Author's note: I don't own the Undertaker or any of the other wrestling personalities associated with Titan Entertainment. I only own the characters that have been created for purposes of this fanfiction.
Return to Darkness
Summerslam was over for another year. Mark Calaway, a.k.a. the Undertaker, was busy packing up his things and getting ready to head to the airport with his wife, Sara. Slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder he walked to the door and reached for the doorknob. It was locked. Great, he thought to himself. Suddenly the lights went out in the locker room. A strobe light began to flash.
"Whoever's in here's gonna get an ass whuppin'!" shouted Mark angrily. "You best stop messin' around or I'll put your ass through the wall!"
"Mark," said a voice from the darkness. "Have you really been away from us for so long that you cannot tell who is calling to you? You may have left the darkness, but the darkness has not left you."
"No," said Mark, a tint of fear in his voice. "I'm done with that life."
"But it is not done with you," said the voice. A shadow passed in front of the source of the strobe light. Mark turned to face the shadow. He squinted at the light and put his hand up to shade his eyes.
"It can't be you," Mark said.
"Oh, I think it can be," replied the voice as it moved towards Mark. A man emerged from the darkness. He was about 6'3" with a muscular build. He was wearing a black wife-beater, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. His eyes were an emerald green and they seemed to glow in the darkness. His jet-black hair reached passed his shoulders and was almost dreadlock like. He had a mustache and goatee that matched the coloring of his hair. "And you know that it must be." He smiled at Mark and Mark could see the elongated canine and lateral teeth in his mouth. "I am awaiting your return to us, Mark."
Mark closed his eyes and put his forearms over his face. The next thing he knew Sara was shaking him by the arm.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
Mark was breathing heavily and sweat had beaded on his forehead. "I'm fine," he lied. "Let's just get out of here."
Sara took his arm and the two of them headed out to the Harley.
Back in the locker room, blood began to drip from the ceiling onto the floor…
To be continued…
