To say the Undertaker wasn't in the best of moods that morning was an understatement.

He had been called into the Grim Reaper Dispatch Association at an extraordinary early hour only to be hounded by William T. Spears, hassled by Grell Sutcliff, and gawked at by all the reapers in training.

And to top it all off, the reason why he had been called in had been fixed while he was traveling to the Dispatch.

So, to say it again, the Undertaker was not in a good mood.

He was in such a fowl mood, in fact, that he didn't notice the small body falling from the sky until it crashed onto his head and forced them both to the ground.

The silver reaper growled and lifted his head up to look at the body now lying across his stomach.

It was small, perhaps a child's, and it was absolutely covered in filth and grime.

Long rusty hair covered the face, but he could tell it was a girl.

Shaking the filthy girl off of him, the Undertaker sat up to get a better look at her.

He could practically see every bone in her body from beneath the paper thin rags she wore. The girl could be classified more as a skeleton than a being of flesh and blood.

It was only when the Undertaker brushed her hair aside to check for a pulse that he discovered the bloody hole in her neck that was slowly closing and scarring over.

The legendary reaper's eyebrows raised in surprise and he forcibly pulled the girl's eyelids open.

The brown pigmentation of her irus was slowly being replaced by a bright, acidic green.

The Undertaker's own chartreuse orbs widened and he looked around for a moment before scooping the poor girl up into his arms and hurriedly making his exit.

William T. Spears looked out a window of the Dispatch and frowned as he watched the Undertaker rush away.

"Did he just...?" A voice trailed off beside him and William turned to see one of the most recent reaper graduates; a man named Ronald Knox. He was staring after the Undertaker as well.

William scowled and looked down into a book that rested in his hands. "Rachel Webber. Age seventeen at time of death. She was going to be our newest secretarial recruit."

Knox looked at his superior with a countinance of horror. "Why the hell would a young girl kill herself?"

William raised an eyebrow and flipped through a few pages of the book. "Well, her record is rather horrific."

The raven reaper shoved the book into the blonde reaper's hands and Knox read it over, his eyes growing wider and more disturbed by the minute.

"And I thought I've seen some bad stuff..." He breathed by the end, shutting the cinematic record.

"Yes, women usually have the more horrific circumstances leading to death." William sighed. He took the book from Knox's hands and turned to walk away from the window.

"Though another hand to help cut down overtime would be appreciated, I believe that Undertaker will have more success with her than we would. For the time being, at least, we will let him be."

Knox hesitated for a moment before nodding and following after his superior.

~~~

I woke up not being able to open my eyes.

I let out a slight moan of painful discomfort and raised a hand weakly to try and rub my heavy lids.

I had to wake up soon... The children would be sad if I didn't...

I paused.

The children?

I tried to think back, but whatever vague memories I had were just blurring into oblivion. The only thing I could remember clearly was the color red and a sharp pain in my throat.

Dragging my hand down my gaunt feeling face, I rested the tips of my fingers on the base of my throat and felt a ragged mass of scar tissue.

"Ah, so you're awake." A silly yet slightly serious male voice called from somewhere above me.

A cold hand pressed against my forehead and smoothed back my hair. It felt much cleaner than I did...

"Can you open your eyes for me, love?" The voice asked. I nodded and tried to do so, succeeding after about a minute or so.

Everything looked so blurry...

Above me sat a silver and black figure that I assumed was male. Other than his colors, I could hardly make out his outline in the slightest.

Had my eyesight always been so terrible?

I reached out a frail hand at where I thought he was, but the man chuckled and gently gripped my hand in his own blurry one.

"Over here." He chuckled, pulling my hand to the left. "Don't worry too much. The terrible vision comes with the color."

My blurry fingers brushed against some of the silver blur and judging by the texture I assumed it was his hair.

The man must be very old to have silver hair.

He gently pushed my hand back down and reached behind himself to grab something.

"Tryyy this..." He muttered, slipping something onto my face.

It was a pair of spectacles. They were far too big for my face and slid down my nose, but the glass was thick and made everything come into focus. Too much so, actually. I felt my head reel as I tried to look through them.

The man chuckled again and took them off to replace them with a second pair.

"How about these?"

This time the glass was not thick enough.

I shook my head.

Three pairs of spectacles later, I could see everything with crystal clear perfection.

I blinked my eyes and stared up at the man who had been so kindly helping me.

He was not old, like I had thought, but his hair was indeed an elderly shade of silverish grey. The pale skin of his hands and face were covered in scars and he was dressed from head to toe in black and grey funeral shrouds.

"There you go!" He said with a smile. "My name is Adrian Crevan, but everyone calls me the Undertaker. What's your name, love?"

I tried to open my mouth and speak, but all that came out was a terrible croaking sound.

The Undertaker gave me some water and I downed it greedily, but when I tried to talk I still could only manage that awful croaking.

"It must be because of your neck..." Adrian—the Undertaker—muttered after looking inside my mouth to see my throat. He tapped the jagged scar on the base of my neck and smiled his goofy smile. "You did quite a number on yourself, didn't you?"

I tried to furrow my eyebrows in confusion, but I was becoming far too exhausted. My body ached and I could just tell that I was in desperate need of a bath.

Apparently, the Undertaker could tell what I had been thinking.

"I'll draw you a bath and then you can sleep, alright dear?"

I nodded and he helped to sit me up, then lifted me out of whatever cushy box thing I had been laying in.

I closed my eyes for a moment and must have dozed off because when I opened them again the two of us were in what looked like a washroom and there was a tub filled to the brim with good smelling bubbles in front of us.

The Undertaker set me down on the edge of the tub and smiled.

"Just croak when you're done!" He giggled, then left the washroom.

It took me a while, but once I had finished washing my body, I grabbed a towel and called out to the Undertaker with that horrific croak of mine.

He didn't come. I tried once more but after three minutes he still hadn't shown himself.

With a frown I stood in the tub, but slipped and came crashing to tile flooring with a yelp of pain.

Shakily I pulled myself to my feet and wrapped the large towel around my frail body before grabbing my new spectacles and stumbling out of the washroom.

Somehow I managed to find the parlor room I had woken up in and croaked out to the Undertaker when I saw his blurry shape next to another's.

Both figures turned to look at me and I fumbled with my spectacles as Undertaker drew closer.

He came into focus and I looked to the other figure. He was tall with a black suit and hair. Behind his spectacles his eyes were the same color green as Undertaker's and he carried some sort of long shears-like tool at his side.

"Rachel Webber." The man greeted me with a nod, pushing his spectacles up with the blades of his tool. My eyes widened. Why was the name so familiar?

I looked up quizzically at Undertaker and he sighed. "Ah, you've forgotten your own name. Well, it's alright. It happens sometimes. Mr Spears here was just leaving, actually. Just came here to give me a book. Say goodbye, dear."

I waved goodbye to Mr Spears as Undertaker shuffled me out of the room.

Looking back, my eyes caught on another man—this one much younger looking than Mr Spears—standing outside by the window looking in.

He too had those pretty green eyes, as well as a pair of spectacles, but his styled hair was a dark blonde color.

When our eyes met he smiled cheerfully at me and waved. I waved back just as I was brought into a long hallway.

Undertaker herded me back into the familiar washroom before leaving for a few minutes. He came back with a beautiful white nightgown and undergarments.

"These belonged to a young customer of mine. Hope you don't mind the smell of preservation salts!"