Chapter 1: Awakening in Bethesda
[Dusk – Adam's Bethesda House – Day 01]
The world came back to Adam not with a bang, but with the quiet, insistent hum of a coffee maker. A sound so mundane it was a foreign language. He lay on his back, a faint ache in his skull, the scent of fresh-brewed coffee and sun-warmed dust clinging to the air. This wasn't the cramped, sterile hospital room he'd expected. It wasn't the shattered windshield or the acrid tang of burning rubber. It was a bedroom bathed in the golden, late-afternoon light of a Bethesda suburb. His body, his own, felt… different. Younger. A tightness in his chest, a lightness in his limbs. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the five o'clock shadow he didn't remember growing. His mind was a jumbled mess of memories: the screech of tires, the impossible crash, and then… this.
My God, I died. The thought came with a chilling clarity. He sat up, the room spinning for a moment before his senses righted themselves. A quiet, suburban room. A white desk with a laptop open, a half-empty water glass, and a picture frame. He picked up the frame. It was a photo of a woman he didn't know, with a sweet, earnest smile. His sister? No, it felt wrong. The name on the deed he was looking for was Adam Stiels, not his old one.
He was a ghost in another man's machine.
A cool, blue light flickered at the edge of his vision. It was a strange, holographic overlay, a mental screen with glowing text. He blinked, rubbing his eyes, but it persisted. It felt like an extension of his own consciousness, a silent, unblinking sentinel.
[SYSTEM: Welcome, Host. You have successfully transmigrated into the Blacklist Universe, 2013.]
Adam stared at the text. Blacklist? The TV show? His mind, which had always been a disorganized filing cabinet of pop culture references and corporate memos, was suddenly sharp and analytical. His neighbor's face flashed into his mind. Liz Keen. The FBI profiler.
"Simulator System? I'm in Blacklist? Red's playbook better be included." he whispered, his voice hoarse.
The screen pulsed, a list of functions appearing. The top one, glowing slightly brighter than the rest, read: Introduction. He tapped it mentally.
[SYSTEM: I am the Simulator System, a non-sentient AI designed to assist the Host. My core functions are to: 1) Initiate Simulations for training and data acquisition; 2) Manage an Inventory Vault for item storage; and 3) Grant Skills based on simulation performance. All skill usage must be initiated by the Host via mental command.]
Adam nodded slowly, his mind a whirlwind of information. The System was a tool, not a guide. He had to be the one to use it. The next option, glowing brightly, was Initiate Simulation. He mentally selected it.
[SYSTEM: GREEN SIMULATION LOADING… 99.99%… 100%.] [TALENT: OBSERVATION (GREEN).] [SIMULATION INITIATED: USER ACTION—DISCOVER CABAL.]
Your hand instinctively went to the dagger at your belt, the steel cold and solid against your skin. A strange calm settled over you, a familiar numbness that came with the territory. This was not the real world; this was a game, and you were the player. You took a deep breath, the scent of straw filling your lungs, and let yourself fall into the simulation, the world around you dissolving into a swirl of blue light and ghostly whispers.
"Observation, huh? Let's find what's real," he muttered to the empty room, a small, grim smile on his face. He was ready. Ready to die, ready to fail, ready to try again.
He crouched behind a dumpster, the rusted metal cold against his back, his clothes—a generic polo and jeans—feeling soaked through with virtual rain. Two figures stood a few yards away, their voices a low murmur that his senses, enhanced by the simulation, picked up with startling clarity.
"Reddington's move's coming. Cabal wants him gone," one operative said, his face obscured by the shadows. The other, a woman, held a silver pin on her lapel, a stylized, three-headed snake devouring a star. It pulsed with a faint, malevolent light.
That's a Cabal insignia. Holy hell.
He needed a skill. He needed to be able to see this better. He mentally focused on the System's list of skills. A new one, Observation Skill, glowed.
[SYSTEM: Observation Skill is available. Host must move skill to active slot to use.]
He mentally willed the skill into his active slot.
[SYSTEM: Observation Skill moved to active slot. Host must now use mental command to engage.]
He focused on the pin. A new command appeared in his mind. Engage Observation Skill. He did it. The world felt hyper-real now, every detail magnified. The glint of a knife hilt, the faint scent of stale cigarette smoke, the way the rain beaded on the woman's leather coat. A sudden thought struck him. The System had an inventory. He could take things out.
"Pin's mine," he muttered under his breath, a sliver of his old sarcastic humor returning. "Red's my guy."
He focused on the pin. A new prompt appeared. Vault Storage: Cabal Insignia Pin (0.05 kg). He mentally confirmed.
[SYSTEM: Vault Storage: Cabal Insignia Pin (0.05 kg). Capacity: 499.95 kg.]
The pin vanished from the woman's lapel. She and the other operative didn't react, as if it had never been there. He was just a ghost in a machine, after all.
A boot scuffed on the pavement nearby, and his heart hammered. A third operative was approaching. His mind, still disoriented from the jump, felt a sudden, sharp pressure.
[SYSTEM: Warning: Mental Fatigue at 20%. Rest Required.]
His vision blurred at the edges, the vibrant, rain-soaked alley fading back into the gentle, golden light of his bedroom. The coffee maker was still humming. He was slumped against the wall, his own polo shirt damp with sweat.
I'm in Red's world with a sci-fi cheat code. Cabal's plotting, and I'm already in deep. The thought was both terrifying and thrilling. He had a mission now. He wasn't just a random man who'd died in a car crash. He was a player in the grandest game on Earth, and he had the cheat codes to win.
