It had been a stupid move, George realized.
But the Samurai had saved his life as a baby, had taught him in infancy what it meant to stand up to the wicked, and he’d be damned if he just ignored him in his most desperate hour.
But he’d come too late.
His hero, his idol, the savior of the world- Samurai Jack- lay dead in a pool of his own blood, clutching the hand of some unknown girl.
Maybe a lover.
Charging with the sword was suicidal. Sure, he’d trained, but he wasn’t Samurai Jack.
Aku’s look had been annoyance before his eyes blasted him with what felt like the sun’s wrath.
Maybe the afterlife would let him meet Jack in person…
“I say, that was rather foolish. Courageous, but foolish.” Came a cultured voice.
“Well, it wasn’t like he weren’t goin’ teh kill alla us anyway.” Came a resigned, Scottish voice.
He opened his eyes.
They- he and the rebel army- were floating through what seemed to be an infinite starscape.
“We’re dead, aren’t we?” The defiant raver girl asked, examining her now uninjured arm.
“I’m afraid so.” Rothchild, the canine archeologist, said sadly. “At least we are free of Aku.”
“Where Jack?” asked the odd white-haired jumping man, almost hidden among the white monkey tribe.
“If there is any justice in the afterlife, he is with his family.” Answered the Spartan.
“Rather sad, really.” A Triseraquin said ruefully. “In the end, Aku simply crushed us all like flies.”
“Sometimes…” the Scotsman said sadly, now whole and solid, “…sometimes the vill’in wins.”
“NO.” a voice, clear and powerful, resounded through the cosmic sea.
Before them, without fanfare or flashy light, appeared three… there was no other word for it, deities.
Ra, with a falcon’s head.
Rama, with six arms and a bow.
Odin, great and glorious, one-eyed and solemn.
“EVIL CANNOT TRIUMPH SO LONG AS ONE WORTHY SOUL REMAINS.” Odin boomed.