Hiya!!! It's me again, back with chapter 4 this time. I actually like the way I did this chapter and I hope you guys will like it too!! Well...enjoy!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade!!

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'Before the corpse of a murdered man can come back to take revenge on its killer, there is one condition that must be fulfilled. The body must not be embalmed.'

-Joseph F. Pumilia

Chapter 4: Alive

A light snow fell from the sky of Northern Japan, spreading a thin white blanket over the cemetery kept by kindly old Mr. Dickenson, the undertaker. Of course Mr. Dickenson, being an undertaker, had seen many dead bodies in his career, but never one so absent- chested. In other words the body didn't have much left of its chest.

He decided that Voltaire Hiwatari was just too far gone to be embalmed. There was just no point in it now. The ceremony was a closed casket one, and even if the body was pumped with embalming fluid it would only leak out of the hole in its chest. That sort of fluid is pretty expensive especially if you were poor, like Mr. Dickenson.

So, the undertaker didn't embalm Lord Hiwatari. He simply stuffed cotton balls, sawdust and mothballs (to keep him smelling fresh) into the little hole in his chest and sewed him up. Then Mr. Dickenson sealed the casket with an air tight seal and checked to make sure it was doubly locked.

Having it doubly locked was necessary because when an un-embalmed body was sealed in an airtight casket, the pressure of the gases of decomposition tends to build up, and sometimes the coffin would explode. Mr. Dickenson, a once arduous student of the history of undertaking, was well aware of what could happen.

But he also was aware that the funeral was going to be a quick one and there wasn't really a chance for Voltaire to decay to any greater extent before he buried under six feet of heavy dirt.

The undertaker left a note for the two grave diggers working at the cemetery. Before he shut the graveyard gate, Mr. Dickenson looked back worriedly. The grave diggers were two fresh-out-of-high school boys who had been looking for an easy-paying job. They weren't very smart and were always getting in trouble for drinking while on the job.

'Hopefully not tonight,' Mr. Dickenson thought warily and then shut the gate behind him and trotted home. Two minutes later, two boys staggered on the scene. The blonde wasn't as drunk as the other boy so he was able to read the note left for them on the casket.

"Max", drawled the voice of the other boy. His long navy blue hair stuck to his face. The blonde's head swiveled in the direction of his dark-haired companion. He was slouched over on one of the gravestones, headfirst.

"Tyson, are you O.K?" Max's own voice was slurred and they were both feeling a little tipsy.

THUD!

Tyson had passed out. Max's blue eyes scanned the area to see if anyone had been watching them. 'Aw crap' he thought to himself. He looked at the casket and decided; what the hell, who's gonna know? And so, Max buried Voltaire's body under two feet of not-so-solid earth. He then hauled Tyson, unsteadily, onto his back and left the cemetery.

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One night, about two weeks after the corpse had been buried; there was a small explosion in the graveyard. It hadn't been an ear-splitting blast but sort of a small WHOOMP!

Voltaire Hiwatari looked around him and noticed that he was high up in a tree. He looked down and saw a black hole.

'How did I get here?' he wondered. Then he remembered the last thing he had seen- Claire lunging at him with a butcher knife in both her hands. Just the thought would've made his blood boil- if he had any.

Voltaire climbed down the tree and brushed off his gold-rimmed grey suit. When he did that, a button popped off. He bent to pick it up and noticed a tombstone with his name engraved in it. The truth dawned on him; 'Why, I must be dead'.

And dead he was.

Naturally his heart, figuratively speaking, began to swell with thoughts of sweet revenge. 'She can't do this to me', he said to himself, 'I'll make her pay dearly'. His maniacal laughter split the air.

Then immediately a limerick he made came to him, the best he had ever composed:

The corpse returned from dead land

To fulfill the revenge he'd planned

He'd taken the knife

Same she'd taken his life

And simply cut off both her hands

'Don't worry wifie. I'm coming home', the evil thought sang out in his mind. Turning towards the direction of his house, Voltaire took a step forward and ended up flat on his face.

His right foot had dropped off.

'Well what do you expect', he mused. 'I am a rotting corpse after all'.

Voltaire took a while with tying his foot back on with his favourite tie. It was his favourite because he usually wore it when he was about to commit a murder.

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Chapter 4!! Like I promised, Max and Tyson were in that chapter. I'm not sure what's going to be in the next chapter but it is going to be the final one. So, look out for it any ways and don't forget to review!

- T-Bisqit