We only meet at nights, when we cannot see one another's faces, the Bane and I. We sit on the steps of the great mausoleum, facing Townsville's graveyard, with its neat square of crosses: 10 rows of 10.
"These are your doing," he says, "and the doing of them was done by you."
I do not remind him that I was nothing more than sugar, spice, and everything nice at the time---that I did not take on life until the black liquid essence of the Professor took root in my soul and made me Noble. I have no right to dodge guilt thus.
"In their names, and in their honor, so that honor may be done them, I will destroy you, for your current lack of being destroyed does them no honor whatsoever, and your death will bring them peace, and this peace will be brought to them by me!"
I would clench my fists, but I have no fingers. "May I not honor them with life?" I ask. "Does it give their sacrifice no meaning that I labor endlessly towards the good?"
"You hit things," he corrected me. His voice was almost gentle. "A lot."
"To help people," I said.
There was a minute's silence.
"Please," I added.
He sighed, quietly.
"Please."
For a moment, he seemed to consider it; and there would have been hope enough to save whole worlds in a Bane's forgiveness. The gears and engines of his battlesuit were quiet.
It is not to be, whispered the voice of my lord inside my soul. Then the sun was up, and the sky was light, and an explosion raged in the distance. I wanted to cry: No! Not now! I am REACHING him! But there is nothing to be done.
The city of Townsville is under attack.
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