Lounge

Vince McMahon and Jerry Lawler were making commentary about Mankind and Undertaker's similarities when darkness fell upon the arena and a familiar gong tolled. The crowd went wild and Faith shifted in her seat. Even backstage, she could hear and feel the excitement rippling through the air. Contagious. The Creatures of the Night were the best fans without question in the WF, but she was biased. It had become tradition for fans to bring lighters and hold them up during his entrance, and had she been out there she'd have gladly joined them.

The ring announcer's voice boomed over the mic, "From Death Valley, weighing 328 pounds, the Undertaker!"

Glued to the tv screen, Faith watched the mist roll in around the man from the darkside.

"And here comes indeed, the Phenom! The Undertaker!"

The camera panned over to the graveyard that had been made—basically a hill of packed down dirt on concrete. A shovel was impaled in the ground near the loose soil that would be used to bury the loser alive.

Despite the concept being so grim, and even brutal, the audience was eating it up. There had never been a match quite like this before. McMahon was either crazy or a genius. Probably both. She was thankful it wasn't actually real.

The Undertaker didn't wait for the bell. Climbing into the ring, he drew his thumb across his neck in his signature "You're dead" gesture then rushed Mankind. Immediately, he was dominating the match. That didn't last long when he was thrown into the turnbuckle. The two exchanged blows and looked pretty evenly matched, but as the fight dragged on, Undertaker's weakness without the urn's power made itself apparent.

"Are we betting again?" Cheryl asked Terri, or Marlena as she was called in the show. Faith recognized her now.

"Ready to lose more money?"

Cheryl scoffed. "No, I'm going to win it back. Mankind is the favorite to win. Undertaker fights like shit without his magic pot. I feel safe putting another Grant on the line. Faith, you want in on this?"

She didn't reply, too absorbed in the fight. If someone had told her she would one day be watching a superstar wearing the makeup and hair she styled, she'd have called said person bonkers.

"How did I do?" Faith asked Cheryl, not looking away from the screen.

"I did some touch ups on a few before they went out, but yeah. You did alright." Her boss said. "Plenty of room for improvement, but it's fine for a match. Had it been a promo shoot, that's a different story. There's less room to make mistakes with all those closeups."

That she had made any mistakes killed the perfectionist in her, but she knew that was what to expect. "I was afraid of that. I should have shadowed you first."

"I did throw you into the deep end, but that's how I learned and the only way I know to teach. Don't stress over it. You'll get better with practice."

If Cheryl said anything else after that, Faith didn't hear it. Mankind had rolled out of the ring, moving down the walkway when the Undertaker launched himself at him from the top rope. Both of them crashed onto the concrete, reeling. It was a hit neither of them quickly recovered from, but Undertaker got to his feet first.

"Ouch. I felt that one." Cheryl said, rubbing the back of her neck.

"That's 'Taker for you. That man would chew off his own arm if he thought it could help him win." Terri said.

"The scariest part is Mankind would do the same and enjoy the pain." Faith said.

"That's what makes these two so interesting to watch. It's been a good feud. It'll be sad to see one of them go."

"Go?" Faith asked.

"Depending on how this turns out, someone won't be coming back."

She turned to look at the gold clad diva. "How come?"

"Contract details I'm not privy to. Vince works what happens with the business into the story." She took out a cigar and lit it up. Exhaling a puff of smoke, she continued. "Most likely one of them got an offer to WCW and this is how the story will tie up loose ends so they can be written out of the show. It's a perfect way to go out."

For Faith, that raised the stakes. She picked at her nails nervously as she continued to watch the men battle it out. She liked Mankind a lot too—he was an amazing performer, but between the two of them, she hoped Undertaker stayed. Despite how much he intimidated her, she really wanted to work with him again.

"Undertaker better lose or I'll go bury him myself. I want my 50 bucks and more back." Cheryl said, crossing her arms with a huff.

"That might work. You do so well digging your own every week with your gambling." Terri said, smirking.

"Oh, shut up."

The Undertaker led Mankind towards the gravesite, punching and ramming him against the metal barriers along the way until he pushed him against the dirt mound. He climbed up, taking a shovel with him before trying to drag Mankind into the hole. Suddenly, the madman grabbed the shaft and jammed the handle against his throat, causing the Deadman to stumble back. Mankind took hold of him, attempting to suplex him into the grave, but the Undertaker shut that down quickly, pulling his opponent's leg and sending both men tumbling down the hill.

