Welcome to Ghostliness & Nerfherders Presents: East of West, Issue #14 – “Warbound”! In the previous installment, Death and the bounty hunter get into a big fight after the bounty hunter killed Cheveyo right before he was going to give Death his son’s location. The fight lasts a while. They’re pretty evenly matched. The hunter doesn’t even know who Death is! It’s strange.

Once Death reveals that he just wants to find his son, Hunter offers to help. They view a fleet of Endless Nation warships flying over the desert on their way to war.

Some weird shit happened with Cheveyo’s body and now Wolf, his son, is bound by a sort of death contract. This was necessary to keep the alive and dead worlds from bridging.

ARE YOU CONFUSED? Start at Issue #1 again then. I’M not confused! I’m gonna press on.

East of West, Issue #14 [July, 2014]
Written by: Jonathan Hickman
“Warbound”

Savannah, Georgia. Presumably, the capital city of whatever country the Black Towers is in.

“President Burkhart was indeed…a formidable man.”

A very public funeral is underway. Burkhart’s open casket is adorned with a Confederate flag. Children gape at the dead man, commenting upon how peaceful and sleepy the dude looks. Not at all like how he looked when he died, blood pouring out of every face orifice.

“Did you know Grandpa?” asks a rather sad-looking weasel-faced child. Archibald sits, cane in hand, like a grumpy old so-and-so, preparing to regale the children with heroic tales of their dumbass grandfather. He’s got some war stories at the ready! Buckle up, kids, this is going to fuck your shit up.

“As I said…it was war. The final days of the last great stalemate. This was long ago, before the Nation sold other nations great weapons of mutually assured destruction…”

BOOORRRINNG! Get to the good part!

“It was then some craven Union bastard shot me in the back. As the lines shifted, I was left for dead.”

I’M STILL BORED, OLD MAN! We wish you were the dead one instead!

You didn’t expect Snakey Archibald to snake you over so snakily, did you? That’s why I’m the snake, and you’re the mongoose. Killed by the snake.

While Archibald spins likely false Band of Brothers yarns, occasional panels show WHAT REALLY HAPPENED to Burkhart during the meeting of the heads of state and whatnot. During the distraction of Union representative Peter Graves getting hella disemboweled in front of everyone, Archibald grabs Burkhart’s neck and pierces him with a tiny, poison-laced spike affixed to the ring on his left index finger.

Archibald continues his pretense of unwavering loyalty to the now-deceased. When Archibald was left for dead, Burkhart returned to lift him up and carry him to safety. “I swore from that moment on I would always be at his side, until the very day we put him in the ground.”

Colonel Sanders wraps up his spiel. Three rather dour individuals approach the old man, so he excuses himself from the grandchildren and attends to what can only be some very important Let’s-Pick-a-New-President matters! Oh boy!

“The President is dead,” proclaims a 900-year-old hag, member of the Great Council of the Confederate States of America, unaware that Archibald might already know this little tidbit of information. They seek Archibald’s counsel on the subject. A new president must be appointed. Any thoughts?

Obviously, Archibald can’t wait to get his own hands on some presidential powers! He plays it smooth, though, and recommends some nerd named Senator Howard who sucks. Not bloody likely! The hag has already made up her mind! Archibald, would you like to be the President? You seem like you’re really on the ball.

“So tell us, Archibald…how do you like the sound of President Chamberlain?” asks one of the other councilmen. Heh heh, well, you know…President? Moi? Oh do go on.

“When we are loyal, it is because we find it useful.”

“Of what worth is a mother? Of what value a child?”

We haven’t seen the Horsechildren in a while! The three of them are hanging ‘round the Armistice trying to find pilgrims to slaughter. Famine found a couple of them hiding in the walls of the tower. He/She killed the first one, and then tortured the second one into telling him/her how they got in walls in the first place. And he/she couldn’t believe her/his ears! Famine demanded that he actually show him/her/them/it how it happened. Sorry, I don’t mean to be snarky about pronouns, I just don’t know what to call these gender-swapping Horsekids.

Anyway, I’ll let Famine explain:

Exactly. People are stupid. No arguments from me.

Well, almost everyone has died or disappeared. There’s one that hasn’t. Famine throws some skinned pilgrim remains to a creature waiting in the darkness. It nabs the flesh hungrily.

Conquest sits on a cot-like bed looking sad. Next to the bed is a small nightstand teeming with vialed bottles. “Elixirs. Drugs. Every concoction you could think of… Anything to dull the pain.”

Conflicted ol’ Conquest. As you recall, in a past form, she raised Ezra Orion as a son, and now he’s a large demon-infested lump. “To see him endure this kind of suffering… it’s not the way I’d prefer things to go.”

For example, Conquest loves killing! Ezra doesn’t have to kill, necessarily, but the fulfillment and joy Conquest feels from doing all that fun killing? That’s the kind of fulfillment and joy that she wishes for him. But, clearly, that ain’t happening ever again. War kindly reminds Conquest that they all have jobs to do, so shake a leg. Get your misshapen son out here right now.

It doesn’t do it justice to describe just how supremely fucked-up Ezra Orion looks these days. Just a big, terrifying multi-tentacled, multi-tongued, toothy demon with a sad, bald head sticking out. “Yes, muh-mother…I’ve missed you so much…Hu-How can I help?”

Quiet you. Stop asking questions. Each Horsechild grabs a tongue and starts dragging the wretch across the room.

Ahh, just another day in the life.

Gross. Let’s get away from that unpleasantness immediately! What is the Endless Nation fleet up to?

