He speaks again. “We bring a simple proposition: the ending of a journey.”
“Hey, that’s my kinda proposition. Who’s our next target?”
“You misunderstand. You are the enemy here. Or did you think that because you killed us, and then helped us, we can’t bear a grudge and be evil too? What a limited mind you have. Do you deliberately avoid confusing it with difficult issues and long words?” I remain calm, though inside I’m locomotive-steaming. “You never had a conscience. With the powers you helped us to claim, we’re here to rectify that omission. Behold!”
I see…
Sudoku-man and a book of Sudoku. Lying bloodied and ruined. How could I? When a puzzle had actually brought a wry smile to my face, and all I could do was dance on the shreds? A conscience is terror and pain and bedlam and agony, though none in that criminally good way.
I can bear no more.