved The personification of Mortality in an expression of fear and anger.

  "If only we were so Lucky," Death showed his millennium's old boredom. He carelessly tossed the child's soul through a rift and shrugged.

  "It would be nice to have some action of my own," Famine mused aloud again. "War and Pestilence always get to be the stars of the show, and I always get to be the backup." This was a pity-party he had thrown for himself time and time again. It was not wholly accurate, Famine could cook up droughts and floods to starve out the Mortals, but most of his work was the result of War or Pestilence. It took a good Blight or Invasion, to get the Mortals really Keeling over... it irked him.

  "Drought" Famine scoffed, irrigation and the global crop trade had taken the sting out of Droughts, and floods were not much different… Dikes, barriers, and other modern technologies had left the powers of a grand old fashioned flood to a local disruption and not much more.

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  "Famine, you wanna have some fun?" Death spoke up, never having left after disposing of the child. "I Have something in the works that will give us all a good bit of play."

  "What are you planning this time?" Famine asked without enthusiasm.

  "Oh, I'm thinking that we could kick off an Apocalypse." Famine could sense the grin from under Death's hood, and Famine shivered.

  "And what number of Apocalypse would this be?" Famine mocked Death's many failures, not many people would dare. "You know there is only supposed to be ONE, and all four of us are supposed to play a part, right?"

  Death had no words, he made no moves, just sort of faded.

  For Decades Famine had been on edge, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, it stemmed from his last foray into a solo career. There had been a lingering sense of things unfinished surrounding Him, ever since that whole business in Ireland. It had left Famine totally unsatisfied, and itching for proper closure.

  'Too many of them ran away to America' Famine told himself, it made him Seethe every time he thought about it.

  "This one is going to be good." Death dryly chuckled, seeming to have reappeared out of the ether "I think you're going to like what I have planned."

  "And what about the others?" Famine asked, already knowing the answer, "They will join us, Don't you worry… And It will be fun." and he finished with a dry Cackle.

  "Hmm," Famine contemplated the proposition for a while. "Might as well, I could do with a break."

  "Good Man, I will get things started and call you when I am ready," and then he walked through a rift and was gone.

  Famine turned and walked away, passing through one of the few remaining Grain fields, his hands running through the golden stocks of grain; They withered as he moved from row to row.