"Now I watched when the Lamb opened one of the seven seals,

And I heard one of the four living creatures say with a voice like thunder,

"Come!" And I looked, and behold a white horse! And its rider had a bow,

And a crown was given to him, and he came out conquering, and to conquer."

-Revelation 6: 1-2

-Ω-

You could say that Frank and Death had been scandalously, scandalously intimate during the past few months, and the teenaged boy would do little to argue with you. It was a bit scary how accurate that little statement was, and it didn't just apply to Frank; it applied to everyone on the western side of the world, or at least, anyone left on the western side of the world. He plodded through New York City with a bandana wrapped around his mouth and nose, his eyes squinting around the heaps and heaps of dust that still lingered in the air, and tried to ignore the sun beating down on top of him, making him sweat and causing all of the bodies to fester and emit such a putrid smell that even the crows had been scared off. Without the huge black birds' constant calling, there was just silence. Silence and the sound of Frank's footsteps on the mangled cement.

He picked his way over chunks of what had once been buildings, having to clamber through the skeletons of some of those that were still standing, and finally made it to where he needed to be. It was a place he'd pinpointed when he'd first surveyed the city, and he walked through the gaping hole in the east wall. At first, he'd been wary of ruffians and gangs that would no doubt form, but upon realizing that nobody had survived and that he was the only one, he strolled leisurely into every place he found. His stomach rumbled, but he disregarded it as he began to rifle through the aisles, which were packed and brimming with food. He saw, and smelled, for that matter, the rotting body of the cashier slumped over the counter, still in his loud, obnoxious blue vest, but ignored him as he picked his way through the dark aisles. The lights, of course, were off, and Frank had to rely on the sunlight coming from the hole in the wall in order to read the ingredients on the bags to make sure that there was nothing he was allergic to in there. Leave it to the lactose intolerant kid to survive all this.

He thanked everyone and everything that in this day and age everything had preservatives in them, and he heaped as many things into his bag as possible, steering well clear from the rancid smell coming from the dairy aisle. He completely and totally ransacked the mini-mart's aisle that was titled "Essentials", because one only began to truly appreciate these essentials when they were gone. He finally managed to salvage a couple of toothbrushes and several tubes of toothpaste, as well as an overflowing amount of deodorant (which wasn't really needed since there was no one really around to smell his terrible body odor) , and a shampoo bottle. He hated to abandon this gold mine, but he wasn't a character on Skyrim; he couldn't carry every useful thing around with him. He soon got over his worry when he realized that he could always come back later; it wasn't like there was anyone else left to raid it.

He bid the very much dead cashier farewell and slipped outside, taking a deep breath through his bandana and relishing the most-likely-toxic, post-apocalyptic air. As Frank weaved his way through the barren wreckage of what had once been a bustling city, he couldn't help but wonder why he had to be the one to survive. A newspaper skidded past, the bold headline making him chuckle:

SCIENTISTS BELIEVE TO HAVE DISCOVERED CURE TO RAPIDLY SPREADING VIRUS

It was dated about a year ago, and Frank knew just as well as everyone else that this "cure" would turn out to be a dud just like the rest. No cure had been able to be salvaged because people didn't live long enough to be studied for symptoms and the like; they simply died, though not before a black handprint-like shape appeared on their wrist, as if someone had grabbed them. Many people had theorized that it was a man-made sickness that was meant to be used for biological warfare, but it had broken loose from the lab and run rampant. These theorists had been too busy being dead to try and scheme about anything else, and Frank wondered if the virus had spread to any other continent. He sure hoped not.

Frank continued on, his eyes scanning his surroundings warily as they picked out movement within the shadows. Packs of feral dogs were congregating, consisting of the poor saps who'd managed to survive the building collapses, and their gazes bored into Frank, slobber dribbling from their mouths and their ribs sticking out against their pelts. They were currently eying Frank like he was an all-you-can-eat buffet, and he began to jog, hoping to make it back to his camp before nightfall. He didn't know what would happen if he found himself out in the open during the nighttime, but he didn't want to find out; the feral dogs were wary in broad daylight, but they certainly wouldn't hesitate to pounce in the cover of darkness.

Though the landscape seemed random and unfamiliar, Frank navigated easily, and pretty soon he was standing in front of the Old Dutch Church, staring up at the towering spires and the crack-riddled stained glass. The church wasn't old, or Dutch, for that matter, but he supposed that it was the thought that counted. Frank tromped up the cobbled path and up the stone steps, fumbling with the lock under the harsh scrutiny of stone angels, and finally pushed the huge wooden doors open with the groan of hinges in serious need of oiling. Frank stepped over the threshold and felt at home, or as at home as one could get when they were probably the only person left on Earth.

He didn't know why he'd settled in a church, since he hadn't been the least bit religious before and certainly wasn't going to turn to religion now. Perhaps it was because it was the most intact building he could find, or perhaps he was just seeking an answer to the big fat Why? that hovered around him whenever he was alone with his thoughts, which was often. The church was by no means large, and Frank thought it to be quite cozy as he plopped his bag down on its respective pew, one of the handful that remained; all of the rest had been turned into either fuel for fire or into scrap wood used to patch up the many gaps in the walls and ceilings. He had yet to experience a winter under these news circumstances, but he knew he needed to cover as many holes as possible before that time rolled around and he froze to death.

