Kapitel 394: Lets Talk
Bishop flew through the air and hit the ground hard, rolling several times before coming to a stop. The crowd sat in stunned silence, too shocked to react. Then, after what felt like forever, a wave of cheers and shouts erupted, filling the air with a mix of awe and disbelief.
What they had just witnessed was beyond imagination. Flash had unleashed a dazzling display of speed and skill, combining it with an unarmed, tornado-like fighting style. It wasn't just fast—it was unreal, as though they were watching something out of a science fiction movie rather than a real fight. His movements were so sharp and precise that it felt like they had transcended human limits.
Some people cheered wildly, while others shouted insults at Bishop, taunting him for losing so badly. Those who had been terrified of Bishop earlier, cowering under his ghost-like speed, suddenly found courage. They laughed and jeered now that Flash had revealed himself as the dominant force, their backs straighter and their voices louder.
Meanwhile, Bishop struggled to recover. Golden stars danced in front of his eyes as he tried to steady himself. His body was out of balance, his breathing ragged. He knew his opponent was incredibly fast, faster than anything he'd ever encountered. Wasting even a second to rest could give Flash the chance to finish him off. Gritting his teeth, Bishop forced himself to stand. Pain shot through his chest, and the world spun as he tried to move forward.
He managed a few shaky steps, but his movements were unsteady and awkward. The once-confident warrior, who had dazzled everyone earlier with his incredible speed, now looked like a drunken man stumbling after a wild night. His legs tangled, and before he could regain control, his left foot caught on his right. He fell with a loud crash, his helmet dragging along the ground and sending up a shower of sparks.
For a moment, the crowd froze. Then, like a dam breaking, laughter and jeers erupted. "Is he begging for mercy now?" one person shouted. Another laughed, "That dirt-eating trick must be his secret weapon—I'm laughing so hard it hurts!"
Bishop lay on the ground, his body still and his mind racing. A loud buzzing filled his head, making it hard to focus.
What was happening to him?
Speed was his specialty, the thing he was most proud of. Even blindfolded, he could move faster than most people could comprehend. Yet here he was, tripping over himself like a clumsy fool.
Shaking his head, he turned toward Flash, who stood calmly nearby. Bishop's eyes widened as he shouted, "What... what did you do to me?!"
The crowd fell silent, confused by the strange, alien language coming out of Bishop's mouth. Someone in the back muttered, "What's he even saying?" Another person laughed, "Looks like he's gone crazy. Or maybe he's pretending to."
It hit Bishop like a punch to the gut. His suit's translation system wasn't working. In fact, nothing about his suit was working.
This wasn't just any suit. It was specially designed for high-speed combat, powered by a unique engine that enhanced his movements. Without it, even simple actions like walking or standing became difficult. The suit, which had always been his greatest advantage, was now a useless, heavy burden weighing him down.
Bishop quickly pieced together what had happened. Flash's blows weren't just physically devastating—they carried some kind of strange energy, something completely unfamiliar to him. This energy had overwhelmed the suit's systems, shutting everything down. It wasn't ordinary damage; it was like his entire suit had been hacked by an invisible force. Every function, from his engine to the translation software, had crashed. Without the suit, Bishop was helpless.
Flash stood nearby, calm and unbothered. "Alien language, huh?" he said to himself, his tone casual.
"Yes, sir," a voice in Flash's earpiece replied. It was Friday, his AI assistant. "Iron Man is deploying translation software now. It should be ready soon."
Flash smirked. He didn't need translation to know he had already won.
Before anything else could happen, a deep voice cut through the air.
"Impressive."
The crowd froze again, their heads snapping toward the sound. A new figure had appeared out of nowhere, standing just behind Flash. The alien was massive, almost as large as the Hulk, his body clad in bulky armor that looked like a mix of metal and living flesh. The armor seemed stretched to its limit, barely containing the alien's powerful physique.
Even more shocking was how the alien had arrived. He hadn't teleported or snuck in; it was like he had simply appeared, unnoticed, as though he had erased himself from everyone's awareness.
The alien's voice was deep and commanding, carrying an air of authority. "Enough," he said. "You've proven yourself, warrior. You've earned the right to speak with us. Let's talk."
Flash didn't even flinch. His back still turned to the alien, he smirked. "Talk? That's flattering." His voice grew cold, sharp. "But I don't think you have the right to talk to me."
Before the alien could respond, Flash disappeared. It wasn't a normal movement—it was so fast that the air seemed to ripple around him. The afterimage of Flash standing in front of the alien vanished as the real Flash reappeared behind him in the blink of an eye.
The alien stiffened, feeling a surge of energy against his back. His instincts screamed at him, but it was already too late.
"Now," Flash said, his tone calm but firm. "Let's talk."
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein