Chapter 21: You Have Five Minutes
The abandoned building on the edge of Central City was silent.
Dust hung heavy in the air. Broken windows let in streaks of orange sunlight. The distant hum of the city was a low murmur, miles away. Here, the world felt forgotten. Isolated.
Leonard Snart—Captain Cold—stood near the door with his cold gun in hand. Beside him, Mick Rory—Heat Wave—strapped his flamethrower onto his back, grumbling.
"This was stupid," Mick muttered. "Too quiet."
Snart glanced over at Caitlin Snow, still tied to the chair, her head bowed slightly. "She's bait," he said flatly. "Flash shows up, we finish this. We show the city he's not invincible."
But even as he spoke, he felt it.
The air shifted.
Like static crawling down his spine.
And then the shadows moved.
No lightning.
No thunder.
Just… him.
A red glow filled the doorway. It wasn't fire. It wasn't speed. It was something worse.
A man stood there—tall, still, cloaked in crimson mist that shimmered off his skin.
Dante.
No words.
No expression.
He didn't attack. Didn't scream or rage.
He simply walked inside.
His boots touched the floor with soft, deliberate steps.
One after another.
Slow. Controlled.
Every light in the building flickered.
Snart raised his cold gun. "I don't know who you are—"
The moment Dante's eyes met his, Leonard froze.
That wasn't a man.
That was something older than pain.
Something that had tasted death and kept walking.
Dante's gaze passed over them like a stormcloud looking for a place to strike.
Then he saw her.
Caitlin.
Tied up.
Bruised lips. Otherwise unharmed.
And when she looked up—there was no fear in her eyes.
None.
Just a small, tired smile.
"You found me," she whispered.
He said nothing.
She smiled more. "Don't kill them."
Snart blinked. "What—?"
Dante's head turned slightly, eyes still glowing with power. When he spoke, it wasn't a human voice.
It was ancient.
It came from deep within the earth and deeper within the soul.
"Why?"
The word wasn't a question. It was a test. A judgment.
Caitlin held his gaze. "Because… I'm fine. And if you kill them, you'll lose something. Not your power. You."
Dante didn't move.
He didn't breathe.
He simply stared at her.
One second.
Two.
Then a minute passed.
And another.
Neither Snart nor Rory dared move. Every instinct screamed at them to run.
But their legs were frozen.
It was like standing in front of death and praying it chose someone else.
Each second Dante didn't speak felt like a knife pressed tighter against their skin.
Caitlin waited, unmoving. Trusting him.
And finally… after five long minutes…
Dante exhaled.
The red lightning faded.
His shoulders relaxed.
His eyes dimmed back to black.
His body—no longer cloaked in storm—stood there, just a man once again.
But the threat never left.
He knelt beside Caitlin, broke the chains binding her with a flick of his fingers, and stood tall.
"Okay," he said softly. "But remember—this is the only time."
Caitlin smiled, her voice gentle. "Thank you."
He nodded once, then turned his head toward Snart and Rory.
"You have five minutes to run."
His tone didn't rise. It didn't threaten. It was simple. Inevitable.
"If I ever see you again… if you ever so much as think about hurting the people I care about…"
He stepped forward once.
Snart's knees nearly gave out.
Dante's voice dropped low—low enough that the ground itself seemed to vibrate.
"I'll make you wish I killed you today."
Then he turned his back to them.
He didn't wait for their answer.
He didn't care.
He took Caitlin's hand gently, like the storm had never happened, and walked out of the building with her.
No lightning.
No rage.
Just silence.
Behind them, Snart collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat.
Mick looked at him. "We're not doing that again."
"Not even thinking about it," Snart muttered, shaking.
—
Outside, the wind picked up.
The city was waking up again.
But in that alleyway, Dante stood with Caitlin by his side. He looked down at her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
"You okay?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I knew you'd come."
He looked away, ashamed. "I should've been faster."
"You were fast enough," she said softly.
He didn't reply right away.
Then, after a pause, he whispered, "I almost didn't listen to you."
Caitlin smiled faintly. "But you did. That's what matters."
And in that quiet space between rage and restraint, something bloomed.
Not lightning.
Not fire.
But something gentler.
Stronger.
And infinitely more dangerous than power alone.
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