But individual wills often clash with the needs of the collective. Raekor had chosen the survival of the Barbarians; Joret had chosen Raekor.
"This is the first time I've seen myself like this," Rorschach's soul remarked, looking at his corpse with clinical detachment. "Is my body still twitching? Is there a chance for resuscitation?"
Rorschach looked at Joret, feeling a strange sense of awkwardness. A ghost had just murdered him, his head was a mess on the floor, and now they were having a post-mortem chat. He hadn't forgotten who his killer was, and his gaze remained sharp and scrutinizing.
"Don't bother looking at me like that. I didn't plan on hiding it. I'm just waiting for the King," Joret said, pulling a bottle of strong liquor from his pocket. He was about to offer a drink to Rorschach before he realized how absurd that was. "Wait… why haven't you manifested a physical form with the mountain's help?"
Joret's eyes widened as he stared at the transparent specter.
"Because," Raekor's voice finally reached Joret's ears, "his death was anticipated. And this experience might finally make him see clearly."
There was no joy in this reunion—only a soul-deep awkwardness.
"Now, Joret. You and I are going to have a very long talk about all the stupid things you've done over the last few centuries."
Raekor gripped Joret's wrist. The sheer, vibrant power radiating from her made the corrupted ancestor's heart skip a beat. Back when they were alive, their marriage had been a model for all Barbarians. Joret had never raised his voice to her, and Raekor had never treated him with anything but respect.
It wasn't because Joret couldn't beat her in a fight. For Barbarians, love was a tempest—passionate and overwhelming—but it always had an expiration date. Restraint and distance were the only ways to slow its decay. Joret and Raekor had treated every day as if it were the day of their first confession.
"What am I supposed to do?"
Rorschach looked down at his journal, which was currently soaking in his own brain matter. He wanted to pick it up, but as a "newborn" ghost, he lacked the spiritual mass to interact with the physical world. He could only watch as his life's work became damp and repulsive.
Raekor and Joret ignored him, leaving Rorschach's soul alone with his corpse. Examining one's self requires a catalyst, and loneliness is the best mirror. Let him sit with his own mortality and reflect. His body and soul would be fine—Bul-Kathos had seen to that.
"Spider-Man, you really need to reconsider your opinion of me. I'm a professional. I told you."
Constantine adjusted his suit jacket, looking far too excited for someone on a haunted mountain.
"A professional con artist? I already regret looking for you," Spider-Man said, having ditched his mask to stuff more roasted meat into his mouth.
"I was just out gathering intelligence! I didn't expect to run into a skirmish. Trust me, I know what I'm doing." Constantine puffed out his chest and pointed at Thor and Hela, who were walking past. "See those two? I know them! That's Thor, the God of Thunder, and the lady… maybe Sif? Thor only hangs out with a few women."
Constantine was lying through his teeth. He knew Thor because the god was a regular on the mountain, but Hela was a total stranger to him.
Spider-Man followed Constantine's finger and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. Death Goddess Hela and Thor were walking hand-in-hand, looking remarkably close. Peter remembered the Thor from his world had a very different, very violent relationship with Hela.
"I'm really starting to doubt your 'professional' credentials. Even I know that lady. That's not Sif—that's Hela!" Peter shouted, grabbing Constantine by the tie and shaking him.
"I'm just a bit bleary-eyed from the cold! Calm down!"
Constantine felt like he was being strangled by his own silk tie. He tried to push Peter's arm away, but against a super-powered human, he was effectively a ragdoll.
"Look! I found out something about that Kingpin fellow you were asking about!"
That caught everyone's attention. Luke Cage stepped forward and pinned Peter's arm, ending the shaking. "Talk."
"The Worthy! Servants of Cul, the God of Fear! Does Kingpin have golden runes on his skin and a massive hammer?" Constantine gasped out, his spine popping under the pressure.
"Balza, speak!" Luke barked at the head on his belt. He trusted Bul-Kathos's "gift" more than the blond mage.
"I was just a demon when I was alive! How should I know about some damn 'Worthy'?!" Balza's jaw clattered as he unleashed a string of infernal slurs at Constantine.
Luke realized the pendant had more uses than he thought. "Balza, insult him in the foulest demonic tongue you know!"
The head obligingly began to spew vitriol.
"You can use it for that too?" Jessica asked, leaning in curiously.
"I'm just getting started," Luke grinned. "Balza, give me a rendition of Rap God!"
The head shook violently. He had no idea what a "Rap God" was, let alone how to mimic Eminem.
"I… I can only tell you things I actually know!" Balza protested.
"Fine. When we get home, I'm buying you the best Walkman on the market. You're going to learn every song on every tape I own," Luke said excitedly.
"Luke… are you turning a demon into a portable Bluetooth speaker?"
"Why not? I feel like I need more presence when I enter a room. A little background music would be perfect."
"I want one too," Matthew Murdock muttered from the side. "Maybe it could tell me when my gear drops."
A monkey in the distance spat a fruit pit at them in disdain.
"You! Captain Steve! Come here!"
Johanna's voice boomed across the clearing. She didn't have time to hunt for the Crusader candidate. Bul-Kathos had given her a name, and she was here to collect.
"Here she comes again," Luke whispered. They didn't know Johanna well, but even a few glances told them she wasn't someone to mess with. They all stood as still as mice.
"I think I'm the one you're looking for," Steve Rogers said, standing up and raising his shield arm. "But it's not 'Captain Steve.' It's Steve Rogers."
"Close enough. Come with me. Bul-Kathos says you've got the right stuff for the Zakarum."
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