Chapter Text
The Undertaker lays in the ground, six feet under. Cold. Dead. Unmoving.
But his soul is restless. Furious .
He has got to find that damn urn.
He has to come back. Come hell or high water, he will return. That’s what he promised, after all.
Obviously, his body lays lifeless in the cold dirt. And the urn was in Ted DiBiase’s possession- that greedy bastard.
If he was here now… perhaps he could get a little bit of assistance to get it back into his own hands .
*****************
The rain pounds against the roof of the truck, relentless and constant.
It was too dangerous to leave tonight- flash flood warnings had been called over the truck radio, along with a rather concerning warning about potential hail.
Diesel lies on the bed of the sleeper cabin, staring up at the ceiling. He and Shawn had had a damn good night tonight; having won a match as Intercontinental Champions after putting up a hell of a fight against Razor Ramon.
They’d gone back to their locker room, laughing and celebrating, before needing to pack up and go home.
Hopefully Shawn gets home safe, he thinks to himself- running a hand through his thick dark hair. He’s certainly glad he showered before he left the locker room.
************
Unearthly green smoke curls out from the Undertaker’s headstone, and a surge of lightning cracks the dark sky in half. A sign that his soul, his power , has been released into the world.
God help the unlucky man who has to deal with it.
***************
Of course Shawn Michaels is out partying- he’d just won another title, and he was damn proud.
In the crowded bar, he sits in a booth with all his other friends; laughing raucously and talking all about how he whooped Scott Hall’s ass (with Diesel’s help, of course).
Diesel had told him he couldn’t drive home tonight, so he has half the mind to leave and wait at the arena… but he can’t do that if he gets too drunk, now can he?
***********
The lightning flashes through the window, and the subsequent thunder is loud enough to scare Diesel out of whatever sleep he could’ve gotten.
“Jesus
fuck
, it’s loud out there,” he thinks out loud.
He’s got to leave. But not while the storm is this bad.
And then, the lights flicker off- and he’s plunged into eerie darkness, only punctuated by flashes of lightning.
“ Oh, come on , I just fixed these damn things,” he groans. But he’s starting to feel really uneasy.
He sits further back onto the bed, propping his legs up. He’s still worried… but why not be comfortable while he’s at it?
The truck engine stutters, if only for a second.
A dense fog fills the parking lot, making the area even darker than it already was.
Shit.
He’d heard the rumors that the Undertaker had returned… but honestly, he didn’t believe them. Whoever this guy was, he seemed almost… too small . Tall, certainly, but noticeably leaner. Not as broad-shouldered.
DiBiase, of course , was bragging all about it.
This couldn’t be him, though… right? The guy had been killed and buried a couple months ago- even if he’d shown up on the Jumbotron moments later, growling a warning that he would never rest in peace .
…Nah, couldn’t be him. That sort of thing just doesn’t happen- the dead stay dead, magic like that isn’t real.
Besides, that prized urn was in DiBiase’s possession. Even if the Deadman did return, he wouldn’t be near as powerful.
…Right?
A chill fills the cabin. It feels… dead .
Diesel wraps a travel blanket around his shoulders, shivering quietly. “Alright… what the fuck is goin’ on here?”
Diesel…. growls a terrifyingly familiar voice, seemingly out of nowhere.
The big man shouts in surprise, jumping up from the bed and putting up his fists. “What the FUCK?! You- you can’t be! You’re supposed to be cold in the ground, Deadman!”
My body rests in the dirt… but my soul is restless. I must return. But… I cannot return without a body.
Not much scares Big Daddy Cool. That’s his whole thing - he’s too cool to be scared. But the Undertaker always unnerved him. Even while alive… the almost 7-foot tall man dressed in all black, with a curtain of dark red hair obscuring his face, was enough to send a chill down his spine.
But right now… the big, strong bodyguard is stricken with pure terror.
“W-What do you want!?”, he cries out, seemingly to no one.
“The urn… It still rests in DiBiase’s possession,” growls the Undertaker’s soul- now curling its way around Diesel.
