plague karasu it was 1918 two decades into the brave new century he sat with his friends as they drank and played cards on a saturday night. they were lucky, or so they thought. down at the army post on the outskirts of town they were carting the dead out at a rate of nearly three hundred a week this place was the last stop of the spanish influenza, across the world, some twenty million lives had been cut short and the fates had been tirelessly trimming them from the tapestry he dealt the boys another hand of cards and pulled from the beer he had in the ice bucket just on the edge of his reach. The man on his left, thick and strong in spite of his age took a beer from the bucket. He retained the sharp eyes he had put to good use in their younger days pulling coach robberies and the occasional train heist whn the money was right equally strong, but a bit rheumy-eyed on the right, his brother sat cleaning the thick spectacles, layng his cards face down on the table as he did. across the table was the one they called "kid" even though he was already in his late forties. he ws a pussycat after a few drinks, but if there was a job at hand, he was crazier than a shithouse rat and twice as nasty. But that all changed on that crazy afternoon when they were still fairly young men and the kid was indeed a kid the tall and gaunt old man dealing the cards felt a cough coming on. his throat rasped. he knew it would be soon. 010622 ... Black Argonaut the most sadistic of the four horseman 030221 what's it to you? who go blather from