Flash Fiction

The four horsemen ranged in an arc about him. He faced them alone, on the edge. A burning mist caught at his throat. 

He turned to the first, War…” he said, tapping his head, “I have education, you are no threat.” Facing the second, “Pestilence, on my shoulder so sits science, you are doomed.” And to the third, “Famine, I hunger only for wisdom.” 

The horsemen were close to hysterics as he faced the fourth, to whom he said, “Fuck you.” And deftly sliced all four with his handy laser pistol. To the crumpled, rotting corpses he whispered, “See?”