“If… If you assist me in reclaiming it… I will find a way to repay you, Diesel.”
He looks down at the glowing green tendrils of smoke, his eyes wide. “No, you’re… you’re not gonna…”
“It will only be temporary, boy. I promise to make it a painless process… but you must relax.” The tendrils curl around the other man’s neck, applying a cold, slight pressure.
“Man, I can’t relax when the soul of a guy who died months ago is tryin’ to fucking possess me!”
And then… Daddy Cool feels himself relax. It feels… heavy. Dizzying.
Tendrils of green smoke coil into his slacked mouth, and it surges through his veins.
His skin begins to feel… unnaturally cool.
“You better not… make this permanent…”, he says heavily, his eyes closing.
And down he goes.
His eyes reopen, now a bright shade of green.
Lightning flashes again, splitting the sky.
Finally. Finally.
The Undertaker stands slowly from the bed, getting his bearings straight.
They were remarkably close in height… and if Nash needed to, he could probably get away with wearing the hat and coat as a disguise.
He flexes his hands, before opening the driver’s door.
Somehow, he manages to make Kevin Nash look absolutely terrifying, as he grimaces up at the arena.
Time to get to work.
**************************
Shawn had been good tonight- he’s only a bit buzzed, and he’s made his way back to the locker room to pack his stuff up and go home.
With a long, happy sigh, he sits on the bench- shaking the rain out of his long blonde curls like a wet dog.
Tonight was fun. Lots of fun.
The Undertaker stalks his way down the hall towards the locker room. This body was temporary, but… he likes feeling alive. Feeling the heartbeat in his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin.
Nash had forgotten his gear bag in the locker room. That’s where he keeps a spare key.
He just needs to find it.
The Heartbreak Kid lounges on the couch, watching the door with a bored look on his face. He’d talked to Diesel about maybe driving him home… What was taking the big guy so long?
He’d have his answer.
Someone slams into the door full-force, causing it to fly open at a terrifying speed.
It’s Diesel, alright.. But… He doesn’t look like himself at all .
He was pissed. And his eyes seem to glow an unearthly, unfamiliar shade of green.
“...Hey, bud, you good? You look pissed-” is all Shawn could get out, before he realizes exactly what’s wrong- and before Diesel damn near throws the smaller man out of the way, dead set on looking for… something.
“H- Hey! What the- what the hell’s gotten into you?! ”, Shawn yells, his voice laced with confusion and fear.
The bigger man just glares at him- and just then, for a second, Shawn Michaels swears he sees the familiar grimace of The Undertaker coming from his friend’s face.
His heart nearly stops.
That man was dead. Dead! And now- now he’s taken over poor Diesel! What sort of unholy plans did the Deadman have?!
“No… No, you’re…”
“
Dead.
Yes, I know,” growls the voice of the Undertaker from Nash’s throat. This all feels so
unnatural
, so truly
horrifying
. No wonder horror movies with possession were so popular.
“I will return your friend as soon as I’m finished. He’ll be fine… I have an urn I need to reclaim.”
“You… you promise?”, says Shawn meekly. Alright, that’s a really stupid thing to do, but Shawn’s not always the brightest bulb. (At least he’s pretty.)
Diesel simply nods. “I promise, Michaels. Though… I’ll return him to the sleeper cabin. I… think the poor man was trying to sleep,” the voice says apologetically.
And then he leaves.
Shawn’s heart is pounding . The urn was… well, he didn’t know where it was.
*************************
Diesel gets into the truck… and drives to the graveyard. He’s scared. REALLY scared. The Undertaker’s voice growls in his head, like some sort of demon.
“...This is crazy , man- why couldn’t you- I dunno, get Paul’s help or some shit?!”
A searing headache is ‘Taker’s answer to that question.
“ Paul… Paul Bearer knows NOTHING of where I am buried. Nor does he know… of how I will return. But… if this plan works out… I want you to take my body from my grave, Diesel. Then… I can repossess it. I am not entirely sure how well it will work without the urn…. But I have waited for far too long.”
