amen, amen.

The mental capacity of humans were intolerable. And thus, the Undertaker posed an idea with himself, for he has too many specimens in this dear city the scientists had created, that perhaps he should further his range to the mental capacity of these things, or beings, that weren’t specifically human. If his research proved something, it would be either that the lab rat’s ego gets the better of them, or they’re truly as fearful when it came to uncomfortable situations.

Hands dug into the giant cut he’d done to his victim’s stomach, the Undertaker feeling the vibrations of her organs as he did so. Carefully, he dragged his nails down the entrails, scraping the layer of skin from the inside in case something was overlooked. A thorough examination, with the mortician being sure that nothing else was different about her body when it came to how she attains her powers. However, process was stopped, and the grim reaper glanced over the opening eyes of his little drugged rat. Grinning, he began to speak.

This was the kind of experiment that was to his expertise. With the numerous amount of people inside Hive City, there were even more of these humans that didn’t exactly fit under those that were dragged into the city by a mere whim of the scientists. Given his Cinematic Records back, he had yet to really use it, in a way, and wondered if it would work different on these people. Multiple were used to test the effects. Senior citizens, adults, children, infants-- All results were the same. However, infants were quite interesting. Without a true life to look forward to because of its comprehension, it couldn’t become anything like his last masterpiece in London. 

It was a mindless monster, in a sense. Completely free of wants and needs, but the Undertaker had to make sure of it himself. While it definitely didn’t fit the requirements of a success, it continued to make him curious. Taking the child into a shady part of sector 3, if anyone were to look at the baby, it would be evident that it was once a corpse-- but prettied up, as if it were about to have a funeral. The Undertaker enjoyed making his creations beautiful, despite their ugly intentions. For now, that is. And when spotting the first person he saw, he chuckled.

The guise of a real therapist had gotten the Undertaker this far in the hospital. His new little rat was a pleasing abduction due to the fact that he seemed to not have fought back, which made it even easier for the grim reaper to have his way with him. Finding a room much like those that are in asylums, the strait jacket was placed upon the victim, and he was immediately led to that room. Locking the door, the Undertaker made his way to a higher level, in which he’d be able to watch the reactions his dear experiment made and speak to him. The technology of the hospital was unfamiliar to the Undertaker, but he would adjust to it. 

As simple as it was, it was also quite useful. Pressing the button so that his voice could be heard, the mortician leisurely sat in his seat, hat being tossed aside in order for more comfort. Voice was leveled and lower than his usual creepy and obsessed tone, the Undertaker taking a more normal stride for this current victim of his. “Julian,” Was said in such a way that it seemed like a casual greeting between acquaintances. "How are you today?”

Subject after subject. With the laziness he’d succumbed to in his old life while living in London, this was certainly change. Though, it wasn’t a change that the Undertaker could find distaste in, especially with the information he would gather through it. Without much to experiment on due to the dead not staying in their corpse like state, he learned much more about the human brain and the comprehensions of it, instead. Even then, his research extended far past the human mind, for Hive City was crawling with different sorts of creatures that he wished to know more about.

And the one before him, chained up to his usual ‘bed’, was another like any other he had pricked at multiple times. His objective for this man was the curiosity focusing on his horns-- a strange attribute, one that the Undertaker only heard of in fairy tales. The mortician noticed a few minutes later upon the awakening on his new victim, and a turn of his chair allowed him the procedure of lifting himself up from it and to his specimen. Locking his fingers together and leaning his chin atop of them, it was a pleasing gesture, indeed, with the Undertaker getting extremely close to the lab rat’s face-- but more specifically, his horns. “You weren’t supposed to wake up yet. Oooh well ~,”