{The Mortuary Assistant} Posthaste a sudden chill rattled down the intact bones of your vertebrae. For the sight of the Undertaker's Parlor always gave you a deep discomfort. The man inside should be dead by now. If the sweet stench of formaldehyde didn't make him sick enough to pass on then you thought he would certainly have died from age. As, he has been alive since you were little.

Unfortunately, your path has taken a similar ending point to his own. Why become a Mortician? Such a creepy and disturbing profession with little room for advancement. Working on the bodies of the deceased, finding deeper secrets that even the police do not know. That's what it means to work on the dead.

Upon walking into the very same parlor that used to give you unpleasant dreams, you were surprised it didn't smell like death. This is your last chance. The other Mortuaries have decided not to train you so you hoped The Undertaker would be your saving grace. Despite you being scared of him, perhaps he could give you a job here. So you stood strong, and met the face of your maker. Only to be met with an unsettlingly large smile and amused giggles.

You haven't seen him since one of your uncles died and you went off to University. It's insane to think you're back and he still has that same smile. Might be be happy to see you?

"My. . .my! It's been a long time dearie, you've grown. What brings you here, love?"