"Behold the nightmare of all atheists — the banana!"
At this moment, Joey was utterly broken—not because he was attending a gathering of believers, but because of just how stupid that gathering was.
To be fair, even in his previous life, before experiencing something as bizarre as resurrection after death, Joey's attitude toward this sort of thing had been fairly open-minded. He didn't believe in it, but he acknowledged that its existence was, in a sense, reasonable.
Very few political entities since the feudal era had managed to establish a workable bureaucratic administrative system to exercise power, and power never exists in a vacuum.
Therefore, for most feudal rulers, if they wanted to conscript soldiers or collect taxes, they had to rely on this rather convenient tool. Over time, it naturally evolved into what it is today.
And for ordinary people, it wasn't entirely meaningless either. Although the core idea of the whole thing was ultimately to find ways to dig money out of your pockets, the spiritual comfort it provided in its early stages was very real.
All it takes is a day bad enough to shatter the seemingly strong psychological defenses of most people, and at that moment, just about anything can take advantage of the opening.
But Joey really didn't think a banana was capable of turning an atheist into a creationist.
Right now, the pastor sitting beside him was holding a banana and, with great solemnity, arguing that bananas were the creation of God rather than a product of natural evolution.
The argument went something like this: the shape of the banana perfectly matches the shape of a loosely clenched human hand; it's easy to open, like a can; its diameter fits the human mouth exactly, and so on, blah blah blah...
Joey was barely holding it together anymore. Especially when he saw the crowd below listening with rapt attention, the inner commentary in his head went completely wild:
Because the sweet and tender banana was never a naturally evolved fruit in the first place, you idiots!
Just wait until another global outbreak of fungal leaf disease wipes them out, and everyone is left gnawing on primitive bananas full of coarse starch granules and seeds—then these people will behave themselves.
Vought told him to come over, sit there, keep smiling, wait for the pastor to finish preaching, and then leave. Nobody said anything about having to endure mental damage too.
"...In summary, the entire design philosophy of the banana proves the genius of the Creator."
Thank God. Joey didn't even care when Raven showed up anymore. He just wanted to escape this place.
Whether or not he possessed Superman-level intelligence was unclear, but if he stayed any longer, he'd soon be assimilated into a super idiot.
What he never expected was that the old pastor beside him would put a hand on his shoulder, ignore his threatening glare, and quietly slide a manuscript over to him:
"Now, please welcome 'Superman,' the Son of God from Kansas, to tell us about the miracles of the Creator!"
Perhaps the old bastard thought that as a newcomer to Vought, Joey wouldn't dare refuse, or wouldn't want to offend the church, and would obediently read through this piece of drivel meant to fool idiots.
Watching other people scam idiots was one thing. Personally stepping onto the stage to scam them was another matter entirely.
If Joey really wanted to make a living scamming idiots, he could have chosen the same path as most of his peers in his previous life—sit in an air-conditioned office, collect netizen comments, fabricate news stories, and call himself a journalist. Why bother applying for foreign assignments and eating artillery shells on the battlefield?
"Alright, friends, today it's time to give everyone a bit of science education about the origins of bananas."
Joey glanced at the manuscript, which was even more anti-intellectual than the previous banana sermon. Anyone who could read this thing aloud without laughing would have maxed out the 'try not to laugh challenge' skill tree, so he chose not to read it.
"There is absolutely no relationship between bananas and the Creator. They are merely the result of hybridization. Stop using this genetically defective artificial variety to flaunt your sense of superiority."
The crowd stirred slightly, and the assistants on stage changed expression, but Joey didn't care. He was even prepared to immediately head to Africa and pick a local wild banana.
If anyone dared to argue with him, he'd shove that thing straight up their ass and teach them what a product of natural evolution really looks like.
---
"Isn't it interesting?"
Joey had just taken off when he noticed Raven waiting for him high above the clouds.
"You made me come here just to watch a joke?!"
Joey was extremely displeased. His time was incredibly valuable. He spent every day researching magic, and he usually avoided assignments from Vought whenever possible. Who knew he'd be tricked into coming here just to have his intelligence insulted?
"No. I brought you here to show you how stupid people can be."
Raven's answer sent Joey into a rage:
"What, next you're going to lecture me about how I should lead them, protect them, that sort of lofty nonsense?"
He'd said it countless times—he wasn't Clark Kent, a god with humanity. Nor could he be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
If he truly wanted to help humanity and make life better for everyone, why not unify the entire planet, create Astartes legions, and launch a Great Crusade straight out of the solar system?
Joey had far more important things to do.
"They believe in creationism from the very beginning, so even when that pastor holds up a banana and spouts such absurd nonsense, they believe it without question."
Raven pointed at Joey, as if she had instantly seen through his mind:
"And because you were obsessed from the start with resurrecting your parents, any bizarre information Stormfront brought you, you treated like a lifeline. You're no fundamentally different from those people who believe in bananas—"
Boom!
The shockwave from Joey's punch shattered all the clouds to Raven's left, cutting her off mid-critique.
Could Raven be lying to him? There was no conflict of interest between them—probably not.
Was Raven correct when she said the dead cannot be resurrected? As the daughter of Trigon, one of the most powerful spellcasters in the DC universe, she probably was.
Joey could reach these conclusions without even thinking, yet he still felt there had to be some other way.
"There is no other way. Hellfire annihilated the last trace of their existence in this world. No resurrection ritual, no matter how powerful, can work under such conditions."
What Raven feared wasn't just a Superman drilling himself into a corner—it was the impending invasion of Hell.
Most of her siblings from Hell were masters of manipulation. This world's Superman didn't have to help her, but he absolutely could not be tempted and fall into Trigon's hands.
A Superman controlled by the Hell dimension would be a catastrophic disaster—for her, for this universe, and for countless neighboring ones.
"I'm sorry, Superman. But that's the truth."
Raven could feel the emotional storm raging within the Kryptonian before her, but she refused to indulge him any longer:
"You can choose not to shoulder the responsibility of being Superman, but if you remain this fragile, then when Hell invades, I'll throw you into another universe first. Better that than have you drag me down."
Raven didn't originally need to confront the Hell army head-on in this world. She could have kept running forever, but the death of Wrath in this universe made everything impossible to contain.
Whether Wrath was truly dead or not, her father would eventually find this place and reclaim what was his.
Raven could not simply walk away and allow this universe to be dragged into the Hell dimension because of her mistake.
Raven's barrage of questions left Joey speechless.
The truth was that even though he wore the title of 'Superman' and a replica of the suit, he wasn't Superman at all.
The real Superman grew up in Kansas. More than twenty years on a farm, guided by his adoptive parents, shaped his mind from that of an ordinary child into a gentle yet righteous, resilient yet humble Kansas farmer.
For Joey, those years in Kansas felt more like a reclaimed refuge. His personality had already been set long ago, and his adoptive parents' teachings and criticisms rarely elicited more than a smile from him.
When that refuge was suddenly and completely destroyed, he became instantly lost—like an ostrich that had buried its head in the sand, suddenly finding itself on concrete, futilely trying to bury its head again.
Joey had more than enough anger and motivation to lash out at Raven, accuse her of responsibility.
That terrible day was, at its core, caused by her—and she had admitted as much herself.
But Joey knew it would be meaningless. So he suppressed all his anger and extended his hand toward Raven:
"I ask for your guidance — how can the Hell dimension and its creations be completely, or at least effectively, destroyed?"