In the Ring

The fight continued. Mankind retreated towards the ring and the Undertaker followed, keeping up the pressure. He wasn't giving the psycho any time to react. When he got in a good position, the Deadman grabbed Mankind and smashed his head against the metal steps before rolling him back onto the mat. His opponent tried to crawl away from him to gain some distance, but he forced his weakened body to stay on top of him.

Undertaker already felt like he was reaching his limit. By this time, Paul Bearer would have lifted the urn to reinvigorate him. Not this time. Instead, that power was flowing into Mankind. He was on his own and would have to rely solely on his skillset.

After taking the fight into the crowd and high flying into Mankind, the two were back inside the ring again. As the Undertaker beat away on the madman in the corner, he remembered something. That timid girl. Right. He said he'd walk the rope if she stopped apologizing. Poor thing. She wouldn't last long. This place would eat her alive. Regardless, he wasn't one not to keep his word. This would be the time to do it with Mankind on the back foot.

The Undertaker twisted his opponent's arm; the psycho screeching in his grasp like a rabid beast as he yanked him into the corner. Stepping backwards onto the bottom rope, he climbed to the second, and finally the top. Steadily, he balanced himself and prepared to bounce off to strike Mankind when his feet were suddenly swept out from under him.

He fell, straddling the rope—which did not feel good. Paul Bearer laughed and scuttled away from his reach. He'd pulled the rope on his former protege. The Undertaker growled, planning to go for the ghoulish man when he caught his breath, but Mankind wasn't giving him the chance. A kick met his gut and then another.

Lounge

He's walking the rope!

The Undertaker was probably going to perform the move regardless, but the fact that she'd told him it was her favorite and he said he would do it for her meant a lot to Faith. Guilt followed quickly after when the Undertaker fell due to Paul Bearer's interference. What if he lost and it was her fault? That meant he would leave the WF and wouldn't come back!

"Come on…" Faith whispered, wringing her hands in her lap. "You don't need the urn to win."

Cheryl chuckled at her. "You're such a mark."

She wouldn't deny that. Sure, it was all an act, but suspending your disbelief to enjoy and engage in the story wasn't a bad thing. It was fun.

The fight went on with lots of twists and turns until the Undertaker finally lifted Mankind and held him upside down. He dropped to his knees, crushing Mankind's skull against the mat in a Tombstone Piledriver. His opponent was knocked out cold.

"Yes!" Faith stood up from her seat, too excited to sit still any longer.

The Undertaker threw Mankind over his shoulder and walked back to the grave site. He plopped the man against the dirt hill as he had done once before. As he started to make the climb, Mankind made an unexpected comeback.

Vince McMahon yelled. "Mandible Claw! Mandible Claw! Mandible Claw!"

"Get him, Mankind! Let me have my money!" Cheryl cheered.

Two fingers shoved into his mouth, Mankind choked the Undertaker, trying to force him to pass out or submit. He was so close to falling into the hole. Faith crossed her fingers, squirming where she stood. Paul Bearer offered the urn to Mankind who raised it up over his head, ready to smash it down on the Undertaker's head. To the surprise of everyone, the Phenom lurched up and grabbed him by the throat and choke slammed him into the grave!

Faith couldn't help it, she squealed with joy. She knew she had to look so childish and stupid.

The Undertaker took the shovel and started burying Mankind who laid motionless in the grave.

"No! Get up, Mankind! Don't do this to me!" Cheryl said, pulling on her hair.

But he did not. Even as clumps of dirt covered his body, he didn't move. The bell rang, declaring Undertaker the winner, but as the official went to raise his arm up, he elbowed him out of the way and continued burying Mankind. The official tried again and for his efforts, he was shoved down the hill by the Deadman. It appeared that no one was able to stop him. That changed when a shovel came out of nowhere and struck the Undertaker in the head, and he collapsed to the ground.

A man in a black mask jumped into the grave and started digging out Mankind.

"Dig him out! Dig him out!" Paul Bearer kept screaming.

With some help, Mankind was able to climb out of the grave. Paul Bearer directed the two wrestlers, the mysterious man rolling the Undertaker into the grave before covering him with dirt. The arena grew dark, booming with thunder and flashes of light.

Disheartened, Faith plopped down in the chair as she watched other wrestlers join in to bury the Undertaker.

"All the way to the top, boys! I'll pay you well!" Paul Bearer cried in his shrill voice. "He's gone! Mankind, he's gone!"

