CHAPTER 2: A SYSTEM FOR SURVIVAL
The news anchor's voice, a low hum now that my initial scream had subsided, seemed to mock me from the flickering screen. National City.October 2015.Primary Anchor Detected. It was like the universe, in its infinite wisdom, had decided to hit me with a cosmic "ding!" sound effect, then present me with a flashing neon sign pointing directly at my future, complete with a sarcastic little arrow that read, "Your inevitable demise, probably."
"Oh, hell no," I muttered again, the words tasting like ash. "This is going to be fun." The sarcasm was a defense mechanism, a cheap suit of armor I'd worn for years, but now it felt like a tiny, flimsy shield against a barrage of grief and existential dread. Two mothers. Gone. One in a memory I was only just inheriting, the other in a memory I'd always had. It was a cruel cosmic joke, and I was the punchline.
The nurse, bless her heart, was still hovering, looking at me like I'd just spontaneously combusted. Which, to be fair, was pretty close to what happened to that water glass. "Mr. Stiels, are you… feeling alright? We should call the doctor. That… that was quite a shock."
"Shock? Oh, honey, we're way past shock," I mumbled, flexing my fingers. The raw power thrumming beneath my skin felt like a live wire, erratic and dangerous. I could feel it, a sensation that was both entirely new and somehow deeply familiar, like a phantom limb. The memories of this Adam, the "dud" outcast, reinforced the feeling of untapped potential finally, violently, unleashed. "I think I just had a bit of a… metaphysical moment. Nothing a strong cup of coffee and a brief existential crisis can't fix."
[EMOTIONAL OVERLOAD. POWER OUTPUT UNSTABLE. RECOMMEND CALM.]
The System, an infuriatingly pragmatic and dispassionate voice in my head, flashed again. Calm? Seriously? My entire life, hell, two entire lives, just imploded, and it wants me to find my zen? I'd sooner spontaneously sprout a third arm and juggle flaming chainsaws.
"I need to leave," I stated, pushing myself up despite the dull ache in my head and the persistent throbbing where the seatbelt had dug in. My voice was firmer now, a strange hybrid of my old cynical drawl and Adam's quiet intensity. "Immediately."
"Mr. Stiels, you can't possibly—"
"Nurse," I interrupted, cutting her off with a gesture. My eyes locked onto hers, and I tried to project an air of calm, rational, if slightly unhinged, determination. "My mother… she… she wouldn't want me lingering in a hospital bed. I have… matters to attend to. Important matters. Of a… highly personal and deeply confusing nature."
She hesitated, clearly out of her depth. "But the accident… you were quite lucky, all things considered. Just some bruising. And… the car is totaled, I'm afraid."
Lucky. Yeah, right. Lucky to lose everything twice. "Right. Well, I'm a firm believer in the 'walk it off' philosophy. And cars can be replaced. Mothers… not so much." The last part was a whisper, more to myself than to her. A fresh wave of sorrow washed over me, threatening to make the lights flicker again.
[WARNING: POWER SURGE DETECTED. IMMEDIATE DE-ESCALATION REQUIRED.]
Shut up, System. You're not helping.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My body felt… normal. Bruised, a little stiff, but nothing broken. A miracle, considering the mess I'd seen in those flashes of memory. This body, Adam's body, was surprisingly resilient. Or maybe that was the budding Fifth Dimension physiology already kicking in, doing its best to patch me up.
The nurse, seeing my resolve, sighed. "Alright, Mr. Stiels. Let me just get you some discharge papers. And a taxi. You really shouldn't be driving."
"Taxi would be fantastic, thanks," I agreed, a grim chuckle escaping me. Driving. That was definitely off the table for a while. "And please, call me Adam. 'Mr. Stiels' sounds like I should be wearing a three-piece suit and discussing quarterly earnings."
As she turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the dark, shattered TV screen. My face was pale, shadowed by a faint stubble, but my eyes… they were different. Sharper. Older, somehow. And the sheer, unfathomable grief reflected there was something new, something that hadn't been in my life before. This wasn't just my face anymore. It was Adam's. A fusion. A walking, talking, perpetually sarcastic trauma bond.
The taxi ride was a blur. My mind was a chaotic symphony of two lives, two sets of memories, warring for dominance. The old me, the pragmatic engineering student, was trying to process the sheer impossibility of what had happened. The new me, the traumatized outcast with burgeoning godlike powers, was reeling from the double loss. And somewhere in the middle, the nascent Fifth Dimension being was probably just laughing its geometric ass off at the sheer absurdity of it all.
"Where to, pal?" the taxi driver grunted, his voice dragging me back to the present. He was a stocky guy, probably seen it all, and my sudden appearance from a hospital with no luggage probably didn't even register on his weird-o-meter.
