Justice League: DMC
Alright, imagine this: the world is just one bad Tuesday away from total destruction. Caped heroes are busy fighting shadows, but then, someone unexpected crashes their apocalypse party. Not a hero. Not a villain, either. More like trouble with a heartbeat and a devilish grin.
Meet Rex. He's twenty-three, sharp-tongued, and carries more attitude than sense. He roams Gotham’s underbelly, taking on the dirty jobs that the Justice League won’t touch. You know, the kinds of tasks that would make Superman’s cape wrinkle. Rex wields a massive sword called Rebellion and carries twin pistols named Ebony and Ivory—of course he does. Just to keep things interesting, he’s got a tactical AI, [V.E.R.G.I.L.], chatting in his ear with the charm of a sarcastic toaster. This guy is a walking hazard sign. He doesn’t follow anyone’s rules. In fact, half the time, he doesn’t even follow his own.
As for the League? They’re not fans. Batman watches him with suspicion from every shadow. Wonder Woman calls him out directly; she can't stand his swagger. Superman just gazes at him, perfectly coiffed and doubtful, questioning if Rex is actually human. Meanwhile, demons are flooding out of hell-gates like it’s Black Friday at the apocalypse mall. The line between “hero” and “what on earth is that” is basically non-existent.
Now, here’s where it gets strange. Rex should be dead—six times over—except Evelyn Graves steps in. She has no superpowers and no high-tech gadgets. She’s just a trauma surgeon with more guts than half the League combined. She pulls Rex back from the brink, and suddenly, fate intertwines their lives like a noose.
Every time Rex fights, he grows stronger—painfully, brutally, as if the universe is challenging him to push through. [V.E.R.G.I.L.] is always around, offering cold logic or the occasional insult, guiding or mocking as needed.
And here’s the twist: Rex doesn’t take sides. He doesn’t bow down. He doesn’t care about gods, flags, or whatever code the League is preaching. He is the chaos they can’t control. When they finally realize the devil isn’t playing for their team—or any team—the real battle begins. And believe me, nobody is ready for that storm.