Classic Misdirection

Constantine stood alone in the training room, the events of the recent sparring session playing over and over in his mind. The room was dimly lit, the shadows stretching long and thin across the polished floor. He paced back and forth, running through the encounter, trying to figure out how to land a hit on Damien.

"Alright, focus," he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath. He activated his superspeed, darting around the room in a blur, testing his agility and reflexes. The air crackled around him, a faint buzz of energy filling the space. "Gotta be faster, more precise...less predictable."

Constantine decided to work on specific combos that blended his abilities. He envisioned Damien in front of him, then started with a burst of superspeed, zigzagging toward the imaginary target. At the last second, he teleported to Damien's side, delivering a rapid series of punches.

"Not good enough," he muttered, shaking his head. He needed to add more unpredictability.