Hey, son.

…Bandit.

Bad Son was a long, lonesome fellow

Bad Son was a her in truth;

Bad Son was sad and mellow

Bad Son with the men was ruthless.

Long time.

Not so long.

Do you know why I called?

Parental obligations?

Something like that. However, you should know.

I obliterated the Hawkeye.

—he's not dead.

I know that.

Obliterated?

Defeated entirely with his life still intact.

But why.

But why not?

Why spare a life so unkind as to be made to end yours?

Mine won't end.

So you know.

I know everything.

{Enter The Multiverse}

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