Never Stood A chance

Dewan Stone's massive body crumpled to the ground with a thunderous crash, the sound echoing through the devastated corridor. Even as his life faded, his wide-open eyes reflected utter confusion, as if his mind was stuck in its final thought: What just happened?

The red blur had moved in ways Dewan could neither predict nor comprehend. His ultimate area-of-effect attack, designed to destroy anything within its range, should have annihilated the intruder. But somehow, The Flash had evaded it effortlessly. The alien giant hadn't even seen him phase through the wall to escape and return. One moment, his victory seemed certain. The next, the red streak had reappeared, standing directly in front of him.

Dewan had been shocked but still confident. His armor was the pinnacle of defense technology, capable of withstanding massive blows and energy blasts. Even at close range, he believed nothing could penetrate it. But his faith in his armor became his downfall.

The Flash didn't rely on brute strength. Instead, his mastery of the Speed Force allowed him to vibrate his molecules at incredible speeds, transforming his right hand into a devastating weapon. As his hand blurred with electric energy, it became sharper than any blade, cutting through Dewan's armor as though it were made of paper.

Dewan's mind raced as the hand sank into his chest, bypassing every layer of his high-tech defenses. For a fleeting moment, he felt no pain, only the cold realization that everything he had relied on—his armor, his strength, his reputation—meant nothing to this red phantom. Then, like a tidal wave, the pain came, searing and unbearable, before fading into nothingness. His consciousness flickered and went dark as his massive body collapsed with a sickening thud.

The corridor was silent, save for the faint crackle of electricity dancing around The Flash. Dewan Stone's defeat was more than just the fall of a single soldier—it was a declaration. The crew members still alive on the ship realized, with growing dread, that their strongest warrior had been felled in seconds. Their minds raced with one thought: We invited a monster onto this ship.

---

In the command center, one of the senior officers watched the chaos unfold on the monitors. His hands trembled as he realized that the entire ship's defenses had been rendered useless. Every trap, every weapon, every strategy—all of it had failed. Dewan Stone, their last hope, was gone. 

The officer took a shaky breath, his eyes darting to the glowing red button on the console. It was the ship's self-destruct mechanism, a failsafe designed for situations exactly like this. Pressing it would ignite the ship's core, causing a massive explosion that would destroy everything aboard, including classified technology, weapons, and data. It was a last resort, meant to prevent their enemies from gaining any advantage.

With grim determination, he pressed the button. The console beeped, and a robotic voice began counting down: "Self-destruction initiated. Ten seconds remaining."

The officer leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, accepting his fate. He had no illusions about survival. The explosion would engulf the ship, erasing everything—including the terrifying red blur. Even if they couldn't defeat The Flash, they could ensure he didn't leave alive.

The seconds ticked down. Heat began to radiate through the walls as the ship's core destabilized. The officer felt the air around him grow hotter, the metal beneath him starting to melt. For a brief moment, he thought about the sacrifice. It's worth it, he told himself. Even if we fail, at least this nightmare will end.

But then, something impossible happened.

The suffocating heat vanished. The explosion he had braced for never came. Instead, he felt a rush of freezing air, sharp and biting, as if the flames had been blown away.

"What—what's going on?!" he shouted, his eyes snapping open.

He wasn't on the ship anymore. The burning wreckage was now far below, a fiery explosion lighting up the sky like a miniature sun. Pieces of the spaceship scattered across the horizon, glowing red-hot as they plummeted toward the ground. The officer, now thousands of meters above the surface, realized he was falling. His body, still clad in armor, was cradled in the arms of none other than The Flash.

It took several moments for his brain to catch up. This… this can't be real. The Flash had somehow grabbed him and escaped the ship before it exploded. Not only that, but he had outrun the blast itself, moving faster than the heat wave, faster than the shockwave, faster than anything the officer could comprehend.

The officer's mind raced. How could anyone be this fast?

He thought of Bishop, their own speedster, who relied on a custom-made suit to reach his top speed. Bishop's armor was a marvel of engineering, designed not only to enhance his speed but also to protect his body from the strain of moving so quickly. Yet The Flash had achieved something far beyond Bishop's capabilities, and he'd done it with no visible assistance. No armor, no tech—just his body. How strong must his body be to survive this? the officer wondered, a chill running down his spine.

As they continued falling, a streak of silver shot through the sky. A distant roar of engines grew louder, and moments later, Iron Man appeared, his armor gleaming as the thrusters on his boots lit up the air around him. 

Flames trailed behind him as he closed the distance, his arms outstretched. In one fluid motion, he caught The Flash and the officer, halting their descent. His suit hummed as the thrusters adjusted, stabilizing the three of them mid-air.

"Right on time, Stark," The Flash said, grinning as he leaned back casually. 

Iron Man's voice, tinged with dry humor, came through his helmet. "Timing's kind of my thing. You know that."

The officer, cradled in Iron Man's cold, unyielding grasp, looked up at the glowing eyes of the golden-red mask. Stark tilted his head slightly, the faint whir of his servos adding to the tension.

"So," Stark said, his tone light but menacing, "what do we have here? A survivor?"

The Flash shrugged. "Figured we could have a nice chat with him later. Get some answers."

Stark's lips curled into a smirk beneath his helmet, though the officer couldn't see it. "Lucky you," he said, his tone sharp and sarcastic. "Don't worry. We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other."

The officer shuddered, his earlier bravado gone. As the heroes carried him away from the burning wreckage, his thoughts spiraled into panic. These aren't men, he thought. They're monsters. And we never stood a chance.