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Chapter Text

Metropolis was gone. Wiped out by a nuclear bomb. Millions died in an instant. And the man responsible sat in a cold, dimly lit police interrogation room, smiling. Batman stood across from him, fists clenched. The smell of smoke and ash still clung to his suit.
“You took his wife. His unborn child. His city...” Batman growled. “Why?” The Joker grinned wide, tilting his head. “After all these years, Batsy, you still need reasons from me?” Batman’s voice tightened. “This has always been between us. Why drag him into it?”
The Clown Prince of Crime chuckled, rising from his seat and strolling toward the mirrored wall. His reflection grinned back. “Because every time you and I play, I lose,” he said. “So I figured I’d try something different. Play a game on easy mode for once. And it was easy… like beating a puppy to death with a kitten!” He laughed maniacally. Joker turned back to face Batman, eyes gleaming with twisted glee.
“Someone took it all away from you once too, didn’t they, Bats?” he said. “And look what you became—an all-punching, all-kicking embodiment of wrath.” He sat back down with a dramatic sigh, folding his hands. “So... what do you think he’ll become? A god who convinced himself he was just a man. What happens when that illusion shatters?” “There are some things even you can’t corrupt, Joker,” Batman said firmly. Joker just chuckled darkly. “Oh no, Bats. This time, the joke’s on you.”
Batman slammed his hands onto the table. “Enough games! The nuke—where’d you get it?!” Joker raised a brow. “What, you want one now? Pfft. Copybat.” Before Batman could react, the wall behind Joker exploded inward with a thunderous crash. Standing in the rubble, eyes blazing with fury, was Superman.
“Get away from him!!” he shouted, his voice heavy with rage. Batman remained calm. “I’m handling this,” he said evenly. But Clark didn’t listen. His grief and anger were too great. He crossed the room in a flash, flipping the table aside and slamming the Joker against the mirror. “You drugged me...” he growled. “Made me kill Lois… my son…”
Joker’s grin didn’t waver. “First Krypton, now Metropolis. People you love tend to blow up, don’t they?” Superman’s fist rose, trembling with rage. “Superman, don’t!” Batman barked. Superman hesitated… then punched the mirror beside Joker’s head, shattering it into glittering shards. But Joker just laughed again and placed a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “That’s why I like you, Superman. You’re much more gullible than—” he glanced at Batman, “—him.”
With a roar, Superman hurled Joker across the room. The clown crashed into the wall, then onto the broken table. Wood splintered—but Joker stood, stretching like he’d just woken from a nap. “You think you can have a family. That locking me up will reform me,” Joker said as he casually walked back to the chair and sat down again. “And that they’ll be safe. So big. So dumb.” He snorted. “Now run along so I can break out of here. I’ve got lots of planning to do to top this.”
Superman’s eyes narrowed. He’d heard enough. He grabbed Joker by the throat and lifted him from the chair. “That’s enough!” Batman shouted, rushing forward—but Superman shoved him to the floor without even looking. Joker dangled, laughing. “I know it’s soon,” he gasped out, “but… think you’ll ever love again? Maybe you won’t kill your next family…” His cackle echoed in the silence.
Superman’s fist struck true—clean through Joker’s chest. The laughter died. Blood dripped from Superman’s hand, still clenched around a motionless heart. Joker’s last breath came with a crooked smile.
“…Now that’s… a punchline.”