And indeed they did, filling up the grave completely. Thunder roared again and the rest of the roster ran off, leaving just Mankind, Paul Bearer, and the masked man to finish the job. The traitor patted the two men on the back and they moved down the hill. It was over.

"Haha! I won!" Cheryl said.

"No, you didn't." Terri said, holding up a finger.

"What are you talking about? Undertaker got buried alive! I won."

"Despite that, he was deemed the winner of the match. The bet was on who would win, not who would actually be buried alive."

"Ugh! You bitch…" Cheryl said, reaching into her pocket. "You're cutting into my liquor money. Here." she threw the cash at the diva who looked very amused.

Faith watched as the camera focused in on the grave, hoping something would happen to show the Undertaker wasn't finished. She got her wish. A streak of lightning struck the tombstone and sparks flew. While Paul Bearer and his posse fled in fear, a purple gloved fist broke through the earth.

"He's alive! The Undertaker's alive! The Undertaker lives!" Vince said.

The beautician sighed, sinking back against the chair. "Why do you think they ended it that way?" She asked Terri. "He's not leaving is he?"

"After that, I doubt it. He's probably going to take a short break. That's one guy who needs it. Seems like he never stops."

"Good, good…"

"You got pretty excited there. Didn't expect a girl like you to be a Creature of the Night."

Faith blushed. "Haha… yeah. He's been my favorite since his debut."

"Alright. Playtime's over." Cheryl said, patting the girl on the back. "We have some things to clean up and then we can head to the hotel."

The beautician nodded and stood up to follow her boss. Before that, she smiled at the diva. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too, sweetheart. Hang in there." Terri said.

They finished with their duties easily enough an hour after the show. Most everyone had already left. Faith waited near the exit for Cheryl, bundled up in a parka that looked like half the rainbow had puked on it. Pink, indigo, violet, and blue were suffering from a hangover while the other colors looked on in disappointment.

She hoped Cheryl hurried up. Her back was throbbing worse with each second and she was getting to the point where her legs felt numb. Too numb to walk which was very bad. Faith had to keep up the normal person act long enough to get to a hot bath. If Cheryl or anyone found out she had degenerative disc disease, osteoarthritis, and sciatica that caused such chronic pain she lost the ability to walk, she'd be fired in a heartbeat. The law be damned. They'd find "another" reason to let her go. It would be enough to cover their asses.

She leaned up against the wall to take some of the weight off her low back and focused on her breathing. If she could find her happy place, she could hold out a bit longer. Pain management using thoughts only did so much, but she used it when she could.

I return to my happy place. There's a beautiful forest. It's dusk here; and the warm colors bleeding through the leaves of the canopy are so beautiful. My friends hear me and come running out to meet me—not people. People suck. People are mean. My friends are animals. There's a fox, a bunny, some songbirds, and even a weasel. They all get along because they know it would make me sad—

Faith hissed out loud as the pain heightened and disturbed her visualization. The world she conjured to find relief wavered briefly. She clung to it and it stabilized.

They love me. They want to help me, to be with me. They're my little fluffy friends. Animals are honest. They don't judge me. I sit down on a blanket next to a pond of swans and ducks. A little bunny hops into my lap. She's a lop-ear and her fur is so soft. I can feel it beneath my fingertips. So silky and… and… what is that?

The sound of wheels coming her way shattered the mental sanctuary, ushering her back into the cruel world of reality—where people threw you across the room for petty reasons and said you were ugly directly to your face. It was nice while it lasted.

She looked down the hall towards the noise and saw some WF workers rolling a black and chrome casket. The lid was wrapped with chains upon chains. That's funny. She didn't remember them using that prop tonight. They passed by her and she watched them until they vanished around a corner.

Kind of creepy.

"Hey! Got everything?" Cheryl popped up out of nowhere.

Faith let out a startled squeak. "Y-yeah! Ready to go."

The hotel was thankfully within a short walking distance, about a block over from Market Square Arena. Superstars got driven, but Faith was seen as low tier staff being a rookie. No special treatment for her. Maybe that would change someday, but Cheryl was her boss and she was still forced to walk or take a taxi.

"Fuck, Terri. Could have called a cab, but noooo! My dumbass had to try to win what I lost one more time."

"I'm pretty short on funds too." Faith said

"Twin dumbasses. We can at least feel a little better about ourselves."

The night was chilly, the wind blowing hard enough to whip up the women's hair and tug at their clothes. Faith hugged herself to help keep warm.

"So cold…" She said through chattering teeth.

Cold. She flashed back to the Undertaker's dressing room, feeling his icy skin against hers. She'd been trying to come up with explanations in the back of her mind as to why, but nothing thoroughly convinced her.

I really hope he's okay. That didn't seem natural.

"Cheryl?" Faith looked over at the blonde.

"Yeah? Something on your mind, kid?"

She nodded. "I was just wondering… Is the Undertaker sick?"

"Ooooooh! Got a feel of his cold, clammy corpse, did you?" She playfully nudged Faith with her elbow. "Don't worry. He has a case of recurring anemia from a childhood disease. Like mono or something. Makes him seem colder than he actually is."

"Oh. I see." That made sense, she supposed.

"I should have warned you, but it's funny to see new hires questioning if he's actually dead."

Faith giggled. "It was definitely a shock. I can't deny that my mind didn't go there. Another question: what's his real name?"

"I asked him the same thing."

"What did he say?"

Cheryl looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think he said?"

Faith had a pretty good idea. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Will I get to meet the actor outside the persona?"

"I doubt it. I never see these guys outside work." Cheryl glanced at her sideways. "Hoping to sleep with him?"

"What?! No! Of course not!" Faith said, her face blooming up in red as she vehemently shook her head. Cheryl really didn't hold anything back. "That would be inappropriate. A-and also very unprofessional."

"Of course it is, but that's why you don't get caught when you do it. My badge of honor? I gave Shawn Michaels a BJ my first year here." Cheryl looked very pleased with herself.

"Really?"

"Sure did. In a broom closet. Those were the days. He's not looked at me twice since." She grumbled. "I even lost weight to get him to notice me. But why go for me when he can ride the village diva pony for free."

"Diva pony?" Faith hadn't heard that term before.

"Sunny." Her boss said. "That's one reason I gave her to you. I can't stand her. Gives Terri shit all the time too."

"Huh. That must be why Shawn was coming out of her dressing room."

"Yep." Cheryl let out a weak laugh. "You know the sad part is if he asked, I'd do it again." She seemed bummed and tried to distract herself. "Have you given a BJ?"

How someone had not reported Cheryl to Human Resources was beyond her, but Faith was glad they didn't. It felt like she'd known the lanky, strawberry blonde woman her whole life. Honest too. Even if that honesty could be hurtful. Maybe this was what having a big sister was like.

Faith shook her head. "I wouldn't even know how to give one."

"I pegged you for one of those church going girls that were never allowed to have any fun."

"Well, my dad was a pastor."

"Haha! I knew it. You're so easy to read."

Feeling a little more comfortable, she nudged Cheryl back and giggled. "Shut up…"

Cheryl feigned shock. "Assault! I could fire you for that!"

"You won't, right?"

"Hmm… Nah. A little lip from you is good. I'd rather deal with that than go through the hell of doing everyone's makeup on my own."

They reached the hotel property and Faith could not be happier. Her toes had gone completely numb. Cheryl got their room key at the front desk while she tried to secretly work on getting feeling back in her legs. She didn't have much luck. If her boss had chosen to take the stairs, Faith knew her charade of normalcy would be over, but she, thankfully, went with the elevator. The women head down the liminal hallway to their shared room.

"Hey. I am sorry about how I did you with the bet." Cheryl said. "I swear I didn't mean anything by it. Sometimes words come out of my mouth and they're so fucking stupid."

Faith smiled. "It's okay. I shouldn't have been so sensitive about it."

"Best fifty dollars I ever lost. No joke. Everyone you worked on tonight looked good. You've got a talent for this and I will make sure you nurture that."

"I'm ready and willing to learn. Don't sugarcoat it for me. Even if it hurts my feelings, I won't get better if I don't hear what I need to hear."

"I'll keep that in mind. Constructive criticism doesn't mean cruelty, though. Some dumbasses don't understand that. Positive reinforcement is best. I'll never do anything to make you uncomfortable. Critic wise. Other things I can't make any promises yet."

On the fourth floor, they found their room at the end of the corridor. Cheryl stuck the key in and unlocked it. Their room was sparse, but nice enough. There were two beds, a tv, an A/C, one bathroom—the typical hotel setup.

"Do you mind if I take a bath?" Faith asked.

"Go for it."

Faith couldn't hide her quivering anymore as she walked. She could tell her knees were about to buckle any second and the entire time she was silently cursing Chyna and Triple H. If she hadn't been thrown to the floor like a ragdoll, she might have endured longer. She couldn't let that happen again.

