Jeff stumbled through the dark woods. He had spent the evening in some harmless fun. Harmless for him anyway. The father had cried more than the kids before Jeff cut him open.
“Fucking wuss” Jeff muttered, “Little bitch didn't have any vodka or even beer.”
Fog began to move in as Jeff made his way back to the isolated house he was staying in. It had been a stroke of luck to find a house in synch a remote place. Of course, the people living there didn't think it was so lucky but Jeff handled that rather messily. Besides red was a good color for the living room and one got used to the smell easily enough.
The snapping of a branch nearby caused Jeff to look around. He couldn't see anything in the darkness but there weren’t many people stupid enough to follow him. He pulled out his favorite knife. It was still red from the evening’s entertainment
“Jane?” he called playfully “That you bitch?”
Silence. Jeff strained his eyes to see in the pitch blackness that surrounded him. The fog was getting thicker. It crept along the ground like a predator stalking a meal.
“Slendy?” he called next “Ready for round 2?”
Still, nothing but Jeff could feel something lurking in the shadows. He strained his ears but couldn't detect any sounds...except... mixed in with the wind he could almost make out a funeral march.
“Hey are you that Rake thing?” he said aloud “Come out you long fingered bastard!”
Jeff caught sight of movement to his right. He swung his knife. The blade didn't hit anything but something strong hit Jeff hard in the head. Jeff staggered back.
“Ah damn,” he spat. Looking up Jeff could see who would be his next victim.
A tall muscular man dressed all in black, with a wide brimmed hat.
“Jeff the Killer.” the man spoke in a deep voice “Your time has come”
“You think so?” Jeff taunted the man
Jeff attacked the man again, he stepped onto a fallen tree and launched himself into the air. His knife aimed at the man's face. A hand shot out and caught Jeff's throat with a vice-like grip. Jeff sliced the man's arm with no reaction. In retaliation, the man slammed Jeff back first onto the fallen tree.
Pain shot through his back but never lost the grip of his knife. He rolled off the log and found the man standing over him
“You have stalked my creatures of the night for too long,” the man said in his deep voice “Now you face the wrath of...the Undertaker”
Jeff laughed “You fake ass, steroid using, actor wan...”
Jeff was cut off by the man kicking him in the head.
“Does that feel fake boy?”
Jeff got to his feet. He charged forward stabbing the man in the stomach.
“How do you like that?” said Jeff smugly
The man responded by slamming his fists down on Jeff's back. Jeff was driven to the ground again. He looked up to where the knife stuck in his enemy. There was no blood.
“I play McMahon's game because it entertains me,” the man said, “Right now, there are some pests that must be laid to rest!”
Jeff found himself hoisted onto the man's shoulder then found himself upside down in the man's grip. His face just even with the man's knees.
“So what now?” asked Jeff “ you gonna suck my...”
The man dropped to his knees driving Jeff's head into the hard ground. Jeff's body went limp, and his eyes rolled back into his head. When his lidless eyes came back into focus Jeff realized he was being dragged along the ground by his collar. He looked up to see the large man dragging him through the forest. Jeff tried to reach for his second knife but his arms didn't want to respond. The man stopped and threw Jeff in front of him. With effort Jeff moved onto his hands and knees, gathering his strength for another attack. Before he could even think where to stab the man grabbed him around the waist and flipped him up so Jeff was practically sitting on the man's shoulders before being hoisted a little higher then slammed onto his back again. The force of the impact caused his eyes to go out of focus again momentarily
Jeff found himself lying on something much softer than the ground or a tree trunk It felt like a firm mattress.
“Jeff the Killer,” the man said
Jeff looked straight to see his enemy holding a long lid in one hand, Jeff realized then, he was lying in a coffin. The pale faced psychopath tried to move but his body would not respond.
The man's eyes turned as pale white as Jeff's face as he spoke one last time
The lid was slammed shut, Jeff heard the lock snap closed. He felt the box fall a few feet. The last sound Jeff would ever hear, aside from his own screaming and cursing, was the sound of dirt hitting the top of his coffin.
When he finished filling in the hole. The Undertaker studied his handy work, a freshly filled grave and the tombstone that read “Jeff the Killer”
The Undertaker turned his back on the grave. There was still more work to do, perhaps one of the others would be a better challenge than the pale faced lunatic he just laid to rest.
McMahon could do without him for a while, these things that dared prey on his Creatures of the Night would pay and pay dearly.
Next to Jeff's grave were several other open graves each with a tombstone bearing names like
“Slenderman”, “Eyeless Jack”, and “Laughing Jack” and several that ended in "The Killer"
He would get to them all in time. They would feel the full fury and power of The Undertaker