Chapter Text

Elsewhere...
It had been years since Malefor's defeat. The world was rebuilt through the efforts of Spyro and Cynder. Upon their return to Warfang, they were overjoyed to discover that Ignitus had survived the flames. Spyro even broke into tears at the sight of him. It was then that Ignitus finally told Spyro the truth about his origins. The news stunned Spyro, and though upset at first, he couldn't stay angry at his birth father for long.
In the present, Spyro, Cynder, the Guardians, and a few allies had formed a peacekeeping force known as the Knight Scales. With the war over, the Guardians no longer had their traditional purpose. This new initiative, Spyro’s idea, handled major threats—terrorist and domestic—across the known world.
Today was shaping up to be calm. Routine. Normal. At least, that was the plan. Spyro lounged on the Temple’s main room couch, glancing at the clock before letting out a sigh and folding his hands behind his head. “Well guys, it’s almost the weekend. Anyone got plans?”
“Thankfully, not this time,” Cynder replied, standing near him. “You know me—I’ll be at the library,” Volteer said. Ignitus looked at Spyro. “And what of you, Spyro?”
Spyro sat up. “Archery lessons. Hunter agreed to teach Cynder and me a few of his skills.” Hunter smirked. “Always happy to pass along my craft.” “I’m just glad this week went by without incident,” Spyro said. “No terrorists, no domestic calls, nothing.”
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The alarm blared through the Temple.
Everyone looked at Sparx. Spyro rolled his eyes. “You just couldn’t keep your big mouth shut, could you?” Sparx covered his mouth sheepishly.
“What now?” Cyril muttered. Ember ran to the observation deck. “It’s those Faerie cultists. They’re heading downtown.”
Terrador groaned. “Will they ever give up and go back to Avalon Forest?” “Cults don’t quit,” Flame replied. Spyro stood, stretching. “So much for archery weekend. Time for paperwork and punching. Let’s roll.”

The Faeries had risen after Malefor’s defeat—mysterious beings trying to remake the world in their image. Today, they targeted Heroes Square, a monument to those who died fighting Malefor. A Faerie leader raised their voice. “Today we destroy these pathetic tributes!”
But Spyro, Cynder, Hunter, and three Guardians landed in a flash. “Not today you aren’t,” Spyro growled. “CHARGE!” the Faerie screamed.
Battle erupted. Cyril fired rapid ice blasts. Spyro faced a Muruch Faerie—small and slippery, but annoying. Cynder rained down arrows, while Volteer pummeled a Faun before sending it flying into Terrador’s knockout punch.
Cynder blushed watching Spyro in action. Gods, I love him, she thought. The Muruch was taken down, and Spyro called out, “Tie them down! We need to stop their plan.”
Cynder nodded. “Before Puca throws something nastier at us.” Hunter pointed behind Spyro. “Too late.”
The Jabberwock—a monstrous Faerie beast—loomed over them. “Jabberwock! I got this!” Spyro shouted, charging—but the beast backhanded him hard. Hunter sighed. “Should’ve done that together.”
Cynder shook her head. “He forgets he’s not invincible.” Suddenly, a call came through. “Ignitus, what’s wrong?” Cynder asked.
“It’s a decoy. The Faeries are attacking the Temple!” Cynder gasped. “I’m on my way.” Spyro stopped her. “Go. We’ve got this!”
She nodded and flew off.

Back at the Temple, Flame, Ember, and Ignitus held the line. Their enemy: Puca, the Faerie King, shrouded in dark aura. “You’re ruining tonight’s entertainment, pinky!” he snapped.
Ember narrowed her eyes. “I detest violence, but you? I detest more.” Puca fired a plasma beam, but Ember dodged. “I thought you’d have cleaned this up,” Flame said.
Ignitus huffed. “I’m the Master of Fire, not Miracles.” Cynder burst through the window. “Hello there.”
Puca sneered. “Ventress, kill her.” Cynder was surprised. “You’re working for Puca now?” Ventress shrugged. “They pay in platinum. Plus, I get to kill you.”
Cynder smiled. “Like hell.”
They clashed. Ventress was fast, but Cynder overpowered her with a knee to the face. “No bonus for you.”
Puca laughed. “Let’s see what the dragon who killed Malefor is really made of.” Cynder cracked her knuckles. “Let’s find out.”

Meanwhile, Jabberwock raged. Spyro stunned it with electricity. Terrador launched it skyward. Cyril struck it midair. Volteer summoned lightning.
“SHAZAM!!”
Spyro sighed. He’s been reading too many comics. Then he dashed through the beast, ending it.

