#90s undertaker

The cold stone walls of the funeral parlor felt as if they actively could repeal someone, a sign to not enter without even having any words. Danger, turn back, run. But you weren’t planning on that… no. You were gonna do what no sane man ever dared to. Enter the den of the Undertaker. You’ve seen his matches, the phenomenon that was the deadman. To think of that power on your side? You could be unstoppable.

So you had to brave the trek through the cemetery that seemed to have a perpetual fog and chill in the air. Crows cawing and staring at the graves they rested on as they picked at feathers and cawed. You fiddled with the large key in your hand, shaking for no real reason… the amount of work you had to put in to even get this key was ridiculous… but it’d be worth it in the end. It had to be worth it. The key clicked in the lock and the door seemed to open on its own, slowly, ever so slowly it creaked open. You only cringed at the sound…. If he didn’t know you were in his domain… he surely did now. You took a step in, darkness, the parlor was full of just darkness and perpetual scent of formaldehyde and dust. The only thing that really stood out in the small slimmer of sun from the outside was a vase set upon a table covered in mortuary tools… at least you assumed that’s what they were. But in the vase a bundle of white Lilies. You were shocked by the pristine condition they were in, pushing yourself away from the door to walk towards them before gasping as the door seemed to slam shut. Leaving you in the darkness. You frantically looked around, eyes wide as you tried to adjust to the darkness, you frantically felt around in your jacket pocket, you always kept a box of matches on you in case of emergencies. Shaky hands struggling to strike a flame against the matchbox and once it did you could stare at the white eyes staring back to your own. Ginger hair draped over his face yet the whiteness of his eyes stood out and shook your soul.

A hand reaching out to roughly grab at your neck. You let out a choked gasp as you were hoisted in the air, box of matches falling to the floor as several spilled on the floor. You kicked and grabbed at the hand around your neck, desperate to try and get air into your lungs. His touch, even with the gloves on, was freezing, unnaturally so. As if he had just had his hands in ice.

“Why…. Are you here…?” The gravelly voice spoke. Slow and full of malice..? Was that even the right way to put it? You did kind of just barge into his home.

“J-just wanted to talk man! P-please!” You sputtered out, your face was feeling hotter and hotter as you struggled to pull enough air into your lungs… it seems he contemplated for a moment before dropping you, falling to the floor with a thud as you hacked and desperately tried to pull air into your lungs.

“I don’t care what you have to say… leave.” He spoke coldly as he turned on his foot. You managed to hoist yourself up and huffed. “J-just listen to me man! We could work together! I know you don’t need your help but I do.” You tried to plead. It was embarrassing. “I… I want to be taken more seriously by all of those assholes! They’re all scared of you. If… if you and I were to team up they’d have to take me seriously too!” You begged before watching as the form stopped, your eyes had grown adjusted to the darkness by now. He stood still… the air having a similar sense of stillness.

“What’s in it for me… you have nothing you could offer me…”

“I know that.. so I’ll work for whatever it is you want! Money? I’ll get it for you. Championbelts? I’ll do my fucking best to get them for you. I just-“ you were cut off by him speaking again.

“I have no need…. For your… monetary mortal needs… but. I’ll humor you.”

Your eyes widened. He was going to do it. He was actually going to help you. Your eyes lit up and your smile grew. “Holy shit… you’re serious! You’re going to-“

“Under one condition…”

Your eyes widened. You made a deal with the Deadman. Why did you even think this was a good idea? No no this was an awful idea… but your mouth spoke before your mind. “What is it…”

“Your soul… Will be mine.” He spoke as if it was normal. As if promising your soul to someone was just a normal Tuesday event… you needed this though right..? You needed to be able to stand out. To become something. To prove that… this was what you were supposed to be.

“It’s all yours..” you responded after a moment. Meeting his gaze you gulped and he went closer towards you. His hand reached out to touch your face. He tilted his head to the side, hair covering his face, his touch still just a frigid yet… Now it was comforting in a sense, contrasting to your heated face after the choking. His head jolted up however at a speed with which you hadn’t expected from him, just as quickly as you felt the touch you felt a different kind. A shove to your chest as you were pushed into plushness. Your eyes widened. “Hey what’re you-“ you were cut off as he held a finger towards his mouth. As if to say quiet. As he went to shut the coffin door. Your eyes widened in panic as you tried to peak through a crack… seeing however the reason why you had been hidden. Paul Bearer. You brought your hands to your mouth to cover your breathing… you felt bad for listening over the two, talking about upcoming matches… a casket match against Yokozuna…

“And clean up this mess!” Paul Bearer ended, he must’ve been talking about your spilled matchbox. You watched as he walked off.. Taker staring as he made his way off as well and once he was gone Taker approached the coffin, pulling the door open to look down at you. “You should leave…” he began before walking over towards the matchbox. Picking it up and shoving it to your chest. You quickly scrambled to grab it before nodding.