"The Second Snap"
The battlefield was chaos—a symphony of dust, screams, energy blasts, and collapsing structures. The ruins of the Avengers Compound still smoldered, cracks in the ground glowing faintly with residual energy as if the earth itself remembered the fury of the Mad Titan.
But all that sound dulled when Daniel stepped forward.
His presence wasn't loud—it wasn't even supposed to exist in the camera feeds or security systems. Yet here he was, trench coat swaying, tailored suit beneath pristine, not a speck of dirt, while the world crumbled around him. His dark silhouette moved like smoke, shadows curling at his heels. To those with a sharper sense—people like Wanda—they could even see the faint outlines of Reapers whispering behind him, their forms distorted like heatwaves.
Tony Stark was on one knee, the Nano Gauntlet crackling in his hand. His body shook, the power of the Infinity Stones surging through him, veins glowing under his skin like molten circuits about to explode. His breathing was ragged, but his eyes… sharp. Focused. Prepared.
Daniel tilted his head, boots clicking against the broken ground. "Tony," he called, voice low, steady as the grave. "Remember what I told you?"
Stark barely managed a smirk, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "You said… I had a purpose… never thought it'd be this suicidal."
"Death always dances with irony," Daniel replied, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto the Gauntlet. Around them, the battlefield was frozen in tension—the Avengers, Guardians, Wakandans, magicians, all caught between fighting and witnessing something greater.
Thor adjusted his grip on Stormbreaker, eyeing Daniel with suspicion. "Who the Hel are you?" the Asgardian asked, chest heaving.
"Good question," Steve Rogers chimed in, shield strapped to his forearm, cuts and bruises all over. His blue eyes narrowed with that soldier's calculation. "You weren't here five minutes ago… how did you—?"
"I walk where I please, Captain," Daniel answered coolly. His gaze shifted to Wanda Maximoff standing nearby, the air warping around her with raw chaos magic. She said nothing. She didn't need to. The memory of her training under him, of seeing his true form… of knowing he was Death itself, was etched into her soul.
"Let him talk," Wanda finally spoke, voice steady despite the chaos around them. "He isn't here to fight us."
"Not today," Daniel confirmed, lifting a hand. The shadows recoiled obediently, like wolves retreating at their master's call.
Banner, still half in Hulk form, grunted from the side. "If you're Death… why are you here now? Everyone's coming back… I felt it… the other snap…"
Daniel smiled faintly, the corners of his lips curling with that brutal calm. "Almost everyone returns," he clarified, eyes flicking toward Tony, then to the battlefield where familiar faces—Bucky, Sam, Peter Parker—materialized, resurrected by Banner's previous snap.
"But not all," Daniel continued, voice carrying weight like funeral bells. "Some souls… take longer. Some, I will hunt myself." His tone sharpened. "Thanos… helped shorten the list."
They all turned instinctively toward the battlefield's far end—where Thanos, battered and broken, lay gasping as his army turned to ash under Tony's snap.
Tony clenched his teeth, arm trembling violently under the Stones' might. "This… hurts like hell," he muttered.
"You weren't meant to wield it," Daniel replied, stepping close, voice dropping softer—personal now, like a conversation only they shared. "But it had to be you."
Tony's eyes widened slightly. Despite the pain, the glow of the Stones… he remembered their conversation—the late-night encounter when Daniel first appeared in his workshop, faceless, undetected, whispering about purpose, inevitability, sacrifice.
"You… planned this?" Tony rasped.
"I guided," Daniel corrected. "Choice was always yours."
Nearby, Clint Barton wiped blood from his temple, glaring. "I still wanna know… what the hell are you?" His voice cracked under the strain, memories of Natasha, of sacrifices fresh in his mind.
"I'm inevitability," Daniel answered, cool, distant. "I'm the one who comes when all debts are due."
Steve lowered his shield slightly. "Death."
"Bingo," Daniel confirmed, his smirk sharp as a guillotine's edge.
Thor tightened his grip again, eyes wary. "You reap souls?"
"I choose who I collect myself," Daniel admitted. "The rest… well, I delegate. Even Death appreciates efficiency." His gaze softened as it fell on Wanda again. "And some, I teach… how to survive pain no magic can fix."
Wanda's jaw tightened, memories of Pietro, of Vision flooding back. But she nodded. She understood now.
Daniel exhaled, shadows retreating completely. "Tony… ready?"
The billionaire genius coughed, sparks crackling across his arm, face pale. "Will… it work?"
Daniel's gaze darkened, his voice an icy whisper. "It already has."
With a final burst of will, Stark snapped his fingers—the energy roaring through him, erasing Thanos' army, restoring balance. But his body, mortal, fragile despite all the tech, began to falter.
Daniel caught him before he collapsed entirely, their surroundings blurring as time hiccupped—Daniel's power distorting reality for mere seconds, enough for private words.
"I told you… you had a purpose," Daniel murmured, eyes heavy with the knowledge of countless deaths. "And you fulfilled it."
Tony's voice was faint. "Everyone back?"
"Almost," Daniel promised. "The ones I allow… the rest… they'll meet me soon."
Tony managed a weak laugh, his eyes dimming. "Guess… I get a head start…"
Daniel held him steady as his body gave out, life fading like embers. Around them, the battlefield resumed, unaware of the frozen moments shared between Death and Genius.
Wanda approached after, her expression unreadable as Daniel stood, adjusting his dark trench coat. The Reapers flickered behind him—silent, waiting.
"Vision?" Wanda's voice cracked.
Daniel's gaze softened fractionally. "Come find me later," he replied cryptically. "You've earned answers."
The others surrounded Tony, grief evident, while Daniel's figure blended into the remaining smoke, unseen, but not unfelt.
Thor eyed the shadows warily. "Something tells me… this isn't over."
Steve agreed quietly. "No… it's just beginning."
Daniel's voice, echoing faintly in their minds as he vanished entirely, left only one chilling promise:
"The dead whisper still… and I always listen."
End of Chapter.