By and large, Morrow's publishers gave him free rein to write The Esotericorps. After the critical success of Entropy Lad, his editors trusted him with more creative leeway. Despite Entropy Lad's quirky premise, it was still tied down to the comic studio's overall lore, mostly shared with conventional superhero titles. The Esotericorps was its own beast, released under a creator-owned "mature readers" imprint.

Morrow took full advantage of circumstances. Single moments were "decompressed" over several pages to express time dilation. Large chunks of the "Shibboleth" story arc were told in an alien language, represented by a mishmash of dingbats, programming code, and pseudo-cuneiform. One issue had unreal or irrational page numbers. Another one folded out into a vast cosmological map, as the characters leapt across planes of existence.

While The Esotericorps had its fair share of unique characters, the group's roster changed to suit the needs of each mission. The only constant was chief shit-disturber Rex Populi, whose bald, wiry appearance made him an idealized proxy for Morrow himself.

Much like Rex Populi, Morrow knew exactly how to find the right talents for the right job. He brought in J.H. Williams III for a decopunk plot, in which flappers and fairies (both real and figurative) team up to stop a cult of industrialists. The villains' attempt to summon an eldritch abomination leads to the big 1927 stock market crash, and kicks off the Great Depression. The late Seth Fisher joined Morrow for a manic, one-shot tale of transforming magical schoolgirls; these Majokko Grrls save Tokyo from a kaiju that represents the collective psyche of lonely, repressed salarymen. Morrow roped in (then) up-and-comers Fabio Moon and Gabriel Ba to work on "The Zeno Moonchild Affair", a manic caper involving chaos magick, Seventies cop show tropes, androgynous glam rockers, and secret agents with porn mustaches. For Morrow's penultimate arc, linking NASA's space shuttle programs, Majestic 12 conspiracy lore, and New Age neo-shamanism, he worked with John Cassaday. The glacial release schedule almost brought the series to a halt but Morrow wouldn't have it any other way.

For all these concessions, Morrow was expected to also do quality work-for-hire on the studio's more favored titles. One of these was a relaunch of Hyper-Force, a crappy, second-tier spandex-fest from the 1990s Dork Age of holographic variant covers and polybagged trading cards. Released at the height of President Dubya's real-life War on Terror, Morrow's reboot was a timely cautionary tale about what happens when assholes with god-like superpowers decide to go rogue.

Comic scholars warned that Hyper-Force's gleeful anti-fascist critique was almost too cool for its own good. It would be difficult for impressionable teens to recognize that these slick war-mongering caricatures were meant to be the actual villains. But fuck the critics, right? Readers lapped it up anyway. It would end up being Morrow's best-selling work to date.