Cynder finished off the last Faerie. She faced Puca. “You’re all alone now.”
Puca chuckled. “The strong always are.” Cynder added, “The psychotic always are.”
He declared himself: “Puca the Wise! Puca the Magnanimous!” Then revealed… a tiny Faerie on a wooden horse. Cynder burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?!” Puca demanded.
“I was expecting someone taller. Does mommy know you’re here?” Puca’s voice rose. “You dare mock—” “Your name’s ‘Shorty?’” Cynder teased. Ember slammed another Faerie, adding, “Emotional damage!”
Cynder fired shadow blasts, knocking Puca off his horse. Ember and Flame cuffed him with power-draining restraints.
Spyro’s voice came through the com. “All good here. Taking Jabberwock to the deep sea.” “Make sure it’s very deep,” Cynder said.
Ignitus leaned over Puca. “What were you planning?” Puca just laughed.
An alarm went off. “What’s that?!” Ventress cried. “The ‘we’re all gonna die’ alarm,” Ember said, knocking her out. Cynder’s eyes widened. “That’s the bomb alarm!”
Ignitus connected the dots. “They stole explosives from the War Museum! Enough to destroy the entire city!” Puca began another monologue—until Ember knocked him out with a vase.
“Get them locked up. We’ve got a bomb to stop!”

Spyro found the Bogie with the trigger. “Think logically! Eight million lives—”
“Eight million and two,” Bogie sneered. Hunter landed behind. “Puca doesn’t care about you. You’re a pawn!”
Bogie sighed. “Guess I’ll die a hero.”
Spyro rushed to grab the trigger. At that moment, Cynder and the others surrounded them. Suddenly, a bright glow engulfed Ignitus, Volteer, Terrador, Cyril, and Cynder.
Spyro tackled Bogie. When the light faded, only Spyro, Ember, Flame, Hunter, and Bogie remained. Bogie panicked, smashing the button. Nothing happened. Flame loomed behind him. One punch. Out cold.
Where did the others end up? They were in for one hell of a ride.

Chapter Text

Cynder didn’t know what happened first—she was surrounded by light. It was so bright she had to close her eyes, and when she opened them, she was in shock. She stood in a new city, foreign and unfamiliar. As she turned around, she spotted someone nearby: an anthropomorphic black-furred wolf, but half of its face was torn away, revealing its skull.
WHAT THE… I’ll just ignore him for now… Where in the world am I? Cynder thought. She glanced around, her eyes landing on a towering statue—of Superman. Her eyes widened. “By the ancestors… This is Metropolis… but I thought this place only existed in comic books. What in the world is going on here?”
The bloodied wolf stirred and rose from the ground, locking eyes with her. “I was just about to ask you the same thing… whoever you are,” the wolf said, his voice like a thousand nettles piercing her heart.
“What the hell is the matter with this thing?” Cynder muttered. The wolf shook a snow globe-like object, clearly trying to get it to activate. “What are you trying to do? And what is that?” Cynder asked, arms crossed.
The wolf stood, his icy blue eyes staring her down. They felt wrong. Cold. Hollow. “Tell me... female, what did you do to my rift orb?” “I didn’t do anything! I don’t even know who you are!” Cynder replied.
He stared at her, then chuckled.
“I’m sorry. I suppose you wouldn’t know me. I am Mefis, the Spirit of Love. As for my appearance—this is just a temporary form. I’m not proud of it, but sometimes life isn’t fair. And that’s what makes it special.”
As he bowed, Cynder noted his cloak barely covered his ragged pants, and a blue crystal attached to a collar around his neck glinted in the light. But Cynder wasn’t fooled. She could feel the lie.
“No. You’re not telling me who you really are. And don’t lie to me—I can always tell.” The wolf’s ear flicked, and he chuckled again. “Smart one, aren’t you? You may call me Mephisto, the Lord of Hatred. A Prime Evil.”
A shiver ran down Cynder’s spine. “Well, despite what I am,” Mephisto said, “we are both strangers in this world. I suggest we work together to find a way out.”
He extended a hand. Cynder slapped it away. “I’ll never make a deal with a being of evil like you—or work with someone like you again.” Her words piqued Mephisto’s interest. “So… you were once a servant of the dark. And yet, the darkness still clings to you.”
Cynder threw a punch. Mephisto summoned a massive skeletal hand that flicked her backward with a single finger.
“So, the young dragoness likes to play rough? Fine. Just know—you probably won’t make it out alive.”
This was not how Cynder had planned to spend her day: fighting Mephisto, the Lord of Hatred. He formed a dark, ink-like sword from his hand, while Cynder readied her claws.
Mephisto was fast, but her past battles with Ventress had sharpened her reflexes.
Cynder lunged, but Mephisto dodged and grabbed her tail, hurling her into a car. Shaking it off, she rose just in time to block his blade with her cuff, countering with a solid uppercut that knocked him back.
He reset his jaw with a sickening click, chuckling. “Impressive. I didn’t expect you to be so skilled in combat.”
He rushed her again, sword dancing elegantly. Cynder realized his fighting style was more analytical than aggressive. He was studying her.
So she got unpredictable. Adding chaos to her movements, she caught him off guard, striking him across the head and pinning him down. “Now stay down!” she snapped. Sirens wailed in the distance. “Looks like the police are here—for you.” But the moment froze as she realized: they weren’t just coming for him.
They were coming for her too.
Soldiers surrounded them, weapons drawn. “Hands up!” Cynder stood, defiant. “I said hands up, dragon freak! Do it now or you're dead!” Cynder slowly raised her hands.
“Now that’s funny!” Mephisto laughed.
In that instant, Cynder unleashed a banshee-like scream, stunning everyone. She vanished into her shadow. And in the chaos, Mephisto disappeared too.

