Two verses that Daniel saw and wanted to choose one
The universe held its breath. Across galaxies, moons, and broken civilizations, fear crawled like a living shadow. The Mad Titan, Thanos, stood tall on the smoking battlefield of Wakanda, his golden gauntlet crackling with infinite, divine energy.
One snap.
And half of existence ceased.
But what they didn't know… what even Thanos, in his arrogance, had overlooked… was the quiet presence already among them. Watching. Selecting.
Death wasn't just an abstract force.
Death had a face.
A long black trench coat swayed behind him, sleek like the midnight sky, darker than forgotten sins. The tailored suit underneath hugged his form, the crimson tie loose at the collar, like the world's biggest joke was playing out — and he was the only one reading the punchline early.
Daniel.
Or as the ancients whispered through trembling prayers… Death.
The moment Thanos' fingers snapped, Daniel exhaled, his breath carrying the scent of forgotten cemeteries and wilted roses. His eyes, grey as tombstones and sharp as fate, scanned the collapsing world.
People fell like glass statues, dissolving into ash.
Yet Daniel stood still.
Hidden.
Unseen.
Unless he willed it otherwise.
Wanda Maximoff crumbled to her knees, her scream strangled as Vision's lifeless form lay beside her. Peter Parker reached for Tony Stark, his body fading into dust, trembling with pure terror. Across the universe, chaos bloomed like a black rose.
Daniel's shadow stretched unnaturally long behind him.
And within that shadow… the faint silhouettes of the Ceifadores — the Reapers — flickered, unseen by mortals, but felt by those attuned to the final breath.
But Daniel wasn't here for Peter Parker.
Not yet.
He wasn't here for Doctor Strange, nor for Nick Fury fumbling for a pager on a collapsing New York street.
He had… preferences.
Targets of personal desire.
Selective harvest.
The kind of souls that made eternity interesting.
Inside the fractured remnants of Wakanda, Daniel stepped onto the broken battlefield, unseen by heroes, ghosts, or gods. His boots left no prints. His form bent the light, twisted the air, but only when he chose.
He knelt beside Wanda, fingertips brushing the edge of reality, and whispered low, his voice the echo of mausoleums:
"I know how it feels… to lose everything… To tear the stars apart screaming for someone to answer… and getting silence."
His mind opened, weaving into Wanda's psyche.
Images flooded her head — his memories.
His family.
The burning wreckage of Earth-X79.
The shattered glass of the vehicle.
His parents, his sister… Their faces twisted in pain, but his — Daniel's — expression was colder than space.
"I reaped them myself," he whispered. "Watched my reflection in their eyes as I took their last breath. I didn't trust the others to do it properly."
Wanda, half broken, half dissolving in grief, glanced around wildly, sensing something… someone… but her eyes couldn't lock onto him.
Only the faintest outline.
The trench coat.
The impossible, suffocating aura of inevitability.
Daniel stood.
The sky cracked, purple lightning arcing through the heavens as reality splintered.
On Titan, Thanos sat down, his mission complete, the faintest smirk of satisfaction curling his lips. The garden, the promised peace… it was coming.
But Thanos wasn't alone.
Behind him, leaning against a broken pillar, Daniel appeared, adjusting his cufflinks, his presence sending ripples through space.
Thanos' gauntlet sparked, the Infinity Stones humming… but they faltered, glitching like faulty circuitry.
The Titan's eyes narrowed.
"You… I did not summon you."
Daniel smirked.
"No one summons me, grape face. I walk where I want. Especially after amateurs like you try to play with the cosmic ledger."
Thanos' muscles tensed, gauntlet flexing, but something deep within him — instinct or ancient fear — told him this wasn't a foe to strike casually.
"You've disrupted balance," Daniel continued, stepping closer, shadows trailing like smoke. "But that's fine. You shook the board…"
His eyes flashed silver.
"Now I pick the pieces."
He waved a hand lazily.
In the hidden corners of the universe, souls flickered, detaching from decaying bodies. Some floated upward, others… downward.
And some?
Straight into Daniel's palm, caught like fireflies in the night.
Selective harvest.
Thanos tried to stand, but the weight of the moment pressed him down.
Even with the Stones, even with his arrogance… he felt it:
This wasn't just another cosmic entity.
This… was finality.
Daniel tilted his head, amused, his trench coat dancing like it had its own sentience.
"Don't worry, I'm not here for you… yet. But when I come…" he leaned in, voice dropping to a bone-rattling whisper, "you won't see me coming."
Thanos clenched his jaw, but stayed seated.
