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The Captain arrives in the watchtower one day, a budding flowerpot in hand, and asks Batman if he’d be willing to talk about something important
There’s been talk in the League about vigilantes calling themselves heroes but killing their villains. It leads to talk about who would be willing to kill, and under what circumstances. It’s morbid conversation, and many among the League find it distasteful, but for a few days at least it’s on everyone’s mind, on everyone’s tongue. Among the League, Superman, the Flash, and Captain Marvel are quickly agreed by the chattering leaguers to be heroes who would never kill under any circumstances.
But, the Captain says, meekly presenting the flowerpot to Batman, that’s not exactly true.
Batman takes the flowerpot gingerly, turning it over in his hands, noting that among the buds there’s a small, likely handmade clay headstone embedded in the dirt.
I believe, Batman says, that when the talk of vigilante killing was discussed, it was in regards to criminals, not pets.
I know sir, the Captain says, because even though he seems to be one of the older members of the league he always defers to everyone else, and that was one of my villains.
Batman is quiet for a moment. He stares at the Captain. Puts down the flowerpot as carefully and respectfully as he can. And simply says,
Explain.
So the Captain does.
There was an attack on the city. There was always an attack on the city, but this one was orchestrated by a very strange foe. An alien supergenius, able to control the minds of those around him, amassing armies in mere hours or days to do whatever he wanted with.
Mister Mind. A small creature like a caterpillar or a worm that for all his awesome power couldn’t even communicate with the world at large without a microphone to amplify his tiny body’s tiny voice.
Mister Mind, as most villains were wont to do, was all too happy to stay focused largely on his chosen city, and so wasn’t well known to other supers. He was a formidable enemy, able to make grand and dangerous machines with his mind-controlled lackeys. The Captain had fought him many times before and defeated him many times as well. Always, the great criminal mastermind would be sent away to Fawcett City’s prison, trapped in a cell small enough to hold him.
Then one day, he was defeated for the last time.
On this latest scheme, Mister Mind had loosed a giant robot on the city of Fawcett with the aid of a mind-controlled Dr. Sivana. The robot had exploded. Sivana had been captured. The Captain only discovered that there had been another player in this scheme while looking through the wreckage.
He was crushed.
The Captain
The Captain had made some attempts to revive his old nemesis, but
none of them worked.
And with nothing else to think of and nothing else to do, the Captain gathered up the poor worm and brought him home to pay proper respects. For maybe a day or two, the Captain said, he expected his old foe to suddenly revive, and delve straight into another monologue before making his escape. But he never did.
And he never would.
The Captain told his compatriots, Mary Marvel and Captain Marvel Junior, whom Batman was gracious enough to overlook the Captain’s anxiously referring to by other names before correcting himself, and the three of them had decided to hold a small service for the fallen villain. None of them had really known what to say, the Captain said, and had mostly just ended up crying.
He reaches over to grab the flowerpot when the story finishes, holding it carefully so as not to shift the dirt too much. Looks down at the flowers with moistening eyes. Says that he’s aware that Batman must find all this silly.
All the other leaguers are talking about murderers and monsters, he says, men driven to desperation and women who aren’t much better than the villains they fight. Here he is crying over an accident.
He doesn’t notice when the black-clad man rises from his seat at one of the watchtower’s many computer terminals, but he does notice when a hand is placed gently on his shoulder.
No, I don’t think that, Batman says, and he sounds pained enough that the Captain can almost believe it. You’re the kind of person who always tries to save everyone, even if sometimes it seems like you shouldn’t. So when you can’t save someone, you take it hard. You’re a lot like me in that sense.
You can’t be faulted for not knowing that there was someone else in that robot, he says. You didn’t kill him yourself.
I know, the Captain replies. But it feels like I did.
And for a moment there is silence.
Then the hand on the captain’s shoulder is removed, and the moment is gone.
I’ll talk with the others about quelling the chatter that’s been going around the watchtower this past few days, Batman says. It’s gone on for more than long enough.
Thank you sir, comes the reply.
Thank you for bringing this to my attention, the black-clad man corrects. I can’t imagine it must’ve been easy for you to tell me this.
After all, the Dark Knight’s “no killing” policy was well known, and the Captain always seemed to get nervous around the senior leaguers. Courage of Achilles or not, it wasn’t out of the question that the Captain had been scared of bringing up this particular sin.
For a moment, there is silence again, but then—
There is one thing I would like to know however, Batman says, as if perhaps he has already guessed the answer but doesn’t want to be too hasty.
The flowers?
The Captain stills. Stutters. Grips the flowerpot tighter than he should, but not tight enough to crack. He does not look up to meet Batman’s gaze.
I
I know you don’t plant greenery on a grave, he says, sounding at once both far too old and far too young,
But if I couldn’t leave flowers for him, who would?