Chapter 1: A New York State of Mind, and a Very Specific Power
The last thing Adam Thorne remembered was the smell of pepperoni and a truly unholy amount of regret. Not for the pizza he'd ordered, mind you—that was always a solid life choice—but for perhaps stepping off the curb a touch too casually. Then came the screech of tires, a surprisingly polite "Oh, fudge!" from somewhere above him, and the abrupt, rather rude introduction of a pizza delivery scooter to his frontal lobe. "Well, this is just typical," he thought, or what was left of his thoughts, as the world went from vibrant to vaguely static-y, then mercifully, profoundly, black.
When the world decided to be vibrant again, it did so with a brutal, fluorescent efficiency. Adam blinked, once, twice, against a glaring white ceiling. The air smelled of disinfectant and something vaguely metallic. A hospital. "Of course. Because dying once wasn't enough drama for the universe. Now I get the sequel, presumably with less pain and more questionable cafeteria food." He shifted, testing his limbs. No pain. In fact, he felt… better? Lighter? And suspiciously taller.
A quick glance around confirmed his suspicions. White walls, a single IV drip, a generic landscape painting that looked like it was designed to induce mild depression. And a date on a digital clock: September 17, 2013. His brow furrowed. That wasn't right. He was pretty sure he'd died in… much later than 2013. A cold dread, far more unsettling than the scooter incident, began to settle in his gut.
Then, it hit him. Not a scooter this time, but a mental tsunami of information. Names, faces, plot points, timelines – a deluge of data that would make Google's servers weep. Brooklyn Nine-Nine. How I Met Your Mother. And… him. Adam Stiels. The name felt alien, yet strangely right. He was no longer Adam Thorne. He was Adam Stiels, and he was apparently living in a fanfiction. "Seriously? I get a second chance at life, and it's a crossover fic? Is this cosmic irony or just divine laziness?"
Along with the canon data came the System. It wasn't a voice, or a floating screen, but an intuitive understanding, a new layer to his consciousness. It felt like his brain had just upgraded its operating system, and the patch notes were entirely about him.
[System Core Functionality Initialized][Welcome, Host: Adam Stiels][Ability Unlocked: Ask Me Out][General Principles: When Adam, while single, verbally asks a single woman on a date, her attraction to him is instantly and significantly multiplied, ensuring acceptance. Note: Enhanced attraction fades if relationship doesn't progress naturally.][Limitations: Only functions when Host is Single. One active target at a time. Target must be within immediate conversational proximity. Will NOT work on main female characters of HIMYM (Lily Aldrin, Robin Scherbatsky) or B99 (Amy Santiago, Rosa Diaz).][Module: Relationship Status Tracker Activated][Module: Knowledge & Insight Activated (B99/HIMYM Canon Database)][Resource Management: Auto-allocated.]
Adam stared at the ceiling, processing. "So, I get to be a forensic consultant at the 99th, live near the HIMYM gang, and… I have a cheat code for dating? But not those specific women. Because, of course, the universe has its own shipping preferences. Figures. Even in the afterlife, I'm being told who I can and can't date. The cosmic matchmakers are surprisingly strict." A wry smile touched his lips. This was insane. This was absurd. This was… potentially amazing.
A nurse, a cheerful woman with kind eyes, bustled in. "Mr. Stiels! You're awake! How are you feeling?"
"Surprisingly un-dead," Adam quipped, testing the new voice that came out of his throat. It was deeper than his old one, a bit more resonant. Not bad. "Just a mild case of waking up in a hospital with no memory of how I got here, which, I'm told, is usually a bad sign."
The nurse chuckled. "Just a minor concussion, Mr. Stiels. You had a bit of a fall. Someone found you near Prospect Park." She ran through a few quick checks, pronounced him fit for discharge, and handed him a small bag containing his "belongings" – a wallet with an ID for Adam Stiels, a phone, and a surprisingly hefty sum of cash. The Resource Management module, he noted, was already hard at work.