"You okay?" Cheryl asked.

The blood drained from Faith's face. Her silence only made the boss more suspicious.

"Faith?" The strawberry blonde stood, crossing her arms.

"I… I-I'm j-just… I'm…" looked outside the window and grasped for a convincing lie. "Cold! From the walk over, I mean. Yeah. It t-takes me a bit to warm up. That's why I'd like a hot bath."

Cheryl accepted the answer with a shrug. "Okay. If you say so."

Fairb collected her towels and PJs before heading into the bathroom. The light turned on and the fan roared to life. Perfect. That would drown out some of her crying. Her knees were giving out and the girl clung to the vanity to carefully lower herself to the floor.

Pressing a washcloth against her mouth to muffle her whimpering, Faith slowly crawled into the bathtub, and after suppressing it all day, she finally allowed herself to cry. She felt so pathetic. The alternative was to return home and rot away in bed, but she'd had enough of that. That wasn't living. It was a delayed stay of execution. Sitting there doing nothing became the true torture. Wasting away, stagnating while everyone else grew with new experiences. Forgot about you. She felt worthless, a bother that only took up space. That's why she had to do this even if it hurt. She wanted to do something with her life and attempt to live like everyone else.

The hot water helped, relaxing Faith's stressed muscles. A thirty minute soak and letting her medicine kick in did the trick. It still hurt—it always did, but now it was at least somewhat tolerable. She was able to stand again and get dressed for bed.

Faith practiced not limping and once she felt satisfied she could play off any concerned questions from Cheryl, walked out of the bathroom.

"Have a nice bath?" Her boss was putting in her hair rollers for the night.

Faith nodded, crawling into bed. Both were beat and even Cheryl had grown quiet, not saying much for the rest of the evening.

After the lights were turned out, a question was burning in Faith's mind. She knew it was silly, but she had to ask.

"He's okay, right?"

"Who?"

"The Undertaker,"

The blonde burst out laughing and couldn't respond for several seconds. "You think he was actually buried alive? Didn't take you for a mark, but you're really showing it tonight."

"Aren't we all to some degree?"

"True enough. Trust me, though. He's going to be a hell of a lot more comfortable than us tonight." Cheryl turned over onto her side, grumbling. "Vince McMahon. More like Vince McCheapass! I'd like a hot tub and mini bar in my damn room."

Faith snickered at the woman then tried to get some sleep. It took a little over an hour, tossing and turning with her pain until she mercifully got comfortable enough to pass out.

The Undertaker awoke to darkness, silence… overwhelming and absolute nothingness. A sensation burned in his throat, causing him to cough and gasp for air, but he overcame it as quickly as it had come on. It was only a reflex, a relic from a time long past.

One thing about being a reanimated corpse they didn't tell you about in movies, is that your body still reacted. On an instinctual level, it remembered being alive. He didn't need air to breathe, his neurons were dead, he didn't require sustenance… And yet somehow, exactly like phantom pain, he could still feel the agony living flesh experienced.

Everyone met death, but no matter how horrible, how painful, in most cases, it was once. When death embraced you, it was over. But what happens if the reaper never comes? You become him. For the Deadman, it was a torturous cycle of pseudo-death and subsequent revival that not even the fires of hell could compare to.

A weaker man would have lost their mind already. The Undertaker was mostly numb to it, now. He'd learned to retreat into his mind, letting his subconscious fight the vain battle to survive while he waited for the inevitable. Sometimes it worked in his favor and he did escape the pain of another death. When his hand had broken through the surface, he thought that he was going on to make it out, only for his consciousness to slip away.

Of all the ways McMahon had experimented with "killing" him, being buried alive had earned its way into the top five worst ways to go out. Not fun. 2 out of 10. Wouldn't recommend it.

Now, he was awake again, but why was he in the casket? He had won the match. Technically. Vince was usually a stickler for details when it came to outcomes. Had he overlooked something? That wasn't impossible. Before his betrayal, Paul had always gone over his contracts with him. This was the first time the Undertaker had negotiated on his own and, being the type to chokeslam first, ask questions later, he wasn't very good at it. Mankind had Paul Bearer on his side and he'd know what pitfalls to put in writing to trap the Undertaker in legal bullshittery.

He pushed up against the casket lid as hard as he could. It didn't give a bit. With the urn, he may have been empowered enough to pry it open, even with the chains, but he didn't have that anymore. He had nothing. All he had left was time. Endless time in a dark box.