CHAPTER 2: The Not-So-Great Escape and a Very Confused Team
The first thing Adam registered was the excruciating headache. The second was the distinct smell of ozone and burnt electronics. The third was the nagging sensation that he was lying on something very hard and very cold. He groaned, pushing himself up, his eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim emergency lighting.
" Well, that's one way to wake up. Beats a cold shower, I guess. Though, honestly, I'd prefer the cold shower right now. This place smells like a toaster oven had a nervous breakdown. "
He was in what appeared to be the infirmary, or at least a section of S.T.A.R. Labs dedicated to patching up the unfortunate souls who got too close to exploding science experiments. The room was a mess of overturned equipment and flickering lights. He was alone. For now.
He sat up fully, testing his limbs. Everything seemed to be in working order, no broken bones, no gaping wounds. Just a persistent ache where Mardon had essentially pressurized his insides. And then there was the new sensation, a subtle shift in the air pressure around him, a whisper of control that he hadn't possessed before. " Minor Atmospheric Pressure Manipulation. Check. Not exactly super strength, but hey, I can probably make people's hair stand on end. Or annoy them with sudden drafts. The pranking possibilities are endless! "
He swung his legs off the cot, wincing slightly as his muscles protested. He needed to find the team. And then he needed to play the "I'm a low-level psychic who totally predicted this" card. It was going to be glorious.
As he stumbled out of the infirmary, the true extent of the damage became apparent. Twisted metal, shattered glass, sparks flying from exposed wires. It looked like a giant, very angry toddler had thrown a tantrum. " Seriously, Wells, you couldn't have put up a 'Caution: Impending Multiversal Disaster' sign? A little heads-up would have been nice. "
He navigated the ruined corridors, guided by the faint sounds of voices. He found them in what he recognized as the main Cortex, a room that looked like it had taken the brunt of the explosion. Barry Allen was lying unconscious on a makeshift bed, hooked up to an array of blinking, beeping machines. Cisco was frantically typing on a console, his face smudged with dirt and worry. Caitlin, pale and shaken, was monitoring Barry's vitals, a desperate hope in her eyes. And Wells, looking surprisingly composed amidst the wreckage, was observing them all with an unnervingly calm demeanor.
" Well, well, well, if it isn't the gang. And Barry's looking a little... crispy. Don't worry, Scarlet Speedster, your personal sarcastic cheerleader is here. And I brought a headache. "
He cleared his throat, trying to sound as casual as possible, as if he hadn't just died a few minutes ago. "Hey, guys. Rough night, huh? Did anyone get the license plate of the truck that hit us? Because I'm pretty sure I just had a very aggressive encounter with a rogue gust of wind. And it wasn't even a windy day!"
Cisco yelped, nearly jumping out of his skin. He spun around, his eyes wide. "Adam! You're alive! We thought... after the explosion... you were right there!"
Caitlin gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Adam? How... how are you standing? You were directly in the path of the initial surge!" Her voice was laced with a mixture of shock and scientific curiosity.
Adam shrugged, affecting an air of nonchalance he definitely didn't feel. "Oh, you know, just a typical Tuesday for me. Always been a bit of a survivor. Hard to kill. Like a very annoying cockroach with a penchant for witty remarks. Plus," he winked, "I had a feeling something big was coming. Call it a gut feeling. Or maybe just a really bad premonition of my imminent demise." He glanced pointedly at Barry. "Looks like I wasn't the only one who got a little zapped, though. Our speedy friend here looks like he needs a serious nap."
Wells, who had been observing Adam with an intensity that made the hairs on his neck stand up, finally spoke. His voice was calm, measured, but with an underlying edge of suspicion. "Mr. Stiels. I must say, your survival is... remarkable. The energy surge at your location was immense. Statistically, you should not be standing here."
"Oh, statistics," Adam scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "They're just guidelines, not rules, Dr. Wells. Especially when you factor in my highly unpredictable 'luck.' Let's just say I have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and somehow, by sheer stubbornness, managing to emerge mostly unscathed. Though," he patted his chest dramatically, "I think I'll be feeling that for a while. It felt like someone tried to vacuum seal my lungs. Rudely."
Caitlin, ever the scientist, approached him cautiously. "Are you experiencing any dizziness? Nausea? Any unusual sensations?" She reached out as if to check his pulse, but Adam subtly sidestepped her.
"Dizziness? Only from the sheer awesomeness of surviving that. Nausea? Only when I think about how much paperwork I'll have to fill out for this. Unusual sensations? Well, I do feel like I could predict the weather with uncanny accuracy now. Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket. Or invest in umbrellas." He grinned, hoping his "low-level psychic" act was believable. "Honestly, though, I'm fine. Just a little... rattled. But I'm more worried about our friend Barry here. What exactly did happen?"
Cisco, still looking at Adam as if he were a ghost, finally chimed in. "The Particle Accelerator. It... it exploded. And then, a lightning bolt, imbued with dark matter, hit Barry. He's been in a coma ever since. We don't know what's going to happen." His voice was filled with despair.
"Right, right, the classic 'science experiment gone wrong' trope," Adam said, nodding sagely. "I knew it! My psychic vibes were tingling. That's why I insisted on being here. I figured if anyone was going to survive, it would be me. And if anyone was going to wake up with super speed, it would be Barry. Just a hunch." He tapped his temple meaningfully. "Future insights, you know. Very vague, very unhelpful, but undeniably there."
Wells's gaze sharpened, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Future insights, Mr. Stiels? Are you claiming precognition?"
"Not full-blown 'seeing the future' precognition," Adam clarified quickly, trying not to overplay his hand. "More like... very strong intuitions. A keen sense of 'what's about to hit the fan.' Sometimes it's a feeling, sometimes it's a brief flash of an image. Like, I had this weird image of a guy who could control the weather... just before I got hit by a very intense gust of wind. Coincidence? Probably. But a spooky coincidence nonetheless." He winked at Cisco. "Think of me as your resident, slightly-off-kilter 'Spidey-sense' guy. Only instead of danger, I sense impending scientific screw-ups."
Cisco, despite his worry, chuckled weakly. "Spidey-sense? I like it."
Caitlin, still clearly concerned, interjected, "We need to get you checked out properly, Adam. Regardless of any 'hunches,' you were exposed to a massive energy surge. There could be latent effects."
"Nonsense!" Adam declared, putting on his most charming, reassuring smile. "I'm tougher than I look. And besides, someone needs to keep track of this fine establishment. And someone needs to make sure our comatose friend here doesn't accidentally run a marathon in his sleep. I'm a valuable asset, people! A consultant, if you will. A highly sarcastic, self-appointed consultant." He looked directly at Wells. "You need my 'insights,' Dr. Wells. Especially with all the... changes that are about to occur." He put extra emphasis on the word "changes," a subtle jab at Thawne's secret agenda.
Wells considered him for a long moment, a slow, calculating smile spreading across his face. "Indeed, Mr. Stiels. Perhaps we do. Welcome to the team. Though I must insist you undergo a thorough medical examination."
"Deal!" Adam chirped, internally fist-pumping. He was in! And he got the first death out of the way. Phase one: complete. Now, for the long game. "Just don't expect me to be quiet during it. I have a lot of opinions on bedpans."