Chapter 2: A Convenient Truth
The journey to S.T.A.R. Labs was less of a purposeful trek and more of a pathetic stagger. My body felt like a deflated balloon after that rebar incident. Every muscle ached, and my legs felt like they were made of lead. The streets of Central City were a nightmare of overturned cars, bewildered people, and emergency sirens wailing in the distance. I clung to the shadows, avoiding the frantic crowds and the flashing lights of first responders. "Right, Adam. Don't look suspicious. Just a regular guy who survived a catastrophic science explosion and now looks like he just ran a marathon in a swamp. Totally normal."
I finally stumbled through the main entrance of S.T.A.R. Labs, the gigantic, shattered dome looming over me like a monument to scientific hubris. The lobby was in chaos. Staff members, some looking grim, others frantically working, rushed about. A security guard, a burly guy with a bewildered expression, spotted me.
"Hey! You alright, kid? Where'd you come from?" he barked, rushing over.
I swayed, my vision swimming. "Explosion… building… collapsed… came from… the ruins…" I managed to gasp out, pointing vaguely behind me. Nailed it. Very coherent. Oscar-worthy performance for 'traumatized civilian.'
The guard, seeing my disheveled state and obvious exhaustion, didn't press. "Alright, alright. Get him to the medical bay!" he yelled to a passing technician.
And that's how I found myself being half-carried, half-dragged down a pristine, yet slightly debris-strewn, hallway. My internal alarms were ringing. This is it. Meeting the legends. Don't fanboy, Adam. Don't quote lines. Just… exist.
The medical bay was surprisingly calm amidst the chaos. A woman with dark hair pulled back in a severe bun, dressed in a lab coat, was examining some monitors. Her face was etched with exhaustion, but her eyes held a fierce, intelligent spark. Dr. Caitlin Snow. Holy crap, it's really her. She's even more… intense in person. And I'm pretty sure I smell like burnt toast and desperation right now. Not exactly first-impression material.
Beside her, a younger man, equally disheveled but with an almost manic energy, was fiddling with a tablet. His hair was messy, and his glasses were slightly askew. Cisco Ramon. My man! The pop-culture king! Don't call him Vibe, Adam. Not yet. Way too soon.
"Another survivor?" Caitlin asked, her voice tired but clear, turning to face me. Her eyes, a striking blue, swept over my battered appearance. "He looks… stable. Just extreme exhaustion."
"Yeah, stumbled in from the main entrance," the tech said, helping me onto a medical bed.
Cisco peered over. "Dude, you look like you wrestled a tornado and lost. What happened out there?"
I managed a weak grin. "More like a rebar and won. Barely." I winced, my body protesting. "Seriously, I think I used up my entire life's supply of adrenaline just getting here." A partial truth. The Adapt System wasn't adrenaline, but it felt like it. And the exhaustion was real.
Caitlin began to take my vitals, her fingers cool and efficient on my wrist. "Your pulse is erratic, blood pressure low… but no obvious injuries. That's… remarkable, given the stories coming in." She frowned, looking at me intently. "You said a rebar? You were hit by falling debris?"
"Almost," I murmured, my eyes fluttering shut briefly. "Felt like… a sudden surge. Moved out of the way. Just barely." Keep it vague, Adam. Don't go into the whole 'I doubled its impact force' thing. You'll end up on an operating table being dissected by Wells.
Just then, the door slid open, and a figure wheeled himself in. Dr. Harrison Wells. The man himself. My internal alarm bells went from a gentle chime to a full-blown air raid siren. This is it. The big bad. The man who orchestrated everything. Play it cool, Adam. Play it cool.
Wells, impeccably dressed even amidst the chaos, surveyed the room with a calm, analytical gaze. His eyes, sharp and intelligent, landed on me. "Another one, Dr. Snow?" His voice was smooth, cultured, yet with an underlying steel.
"He claims to have been near ground zero, Dr. Wells," Caitlin explained. "Remarkably, he's mostly suffering from exhaustion. No major injuries, despite witnessing direct impacts."
Wells wheeled closer, his gaze unnervingly piercing. "Indeed. A remarkable constitution, young man. What is your name?"
