At Bane's declaration, Brandt shot the man a bright grin. The same smile had terrorized many sense offenders in the past. It was downright unnerving for a Cleric to smile. At least, it was to those who knew - really knew - what he was. Bane had no such bone-deep understanding. The moment was lost on him.
"We will," he said, his voice sliding butter smooth and confident over the sound of the tires bumping across the seams in the bridge at 80 MPH.
Bane was so certain that the City itself was corrupt. Brandt knew that any city was built only of the souls within it. Those were the enemy - those people who so easily gave free reign to their emotions. They would be the death of all of them, if they weren't shown the way. And those who chose not to join under the new regime would be purged.