He shudders at the thought- how far has the Deadman’s body rotted since he’s been buried? How long has he been in the ground? “...Don’t bodies rot? I mean- what if it’s too far gone?”
The voice hesitates in thought.
“I do not believe it will be. I’m not sure exactly why it would be unaffected, though.”
“We’re here.”
The graveyard is much farther away than Diesel had anticipated.
It’s cold, dark, and eerie. Just like any other graveyard, as far as he’s concerned.
“Hm… Do you have anything to carry out a casket?” , says the voice.
“Uh… I’ve got this hook cable,” Diesel says hesitantly, pulling out the large cable from the back of the truck. “I didn’t think the casket would be that heavy.”
“I… don’t believe I’m buried in a casket. Just in the dirt.”
Oh, joy, I get to see his dead corpse right away, he thinks to himself, his stomach turning.
They reach the Undertaker’s grave. A tall, solid black headstone, cracked on one side where his soul had escaped.
“...How long do I have to dig?”, Diesel asks.
“Just enough for my soul to reach through the dirt… I’d say about a foot or two.”
That’s still a hell of a lot of dirt.
And with a shaky breath… Diesel starts digging.
True to his word, the Undertaker’s body wasn’t buried deep at all. Nor was it buried well .
There it is, laying with his arms haphazardly crossed over his chest. Lifeless, unmoving, pale, and covered in dirt.
The bodyguard can feel his stomach turning. “Oh, fuck…”, he whispers. The Undertaker scoffs. “ I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… this is no way to bury a body. They’ve done it all wrong.”
What the hell is the RIGHT way to bury a 7-foot tall man like that?!, Diesel thinks incredulously.
Just then, he feels green smoke curling its way back out of his mouth… and he almost collapses onto the ground. The power leaves him, surprisingly no worse for wear.
It curls in long, glowing tendrils around the Deadman’s body, and seems to sink into his skin.
After a moment… The Undertaker’s eyes snap open.
Pale white.
God, he hated it when the Deadman made that face. That pale-eyed, horrible grimace.
It was always a threat. A warning.
He lets out a loud, drawn-out gasp of a first breath, sitting up slowly. Completely disoriented, his hands roam his body to check for any wounds…. before grabbing onto the dirt, pulling his way out.
Diesel’s terrified . Here he is, watching the dead come back to life, something that should never be possible…
…And yet, here he was, staring into the muted green eyes of the Undertaker. Standing eye-to-eye.
“...Thank you, for helping me,” says the same gruff voice. “This is… strange . I feel… nothing. Nothing at all.” ‘Taker frowns, a large hand running over his chest. “No pulse… no heartbeat.”
Truly a dead man walking.
“You should go home, Diesel… It’s very late, but- at least the storm is over. I… I must find my way home.”
The bodyguard coughs slightly. “I… I don’t think you should walk all the way there, man. It seems far.”
‘Taker frowns in slight confusion. “...Are you offering me a ride?”
“Yeah, I am… I mean, I should probably do that- Paul might wonder what the hell’s going on if you show up at the parlor.”
The other man nods, stroking his beard. “You’re right. I cannot have Paul knowing that I have returned… Not yet. Though… I should be able to return to my house. It isn’t far from the parlor.”
They head back towards the semi truck, Diesel’s hands shaking in fear.
This whole ordeal feels like a scene from a damn horror movie- first, he gets possessed , then he practically digs up the Undertaker’s dead body and watches as the other man comes back to life … and now the Deadman sits silently in the passenger’s seat like a giant shadow, watching out the window intently. His green eyes scan the moving surroundings… and none of it seemed unfamiliar. But he felt unfamiliar- unfamiliar to himself . He couldn’t remember anything.
Diesel drives off after dropping the other man off at his house- it looks like a nice enough place, if a bit shabby. Thankfully, the way back to the arena was fairly short.
If this ever happened again… He didn’t know what he’d do.
Now he has to explain it to poor Shawn.