"What do you mean she’s no longer employed here?!" Taker yelled at the nurse at the hospital’s front desk. The nurse, terrified that she had angered this giant of a man, quickly told him the story of how the hospital had hired someone more qualified than her. Taker glared into the eyes of the woman in his anger, feeling his uncontrollable anger begin to bubble up within him.
"Her phone number," he whispered in a dangerous tone as he leaned over the edge of the desk, his face dangerously close to hers. "I want her phone number."
Eager to get the scary man away from her, she quickly rustled the hundreds of papers on her desktop, and after what seemed like an eternity, she finally found Alicia’s file. Instead of fishing out the paper with her personal information, the nurse held the file out to the man who quickly grabbed it out of her hand. Turning around quickly, he left the nurse and walked through the clean glass hospital doors to where his driver was waiting for him with the limo door open. He ducked into the darkness of the limo, which was made even darker by the surrounding night and the driver shut the door behind him.
As his driver pulled out of the hospital parking lot and into the night, The Undertaker opened the file as quickly as a child would open a birthday present. The only light was the passing streetlights, which wasn’t enough to read the words. He sighed and closed the file, holding it tightly in his hand and looked out at the dark night.
‘She was such a beautiful angel.’ He thought. Even though deep in his mind he knew that she was really an ordinary girl, when he first saw her she was a lovely angel dressed in white surrounded by a soft glowing light. He knew that the white was just her nurses uniform and the light was the hospital light, but that was the first time he saw her so that was the way she looked in his mind. He sighed again and leaned back against the black leather of the seat. At this very moment, his driver was taking him to the arena where a show was already in progress. He was told that he wasn’t scheduled to fight, but they wanted him to make an appearance and sign a few autographs. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to roll the privacy window down and tell his driver to turn around and go back to the hospital. He wanted to find his angel. He wanted to find out her name. He wanted...
"Dammit Undertaker! Stop thinking like that!" He told himself. What was happening to him?! Was he really the same Undertaker that first entered the hospital? The same Undertaker whose name speared an icy dagger of fear in his opponents? And now that very same Undertaker was losing his mind over a tiny girl? It couldn’t be!
In his fury, he struck the closest thing he could reach: the limo’s bar. Glasses and bottles of all kinds flew in every direction causing a huge mess, but he didn’t care. A single glass rolled up to him and bumped against his boot. He lifted his foot and brought it down as hard as he could on the glass, smiling slightly as the sound of breaking glass combined with the sound of it grinding into the carpet on the floor filled the limo. He suddenly felt something form inside him. Disappointment?
He sighed for the third time again and pressed a hand against his forehead, the disappointment about himself setting in. He was angry with himself for not being able to get the girl out of his mind, yet he wanted to think about her. Now he was more confused than ever. He looked down at the file in his hand, an idea coming to his mind. He would go to the arena and make his appearance, then arrange a way for him to see her again. And he knew the perfect way to do it.
The crowd was glad to see that he had recovered and was back on his feet. He had walked down the isle with the Corporate Ministry, stood in the ring with his arms crossed for about ten minutes, then walked back up the ramp with the Corporate Ministry. It was the only appearance he was required to make that night.
He had left the file with an old friend of his, telling him not to open it or give it to anyone. After retrieving the file, he looked around for the WWF’s doctor. He found him in a room with the door open, attempting to stitch up the forehead of a wrestler. He waited outside the room, leaning against the wall until the dazed wrestler stumbled out. He moved into the doorway of the room and waited until the doctor was finished washing his hands. When he finished, he turned toward the doorway to see The Undertaker standing there.
"Do you need something?" he asked in a light French accent.
The Undertaker held the file out to him.
"Ever think of taking on an assistant?"
Copyright 1999 by Lady Serria