He was discharged an hour later, stepping out into the bustling, vibrant chaos of New York City. The smells, the sounds, the sheer energy of it all – it was overwhelming, yet exhilarating. He pulled out the phone. It was a basic smartphone for 2013, with a few contacts pre-loaded, including an NYPD number. His first day at the 99th Precinct. Today. "Well, no time like the present to dive headfirst into the surreal."
He took a cab, the city a blur of yellow and brick, and soon found himself standing before the iconic, albeit grimy, facade of the 99th Precinct. "Right. This is it. No turning back now. Just try not to break canon too much. Or, you know, get anyone killed. Priorities."
Inside, the precinct was exactly as he remembered: chaotic, vibrant, and filled with a familiar hum of controlled madness. He found Captain Holt's office. The man himself was a stoic sentinel behind his desk, perfectly coiffed, radiating an aura of dignified disapproval.
"Mr. Stiels," Holt's voice was a deep, even monotone. "Welcome to the 99th Precinct. Sergeant Jeffords will give you an orientation. Your desk is... currently occupied by a large pile of evidence from the 'Naked Bandit' case. We will rectify that."
Adam grinned. "Oh, this is going to be fun." "Understood, Captain. I'll make sure to disinfect any lingering nudity from the evidence. Don't want any cross-contamination."
Holt's expression remained unchanged, but Adam detected the slightest, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lip. A victory. "Indeed. Sergeant."
Terry Jeffords, a mountainous man of pure muscle and paternal warmth, appeared as if on cue. "Adam! Welcome! I'm Terry! This is the greatest precinct in the NYPD!" He radiated enthusiasm, a stark contrast to Holt's quiet intensity.
Terry gave him a whirlwind tour, introducing him to the main squad. Jake Peralta immediately gravitated towards him. "Hey! So you're the new forensic brainiac? Heard you're good. Can you tell me if this crayon drawing of a cat is evidence or just Boyle's emotional support art?"
Adam studied the drawing with mock seriousness. "Based on the aggressive use of glitter, I'd say it's Boyle's cathartic expression of unresolved childhood trauma. But it's also a cat, so it's technically evidence of adorable. You decide."
Jake's eyes lit up. "He gets me! See, Amy? He gets it! You just judge."
Amy Santiago, impeccably dressed and radiating an aura of organizational fervor, adjusted her glasses. "I don't judge, Jake, I observe. And Mr. Stiels, while your wit is... present, I hope your forensic skills are as precise as the Captain indicates."
"Only if the crime scene is as organized as your filing system, Detective Santiago," Adam replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. Amy's mouth twitched, unsure if she'd been complimented or subtly insulted. "She's even better in person. The neuroses are palpable."
Adam quickly settled into his role, proving his worth almost immediately. A cold case sat on Jake's desk – a seemingly unsolvable jewel theft from months ago. Adam glanced at the file, then back to the blurry security footage. "Ah, the old 'inconspicuous reflection' trick. Classic."
"You know," Adam mused, leaning over Jake's shoulder, "the angle of the sun in that reflection off the building across the street... if you calculate the exact time of day based on the shadow length, and then cross-reference the city's construction permits for that area... you might find a building with scaffolding that could have provided an elevated, temporary access point. Maybe a forgotten construction worker's boot print somewhere?"
Jake stared. "Wait, what? Are you a wizard? That's… that's ridiculously specific."
Amy, who had been listening intently, gasped. "He's right! There was scaffolding! I focused on street-level access. Jake, pull up the construction permits for the area on May 12th at 2:47 PM!"
Holt, who had mysteriously appeared behind them, simply stated, "Remarkable, Mr. Stiels." The highest praise one could ever hope for from the Captain.
Later that afternoon, feeling a mix of exhaustion and exhilarating success, Adam stepped out for a coffee. He found a charming little cafe a few blocks from the precinct. As he waited in line, sipping his mediocre latte, a figure walked in, illuminated by the afternoon sun. Long, flowing brown hair, an elegant but casual outfit, a stack of books under her arm. Emma Watson.
