Force Of Nature

The scene unfolding before him changed Bishop's expression drastically as he watched from the back row. Before anyone could process what had just happened, the captain's dozens of clones lay crumpled on the ground, defeated. Even Bishop, who was notoriously slow to react in situations like this, hadn't seen how it all occurred. It was as if the clones had simply dropped out of existence.

In reality, The Flash had attacked each of the twelve clones in an order that seemed random, but the sheer speed of his movements made it impossible for anyone to follow. Even if someone could measure time in the smallest fractions, The Flash appeared to split into twelve blurry afterimages, striking all the clones simultaneously. To the untrained eye, there was no pattern, no order—just chaos.

But one clone remained standing—not because The Flash had chosen to spare it, but because something unexpected happened. 

When he struck the final target, his fist didn't meet its mark. Instead, it collided with an invisible barrier mid-air. The punch didn't land on the clone but on something unseen, sending shockwaves through the air. Ripples of force shimmered briefly, marking the presence of the barrier, and a powerful recoil threw The Flash back a few steps. He wavered but quickly steadied himself. 

This, too, happened so fast that to everyone else watching, it looked like The Flash hadn't moved at all. 

The captain's smirk widened. He wasn't a fool—he realized that his life had been saved by the invisible barrier he'd set up earlier. "Impressive," he said, his voice calm and mocking. "I always thought we had the undisputed title of 'fastest in the universe.' Seems like I was wrong."

Bishop, standing behind, looked uneasy. He didn't like hearing his superior admit defeat, even slightly. But it wasn't a lie—what they had witnessed was beyond anything they'd expected.

"Well played," The Flash said, his tone just as calm, though his eyes were sharp. He was staring directly at the captain through the transparent barrier. "I guess you planned this little trick before I even boarded your ship?"

"Our invitation was genuine," the captain replied with a sigh, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "But considering your abilities and the power of your companions, we had to take precautions. We hoped this wouldn't be necessary, but your organization has left us no choice. If you won't seriously consider our proposal, we'll have to take... extreme measures. 

You're fast, no doubt about that. But even you can't outrun the 'repulsion cage.'"

The Flash didn't react, but the captain's words revealed the truth. The entire command room had been a trap from the start. Every person present was a disguised clone of the captain, and the room itself was surrounded by a high-tech, invisible force field. The barrier—known as the repulsion cage—had been activated long before The Flash arrived, ensuring that he was already caught, no matter how the negotiations went. Inside the cage, his speed was useless. There was nowhere to go.

"You've misunderstood something," The Flash said suddenly, taking a step forward.

The crew tensed, their expressions turning grim. They knew the barrier was still active, and walking into it would be like hitting an unbreakable wall. They braced themselves for him to collide with it—or worse, be thrown back violently.

But that didn't happen.

As The Flash moved, his body seemed to shimmer and distort, as though the barrier was struggling to process him. There was a faint crackling sound, like overloaded electricity, and in the blink of an eye, he had walked straight through. He now stood in front of the captain and his clones, unharmed.

The crew froze in place, their eyes wide with disbelief. 

The repulsion cage was one of their most advanced technologies. It was designed to withstand attacks from powerful interstellar weapons and hold even the strongest beings captive. Breaking through it with sheer force was supposed to be impossible. And yet, The Flash had walked through it like it wasn't even there.

Before anyone could react, The Flash lashed out with a kick. It was sloppy, almost casual, as though he hadn't put much thought into it. Yet, when his foot connected with the captain, the impact was devastating. Sparks and streaks of electricity lit up the air as the captain, despite wearing advanced combat armor, was launched backward. He flew through several barriers, his body tumbling like a ragdoll before finally coming to a stop far away.

The room fell silent. The crew stared in stunned silence at the space where their captain had been standing. Now, The Flash stood there instead, calmly lowering his leg as if nothing had happened.

There were no fancy techniques, no tricks. Just speed. Pure, overwhelming speed.

The demon had escaped its cage.

He was unstoppable.

"Attack!" Bishop shouted, finally gathering enough courage to act. He charged forward with everything he had, though his battle suit—damaged earlier—had been removed. Now, he was relying solely on his natural abilities, which were pitifully slow compared to The Flash.

Without even looking, The Flash swatted him aside with a backhand punch, shattering Bishop's nose in one clean motion. Then, as Bishop stumbled, The Flash grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him effortlessly across the room.

More reinforcements poured in, aliens armed with strange weapons designed specifically for this fight. The first two attackers moved in unison, their weapons raised and ready to fire. But The Flash didn't wait to understand their methods. His instincts, honed by the Speed Force, activated automatically. Time slowed to a crawl as he dodged with precision, moving faster than they could perceive. He zipped across the room in a blur, reappearing meters away before their attacks even landed.

The spot where he had stood erupted with a violent gravitational pull, creating a swirling vortex. The force was so intense that the floor, surrounding air, and nearby equipment were dragged toward the center, only to collapse in on themselves moments later.

It didn't matter.

As long as they couldn't hit him, their weapons were useless.

The Flash had dodged Darkseid's Omega Beams—attacks feared across the multiverse for their ability to hunt and destroy targets on a conceptual level. He had outrun the Black Lantern ring, flames that would burn endlessly unless they consumed their target. 

And here, in this room full of enemies, he was proving once again that as long as he could think, as long as he could move, he was untouchable.

The crew realized too late that their efforts were futile.

The Flash was unstoppable, a force of nature.