Cowardice?
Wisdom?
Maybe both.
Elsewhere, the Reapers spread through New York, Wakanda, the stars — collecting, sorting, judging.
But Daniel?
Daniel only claimed those worthy of his personal attention.
Back on Earth, a small group of survivors clung to the aftermath.
Tony Stark.
Steve Rogers.
Thor, broken, questioning himself.
Nick Fury's pager, blinking its final signal.
Captain Marvel wasn't the only one responding to the cosmic call.
Daniel watched from rooftops, blending with the shadows, the spectral Reapers coiling around him like snakes.
His trench coat rippled.
His eyes glinted.
And in his hand, a single coin spun — silver, etched with ancient runes — the currency of the dead.
He flipped it.
Heads.
"I'll be seeing you soon… Stark."
To be continued…
Title: Selective Resurrection — When Death Decides
The universe hadn't stopped trembling from the Snap when Daniel made his moves.
On the barren cliffs of Vormir, where hope had bled dry and the stones whispered regret, Natasha Romanoff's body lay cold, broken from her sacrifice.
But Death had opinions.
And more importantly — authority.
Daniel's boots touched the jagged stone, his long black trench coat trailing behind him like liquid night. The shadows clung to him — not out of fear — but reverence. His form radiated inevitability, and the Ceifadores circled just out of mortal sight.
The sky cracked above him, purple storms brewing in the distance.
"Get up, Nat," Daniel's voice cut through the silence, smooth as silk, sharp as cemetery gates. "You're not done yet."
With a flick of his wrist, a faint silver glow encased her lifeless body. The ground shuddered, the laws of nature bending like wet parchment under his will.
Her eyes shot open, lungs gasping for air, life rushing back like wildfire.
She stared at him, confusion giving way to recognition.
"Death…?"
Daniel smiled, the corner of his mouth curling with quiet amusement.
"Told you, Romanoff, you're important. I only take those I want gone. You? You're still on my list of unfinished business."
She coughed, adjusting to the shock of breath and reality intertwining again, but Daniel was already gone, shadows folding around him as he stepped through space.
Meanwhile, on Titan, Thanos admired his work. Worlds silenced, civilizations erased — the garden of his making almost ready.
But arrogance has a short lifespan when Death himself comes calling.
Daniel leaned against a broken stone pillar, arms crossed, grey eyes cold as forgotten tombs.
Thanos' gaze narrowed.
"You…"
"Yeah, yeah, grape face, I know. The great Mad Titan didn't plan for me." Daniel pushed off the pillar, trench coat rippling like ink in water. "Let's get something clear: you snapped fingers, played god, shuffled existence like a bored toddler with building blocks. But souls?"
He flicked his fingers, and the air split open beside them — revealing Gamora, alive, confused, standing at the edge of reality itself.
Thanos' breath caught.
"No," the Titan rumbled, voice cracking for the first time.
"Oh, yes," Daniel grinned, stepping between them, a living eclipse. "See, when you tossed your daughter for a shiny rock, I was there. Watching. Weighing options. Deciding."
Gamora's eyes, green and wide, locked onto her father — then to Daniel.
"You… brought me back?"
"No one stays dead unless I say so," Daniel shrugged, adjusting his cufflinks. "And today? I'm feeling merciful. Well… selective."
Thanos clenched his gauntlet, but the Stones flickered, weakened in the presence of true finality.
Daniel's smile darkened.
"I own this game, purple. Don't confuse borrowed power with real authority."
Gamora, still processing the impossible, touched her chest, the pulse strong beneath her palm.
Daniel turned to her, voice softer, carrying the weight of forgotten wars.
"Live smart, kid. You got your second chance — don't waste it."
Without waiting for thanks, Daniel vanished into shadow, space folding around him as reality snapped back.
Elsewhere, the Ceifadores followed their master's lead, harvesting, sorting — but Daniel? Daniel only claimed what intrigued him.
The rules bent for him, because he was the rules.
Back on Earth, in the aftermath of chaos, Wanda stood amidst the ashes of what was lost. She didn't need to beg — she didn't even see him fully.
But she felt him.
The cold whisper against her mind, memories flooding like broken dam walls — his pain, his loss, his defiance.
"I reaped my own family," his voice echoed in her skull, filled with bitter quiet. "Imagine what I'll do to those who get in your way."
No request.
No plea.
Just inevitability.
Daniel chose his moments. His targets.
And as the universe shivered from the Snap, one thing became crystal clear:
Death wasn't a passenger in this game.
He was the one keeping score.