CHAPTER 9: Pranks, Potions, and Particle Physics
With Barry now fully immersed in his speedster training and the team slowly accepting Adam's bewildering immortality (or at least, tolerating it), a new kind of normalcy settled into S.T.A.R. Labs. It was a normalcy punctuated by sonic booms, impromptu science experiments, and, of course, Adam's increasingly elaborate pranks.
" You know, being a hero is great and all, but sometimes you just need to remind people that even in the face of multiversal threats, life is still ridiculous. And what better way to do that than with a well-placed whoopee cushion? "
Adam's Minor Wind Control quickly became his go-to for low-level mischief. He'd create sudden drafts to make papers fly off desks, strategically mess up Cisco's perfectly styled hair, or subtly shift the aroma of Caitlin's coffee to smell vaguely of old socks when she wasn't looking. His crowning achievement, so far, involved using a concentrated burst of air to make Wells's wheelchair suddenly do a tiny, uncontrolled pirouette. The resulting glare from Wells was almost worth the potential risk of being vaporized.
"Adam!" Caitlin exclaimed, exasperated, as a carefully stacked pile of research papers cascaded to the floor, courtesy of an invisible breeze. "Can you please stop doing that? This is a scientific facility, not your personal wind tunnel!"
"But Dr. Snow," Adam replied, feigning innocence, "I'm merely conducting a highly important atmospheric pressure experiment! Testing the limits of natural airflow within an enclosed space. For science! You know, for all those times we need to subtly mess with a villain's hair. Very practical." He subtly wiggled his fingers, causing a single, stray strand of Caitlin's hair to float upwards.
Caitlin sighed, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She was getting used to him. Or at least, resigned.
Cisco, meanwhile, was delighted. "Dude, you actually made Wells's chair spin! That was epic! How do you do it? Is it like, a psychic link to the air molecules? Can you talk to the wind?"
"Something like that," Adam said with a mysterious shrug. "It's all about the subtle manipulation, my friend. The gentle nudge. The invisible hand. And a lot of practice secretly annoying my little sister back home. That woman was a master of passive-aggressive pranking. I learned from the best."
Barry, still a little bewildered by the sheer weirdness of Adam's powers and personality, found himself increasingly amused. He'd often come back from his speed runs to find Adam either mid-prank or already enjoying the chaotic aftermath. "You really like messing with people, don't you, Adam?" he asked one day, watching Adam try to levitate a pen with a tiny gust of wind.
"Barry, it's a coping mechanism," Adam explained, giving up on the pen with a frustrated sigh. "When you know all the terrible things that are about to happen, a little levity is essential. Besides, you guys are too serious. Someone needs to remind you that even when the world is ending, there's still time for a good laugh. And if that laugh comes at Caitlin's expense when her lab coat mysteriously ends up on the ceiling, all the better."
Their friendship solidified further through shared moments of pop culture geekery. Adam would drop obscure movie quotes, and Cisco would instantly pick up on them, leading to impromptu debates about the best superhero movies (Adam argued fiercely for The Dark Knight, Cisco for The Avengers). Caitlin would often just shake her head, but Adam noticed a softening in her demeanor, a slight smile that wasn't there before.
Wells, however, remained the ultimate enigma. He observed Adam constantly, his eyes always probing, always searching for the deeper truth behind the flippant exterior. Adam, in turn, enjoyed the subtle chess match. He'd occasionally drop a vague, unsettling hint about something only Thawne would know, just to see the flicker of unease in Wells's eyes.
" It's a delicate dance, this. Give him just enough rope to hang himself with, but not enough for him to figure out I know exactly who he is. And for the love of all that is holy, don't mention Reverse-Flash. Yet. "
One afternoon, Adam found Caitlin meticulously organizing vials in the lab. "Dr. Snow, I had another one of my… premonitions," he announced, startling her. "It involved a very peculiar type of plasma. Very unstable. Very prone to, shall we say, 'unforeseen energetic discharges.' You might want to double-check the containment protocols for the new plasma conduits you're installing. Just a thought. No rush. Unless you like surprise explosions."
Caitlin frowned. "We're not installing new plasma conduits for at least another week. And all our protocols are triple-checked."
"Oh, are they?" Adam asked, feigning surprise. "My bad. My psychic powers must be a little off today. Or maybe," he leaned in conspiratorially, "it's a future plasma conduit. The universe is playing tricks on me. Or maybe it's a warning. Just sayin'."
He then excused himself, leaving Caitlin to ponder his words. An hour later, as she went to double-check a routine pressure valve on an existing plasma conduit (a task she usually delegated), she discovered a hairline fracture that, if left unattended, would indeed have led to a catastrophic energy release. She found Adam later, sipping coffee, a smug grin on his face.
"Just lucky, I guess," he said, when she thanked him, her voice tinged with a new level of awe. "Or maybe I should become a professional safety inspector. With psychic powers. And a sarcastic demeanor. Sounds like a lucrative career path."
The incident solidified Adam's position even further. He wasn't just a funny guy; he was genuinely, impossibly helpful. And the team, including the ever-skeptical Caitlin, began to truly rely on his uncanny foresight. He was embedding himself, becoming indispensable, all while enjoying the ride.