They’re hovering over the Bad Lands, locking on various Republic of Texas targets: Dallas, Houston, El Paso, Austin, the Alamo. In typical Endless Nation fashion, the ship crews are hooked up Matrix-style to their crazily advanced technology. These targets are all well and good, but Texas done fucked up, so we REALLY want to hit them where it hurts. So what should they do? Kidnap Ted Cruz? Would they care if that happened at all? Would anyone care if Ted Cruz were targeted by the Endless Nation?

“This is not just an assault on our enemies, but on the very ideology that drives them,” explains the very sage Warmaster General. So pick a new target, and don’t be stingy with the ideology-destroyer! Yes sir!

While that’s happening, the Horsey Kids drag Demon Ezra over to a pillar of light. “So, Chosen…” begins War, “we have a theory we’re working on – a flight of fancy, you might say. And it requires the expertise of the world’s foremost expert on the Message.”

So, like, I know every single waking second of your existence is complete unimaginable torture now, yada yada yada, cry me a river. But we need more of your help. Your job’s not done.

“Yu-you need? I… I suffer, Mother. I suffer gr-greatly…and you need?” mumbles this pitiful sad sack.

Again, cry me a river. Your mother is a Horseman of the Apocalypse, remember? It comes with the territory. So help us, or you’re gonna wish you were never born! I mean, maybe you do already! It sure looks like it!

“I want to kill someone,” declares War, all warlike, “I want to kill the boy…the one you call the Beast. I want to kill the son of Death. Can I please do that?”

Ezra Orion is feral with his drooling mug and his bloodshot eyes. “NO!”

Then he says some inscrutable Message nonsense, followed by the proclamation that the seed of the Death + the Lotus are the destroyer-of-worlds dream team. Ergo, the boy must live. Sorry.

“Let me put it to you like this: You and your Message can eat shit.”

The Horsemen are getting pretty tired of that pesky Message. It’s really been getting in the way lately. Famine is starting to think that Death and his influence lie outside of Message-related prophetic gleanings. Conquest is starting to think that Ezra might be a little too compromised by demon-related eternal pain and suffering to think straight about the Message anymore. War is starting to think that all this Message business is a load of hooey and they’re going to kill Death’s son anyway, who cares.

Ezra shoots out a torrent of snot and blood as he cries out that trying to kill the Beast is exactly what will Beastify the Beast in the first place! Whatever happened happened! War snorts and starts leaving, but is suddenly STYMIED by a incapacitating jolt. Positively orgasmic! A feeling he/she hasn’t felt in a long time! “Did you feel it? It’s started…”

“War.”

The Endless Nation starts launching their missiles. The Armistice shakes as if experiencing a tremendous earthquake. It’s gettin’ good, baby! We don’t want to miss this!

The Horseys start leaving. Conquest asks Ezra to come with them, but the malformed bastard doesn’t want to. Isn’t he supposed to stay here at the Armistice where he belongs? “I have become what the Message demands. Aren’t you proud of me?” he blubbers.

“I’m sorry I asked so much of you. You deserved better,” Conquest tells him with the kind of motherly sadness that is certainly unbefitting of a little blue boy child.

Ezra sobs like an 80-year-old mama’s boy; asks himself if this was all for nothing.

“Rrrraarrr… Of coursssse it wassssn’t.”

That was the reassuring voice of Ezra’s personal Hell Demon! Next thing ANYBODY knows, the demon chomps off the part of Orion’s body that’s connected, rips him out of there, and flings him across the floor.

The days of wine and roses?

Ezra Orion confirms that these days are the end times, yada yada yada. EVERYONE knows that already. He sees the floor covered in pages ripped from a tome and starts shrieking. Positively hollerin’ about the precious Message! I mean, he does have all that nonsense committed to memory, but the written Word! It’s too much to handle this blatant defilement of the sacrosanct pages! No no no no no no no! Waaahhhh!

Meanwhile, shit starts exploding at the Armistice. Not a good place to be right now.

“The Word itself… I am an agent of the end times. I will become what the Message demands.”

This tweaking little sap, he starts eating the pages. Just stuffing his stupid mouth with paper.

“And the Word was made flesh, consumed by the one left behind. Cast out and cut off, his righteous hand forfeit, by his left he would lead them.” (This is some Message stuff right here!)

“The temple brought low, and the chains of the Message cast off. So were signs of the coming of the Prophet.” (Top notch Message-y goodness)

While Ezra Orion eats paper, the demon grabs him by its many tongues and starts dragging him into its mouth.

Elsewhere, newest buddies Death and Hunter approach a vast forest. Somewhere in there, and it’s huge, man, is his weird autistic son. Death asks Hunter if he can hang out for a little bit longer, but no dice. “I’m headed the other way… I got other names to cross off my list.”

“Fair enough. Just be careful you don’t cross me again,” threatens Death with his Dirty Harry grimace. And Hunter’s like “I might be up for another challenge someday, padre.”

“Good luck findin’ your kid,” Hunter bids Death farewell and bugs off. Per Hunter’s robot dog, he’s about a hundred miles straight ahead. I hope you brought your comfortable cowboy boots!

“I’ll even say a prayer for you, dead man… That hopefully, you get there in time.”

Already, the three Horsemen are there.

Final Thoughts

The reunion I’ve been waiting for! A big Death vs. three little children! If Death couldn’t even kick a Hunter’s ass, what chance does he have against these three? This guy’s pussywhipped too. I could probably kick Death’s ass.

Hey, we have one more issue left before the first arc is complete! What a ride it’s been! Now go away.