[Undertaker awakes with a jolt in the hospital's morgue. Darkness greets him, and for a few seconds he feels confused by the impossibility--he remembers the anomaly had come from nowhere and had taken him clear as day. The thing had looked disturbingly like a massive dog, and seemed to hone in on him, specifically. His clothes had been wet and dragging him down, making his entire body numbed with the onset of hypothermia and causing him to be too slow to react. But he wasn't wet, anymore. His hair and clothing felt dry.
How long had it been? It felt like seconds ago that he'd looked into that mouth with far too many teeth, but as his breathing evens out from the first panicked gasps he realizes that he's inside of a bag. His fingers feel out the zipper, nails clinking along it until he manages to find a tiny gap and wiggle one through. He drags down, and the bag peels back inch by inch as the zipper pull goes with his finger.
It's dim outside as well, but even so, the presence of light makes him squint and blink into it. After a few more moments he sits up and discoverers a very familiar sight of the metal body locker table he's been lying on. It wasn't a dream then... he actually had died. Which meant that something had been taken from him, surely.
He felt alright, though. Dazed and not quite sorted, but as he extracted himself from the body bag he found all of his limbs in working order. His senses seemed to be intact, as well. And his belongings had survived, waiting backpack and messenger bag scooped up and secured in their places. Picking up his hat last, he plopped it on his head and headed up the stairs from the basement, looking for somewhere to settle in the first-floor lobby where he could get out his tablet and check the network to see what he'd missed.]
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How long had it been? It felt like seconds ago that he'd looked into that mouth with far too many teeth, but as his breathing evens out from the first panicked gasps he realizes that he's inside of a bag. His fingers feel out the zipper, nails clinking along it until he manages to find a tiny gap and wiggle one through. He drags down, and the bag peels back inch by inch as the zipper pull goes with his finger.
It's dim outside as well, but even so, the presence of light makes him squint and blink into it. After a few more moments he sits up and discoverers a very familiar sight of the metal body locker table he's been lying on. It wasn't a dream then... he actually had died. Which meant that something had been taken from him, surely.
He felt alright, though. Dazed and not quite sorted, but as he extracted himself from the body bag he found all of his limbs in working order. His senses seemed to be intact, as well. And his belongings had survived, waiting backpack and messenger bag scooped up and secured in their places. Picking up his hat last, he plopped it on his head and headed up the stairs from the basement, looking for somewhere to settle in the first-floor lobby where he could get out his tablet and check the network to see what he'd missed.]