"Adam. Adam Stiels," I managed, trying to meet his gaze without flinching. Don't stare at the legs, Adam. Don't stare at the legs. He'll know.
"Adam Stiels," Wells repeated, a thoughtful hum escaping his lips. "And you say you experienced a 'sudden surge'?"
"Yeah," I said, trying to sound as bewildered and innocent as possible. "Like… pure instinct. My body just… did something. I don't know. Felt like I suddenly got super strong. And then, poof, just tired." I mimed the 'poof' with a weak hand gesture. Subtle, Adam. Very subtle.
Cisco piped up, "Maybe he's got latent meta-human powers! Like a strength dampener, but for himself!"
Caitlin sighed. "Cisco, let's not jump to conclusions. It's likely an extreme adrenaline response, a survival mechanism."
Wells merely smiled. "Perhaps. Or perhaps something more… unique." His eyes lingered on me. "Regardless, Mr. Stiels, you are safe here. We will monitor you. And perhaps, once you're rested, you could tell us more about what you observed outside. Any unusual atmospheric readings? Strange energy signatures?"
Bingo. He's fishing. He wants intel. He wants to confirm his own theories. And I have all the answers. Just need to feed them to him in palatable, 'lucky guess' doses.
"Well…" I mumbled, feigning a deep thought process. "I did feel… a weird sort of hum. And the air, it was… crackling, almost. And the flashes of light, they weren't just electricity. More like… pure energy. And I thought I saw… something moving too fast to see clearly. Like a streak. A red streak." I paused, then added, "Probably just my concussion talking."
Cisco gasped. "A red streak! Dude, that's what the police are reporting! Witnesses are talking about a blur of red light!"
Caitlin looked intrigued. "You noticed that amidst the chaos? That's… quite observant."
Wells's smile widened imperceptibly. "Indeed, Mr. Stiels. Perhaps you have a natural aptitude for… observation. We could use someone with your unique perspective here at S.T.A.R. Labs, at least while you recover."
Nailed it. Step one: Infiltrate S.T.A.R. Labs. Check. Step two: Don't get dissected by the Reverse-Flash. Double check. Step three: Get a bed and some food. Priorities, people.
Over the next few hours, as I slowly regained some energy, I continued to drop subtle hints. I'd casually mention, "You know, if I were a metahuman, I'd probably try to use my powers to… I don't know, rob banks. Or control the weather. Just saying." Or, "Have you guys thought about building something to contain really unstable energy? Like a… a pipeline? Underground?"
Each time, Cisco's eyes would widen, Caitlin would jot something down, and Wells would offer that infuriatingly knowing smile. They bought it. They bought the "lucky guess" persona. They saw a civilian who happened to be oddly perceptive, not a walking, talking wiki of their future.
Caitlin, in particular, seemed to gravitate towards me. My exhaustion and vulnerability, combined with my subtle humor and willingness to listen, seemed to appeal to her. She'd bring me blankets, offer me water, and engage me in surprisingly deep conversations about the science of the explosion, and even, cautiously, about the emotional toll it was taking on her.
"It's just… so much," she admitted, sitting on a stool beside my bed, looking utterly drained. "We were supposed to be advancing humanity, and instead… this." She gestured vaguely at the destroyed lab.
"Yeah," I said softly, looking at her. She's so raw. So human. So not Killer Frost right now. "Sometimes, progress comes with a few… unforeseen side effects. But you guys here… you're the ones who pick up the pieces. That's real heroism."
She gave me a small, tired smile. "You really think so?"
"Absolutely," I said, meaning it. "I mean, who else is going to figure out how to stop the guy who can control wind? Or the guy who can make copies of himself? This city needs you. And Barry… he's going to need you."
Her eyes widened slightly at the mention of Barry. "You really think he'll… wake up?"
"He's a fighter," I said with a confident shrug. "He'll wake up. And when he does… things are going to get interesting."
And so, my unofficial "recruitment" was complete. I was no longer just a survivor; I was "Adam Stiels, the oddly insightful patient who's good with hunches." And Dr. Harrison Wells, the Reverse-Flash, was watching me, intrigued. The game was officially on. And I was already tired.