Chapter — A Speedster's Fate
The day was crackling with tension. Sokovia, a nation on the brink, crumbled beneath the force of an artificial catastrophe orchestrated by Ultron. Buildings hovered like dead weight, suspended in the air as if God Himself paused the natural laws to watch what came next. And me? I was there, invisible, untouchable, yet fully present.
Mercury. Pietro Maximoff. A soul highlighted in my ledger.
I had read the line a hundred times in the manual: "Critical Soul Extraction: Pietro Maximoff. Status: Imminent."
I stood at the edge of the battlefield, arms crossed, savoring the familiar pulse of incoming death. It wasn't that I enjoyed it—okay, maybe a little—but more that it was part of the job, part of the grand ballet where I was both spectator and conductor.
"You can't film what chooses not to be seen," I murmured, watching SHIELD's drones scan the area, blind to my presence. Even their most advanced technology couldn't pick me up unless I allowed it. My cosmic form danced just outside their comprehension, a ghost in plain sight.
But as I lingered, my eyes drifted to her.
Wanda Maximoff.
The Scarlet Witch.
She fought like a tempest, her crimson magic swirling around her, raw, unstable, intoxicating. There was power in her, old and untamed, a dangerous allure that I couldn't ignore.
"Hot," I whispered to no one, lips curling into a smirk. "Too hot. I might just get burned."
The battle unfolded as the Avengers struggled to evacuate civilians while Ultron's mechanical horde rained fire upon them. Captain America barked orders, Iron Man zipped across the sky, and Hawkeye—well, he tried his best.
Pietro moved like lightning, blurring past falling debris, yanking people from the jaws of death with that cocky grin plastered across his face.
I flipped through my manual lazily, as if confirming a dinner reservation.
"Death scheduled for approximately…" I tilted my head, listening to the rhythm of fate. "Five minutes from now. Hmm. Tight window."
"You're enjoying this too much," Gabriel's voice chimed softly in my ear, connected through our celestial link.
"No, no, brother," I chuckled. "I'm just an attentive employee. You know, the type that reads the entire policy manual before their first day."
"Are you going to take his soul yourself?"
"Oh, absolutely. But I like watching the show first. Builds anticipation."
And what a show it was.
As the floating city reached its climax, Ultron fired a barrage at Clint Barton and a terrified child trapped in the kill zone. I could already see it—Mercury would make his choice, a burst of speed, a moment of heroism, and then… well, that's why I was here.
"Time's up, Pietro," I whispered as he zipped toward the line of fire.
But something happened.
Wanda. She felt me.
Her magic flickered, her eyes darting to where I stood. No mortal could have seen me, but she wasn't just mortal, was she?
Our gazes locked across the battlefield, and for a heartbeat—a sweet, electric heartbeat—she saw me.
Not my cosmic title. Not the shrouded entity in black. Me. Daniel. The Death 2.0. The anomaly that shouldn't exist.
"That's impossible," Gabriel muttered, sensing the ripple.
"Oh, it's more than possible. She's extraordinary."
Pietro dashed, intercepting the bullets meant for Clint and the boy. Time slowed to a crawl, and I, the master of endings, stepped forward.
The instant his body hit the ground, I was there, catching his soul before it could drift away.
"Hey, speedy," I greeted him, my tone casual as if we were old friends meeting for coffee.
"Who the hell are you?" Pietro gasped, confused, watching his lifeless body from above.
"Death. Call me Daniel. You're on my list."
He looked down, realization dawning as the blood pooled beneath his crumpled frame.
"I don't… I don't want to die."
"I get that a lot," I sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder. "But this one? It matters. You saved them. You changed things. It wasn't a wasted life."
His spirit trembled, still clinging to the world.
"Is Wanda going to be okay?"
That pulled at me.
I could have lied. Could have offered a hollow comfort. But I respected him too much.
"No," I said softly. "She's going to suffer. A lot. She'll lose more than you can imagine. But she will survive. And one day… she'll burn brighter than all of them."
He closed his eyes, a bitter acceptance settling over him.
"Then let's go."
I nodded, guiding him to the gateway, the passage shimmering into existence only when I permitted it.