"Alright, System. This is it. Moment of truth." He felt the subtle mental "ping." [Ask Me Out: Conditions Met. Target: Emma Watson. Relationship Status: Single. Target Status: Single. Proximity: Optimal.]
He took a deep breath, walked over to her, and offered a charming, slightly crooked smile. "Excuse me, I know this is probably the most clichéd line in existence, but you just walked in and my brain immediately rebooted. Which, given I work in forensics, is usually a bad sign. Unless it's a good sign, which, in this case, I'm hoping it is."
Emma raised an eyebrow, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. "Is that your opening line for evidence recovery?"
"Only for the most captivating evidence," Adam countered smoothly, his sarcasm laced with genuine admiration. "Look, I'm Adam. And I was wondering, as someone who clearly appreciates the intellectual pursuits evidenced by that formidable stack of books, would you consider letting me buy you a proper coffee – or perhaps a very strong tea – sometime? Because, frankly, this place's latte is an insult to the bean."
She chuckled, a light, melodic sound. "It is rather insulting. Adam. I'm Emma." She extended a hand, and Adam took it, her touch surprisingly warm and firm. "And yes, I think I'd very much like to be insulted by a better cup of tea with you."
"Excellent," Adam said, a genuine, unforced smile spreading across his face. "My phone's still in the Stone Age. Can I get your number?"
She laughed, pulling out her own phone. "Only if you promise to tell me more about forensic insults." They exchanged numbers. As she turned to order, Adam felt a quiet hum of satisfaction from the System. [Relationship Status: Dating Emma Watson. Duration: 0 days.]
That evening, Adam finally arrived at his new apartment building in Brooklyn, the address uncannily familiar. He hauled his meager boxes up the stairs, finding apartment 4A. He opened the door, and there they were.
"Hey, new neighbor!" a tall, goofy man with a giant, infectious grin called out from the living room of the apartment across the hall, which had an open door. He held a giant sword prop. "I'm Marshall! And this is Ted!" He gestured to a slightly more nervous, well-dressed man, who offered a tentative wave.
Adam blinked. "Well, this is… on the nose." He managed a coherent sentence, despite the residual shock. "Adam Stiels. And... is that a broadsword? You guys seem fun."
Marshall beamed. "Only the funnest! We're celebrating a new apartment!"
Before Adam could reply, a blur of suit and pure, unadulterated charisma materialized between them. "Legendary!" Barney Stinson announced, fixing Adam with an appraising stare. "So, you're the new guy. You got game? Because I'm Barney Stinson, and I literally invented game. What's your angle, Stiels? You got a gimmick? A catchphrase? A... a suit?"
Adam leaned against his doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. "This is it. My life is officially a sitcom. And I'm the sarcastic, all-knowing outsider."
He met Barney's intense gaze with a casual shrug. "My angle? I simply exist. My gimmick is brutal honesty, occasionally disguised as wit. My catchphrase? Probably 'Are you quite finished?' And my suit, Barney, is currently on a hanger, far from any questionable life choices. Unlike yours, which, I'm assuming, has seen things."
Barney actually paused, his mouth slightly agape. Marshall erupted in laughter. Ted looked intrigued.
Adam stepped into his new apartment, leaving the door ajar. "Nice to meet you all. If you hear muffled screams later, it's just me trying to assemble IKEA furniture. Feel free to bring beer."
As he surveyed his empty, echoing living room, a profound sense of absurdity washed over him. He was here. He was Adam Stiels. He had a System, a job, and a date with Hermione Granger. And his neighbors were the most ridiculously dramatic people in New York City.
"This is either going to be the most legendary ride of my life," he thought, pulling out his phone to text Emma, "or I'm going to need a lot more coffee. Probably both." The future was unwritten, but for the first time in a very long time, Adam felt genuinely, thrillingly, alive.