"What's up, Mr. D?" Frank greeted the opossum that had made its home in the rafters of the church and occasionally pooped on Frank's things. The rodent didn't reply, naturally, its nose twitching and its beady black eyes following Frank's every movement. Frank was pretty sure he had some form of rabies, but he didn't bother Mr. D and therefore Mr. D didn't bother him, though the 'D' in his name stood for Dipshit. "I raided that mini-mart I was talking about earlier. Got some good stuff." Mr. D had long since gone back to chewing on a stick, and Frank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He turned his gaze to the decent-sized crucifix mounted above the altar. It could also serve as firewood, but Frank had decided that that would be taking it too far; he could only desecrate this church so much before he began to lose some of his humanity, and he wondered if he would go to hell for this. Then again, the big man upstairs hadn't really given him much of a choice, now did he? Frank unpacked his backpack, setting everything in their respective places (even though it was the apocalypse he still felt like he needed a system of organization), and began the long process of bathing and getting to bed.

The best part about having a church as a place to set up camp was that it had a near-unlimited amount of candles and matches, as well as water for blessing and stuff. That "holy" water was Frank's bathtub, and even though it was cold, he couldn't find it in himself to complain as he scrubbed all of the dirt and dust off of his body. He dried himself off with a towel he'd snagged from a public pool and slipped on the clothes he'd been wearing every day for the past few months; sadly, he hadn't been able to find and raid a clothing store yet, and he was pretty sure his plaid shirt, his torn, faded jeans, and his boxers smelled awful, though he'd long since gone noseblind to the stench.

He sighed and shuffled back to his things, running a hand through his damp hair and eying the pew that his sleeping bag was rolled out onto, his back already beginning to ache at the prospect of sleeping on it again. The colors on the beautiful stained glass windows were beginning to grow dimmer, the depictions of the sacred mysteries becoming nearly unrecognizable as the morning light faded, and Frank lit a candle to see by. He reclined back on the pew, which was packed full of blankets and other soft things that could serve as pillows, and looked up at the dim outline of the rafters, where Mr. D was beginning to move around a bit more.

Frank turned and took one of his most treasured things in hand, the one thing he'd been able to salvage from the remains of his house, and forced back tears as he stared down at it. The button eyes of a stuffed bear stared back. He was a childhood memento, a little thing that Frank had kept on his bed because it brought back memories of when he was a kid. Now it was the only thing he had left; he hadn't even found any of his grandmother's things to keep or bury in her memory. They'd simply been buried too far under the rubble, along with Grandma Zhang herself, and Frank tried not to wonder if his grandmother had actually been alive when he'd sprinted home from school and found the house decimated. Tried not to wonder if she'd been calling softly to him as he desperately sifted through the rubble. Tried not to wonder if she'd cried when she'd heard his retreating footsteps and the sound of the city crumbling in the distance.

He rubbed desperately at his eyes and hugged the stuffed bear to his chest. "Do you ever miss your family, Bear?" Frank asked, rolling his eyes at the name he'd given it, considering he'd long since forgotten the name he'd bestowed upon it when he was two. "I certainly do." Frank choked on a laugh, his words turning bitter. "I mean, you probably wonder if you're the last teddy bear on Earth, and your only company is someone or something you can't understand or talk to. You probably think that you're going to be alone forever. You probably think that you should just take that coil of rope in your backpack and swing by your neck to just get it over with." Tears streaked down Frank's cheeks as he slowly lowered himself onto his side and pulled the blankets up over his shoulders, though not before he extinguished the candle. For a while he just stared into the dark, clutching Bear like a lifeline, and then he finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep that was plagued by images of his grandmother being buried alive.

-Ω-

Today would be the day that Frank found Him. The day was blisteringly hot, and Frank had shed his shirt so he didn't soak through it with sweat and make it smell even worse than it already did. His footsteps echoed throughout the wasteland that had once been New York City, each one splitting through the silence like a gunshot, and Frank would be lying if he claimed that it didn't unnerve him. He tried to ignore that, though, and hefted his backpack higher over his shoulder as he set off back to the mini-mart. Squinting at the crude directions he'd scribbled on his hand, in the other hand he twirled a baseball bat with nails and other sharp things protruding from it, in case he encountered any dogs or perhaps some animals who'd escaped from Central Park Zoo.

Frank had gone this way many times since everything had gone to shit, and every time it hadn't been any more different than before. The buildings that were still standing leaned at worrisome angles, and the rest had been reduced to scraps and rubble. It was the biggest graveyard Frank had ever seen, and he pulled his bandana over his nose again as the smell of festering flesh made bile rise up in his throat. This air wasn't good to breathe to begin with, what with all the dust particles in the air, but the city had been the only place where Frank had even a smidgeon of a chance to survive, since there were so many stores to raid.

