Red like Sunset (Blood and Breath)
Francisco's visions-Reverberations, he always called them—were blue. Distant, detached, almost peaceful, no matter what happened within them.
Dante's were red, vibrant and angry, like blood pumping furiously in his ears, stealing his sight and hearing until all that was left was whatever scene lay before him, until that was all that mattered. He had always been the more hotheaded, quicker to fight, quicker to anger. It made a kind of sense.
Hunting the Other Francisco, Vibe, the murderer, was the first time he'd been calm on a hunt. Deliberate. This could not fail. The last debt owed the dead, vengeance, could not go awry. Flame pulsed through him, numbing fingers that clenched his weapon. He only had to take out the police hidden away, scared like rabbits in a burrow, and then he could complete his mission. He had failed to protect his little brother—perhaps they had been at odds, perhaps they had not always gotten along, but he was still—still had been—family. And in a world with metahuman detection apps and people who sneered at their mother for her accent and for the mother tongue, Family was all that mattered. Family, and Zoom's will. That had long been accepted.
But then he failed. The Flash—who was meant to be dead, who was meant to be stopped, Zoom had assured him—had been there, the police had been prepared. No one who stood against the Flash lived, just as no one who dared defy Zoom could count on breathing. Dante had now done both, his mask removed and arms pinned.
And then Zoom was there, black suit crawling with blue lighting like writhing snakes, twining and curling and hissing with static. Bodies fell, and then a vibrating hand pierced his chest, too quick to understand. Zoom spoke, growling, harsh, but Dante did not hear. The blue white pain like a star exploding in his chest went awash with red, and Dante Saw.
An alleyway, darkened and dim and damp. He saw his brother, cocky grin, hand outstretched, the Other Cisco helpless on the pavement, the Flash pinned down by sonic blasts well honed. Fury pounded like a second heartbeat, as Dante realized this final vision, reverberation, rupture in the timestream that allowed him to see what he had never been present for. He would see the boy with his brother's face strike, a final taunt, a last testament to his failure.
But the boy on the ground, the same lines of concern and fear that Dante had seen so often on his brother's face, remained frozen. Still. Afraid. Just as he had running to the van with the Dante from this world, unwilling to fight. Dante had thought that pathetic, cowardice. To destroy and kill and not own up to his actions.
The red tint of the vision, blood and flame and anger, did not mask the blue lightning as Zoom severed Deathstorm's grip on life, let him drop. Pain rocketed through his body but the vision did not end—breath would not come, he could feel his heart caught tight, like an egg clenched in a toddler's fist.
Zoom stood before his brother, above his brother, not sparing a glance for the Other Cisco, just reaching out a clawed, black-wrapped hand. And then the hand was in Francisco, and he was dropping, crumpling against wet pavement, silent. The moment could have been lifetimes—all the life Dante had left, for certain—and then Zoom left, taking the Flash with him. Left Reverb, left Francisco's body, broken and empty, cooling on the ground. Left Deathstorm's body, broken and empty, cooling on the ground. Killer frost checked her husband and fled, not even bothering to glance at Reverb. At Cisco, his face slack in death. The police officer and her partner were likewise, leaving, leaving, leaving the bodies to be discovered.
The Other Cisco hesitated, in the dimming red vision, reached out a hand to take the glasses, Reverb's glasses, and his lips moved. Dante could not hear the words, could not make them out, the red tint murky, like blood spat into cloth. Francisco's eyes were wide, unseeing, empty of fear and life. Other Cisco closed them, almost with gentleness, and fled.
Zoom, Dante realized as his heard burst and shredded and shattered, as the red flame of vision, a setting sun tinged by pollution, blood and anger and death and love faded into white. Zoom had lied. He had almost taken another Cisco from another Dante, and for what?
And for what?
There was no time to think or feel or see anything else.
A world away, Pilar Ramon waited up nights for her last remaining son to return, but the heavy ache in her heart warned her not to hope.
She hoped anyway. In time, another candle joined the two already lit.
See y'all in hell, I'm bringing the marshmallows.