Chapter 69 – "Eyes That Death Fears"
The silence after a storm is often peaceful.
This one wasn't.
It was heavy.
Uneasy.
Like the air itself had inhaled and forgotten how to exhale.
One by one, the heroes stirred—slowly at first.
Sara was the first to jolt upright, her scream echoing through the shattered warehouse.
Her face pale.
Sweat poured down her brow.
She clutched her chest like she couldn't breathe.
Nate followed.
He flailed, gasping for air, clawing at the floor like he was drowning in invisible water.
Zari curled into a ball.
Ray sobbed, eyes wide in horror.
Even hardened veterans like Mick and Diggle rose with shaky hands, looking around as if the walls themselves had turned against them.
Batwoman groaned.
Firestorm de-fused, both Ronnie and Martin crumpling to the ground, panting in terror.
And then came Kara.
Supergirl.
She didn't scream—but the way her shoulders trembled, the way her eyes darted around like a child waking from a nightmare—said enough.
Barry and Oliver moved instantly.
"Easy," Barry said, kneeling next to Sara. "You're safe. It's over."
Sara gripped his arm with bloodless fingers. "It's not…"
Oliver caught Batwoman before she collapsed again. "You're okay. You're back. We're all back."
But no one responded.
They weren't looking at Barry.
They weren't looking at Oliver.
They were looking past them.
At him.
Dante.
He stood near the far wall, relaxed, a cigarette between his fingers, faint smoke curling around his silhouette.
He was laughing—laughing.
Talking casually with Cisco, the two of them discussing song choices for the next training session like none of what just happened existed.
Cisco chuckled. "No, no, see—you gotta start with Nirvana. You can't throw a rookie team into training with Slipknot. That's just trauma."
Dante grinned, taking a drag. "Then maybe it's what they need."
Behind him—every hero stared in silent fear.
Unmoving.
Haunted.
Barry turned to Sara again.
"You all look like you've seen a ghost."
Oliver looked at his own team—Roy, Dinah, Diggle. None of them spoke.
Even the strongest faces, like Mick and Firestorm, were shaken.
Supergirl finally broke the silence.
Her voice was soft. Uncertain. Almost…afraid.
"The Dominators… they didn't just control our bodies."
Everyone turned to her.
Kara stood slowly, brushing dust off her suit. Her cape hung low, as if even it had lost its strength.
"They controlled our minds. Our feelings. They forced rage and hate into us, made us believe Barry and Oliver were threats."
She paused.
And pointed.
To Dante.
Still laughing, still joking with Cisco.
"But when he showed up," Kara said, her voice faltering, "we didn't feel rage."
She looked around at the others. "Tell me I'm not crazy. Tell me you all felt it."
Sara nodded, slow and grave. "We felt it."
Zari whispered, "I couldn't move."
"Me neither," Ray added.
"We all froze," Martin said, adjusting his glasses with trembling fingers.
Kara inhaled deeply, steadying herself.
"I've fought gods. I've fought monsters. I've flown into the heart of suns. But when I saw him… when he looked at me…"
She swallowed hard.
"I didn't feel like a hero. I felt like a child standing in front of death."
Barry blinked. "Kara…"
"No, Barry," she said, turning to him. "You don't understand. The Dominators hate metahumans, right? They see us as threats. But when they controlled us and saw him, they didn't just hate him…"
She took a breath, and then said it:
"They were afraid of him."
The word lingered in the air.
Afraid.
Fear.
Something even alien warlords couldn't hide.
"They used us like weapons," Kara continued. "But the second he arrived—something shifted. The fear that shot through their hold on us… it didn't come from us. It came from them."
Everyone remained still.
Barry glanced over at Dante again.
Still grinning.
Still calm.
Still completely untouched by what he had just done.
Kara looked back down.
"When he hit me… I didn't feel pain. I felt absence. Like my soul stepped back. His eyes—red, empty, glowing—I didn't see speed or technique."
She looked Barry in the eyes.
"I saw the end. The end of everything."
Oliver spoke at last. "You're saying Dante's more than a threat. You're saying he's…"
Kara nodded. "He's what monsters see in their nightmares. He's death—wrapped in red lightning."
They were quiet for a long time.
No one knew what to say.
What could be said?
They weren't afraid of Dante because he was cruel or violent.
They were afraid of what he made them feel.
A fear buried so deep it only surfaced when forced by a psychic override.
Even when not controlled—they remembered it.
And worse—they knew it was real.
And Across the Room
Cisco handed Dante a fresh smoke.
"Okay, but real talk—when you decked Ray mid-air, and he spiraled like a frisbee? That was kind of cool."
Dante smirked, blowing smoke. "He'll walk it off."
"Yeah… maybe," Cisco said awkwardly. He glanced toward the others, all still staring.
"…They're looking at you like you just stabbed Santa."
"I might have," Dante shrugged. "If he shot lasers from his eyes."
He turned slightly, glancing back over his shoulder at the crowd of heroes.
They were still quiet.
Still shaken.
He watched them for a moment, then looked away, uninterested.
"They'll get over it."
.....
Elsewhere – Watching From Afar
High above Earth, inside a cloaked Dominator vessel, three alien minds watched the aftermath.
One of them hissed in their native tongue.
"The Red Doom walks. He awakens fully."
Another trembled.
"He is no longer a weapon."
The third, their leader, growled.
"He is a Reaper."
They all watched the same screen—the same moment.
Dante standing among fallen gods, laughing.
And in their minds, one unspoken truth was clear.
They did not come to conquer Earth not really
They came to make sure the Red Doom never left it.
---
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