A shovel starts its life sharp, strong and reliable. It’s a tool meant for purpose, meant to dig deep, meant to bury. You find the right one, pick it up, feel its weight in your hands, and you trust it to do its job.

That was you, Gravedigger.

I chose you because, for a time, you were perfect. A tool that never faltered, never wavered. You carved through the dirt, cut through the bodies, did what needed to be done. And I never questioned it. Never questioned you.

But even the best tools wear down.

Over time, steel meets resistance, and the edges dull. The rain falls, the dirt sticks, and that once-polished surface starts to rot. Rust creeps in, slow and silent, eating away at the strength that once was. I should have seen it; I should have noticed the signs.

But I didn’t.

Because whilst my focus was elsewhere, running down tiresome vendettas against innocent men that I felt had wronged me due to sins of their father, I was oblivious to what my father figure was doing to you. Instead of looking after the tools in my possession, he was allowing them to rot, rust and decay.

The fact remains, I wasn’t paying attention to my tools. And when I finally reached for you, ready to use you once again, I found that you had already snapped.

You weren’t the weapon in my hands anymore. You were broken beyond repair. You sided with Igor and you took your own shovel and tried to end me at Red Snow. You thought you could bury me, leave me in the dirt like I was nothing.

And last week? You almost did it again.

But here’s the thing, Gravedigger… a broken tool has no place in my hands. That much is true. But you’re no longer in my hands. You’re in the hands of Igor Mortis. What he doesn’t realize is that once a tool breaks beyond repair, it’s of no use to anyone. When he let you rot into the very pieces that you are, he made you utterly useless to us all.

Whether you’re a tool for him or a tool for me, you’re not much of a tool at all.

And I don’t make the same mistake twice.

I blamed myself once for not seeing the rust. I won’t make that mistake again.

This time, I’m the one doing the burying. I’m not outsourcing the work to a tool, Gravedigger.

And if I’m the one standing in the grave, you can be assured that I’ll make sure you stay six feet under.