A-Train once confidently claimed to be the fastest man alive—until today, when he encountered The Flash.
He'd seen speedsters before, sure, but none like this. The Flash wasn't just fast—he was impossibly fast. It was like watching a ghost.
How could anyone move at that speed?
If he knew that the Flash could outrun light itself, race through time, and even rewrite reality, he might've had a full-blown identity crisis right then and there.
During their race, A-Train felt like his powers had just stopped working. He doubted even a dose of Compound V would've helped him keep up.
"Listen up," Flash said as he clicked special cuffs onto A-Train's wrists. "You know you're done, right? Your body can't handle this kind of speed anymore."
He held up the vial of Compound V. "This stuff is only going to wreck your system even more. Do yourself a favor—stay off it."
A-Train lay sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath, and muttered defiantly, "I'm just having an off day. I could've beaten you!"
Flash shrugged. "Honestly? I'm not thrilled about racing a murderer."
He left without another word, ignoring A-Train's bitter expression, and dashed off to support his teammates.
Not that they needed much help.
Wonder Woman, facing off against both Stormfront and Queen Maeve at once, was still dominating the fight. She blocked lightning with one hand while brawling in close quarters with Maeve—and still had the upper hand.
As for Aquaman?
He was pounding The Deep into the pavement. Within seconds, Deep's face was swollen and bruised.
"You call that power? And you dare call yourself the 'Son of the Sea'?"
The Deep nearly burst into tears, waving his hands. "Stop! Please stop! I was wrong! I won't do it again—I swear! But I didn't kill anyone! You shouldn't be doing this to me! Lamplighter is the real killer!"
Lamplighter, who was trying to sneak attack someone nearby, tripped and almost face-planted when he heard his name.
Right after that, The Flash sped by and knocked him over. "Stay down, would ya?"
Flash casually "cleaned up" that fight and turned toward Steve Rogers, who gave a simple hand gesture: I've got this.
Steve's opponent was Black Noir.
He hadn't appeared much in the previous future clips, so Steve didn't know much about him going in.
Now that they were exchanging blows, he quickly realized—this guy was tough. His combat training was top-tier, and his physical abilities far exceeded a normal human's.
Luckily, Steve was no slouch either. As a master hand-to-hand fighter with battlefield experience, he was able to keep the upper hand.
All while trying to talk him down:
"Think about what people expect from you. They want real heroes, not glorified actors in costumes. It's not too late to stop this."
Black Noir, of course, didn't respond—he only attacked harder.
RATATATAT!
Suddenly, a barrage of gunfire erupted from nearby. Military and special forces units had arrived—flanked by a group of other superhumans from Vought. In no time, the area was surrounded.
That's when Dr. Bruce Banner, forgetting all about his public image, transformed into the Hulk.
He rushed to the front line, ripped a car from the street, and used it as a massive shield to block incoming fire for his allies.
The Flash arrived in a blur, using his speed to deflect and disable enemy weapons. Inspired by Quicksilver's tactics in a previous future video, he weaved through the crowd like time was frozen—repositioning soldiers and redirecting weapons mid-action.
Within seconds, it was total chaos—soldiers crashing into each other, tripping over equipment.
A perfect mess.
While chaos reigned on the ground, the battle between Superman and Homelander had quieted down—if only because Homelander was getting absolutely wrecked.
The two had flown out to a deserted beach.
Now, Superman had Homelander pinned by the throat, slammed into the sand, and was relentlessly pummeling his face with fist after super-powered fist.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
It sounded like a blacksmith at work.
Despite his "invincible" body, Homelander was no match for Superman's strength. His face was swollen beyond recognition—like a beaten-up pig in a superhero suit.
"You don't deserve this power!" Superman roared, punching with increasing fury.
At first, Superman had held back during their battle. He'd even tried to keep the surrounding civilians safe.
But Homelander kept exploiting his compassion—using innocent people as shields, flying into crowds, launching sneak attacks that forced Superman to save lives instead of ending the fight.
People got hurt. And when Homelander mocked him for it—laughing at his "naive morality" and saying he'd been pulling the same tricks for years—Superman snapped.
He grabbed Homelander, rocketed into the sky, and slammed him back down like a falling meteor.
For the first time in his life, Homelander felt pain—real pain.
He had always believed himself to be unstoppable, invincible. But now, facing Superman, he saw the shadow of death.
At one point, he had arrogantly assumed Superman was his clone.
But now?
Now he was starting to realize he might be the defective knock-off.
"Stop… s-stop…"
Coughing up blood, several teeth missing, Homelander finally begged.
"Don't kill me. I surrender. I won't fight anymore!"
Superman wasn't out for blood. Seeing Homelander yield, he paused and cuffed him with a special pair of restraints.
These cuffs were forged from a mix of Kryptonite and Vibranium—rare materials created through Tony Stark's most irrational "what-if" tech genius.
Superman had tested them himself. Even he struggled to break free when locked in them.
Homelander, for all his power, didn't have a Kryptonite weakness—but the Vibranium was still enough to keep him bound.
"I'm not going to kill you," Superman said coldly as he lifted Homelander.
"You're going to prison. You need rehabilitation."
Hearing that, Homelander secretly sighed in relief.
Without this alien freak, no prison on Earth could have held him. And who knew if he'd even be convicted? He was still valuable, after all.
On the surface, he wore a remorseful expression—the perfect image of a captured villain regretting his crimes.
Superman didn't care what he was thinking. He hoisted him into the air and flew toward Bruce Banner's position—passing through several floating light screens on the way.
From the corner of his eye, Superman glimpsed the ongoing quiz and wondered if the mission would end once they succeeded.
He'd missed quite a few future videos during the fight. Sure, he could rewatch the recordings later… but watching it live just felt different.
At that moment, the screen was showing the story of Wade Wilson.
Back before the scars and insanity, Wade had actually been a decent-looking guy—sharp features, fit physique. Not bad by human standards.
He was a mercenary for hire—not the cold-blooded killer kind, though. His jobs were usually small-time stuff. In a way, he was more like a retired special forces soldier trying to live a quiet life.
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