Ghost in the Machine (Undertaker x Female Reader)

Interlude in a graveyard.

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"What do you mean, you 'don't know where she went?!'"

The subordinate of the two beings cringed under her boss' icy incredulity, not entirely hating it. Flustered, she tossed her ruby-red hair over her shoulder and reached for the arm of the other.

"Willllllliammm—" she cooed. "Does this mean you'll need to"—She batted his eyelashes over her red spectacles—"punish me?"

The indifferent recipient of these attentions sighed, closing his eyes and raking a gloved hand through his dark, neatly-combed locks. He opened his eyes again and turned a glare of cool, chartreuse exasperation onto his partner. "Sutcliffe, how many times do I need to remind you of what constitutes proper behavior while on the job? You're wrinkling my suit."

The redhead sulked and released her hold on her target. "Anyway, she is here, or—she was here—but—"

William maneuvered, a flash of metal as he deftly adjusted his glasses on his nose. The blades of a tree pruner replaced his fingertips in completing the task. "Grell...you know as well as I do that a body only serves as the residence of the soul who inhabits it. As such, she is no longer present."

He indicated the grave they stood next to, standing open and unfilled. Gaping darkness mirrored the night that surrounded them, although the duo's eyes—both of a striking, phosphorescent yellow-green—counteracted the lack of daylight. Splintered wood lay scattered on the ground, forming a halo of sorts around the coffin that remained where it had fallen. Grell kneeled next to the coffin, setting down the gilded crimson chainsaw she carried. She handled a handful of the long locks of its occupant as her whines filled the graveyard. "Ah, such a waste! When I read her biography, I knew that I would like her, with both of us being such sweet, misunderstood young—GACKK!"

William had grabbed her by the lapels of her ill-fitting red trench coat and yanked her back to her feet. "Leave her be...from the look of the place, this was rather an untraditional burial, but our boys will be here to make sure she's properly seen to." He opened a small book bound in red leather. "You were able to get the others?"

"They were terribly boring, common blokes who deserved what they got." Grell folded her arms in a huff. "As you can see, I collected them and closed their records as neat and tidy as you please, despite the irregularities with their time stamps."

William's fingers passed over the notes next to each man's name, noting their date and time of birth as well as death. For each, corrections in the timing of their deaths had appeared in red ink. "Even so, these adjustments are not our doing. The only way this happens is if a party outside the world of mortals interferes." He snapped the book shut. "I think we have an idea of whom that party could be."

Grell clasped her head in her hands, melodramatically distraught. "AhHhhHhhHh, I could have met him again! Every chance for a proper date seems to go up in smoke because of timing," she moaned.

"You may yet get your chance; we can't leave this undone." Will tossed the book back to Grell. "Even if she is dead, she can't roam unaccounted for, especially considering the circumstances." He gazed down at the woman in the coffin, frowning. "Nobility couldn't guarantee her or her parents' security; this was how it was to be for her. However, we have been preparing to welcome her for some time now; her talents are sorely needed to keep up with demand. The population isn't getting any smaller."

Grell opened the notebook to her page. "I was going to take her to tea and find out who made her gowns," she sniffled. "But, although her time of death moved up by a few hours along with these poor slobs here, how did she die? Their deaths were years early, but hers was going to occur tonight anyway; I just don't understand how she died while I was still working my way over here." She stabbed at the book with a gloved finger. The original entry in black ink read Death, elective, by suffocation secondary to live burial. "This is exactly how it happened!"

"I had been wondering that too." Will was kicking at shards of wood at the periphery of the grave. "But not anymore. Look at that." He gestured across the graveyard, past a staggered row of large, engraved stones. Several large, splintered panels of wood lay broken and discarded on the grass some distance from the open plot. "That's it...that's how she died."

"Will," Grell rolled her eyes and leaned on her chainsaw, having retrieved it from the grass. "Your partner is too sexy for these damned riddles of yours; save them for Othell—OW!!" William had used his pruner to knock Grell's chainsaw off balance, sending its owner to fall on her face with an undignified thunk. She screeched with displeasure. "My FACE! Will, you shouldn't show such brutality towards ladies!"

"I don't." Will coughed and adjusted his glasses again. "As I was saying, she did die from a lack of air, from being buried alive in a coffin. However—" he walked to where the woman lay and rested a hand on the edge of the coffin. "This was not the coffin she was going to die in."

Grell blinked in confusion. "Then, the wood over there...was the actual coffin?"

"See? You can do it if you try. Yes, I think so, and I believe it was likely somewhat larger than this one is."

"Why? What difference does that make?"

"The difference," Will stood again, snatching the red book back to scribble a few notes into it. "Is that a bigger coffin means she would be buried with more air to start with. She's very snug in this one; how do you think that turned out for her oxygen supply?"

Grell puzzled over his words for a brief second before gasping, with a slap of her fist in his palm. "She ran out of air a few hours before she was supposed to because someone swapped out the coffins!"

"My goodness, Sutcliffe, I'm going to have to print you a certificate when we are back at headquarters."

"Someone destroyed the real one and left this one here as a substitute for what they were going to put her in..." Grell pouted in thought, her manicured brows knitting with concentration. "And if that change was reflected only in the adjustments in red ink..."

"Indeed." William nodded. "I don't suppose you can think of any non-humans with a rebellious streak and free access to coffins?"

The realization was crashing down over his partner like a tidal wave. "Ahhhh," she sighed, desolate. "This might almost...ALMOST...make me reconsider my love of bad boys."

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I actually researched causes of death for this so I hope you appreciate it, lol. I hope no one checks my browser history.

Updates are likely going to slow down a bit after this due to my workload at my paying job. Thank you for reading!