Chapter 117: Goodbye Isn't Always a War
Dante didn't pack much.
There wasn't much to take.
A few black shirts, a leather jacket, a pair of worn boots. Some old photos he never looked at but couldn't throw away. And one necklace—faded and fragile, the kind a child would make with string and beads. It had been Michael's, a gift from long ago when they were just brothers and the world was simple.
He slipped the necklace over his neck, letting it rest against his chest. It felt heavier than it used to, like it carried every death he couldn't forget.
Dante zipped the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and stepped outside.
They were already waiting.
Barry. Caitlin. Cisco. Nora.
Just those four.
No crowd. No drama. Just silence and the wind.
Dante stopped on the front steps, his crimson eyes scanning them—faces he knew better than his own reflection.
Before a word could pass between them, Caitlin stepped forward… and changed.
The frost came first. Cold air rippled around her as her skin paled and her hair turned white. Killer Frost emerged—not with anger, but purpose.
Ice shot from her hand and froze Dante's legs to the concrete.
He didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't raise a hand or burn through it.
He just looked at her with quiet eyes.
Frost crafted a blade in her hand. Sharp, jagged, and beautiful. She stepped toward him with tears in her eyes.
"You were going to leave me?" she asked, voice cracking between strength and sorrow.
Dante's voice was low, calm. "Frost, please…"
He looked between her and Caitlin, trying to speak to both.
"We both know the truth. You love Dante… not the Red Doom."
He sighed, voice shaking now with guilt. "And Caitlin, too. You love the version of me that smiled, smirked, and made dumb jokes in the lab. But the moment you saw me take Marcus Grant's heart… that was the moment you finally realized it."
He met her eyes fully now.
"I'm a monster."
Frost's blade melted in her hand.
Her eyes shimmered, cracked with tears. And in a blink of mist, she faded—and Caitlin returned in her place, sobbing softly.
"You said I crossed a line," Dante whispered, stepping forward despite the ice cracking at his boots. "Before you even knew what happened. Before you even heard why."
He reached her, gently brushing the tear from her cheek with his thumb.
"I'm not blaming you, Caitlin. I swear I'm not. But I need you to understand something."
He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper.
"I'm not just Dante anymore. I never was. I'm Red Doom too. The man who smiled… and the man who killed. You can't want one without the other. It's a whole… fucked-up package."
Caitlin couldn't respond. She just wept quietly into her hands.
Dante pressed a kiss to her forehead, soft and reverent.
Then he turned to Cisco.
His old friend stood still, unsure whether to hug, talk, or cry. His lips parted like he had a dozen things to say but couldn't pick a single one.
Dante grinned, eyes shining with something close to gratitude.
"Brother… you made one hell of a suit for me," he said. "And you know how much I hate suits."
Cisco smiled faintly, voice hoarse. "You looked good in that last one."
Dante chuckled. "Don't make me cry, man."
They bumped fists—one last time.
Then Dante walked to Barry.
He stood still, arms folded across his chest, but his eyes gave everything away—guilt, sadness, pride. A friend watching another friend walk away, knowing there was no stopping it.
"You," Dante said, smiling weakly. "You took a killer and made him a person again."
Barry opened his mouth—but again, Dante raised a hand to stop him.
"And I mean that. I don't say things I don't mean."
He stepped closer and added, "You gave me a life I never thought I could have. A second chance. I'll always be grateful for that."
Barry nodded, voice breaking. "You're not alone, Dante. Not really."
"I know," Dante said.
Then came Nora.
She stood there, eyes glassy but holding back the tears. She'd never known all of his past, never walked in the pain her father and his team had lived through. But she understood enough to hurt for him.
"Little one," Dante said softly, kneeling down just a little to meet her height.
"You said you came to this time to see me. And I believe that."
She nodded slowly. "I wanted to understand why my dad trusted you so much."
He smiled faintly. "Did you figure it out?"
Nora swallowed hard. "Yeah. I did."
He reached out and gently fixed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"I'm proud of you, Nora. I mean that. You're strong. Braver than I ever was. But don't stay here too long, okay? You've got your own world to save. Go back. Make it better."
She gave him a trembling smile, then hugged him tight.
He hugged her back—like a cool uncle, just as he always played it.
And then, Dante stood tall.
The ice around his feet had melted.
The goodbye was said.
And no one had anything left to give.
He walked.
Down the street.
Bag slung over his shoulder.
Necklace bouncing against his chest.
No powers. No suit. No fanfare.
Just Dante.
Red Doom.
Both.
A whole, cracked, complicated man trying to find a place in a world that feared him and needed him in equal measure.
And as he walked away into the growing dusk, the sky turned crimson with sunset—and for just a second, the light reflected off his hair like fire.
He never looked back.
Because this time, he wasn't running from anything.
He was walking toward something.
Whatever it was… it was his.
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