By Terry Pratchett
In a world not entirely unlike our own—at least if you squinted and held your breath just right—two titans of the superheroic kind stood poised for conflict. A place where capes flapped like banners over a battlefield and villains had more backstory than a TV drama that had run for seven seasons but still refused to tie up all loose ends.

It was a fine day for a showdown, and that was no small feat considering the weather was generally dubious at best—today it was only mildly confused. But the clouds parted to reveal a sun that was just as bemused by the whole superhero racket, casting a spotlight on the two figures who stood at the center of the urban arena: ☠CHAINZ☠ and ♦Making Babies Instead♦.

☠CHAINZ☠ was a figure clad in black armor that looked like it was crafted from the remains of very angry electronics. His gear hummed with the kind of technology that could only be described as “highly advanced” and “about to ruin someone’s day.” More than a villain, he was a “chaos enthusiast,” with a penchant for disconnecting heroes from their happy endings. He had a habit of stating ridiculous yet profoundly poetic things. He’d once mused, “You can be a king or a street sweeper, but everyone dances with the grim reaper,” while simultaneously demolishing a playground with a well-aimed hurl of a drone.

Across from him stood ♦Making Babies Instead♦, clad in shimmering red armor that seemed to glow with its own light, and not just because it was very insistent on being in the limelight. A Drogonian through and through, with a family lineage that included far too many superpowered relatives, Kaden Steel bore the weight of legacy like a reluctant crown. He was Hero material, with a capital ‘H’—though the irony that he was known for “making babies” while being a fighter wasn’t lost on him. He had a reputation for being unfazed under pressure because, after all, every battle was won or lost long before the first punch was thrown. “Fear the red armor,” he often warned, though he was usually more concerned with pacifying villains rather than flattening them.

Today wasn't going to work out as Kaden had planned, though. As the countdown began and the crowd held its collective breath, it was clear that in this particular tale, the tapestry would unravel all too quickly. With a flick of his wrist and a mechanical whirr, ☠CHAINZ☠ unleashed a torrent of pulsing energy, the air rippling with the electric tension of a thousand circuits about to overload.

Before Kaden could even muster an inspiring speech about hope, family, and the inherent goodness of life, there was a flash of light, a terrifying sound akin to a blender mixing desperation with despair, and then—*wham*! ☠CHAINZ☠’s fist connected with Kaden’s armored chest, and to the uninitiated observer, it would appear that the red hero had simply imploded in a shower of sparks and dramatic irony.

The crowd gasped. Out of all the battles that could have been fought, this one seemed more akin to a comedic skit than an epic confrontation. ☠CHAINZ☠ stood over the fallen hero, panting and, by all accounts, quite pleased with himself. “Another win for Colony 5¹,” he declared, his voice echoing through the hushed crowd, who were now shifting from shock to the kind of nervous laughter usually reserved for poorly-timed stand-up comedy.

But while the cheers erupted for the victor, deep inside his mechanical heart, ☠CHAINZ☠ felt a twinge of something else—was it remorse? Guilt? Or merely the sensation of being a villain in a world that had become all too comfortable with good and evil? Perhaps victory was not as sweet when served with a side of reflective melancholy.

As for ♦Making Babies Instead♦, he would rise again. He always did. Heroes often got knocked down, but they had a knack for standing back up, dusting off the debris of their own demise, and returning to the fray (usually with a solid moral lesson attached).

But for today, the battle had ended. ☠CHAINZ☠ was the victor, a king on a throne made of broken dreams and shattered expectations, while Kaden Steel lay in a crumpled heap, dreaming of new strategies and a day when the sun might shine brighter on his side of the arena.

And so it was that both heroes—one villain and one hero—continued their inevitable dance, not quite finished with each other yet, with the whole world watching, waiting for the next episode in a saga that would surely spiral into confusion, chaos, and oddly insightful commentary on the nature of heroism and villainy. Because in this universe, much like the real world, nothing was ever truly as straightforward as it seemed.