The world was no longer splitting into neat sections. It was messier, with ideologies clashing like drunk cousins at a family reunion. Dominion? It was dead, just a memory stained with blood. Covenant's big scary ship? Blown to pieces, and good riddance. And at the heart of this chaos? Rex. Just like always.
Every news channel on Earth had lost it. Some commentators shouted "terrorist!" while others nearly cried, calling him a hero or a freedom fighter. The League? Not his group. Sanctioned operations? Not a chance. Rex was a walking, talking insult to every government out there. You can silence a president, but you can't silence a symbol,good luck with that.
Cairo—imagine this: rebels painting devil silhouettes on the walls, his sword Rebellion scrawled over their shoulders, "Unchained" dripping below in red spray paint. Paris? Suddenly the cool kids were wearing crimson jackets, marching and chanting things that were more punk than political. Tokyo had its own vibe—the underground circulated blurry videos of Rex fighting Dominion's Archon, freezing each strike like it was some lost samurai gospel. The world was no longer watching; it was taking action.
Meanwhile, in Gotham. An ugly city with even uglier safehouse lighting. Rex slumped in front of blurry monitors, watching the riots and rallies like he could change the channel. Evelyn stood beside him, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
"You started a movement," she said.
He scoffed. "I didn't start anything."
She looked at him firmly. "You did. It doesn't matter if you meant to."
He hated that. He didn't want followers or to be a poster boy
for anyone's mission. He just wanted the chains off his wrists. But now those chains were breaking everywhere, and people were thanking him for it.
"They're turning you into a revolution," Evelyn insisted. "You can't escape it."
He ran his fingers through his silver hair, D.A.N.T.E. buzzing under his skin like a restless bee. "I'm not a leader, doc."
She shrugged. "You're a catalyst."
Here's the thing about catalysts....they ignite the fire, but they don't choose what burns.
Later, the comms crackled to life....[V.E.R.G.I.L.]'s encryption, always dramatic. Bruce, of course.
"You've destabilized three continents, Rex."
Rex rolled his eyes. "Didn't know I needed your approval, Bats."
"This isn't a joke."
"Yeah, and I'm not laughing."
Bruce let the silence drag on....a classic Bat move. "The League can't protect you forever."
"Wasn't expecting them to."
"You've become a fault line. Entire governments are mobilizing around you."
"Let them."
"It ends badly."
"Doesn't it always?"
He cutted the line. Enough lectures for one night.
Up on the roof, Gotham stretched out below..ugly, alive, and restless. Evelyn joined him, wind blowing through her hair.
"Running again?" she asked.
"Thinking," he mumbled.
"Then be Careful. That's dangerous."
He tried to smile, but it ended up crooked. "You know what keeps me up, doc?"
"Hitting me."
"They're not scared of me. Not really. They're scared of what I represent. If I can break free, maybe anyone can."
She squeezed his shoulder. "Yeah, and that terrifies them."
"They'll escalate."
"They always do."
"People will get hurt."
"You can't stop that."
"I can try."
She shot him a sharp, tired look. "You can't carry the world on your back, Rex."
"I'm not. I'm giving them a hammer."
"And what if they destroy everything with it?"
He didn't have an answer. Who would?
Meanwhile, somewhere under rainy London, a group of suits in a bunker formed a new organization: Global Stabilization Directorate. What a fancy title for "let's take Rex off the board no matter what." To them, he wasn't a person. Just a math problem with too many unknowns.
On the other side, the Unchained Movement was gaining momentum. It didn't matter what flag you waved and this was about refusing to play along. Not following Rex, just reflecting his attitude. No need for permission.
Evelyn kept one eye on the newsfeeds, her face caught between pride and dread.
"You're an idea now, Rex."
He groaned. "Not interested."
"Too late."
Leaning against the wall, sword propped up, he grumbled, "I'm not their hero."
"Nope. You're their spark."
"Dangerous game."
She smiled, unafraid. "That's what they need."
His pulse synced with D.A.N.T.E.—not fighting anymore, just riding the chaos his presence stirred up.
Ping. [V.E.R.G.I.L.] again.
[GLOBAL SENTIMENT ANALYSIS—FRACTURE ZONES INCREASING. REPUTATION DIVERGENCE AT 67%.]
Evelyn tilted her head. "It's splitting wide open."
"Surprise."
"You ready for what's next?"
He shrugged. "Never am."
But he'd handle it. He always did.
Then—another ping. Different channel. Not the League. Not the Covenant. Someone else, slipping into his messages with a single line:
"The chains are breaking. But who holds the leash now?"
No name attached, but Rex recognized the tone. Some puppet master, thinking they could pull his strings.
He didn't respond. He didn't have to. The sun was barely up, Gotham looked like it had been through a blender, and there was Rex—brooding on a rooftop, the city rumbling beneath his feet. Evelyn was there too, calm and solid, as if she was the only thing keeping him from losing control.
"You're not doing this alone, Devil Boy."
"Yeah, I got that."
"Doesn't mean you get to do stupid things."
"No promises, Ev."
She shot him that crooked smile and nudged him, as if daring him to try to scare her. "I'll fix you up when you break something. Again."
He managed a smile, but it had an edgeless sunshine, more broken glass. He wasn't leading the charge, not a big hero. But the city was on fire, and his face was reflected in every spark. I suppose that's all he needed.