Disclamer: I still don't own him, or anyone else for that matter.

Before I go on, I would like to think two poeple for convincing me to give another story a try. Chassie666 and Blackstar1979. Blackstar for being the first to review me and Chassie for encourageing me to try another shot at writing, no matter how long it would take. (And trust me, it will take time for me to get through this. I really am not a writer. :) ) I hope someone enjoys it, even if it is just these two great great writers.

Now on to the story.

Oh yeah it's about the Undertaker...like Duh. LOL

On the outskirts of Austin TX, sits a lone ranch, miles from the nearest neighbhor. The ranch, a fairly large one, as would be expected in the state known form such, sits under a cool autumn moon. The air, moved with the cool wind of the night, promises a cooler winter then in previous years, is filled with a subdued presence of the normal nightlife. If one where to be standing atop the hill near the main house of the ranch they could not escape the feeling the world is holding it's breath waiting. Waiting for what would be the question. One, the sole individual standing on that very hill can answer.

This man, dressed in clothing dark as the night that envelops him, remains standing motionless, gazing unerringly upon the darkened house below him. His visage, more shrouded in darkness then not, reveals nothing of his mood. Some thought must pass though his mine, for a moment he seems to smirk darkly before his, night veiled, face returns to it's cool demeanor. He remains standing motionless, even when the quiet night is rent with the loud sound of breaking wood, followed closely by the shattering of glass. The lone figure's head raises a fraction when the air is filled with one last sound. It is quick and cut off almost as it appears. The man shakes his head then castes his gaze to the front door of the building as several shadows break away and speed in his direction.

The three large forms come to a stop feet from where the lone man stands and drop to their knees. The being, with it's massive head bowed brings a cloth wrapped object up to the one he kneels before. The all remain in this tableau for several seconds as the man gazes on the object presented to him. Such time passes that the three creatures begin to shudder slightly, as if overcome with nervousness. They cringe even lower as the dark man speaks.

"I...heard…something." His voice is low and cold, giving one the image of a cold hell, but this hell would not bear the good fruit that many would envision. The sound of his voice gives promise of a hell where even the devil would fear to venture. "I…said...the living first. Then…the prize." He moves his glance from the object in the creature's hand to the creature, itself. "Why…did I hear…something other…then what I…commanded?"

No sound escapes the dark figures before this man. No sound had since they came to kneel before him and he seems to not take note of this as he continues to speak to the cowering creatures. "I…gave you…life. Was my…work…faulty?" Again that dark smirk lifts the edges of his mouth as glove encased hands shoot forth sending a bright red blast of energy at the two creatures flanking the one with the object of the man's interest. Neither creature issues a sound, as both burst into motes of light that fade as fast as they came into existence. The dark man does not even waste time reveling in his handiwork as he turns to the, now, trembling creature before him.

"Ah…yes…you have…done…well." Seeing this, as if he had just not, removed its companions from the world, the man takes the wrapped object into his hands. His eyes seem to light with an evil glow for but a moment, and then he, once more, looks upon his cringing servant and nods. "Yes…very well…indeed." With that he waves a hand at the creature and it falls dead at his feet, eyes still open and gazing in fear upon him, before fading away, till it is as if the creature never existed.

With one last glance to the building below, the dark man that, once again, stands alone on the hill overlooking the lone ranch fades, himself, from sight leaving the world to shiver from the coming winter and the evil that will be born from this the actions of this night.


The quiet of a hotel room in Secaucus, New Jersey is disturbed with the sound of a cell phone and then the gruff and angered voice of a sleepy man.

"WHAT THE HELL! WHAT ASSHOLE WOULD BE CALLING AT THIS TIME OF NIGHT!" Another voice, not as angry, or as loud pipes in.

"If you answer it, instead of yelling at it, you might find out, and I, might, be able to get back to sleep." With the abrupt illumination of the room from the bed stand light, the other voice growls annoyed as the large bald man dives under the covers to escaped intrusion. "I hate you, you know that?"

"Yeah what else is new."? This said by the large dark haired man who, is now, grabbing the newly ringing cell-phone. "This had better be good or I'm…. WHAT…" There is silence for so long the other man in the room ventures out from under his covers to find a look on his companion's that sends chills down his spine. "What…what's wrong?"

The other man, still clutching the phone to his ear, though the line has long since been disconnected, just stares off into space. His skin, even paler then his normal pallor, seems almost translucent. The other man rises from his bed to sit next to his friend, removing the phone from his grip looking him in the eyes.

"Mark, what's wrong? Come on bro tell me."

Mark Calaway, the man known to millions as the wrestler the Undertaker, turns to his half brother, Glen, known far and wide as Kane. His eyes deader then normal as the words escape his lips, words that leave his brother in the same state of shock as Mark himself.

"Sara and the kids have been killed….and….someone…someone stole the Urn."