“You cannot be a Ferryman without a boat.”
Tombstone stands upon the sandy shore, a red sky flickering above his head. He has an axe in one hand, and stands before wood, slashing it powerfully.
“Crossing the River Styx is a perilous endeavour at the best of times, safely navigated only by those with experience of the correct way of travel. To ensure you make it from one side to the other, you need a boat of sturdy construction.”
He picks up a plank of wood and takes it to another, slamming it down and using a nearby hammer to nail it together.
The first plank is a long powerful board reads Tombstone, scrawled into the wood. The plank he nails in reads Gravedigger.
“Each piece of wood must be delicately and precisely chosen. It must be fit for purpose. It must not only be sturdy, but flexible. It should wish to be used in the construction, sentient to what purpose you want it to serve.”
Tombstone grabs another plank, this time with the inscription Malakai Midnight. He nails it to the other two.
“It should know what you have planned for it. If it is to sail across the river, it can’t be oblivious to the needs of the river. It cannot bend or bow under the pressure of the waves, or rot because of the salt lapping up against it. It should be able to connect with others, and work as one.”
Again and again, he walks back and forth, adding wood after wood plank until the boat is constructed.
“I built my raft to sail the river of Old School Wrestling. I brought together Gravedigger, Malakai Midnight, Calypso and the Owls to that end. Our collective goal is to make it to our destination.”
He turns to see another raft boat, rotten and dilapidated.
“But you Narcissa, you chose rotten materials. You chose El Mariachi Muerte, who your own husband attempted to maim. A liar and a deceiver. A man who betrayed those who believed in him, who trusted him. You chose a woman, once so rotten to the core that she bore bile and disease.”
Tombstone laughs, walking over to the boat and pushing it out into the river.
“Your boat will never make it.”
As if on cue, the boat begins sinking.
“Last week, I attempted to make you my bride. That wasn’t for lust or power. I was going to bring you into my boat and save you from drowning. I was going to make you a plank in the greatest of boats, and we would arrive safely at our destination together.”
He shrugs his shoulders.
“You and your husband chose that boat instead. You chose to drown…”
The boat fully sinks into the river.
“And in doing so, you will meet your end.
But you should never fear your end, Narcissa.
When that colds water fills your lungs and you sink to the bottom of the river, it matters not.
Because the end is where we meet…
And I will send you on your way.”