Chapter 38 – "The Unseen"
The Central City Police Department had never been a loud place—not in the way schools or markets were—but it was always busy. Constant motion. Phones ringing. Detectives pacing. Officers typing. Citizens coming in and out.
And through all of that, a year ago, there had been a boy who drifted through those halls like a ghost.
A mop in his hands. Headphones over his ears. Red hair. Red eyes. Always in black. Always quiet.
No one knew him. No one cared to ask.
His name was Dante.
Before the lightning struck him—before the same bolt that had turned Barry Allen into something extraordinary also chose him—he had just been the janitor. Unnoticed. Unspoken to. Unseen.
And Dante liked it that way.
Now, after three months of absence, he walked through those same halls again. But this time, not alone.
Barry walked beside him, nodding politely to officers who greeted him as they passed.
"Morning, Barry!"
"Allen, good to see you back!"
"You're needed in the lab, CSI."
But their eyes never lingered on Dante.
Not one glance. Not a single curious stare.
It was like he didn't exist.
And Dante… smiled.
"I missed this place," he murmured.
Barry looked at him, half-amused. "You missed cleaning?"
"I missed being invisible."
Barry tilted his head. "Most people hate that feeling."
Dante shrugged. "Most people don't know what peace is."
They walked down the corridor toward the office at the end. Captain David Singh's door was slightly ajar, his nameplate still polished like new. Inside, Singh was standing at his desk, going over a file when he looked up.
And froze.
There, standing in his doorway, was the boy who had disappeared three months ago without warning, without a trace. No call. No letter. Just vanished.
Barry gave a polite smile. "Morning, Captain."
But Singh wasn't looking at Barry. His eyes were locked on Dante.
Dante stepped forward, calm, composed. "Hi, Captain."
Singh leaned back slightly, arms folding over his chest. He didn't speak at first.
He simply observed.
David Singh wasn't a man who showed emotion easily. He was a leader, a commander of chaos, a man built to function under pressure. But even he wasn't immune to memory.
He remembered reading Dante's application the first time. A redheaded boy with a scar across his wrist and a resume that barely filled a page. High school dropout. No family listed.
But Singh had done what any good commander did. He looked deeper.
Dante's father—dead from sickness His mother—She died tow years later. His younger brother—missing, then found, murdered in a case that was never solved.
Two years of silence.
Two years of isolation.
And then Dante showed up at CCPD, asking for a job. Not as an officer. Not as a lab tech.
As a janitor.
Singh gave it to him.
And over the months, he'd watched that boy move through the building like a shadow. Quiet. Efficient. Eyes heavy with something no kid his age should carry.
But now—now he looked different.
His shoulders weren't hunched. His eyes weren't hollow.
He was smiling.
Singh narrowed his eyes slightly.
Dante stood at ease, but respectful. "I know I've been gone, sir. I just… I needed time."
Singh continued to stare, but not with suspicion. With thought.
He knew the boy's pain.
He remembered it.
And now, after all that pain… he saw something else in Dante.
A softness.
Peace.
But also something deeper. Something hardened. Like steel that had been tempered in fire.
Finally, Singh spoke. His tone was the same as always—firm, steady, no-nonsense.
"Why aren't you doing your job, son?"
Dante blinked.
He hadn't expected that.
No questions. No reprimand. No threats of termination. Just a simple sentence—as if three months had never passed.
Barry turned slightly, confused. "Sir, he was gone for—"
Singh held up a hand, silencing Barry without looking at him.
Dante took a breath. A small, warm smile touched his lips.
"Yes, sir."
He stood straight, almost like a soldier. Then he turned and left the office with Barry by his side.
They didn't speak until they were back in the hallway.
"That was…" Barry began.
"Weird?" Dante offered.
"I was going to say… forgiving."
Dante chuckled. "Captain Singh sees more than people realize."
"Did he know? About the Void Force? Your powers?"
"No. Just about my past. The official records. Not the real story. He probably figured I ran away again. But he didn't ask. Didn't judge. Just… gave me my job back."
Barry shook his head in disbelief. "He must really trust you."
Dante didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked around the precinct—the people, the noise, the tension in the air—and something inside him settled.
This was his home.
Not the Speed Force. Not the void. Not even STAR Labs.
Here, mopping floors and wiping windows, unseen and unbothered—this was where he had started.
And it was where he felt most like himself.
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