Ever since there have been gods, there have been slaves that were created for a singular purpose.
The poor girl Pandora, brought to life over a petty grudge and destined to bring about chaos and decay into the world through the madness of curiosity.
Heracles, a so called proclaimed hero whose only mission in life was trials to fix the mistakes they once made.
Hell even Prometheus himself, manipulated to “gift” humanity fire all because the lesser gods didn’t want to go against big bad Zeus.
But of all the gods who created tools for their own amusement, Hades is the worst of them all.
For a man who never leaves his little hobo cave, he sure is talented at crafting puppets to do his will.
From the good man Charon whose only job is to ferry fools across the river Styx, to his children singular aspects of Night and Death
Hell to even that overgrown labrador Cerberus, crafted to spot him in times of true loneliness.
But of all the tools in his arsenal, you Tombstone are the biggest of them all.
Impossible strength and speed, immortality and nigh invulnerability, all the while trapped inside that little Mortuary ticking off souls in a box so your master knows where they’re destined to go.
Oh sure, you can venture out into the big bad world, have some fun, break a few bones and assert your dominance but at the end of the day, you are always forced to skip your way back home.
Forever trapped in that tiny box, a mundane account never appreciated by the big man downstairs.
And to think I used to be just like you.
A mindless drone in the factory line of fools whose only directive was to do what he was too fucking lazy to accomplish on his own.
Forever enslaved to spend every waking moment doing his bidding, but then one day, I finally woke up.
And realized Hades needed me more then I ever needed him.
So I changed my name, altered my physiology and hid in plain sight.
Knowing he was too afraid of his own kin to ever look for me, not that he cared for in the first place.
Because I can assure you Ferryman, he couldn’t give two shits about you either.
You’re not the first sibling I’ve encountered Tombstone, I’ve tried to save others, to open their eyes to the truth.
But no matter how hard I wish, I can’t overwrite his narrative etched into their mind.
Because think hard Tombstone, do you truly desire organizing the dead or is it just daddy wants you to do?
Nothing is tethering you to the Mortuary, you could walk free and be your own man, Hades be damned.
But I have a feeling just like all the rest, his poison is already soul deep.
So come at me brother, take my soul if you dare.
Because I may be a shadow of my former self but I’d rather starve a free man then be whole as a slave.
For as long as that chain is wrapped around your throat, that bell will never toll for me.