Night fell.
Cynder had been running from soldiers for hours, but she had learned much. This world was under the control of the One Earth Government—the Regime. And its leader? The High Councilor… Superman. Spyro’s never going to believe this, she thought. Perched on a balcony, she listened to soldiers below lamenting Joker’s escape, and their near-capture of her.
“I’m in a nightmare…”

But her thoughts drifted back to Mephisto. He wasn’t strong yet—but he was dangerous. She couldn’t let him roam free. Spreading her wings, she took to the skies—silent as shadow—hunting the Lord of Hatred, and pondering what to do when she found him.

Chapter Text

This had to be one of the strangest days in Ignitus’s long and storied life. One moment he and the other Dragon Guardians were working to stop a volatile rift from destabilizing their realm, and the next, they were standing atop the rooftop of a building in what looked like a completely alien city.
“Looks like some sort of city,” Terrador muttered, scanning the horizon. The steel and stone architecture was unlike anything in their home world.
“This is not just any city,” Cyril chimed in, his eyes narrowing as he took in the skyline. “This looks like Gotham. You know—from those Batman comics the younglings used to read?”
Volteer buzzed with excitement and unease. “Fascinating! Could we be in some sort of alternate reality? A comic book dimension, perhaps?”
Ignitus nodded grimly. “It seems likely. And if this is Gotham… then perhaps Atlantis exists here as well. I’ll head to the sea and see if I can find Aquaman—if he exists in this realm.” “Then I’ll head to Coast City,” Terrador said. “If there’s a Green Lantern Corps in this universe, they’ll know what’s going on.” “Cyril and I will stay behind and gather more information here,” Volteer added, and the group split up.

