People always said that true warriors would rather die than surrender, charging forward no matter how many enemies stood before them.
But mercenaries were different. Strategic retreats, running away, calling for backup, playing dead—any means that could ensure their survival was never beneath them.
After all, proper warriors either fought for Glory or for their beliefs.
Mercenaries, on the other hand, fought to stay alive, to make big money, for profit.
So Su Ming felt no shame at all about using the Silver Key to run away. The instant he arrived at Hellblazer's House of Mystery, he even gave the man a pat on the butt.
"Hello, John. I came to find you."
As he spoke, he withdrew Strangle's tendrils from everyone's bodies and returned their five senses. Simply looking through the Silver Key had no side effects.
"Oh? I thought you were planning to play with Pralaya a little longer." Constantine smiled as he handed Deathstroke a cigarette, raising a finger tipped with a tiny flame. "They say the Mother of the Void is the most beautiful Goddess in Hypertime. Did you see her?"
The bastard seemed more concerned with whether the enemy was beautiful, looking like some gossip reporter.
But it was clear that he was not surprised to see Deathstroke here.
That had been apparent from the earlier team assignments. Harley's side was packed with talent, with several strategists alone. With Crazy Jane there, their combat power might even have exceeded its limit.
It could be said that as long as Pralaya was not stupid, she would not choose to force out some of Jane's personalities.
Batwoman's side had fewer people, but Deathstroke had sent Deadpool to him. Honestly, even a worldly-wise Constantine found it difficult to see where the limits of that other bastard lay.
Logically