Climbing out of a grave was over dramatized, by the time he had been able to push open the lid of the coffin he had gained a mouth full of soil, and felt downward pressure that should easily crushed his bones but all it seemed to do was slow him down more, wriggling inches at a time at an attempt to reach the surface, the earth around him somehow understanding his want and moving ever so slightly away from him, as if moving of its own will. When he did reach the surface, his hand did not shoot out like a horror movie monsters would have, instead he groped at the freshly turned soil, looking for something to grip onto. When he found nothing he brought his hand back under the ground, using it to help him push away the rest of the dirt, until his head peaked out of the ground, like some kind of odd flower, followed by his shoulders and arms, and, with one great push down he removed himself from the grave. Standing to his full height his eyes lingered on the solid stone gravestone that sat at the head of the grave. Under the starlight he could just see his name chiseled into the stone, no, it wasn't his name anymore. He moved slowly away from the grave and walked quietly though the other graves that sat around his own, the fine suit that he had been buried in melting away into the darkness, being replaced by the black leather trench coat that the specter that had appeared before him had worn, the black fedora metalizing over what had been dark red hair that was slowly being stained by darkness. He did not flinch as something heavy on his hip stumbled his step slightly, the ornate scabbard of the Undertakers weapon shining under the moonlight. This, transformation, was complete; the two personalities, two souls, which had inhabited this body, had merged into one, the ethereal spirit of the Grey Seraphim was no longer, he was not a living, breathing entity on the mortal plain, and this shifting would not go unnoticed by the two factions that sought him out as their ally.
He walked slowly passed the young man that stood next to him, a gun shakily pointed at the large man in black. Glaring at him for only a moment as he passed, a challenge resonating from what had once been clear green eyes, replaced by the swirling darkness that resided in the seraphim.
"What…" The man's voice was barely above a whisper "What are you?"
"I am the reaper of men, the chaser of souls, and the weaver of nightmares. I am the watcher of men, the protector of souls, and the keeper of dreams. I am the Undertaker, and the battle for this world has just begun."
-GS-
The pain was almost unbearable, but no, he thrived on pain, it was his salvation as much as it was his punishment. The fires that burnt around him were supposedly under his control, meant to bow to his every whim, but as he stood before this much smaller man, the flames licked at his arms and legs, reopening old wounds, caused by the same source.
"You will join us, Half-Blood. You cannot dare to even think to challenge me."
The man laughed, and the laugh echoed around his ears, causing more pain than the fire, bellowing up that ever dormant rage inside him, with a growl like scream he pushed outwards, and the flames did as he commanded, pushing away from his body as if the flames themselves had been burnt, the shock of the young man come demon was plastered all over his face and had not a moment to attempt to flee as the fires he had himself conjured engulfed him, more powerful than he had ever been able to conjure, burning the mortal body he had commandeered through, the force pushing him from the body, and, with no others to inhabit, back to the depths he had come from. When his opponent was satisfied that the body had been burnt to ashes, and the ashes themselves burnt away was when he extinguished the flame with but a wave of his large, gloved hand, the quickly moving both hands up to his gloved face, checking to see if it too had been burnt away like his clothing had been, a sigh of relief coming from his nose as he felt none of his deformed skin that hid under the cooling fake leather mask. He had not seen his own face since that fateful night he had woken in the children's ward of a small hospital, his whole body ached and was covered in bandages coated with some cool but sticky substance, his face too, had been covered, leaving only holes for his eyes, nose and mouth. He knew that there was more wrong that just being covered in these bandages and awakening in hospital, his vision was blurred and as he closed just his right eye, he could see nothing at all. In a panic he ripped the bandages from his body, but upon seeing his own reflection in the surgical steel that surrounded him he screamed at what he saw, causing most of the doctors and nurses that patrolled the ward to rush into the room, seeing him curled in a corner as far from the reflections he could find, his body, no matter how much it pained him, curled into the fetal position.
"Keep away from me! I'm a monster!"
He smiled at what he had said in his memory as a child; he was, indeed, a monster.
A/N: That was actually a lot harder to do than I thought it would be. 'Taker-Muse would not shut up last night, "he" kept me awake until about 2:30am bugging about me writing again, it was a pain, cos, you know, a fangirl needs her sleep. Oh, and look, Kane!
As for what I had 'taker said, I wanted to have something that he had said before but nothing really quite worked for what I needed, so I added a bit on.