Coast City — Ferris Aircraft Facility
Terrador landed just outside the Ferris Aircraft compound. The place was eerily quiet. The Earth Guardian had expected more activity—especially in a major hub connected to the Green Lanterns.
“This place should be bustling… something’s off,” he muttered.
As he carefully walked the grounds, a scream echoed from inside one of the buildings. Terrador’s scales bristled. He silently approached, slipping through an ajar service door. Inside, he witnessed a scene that churned his stomach.
Raven and Cyborg stood over Deathstroke, the assassin shackled and writhing in magical pain. “This is your final chance to accept the High Councilor’s amnesty,” Raven hissed, her red skin glowing beneath her cloak as her magic surged.
“I’m not your puppet,” Deathstroke snarled through gritted teeth. “Do your worst.”
Cyborg’s mechanical eye glinted. “The boss is being generous. I wouldn’t be. Most of the Titans died in Metropolis five years ago.”
“I had nothing to do with that—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Cyborg cut him off. “You’re still on the wrong side.”
Terrador had heard enough. “That’s ENOUGH!” he roared, slamming his tail on the concrete. The shockwave rattled the room.
“Who’s the lizard?” Cyborg asked. “I don’t know. I don’t recognize his aura,” Raven replied, narrowing her eyes.
“You’re done here,” Terrador growled. “Let him go.”
Cyborg turned, unimpressed. “But definitely not from around here.”
Raven didn’t hesitate. She unleashed a magical blast, but Terrador deflected it with a wall of stone. He retaliated with a stomp that sent shockwaves through the floor, knocking Cyborg back. Raven tried to ensnare him with her shadows, but Terrador powered through, slamming her with a powerful tail sweep.
“You don’t want to fight me,” he warned.
Raven chuckled, blood on her lip. “Too late.”
She lifted him with telekinesis and slammed him against the walls. Terrador grunted but fought through the pain. At the right moment, he launched forward and tackled her to the ground, knocking her out cold.
Cyborg tried to rise, but Terrador loomed over him. “Talk. Who is this High Councilor?”
Cyborg scowled. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Terrador didn’t wait. A swift strike disabled Cyborg’s sonic cannon. And then they fought Terrador and quickly overpowered him. He then rushed over and freed Deathstroke. “Thanks. But they’ll be coming for you now,” the assassin warned. “This world’s different. Superman’s different.”
Terrador blinked. “Superman? He’s the High Councilor?” “Bingo.”
Before Terrador could say more, Deathstroke was gone. Slippery as ever.

Gotham — A Dark Encounter
Meanwhile, Cyril and Volteer found themselves in a battle of their own. Out of nowhere, they were ambushed by Sinestro himself, the wielder of fear.
“Anyone who stands against the Regime falls,” the yellow-ringed warrior declared. Cyril blasted ice shards at him, while Volteer took to the skies. But Sinestro countered swiftly, forming a massive construct that swatted the dragons down.
Before Sinestro could finish them off, Terrador burst onto the scene, blocking a deadly blade with a boulder.
“Enough, Sinestro!” he bellowed. “Isn’t oppressing your home world enough?”
“The One Earth Government mirrors Korugar’s order. I serve willingly. Even Hal Jordan has accepted it.”
Volteer gasped. “Hal… he joined you?!” Sinestro smirked. “As did all who wished to survive.”
“I’ll handle him,” Volteer said, sparkling with electricity. “Go help Cyril.”
Terrador nodded and charged toward the incoming Regime soldiers.
Volteer and Sinestro clashed in a furious display of light and lightning. Constructs formed and shattered under the dragon’s storm. With precision and timing, Volteer landed a massive bolt that knocked Sinestro from the sky.
“Consider that a wake-up call,” the yellow dragon muttered.
Volteer went to check on Cyril, “You ok?” “Hal?!” Hal Jordan arrived. “Someone call me?” he asked, wearing the colors of Sinestro’s corps.
Volteer’s jaw dropped. “You… you are Sinestro Corps now!?”
“Fear works. Better than Will,” Hal replied flatly.
Cyril narrowed his eyes. “You’re a disgrace to the Lantern Corps.”
Volteer, forgetting himself, shouted, “You’ve chosen cowardice—the color of yellow!”
Cyril facepalmed. “You realize you’re yellow, right?”
Hal smirked. “Guess we’re all cowards now.”
The battle reignited. Volteer and Hal clashed midair, but a sneak blast from Hal sent Volteer spiraling down. Cyril stepped in, fury in his icy breath.
“You were the most noble among them… and now you’ve fallen. Just like when Parallax corrupted you!” Hal charged, but Cyril was ready. He created ice doubles and traps, using the environment to freeze Hal’s hand mid-attack. An ice slide sent Hal flying, ending the battle in a frosty impact.
Terrador regrouped with them. “Is everyone alright?”
Volteer groaned. “Define alright.”
Cyril chuckled. “Well… that was odd.”
The three Guardians stood among the wreckage, each coming to the same grim realization—this world was broken, ruled by tyranny wearing a familiar cape.
As the cops showed up the three of them fled. “Aren't there any good guys left?” Then they run into Batman. “There just might be Volteer.”
And they were now part of its rebellion.