Justice: Compassion. I could feel you from a mile away. We are not so dissimilar, Cole.
Cole: You wear another’s face, walk him around, is if you were him, he you.
Justice: And who’s face is that you’re wearing?
Cole: It’s mine. I made it. The shape of it is borrowed, but the real Cole is free. No one can hurt him anymore.
Justice: This body was no longer serving its purpose. I’m allowing it to aid in mine.
Cole: He wants it to be true. Wants justice. But justice turns rotten, roils, reverts to revenge, retaliation. Vengeance. There is no forgiveness there.
Cole: We are not the same.