He had no idea what had made everything just deteriorate like this; the biggest issue before everything had started was the sickness. And the worst part was that it couldn't be singled out as just structural failure; almost all of the buildings in New York City and the surrounding suburbs had experienced this "structural failure", too many of them for it to be considered a coincidence. Frank couldn't afford to think about that now as he wove through the many vehicles that were clustered on the street, some of which had drivers slumped over the wheel, all of them boasting black handprints on their arms. Most of the cars were simply empty. With all of this exposure to the deceased victims of the virus, Frank wondered how on Earth he hadn't gotten infected yet. Whatever this immunity was, it sure as hell wasn't a blessing.

Frank was so consumed with his thoughts that he nearly missed the movement out of the corner of his eye. He stopped dead, immediately on high alert as his gaze zeroed in on that flicker of movement in the corner of his vision. He didn't hear the telltale cackle of the crows, so he could only assume the worst as he strained his hears to pick up some sort of hint on what he could be up against. Eventually growing to suspect dogs, he raised his baseball bat high in the air, white-knuckling his grip as he slowly turned around…to see a teenaged boy.

In that moment, for the first time since the apocalypse had begun, Frank well and truly felt like he was in a horror movie, and he swallowed hard and backed up a few paces as his eyes trained on the young man standing in front of the hospital to Frank's right, watching him with a sort of detached surprise. Frank was pretty sure that the guy hadn't been there two seconds earlier, and the skin on his arms and the back of his neck began to prickle, the temperature suddenly plummeting to the point where it was almost chilly. Almost. The boy couldn't've been more than Frank's age, maybe a little younger, but that made him no less unnerving, considering how he'd no doubt come from the abandoned hospital behind him. Frank hadn't heard the door opening, though, and just assumed he'd been too preoccupied to notice.

"Hello?" Frank called out softly, and even though his voice was quiet it still echoed through the abandoned streets, its volume magnified to the point where he might as well have been shouting. The boy didn't reply, studying Frank with sunken green eyes, and the survivor was sufficiently freaked out at that point. He checked the sign on the hospital to make sure it wasn't a mental hospital, and felt slightly reassured when the faded letters above the door declared that it was a hospital for sick patients rather than a loony bin, though he was still on high alert in case this guy was still contagious. He tried again, "Hello?"

The teenager once again didn't respond, his thin, pale fingers clutching the IV pole he had with him. Frank wished he could muster up the courage to go over, to ask what was wrong, but fear froze him in place, leaving him locked in a stare down with this mystery teen. Frank then realized that this boy was clearly unarmed, unless he'd somehow managed to conceal a weapon in the skimpy hospital gown he wore, and he hefted his baseball bat over his shoulder, trying to seem macho as he strolled over to where the guy was standing on the ramp of the hospital.

"Are you alright?" Frank asked, and finally received his answer; a head shake. "What's the matter?" The boy just stared at him balefully, his eyes looking like shards from the windows of the Old Dutch Church, and Frank shouldn't've expected the cooperation to last. Frank sighed heavily as he plopped his ass down next to the teenager, his irritation simmering beneath the surface, though he almost immediately regretted sitting down when he realized that he could see right up the dude's hospital gown. He didn't want to see what surprise he'd get when this guy turned around. Still, frank had just found perhaps one of the last people alive, and he sure as hell wasn't going to give him up so easily.

The boy eventually lowered himself onto the ground next to Frank, and the survivor noticed just how badly his bare feet were cut up. He must've walked on broken glass or something. Frank didn't like to be nosy, but he really had no choice with this teen, who was unwilling to work with him.

"Can I see your bracelet?" he asked, and the patient nodded extending the wrist that had the hospital band around it. Frank was surprised to find that the only think printed on his bracelet was a first name: Perseus. No surname. No date of birth. No date of admission into the hospital. He was simply "Perseus". Perseus watched Frank tamely as he looked all over the bracelet, even going as far to take it off and turn it around, and yet there was no more information on this guy. He was even more of a mystery than he had been before. Frank finally gave up and reattached the bracelet, in case Perseus would be offended if he just tossed it to the side, and sat back, looking the black-haired boy up and down.

Finally, after a long period of silence, Frank extended his hand, trying for a winning smile. "It's nice to meet you, Perseus," he told the patient. "I'm Frank." Perseus gave Frank a wary once-over before gingerly taking his hand and shaking it. The teen's hand felt like glass in Frank's, his skin somehow cold in the blistering weather, and he tried not to show how eager he was to release it. "How long have you been in that hospital?" he asked, even though he knew that the attempt would be fruitless, and was rewarded for his efforts by a scrutinizing stare.

"Well, before we're on our way I want to know if you have any, I don't know, sicknesses that may or may not affect me." Frank told him, gesturing to the IV pole and the hospital gown. "I'm not gonna leave you I just want to know what I'm dealing with."

Percy gave Frank another long look before he extended the arm with the IV needle in it. There was a black handprint on his wrist. Frank's mouth went dry.

"I'm in way over my head," he murmured.

-Ω-

(A/N) Hello, everyone. I'm Iwovepizza and I'm proud to present to you the first chapter of We All Fall Down. Please don't forget to follow/favorite and leave a comment so I know how I can improve! This is also available on AO3