As I sealed the rift, I turned back to the battlefield.
Wanda knelt by her brother's body, her scream tearing through the air, raw magic spiraling out of her like a solar flare. Even in her grief, her eyes flickered again toward where I stood.
"She can still feel you," Gabriel said, intrigued.
"Good," I replied. "Maybe she'll come looking for me."
"Dangerous game."
"The best ones always are."
I watched as SHIELD swooped in to stabilize the situation, oblivious to the real war playing out between cosmic forces just beyond their cameras. Fury barked orders, Tony patched up the wreckage, and the rest of the Avengers mourned another casualty in their endless fight.
The ledger closed, but the story? Oh, it was just beginning.
As I vanished into the ether, I left one whisper hanging in the wind, just for Wanda.
"You're not done with me, Scarlet."
And I couldn't wait to see how close she would dare to get to the flame.
I could have sworn his lips twitched into the faintest smirk, as if he knew. As if he accepted me, welcomed me.
But then, I felt it.
The fire.
The storm.
Wanda.
She felt it too.
Her twin's death — no, their soul connection snapping — sent a psychic scream ripping through the battlefield.
Her knees buckled, hands trembling as raw, unfiltered power surged outward in a shockwave that vaporized every Ultron drone in her radius.
I watched her collapse to her brother's side, cradling his broken body, the grief consuming her like wildfire.
And then…
Her head snapped up.
Her eyes burned straight into me.
But that's impossible, right? I'm not there. I can't be seen.
Unless… I choose to be.
Except I didn't choose it.
Her powers — that terrifying, unstable magic that bends reality — allowed her to sense me.
Not fully. Not yet. Just a shadow at the corner of her perception.
"Who are you?" she whispered into the void, as if she could feel my breath on her neck.
I smiled, stepping backward, fading from her awareness.
"Not your time, sweetheart," I murmured. "But I'll see you soon."
The Quinjet soared away, the battle's aftermath unfolding as written.
I snapped my fingers, summoning my Bugatti out of thin air, the black La Voiture Noire gleaming as it materialized beside me with the license plate DEATH 2.0.
Sliding into the driver's seat, I chuckled.
"Scarlet Witch, huh? That's going to be a problem."
As I merged onto the winding Sokovian streets, my comm buzzed.
Gabriel.
"You got him?" he asked, his voice tight.
"Yeah," I said casually. "Mercury's punched his final time card. The paperwork's in."
"Anything… unusual?"
"Depends. You ever met someone who could see you even when you didn't want to be seen?"
Gabriel hesitated. "No. That's supposed to be impossible."
I grinned. "Yeah, that's what makes it interesting."
"Careful, Daniel. Tread lightly around her."
"I'm always careful," I lied.
"Sure you are. Oh, by the way — God says you should stop flirting with the Maximoff girl."
I raised an eyebrow. "God's been watching me that closely, huh?"
"You know He has. And He's not thrilled about your comments on her… assets."
I smirked. "What can I say? Even Death appreciates beauty."
"Death's supposed to appreciate balance, not… curves."
"Why not both?" I laughed, revving the engine.
But the laugh didn't quite reach my eyes.
Because as much as I played the game — as much as I enjoyed bending rules, testing limits, crashing fancy hotels and toying with mortals — there was something about Wanda Maximoff that tugged at the threads of fate in a way even I hadn't seen before.
She was dangerous.
Not because of her power.
But because of her grief.
Grief does funny things to time, to destiny, to the natural order.
And when someone like me starts paying attention to someone like her?
Well, let's just say… things get complicated.
The Manual dinged.
Next assignment pending.
I sighed, switching on the car's display. "Who's next on the list?"
The screen flickered.
Clint Barton.
I leaned back, tapping the steering wheel.
"Nah. I'll let that one play out later. He's earned some time."
I gunned the engine, heading toward the nearest five-star hotel.
Tonight? Tonight, I'd drink to Pietro Maximoff's memory.Tomorrow? I'd start weaving a new kind of chaos.
Because in this world, where gods rise, heroes fall, and even devils chase forgiveness…
Death?
Death always dances alone.
But lately?
I was starting to think maybe I didn't have to.