"The address listed on… my driver's license," I said, fumbling for the plastic card. It felt alien in my hand. The picture on it was Adam's, a younger, more somber version of the face I'd just seen. The address listed a quiet, upscale neighborhood in National City. The mansion. The one from Adam's memories. So, I wasn't just an outcast; I was a wealthy outcast. Well, that was a pleasant surprise. "And take the scenic route, if you don't mind. I'm… getting reacquainted with my surroundings."
The driver just grunted again, clearly not interested in my psychological journey. As he pulled away from the hospital, the city lights of National City began to sparkle in the rain-washed night. The "Primary Anchor Detected" marker on my HUD was still there, a faint, translucent arrow pointing north. Kara Danvers. Supergirl. My future, apparently.
"Right," I thought, leaning my head against the cool window. "First things first: don't spontaneously combust. Second: figure out how to pay this guy. Third: don't accidentally turn the taxi into a giant rubber ducky." The urge to just… do something, anything, with the power thrumming within me was almost overwhelming. It felt like an itch I couldn't scratch, a sneeze I couldn't suppress.
[SKILL ACQUISITION RECOMMENDED: MINOR TELEKINESIS. PROVIDES BASIC CONTROL OVER ENVIRONMENT. USAGE WILL STABILIZE POWER OUTPUT.]
The System, ever helpful, popped up again. Minor Telekinesis. Right. Like in X-Men. Or that one episode of Supergirl where… oh, wait. That's later. My meta-knowledge, a jumbled encyclopedia of future events, was already trying to sort itself out.
Stabilize power output. That sounded good. I didn't want to be the reason National City had a sudden, inexplicable shortage of drinking glasses. Or, you know, a new hole in the ozone layer made of pure imp energy.
"Okay, System," I murmured, my voice almost a prayer. "How do I… 'Minor Telekinesis'?"
[FOCUS INTENT. VISUALIZE DESIRED OUTCOME. MINIMAL ENERGY CONSUMPTION AT CURRENT LEVEL.]
I looked around the taxi. What was small? What was safe? My eyes landed on the loose change rattling in the cup holder. A single penny. Perfect. A penny for my thoughts, and perhaps, a penny for my nascent telekinetic abilities.
I focused. Hard. I pictured the penny, willing it to move. Nothing. I tried again, concentrating with an intensity that made my temples throb. Still nothing. My frustration grew, and with it, the familiar warmth of unstable power began to build.
[WARNING: POWER FLUCTUATION DETECTED. ABORT. RECALIBRATE.]
Aborting. Yeah, right. Like I can just hit 'Ctrl+Alt+Del' on my own burgeoning godhood.
Then, I remembered something from Adam's memories. The imp father. The way he'd just willed things to be. It wasn't about brute force. It was about… absurdity. About seeing the strings of reality and plucking them.
"Alright, penny," I whispered, a smirk playing on my lips, "you're not just a penny. You're a tiny, copper-plated avatar of cosmic justice. And you will float. Because the universe demands it. And also, because I really, really don't want to blow up this guy's taxi."
And then, almost imperceptibly, the penny wobbled. Then, it lifted. A mere centimeter off the plastic cup holder, it hovered, rotating slowly, a tiny copper satellite in my personal universe.
A gasp escaped me, a mixture of awe and pure, unadulterated nerd glee. "Holy… wow."
[SKILL PROGRESS: MINOR TELEKINESIS (Lvl 1). XP GAINED: 1.]
The System popped up again, almost smugly. I almost expected it to add, 'See? I told you so.'
"Okay, okay, you win, Mr. System," I muttered, carefully lowering the penny back down. "This is… an improvement. At least I won't be shattering any more hospital equipment with my tragic emotional outbursts."
The rest of the ride was spent in quiet experimentation. I tried to lift the driver's pen. Too heavy. His car keys. Nope. But the small air freshener dangling from his rearview mirror? That, I could make swing a little. The scent of pine filled the cab. Progress. Slow, painful, but progress nonetheless.
By the time we pulled up to the imposing, somewhat gothic-looking mansion from Adam's memories, I felt a tiny spark of something besides grief: curiosity. And perhaps, a faint, almost imperceptible sense of hope. This new life, however traumatic its beginning, was also a blank slate. A chance to be more than just an anomaly. A chance to… well, to be the most sarcastic, powerful, and utterly bizarre hero the Arrowverse had ever seen.
I paid the driver, feeling a strange disconnect as I handed him actual money. Adam's bank accounts, apparently, were still active. Perks of being the heir to a mysteriously deceased Fifth Dimension dad, I guess. The driver drove off, probably relieved to be rid of the quiet, slightly unhinged passenger who kept talking to himself.
I stood on the grand, sweeping porch, looking at the large, dark oak doors. The new base of operations for… The Cosmic Jester. Or maybe The Glitch. Cisco would have a field day with the names.
A faint smile touched my lips, the first genuine one since… well, since the last life.
"Alright, National City," I whispered to the imposing mansion. "Let's see what kind of mischief we can get into."