He needed to get this information to Reddington. But first, he needed to get his bearings. The Cabal insignia pin was a solid lead. A start.
The sun was fully up now, a beautiful day. He needed to get some fresh air.
[Morning – Bethesda Street – Day 01]
The air was crisp and clean, smelling faintly of cut grass. He stepped out onto his porch, the gentle breeze a welcome contrast to the clammy oppression of the simulation. A lawnmower buzzed in the distance, a sound so normal it felt like a deliberate lie. He was in the Blacklist universe, a stone's throw from the woman who would become the center of one of the greatest stories of all time, and his biggest problem right now was whether to get a real coffee or stick to the simulated one.
He was just about to head for his car when he saw her. Lucky Brook. He knew her from the show, a minor character hired to seduce Tom. In his timeline, that hadn't happened yet. He could change this. He could make her his.
She was leaning against her mailbox, a leather jacket slung over a simple tee. Her grin was sharp, curious, and just a little bit dangerous. Her dark hair was a mess, but a deliberate one. The autumn sun caught the silver of a hairpin in her hair.
He mentally moved his Observation Skill to his active slot. He needed to confirm his suspicions.
[SYSTEM: Observation Skill active. Host must now engage.]
He walked over, his newfound confidence from the simulation giving him an easy swagger. "New guy?" she asked, her voice a low purr. "You looked like you saw a ghost in that alley."
Adam's eyebrows went up. She hadn't been in the simulation. He'd just been standing in his yard. Had he been acting weird? He shrugged, a casual smile on his face. "Just heard some shady D.C. types plotting. Trouble's my thing."
Her grin widened. "D.C.'s full of trouble. What, you got a conspiracy to share?"
"I just got here. Give me a minute," he quipped. He mentally engaged his Observation Skill, his gaze fixed on the hairpin, a delicate piece of filigree that looked a lot like the insignia he'd just stolen.
[SYSTEM: Observation Skill Engaged: Target (Lucky Brook) Analyzed. Ally Potential: High.]
He mentally willed the hairpin into his vault.
[SYSTEM: Vault Storage: Hairpin (0.01 kg). Capacity: 499.94 kg.]
The hairpin vanished. She didn't even notice. He winced. The simulation strain was back. A low thrum behind his eyes, a phantom headache. It felt like a warning from his new body. The System wasn't a toy.
"Cute for a conspiracy nut," Lucky said, her eyes twinkling. "You need a scout, I'm good at finding trouble."
He fumbled in his pocket for a key he didn't have, his fingers searching for a spare he now realized wasn't there. "Bethesda mailboxes are staging a coup, apparently," he joked, a faint tremor in his hand. "My keys are gone."
I have to get my keys out of my vault. I should have done that first.
"Don't worry, I'll find them," she said, her smirk hinting at a much broader form of help than just finding his keys. "Your 'shady types' are my kind of people."
She's just a hired hand in the show. But she's my opportunity. My ally. My partner.
She was smart, she was resourceful, and she was a far better bet than trying to explain a System to the FBI. He had a mission. She had the connections. The Discovery Schematic was not just about the Cabal. It was about discovering his new life, his new identity, and the people who would be a part of it. The hairpin was just another clue.
[Afternoon – Bethesda Park – Day 01]
The park was a bubble of normalcy. Kids on swings, the high-pitched shriek of their laughter. The scent of cut grass, the distant sound of a train. Adam walked along a path, his mind still reeling from the events of the last few hours. The Cabal pin, Lucky, the phantom headache. It was all real.
He saw her then. Elizabeth Keen. She was a vision of focused energy, her blonde hair tied back in a neat ponytail, her husky, a magnificent beast with soulful eyes, trotting along on a leash. She was on the phone, her voice low and efficient, a world away from the happy chaos of the park. She looked exhausted, even now, a month before the pilot.
He approached cautiously, keeping a friendly, open smile on his face. "Liz? Hey," he said.
She hung up, her gaze instantly alert, sharp. "Hey, Adam. Everything okay?"
"Just being a concerned neighbor," he said, the phrase feeling like a lie in his mouth. "Heard some things. D.C.'s a lot shadier than it looks."
He mentally moved his Observation Skill to his active slot. He needed to confirm his suspicions.
[SYSTEM: Observation Skill active. Host must now engage.]
He saw the flicker of curiosity in her eyes. It was a professional look, the FBI profiler in her analyzing his every word, his body language.
"What's your angle, Adam?" she asked, a subtle skepticism in her tone. Her husky, a beautiful animal, padded over to sniff at his legs.
He mentally engaged the skill. "Eyes open," he said, rubbing the dog's head. He knew the husky's name was Cooper. "Cabal's trouble, Liz."
Her eyes narrowed. She had no idea what he was talking about. Not yet. But the word, the way he said it, with a quiet confidence that belied his civilian appearance, had caught her attention.
He mentally willed the dog's tag into his vault.
[SYSTEM: Vault Storage: Dog Tag (0.02 kg). Capacity: 499.92 kg.]
He leaned down, and with a swift, subtle motion, the dog's tag vanished into his inventory. The dog didn't seem to notice, just wagged its tail happily. His head throbbed, the fatigue percentage from his earlier simulation jumping again.
"Dog's tougher than you," she said, a hint of a wry smile on her face. "Spill later. We have a meeting."
She tugged on the leash, the dog trotting after her. But before she left, she glanced back at him, her gaze lingering. She was confused, wary, but also… intrigued.
Adam's 'Cabal' hints aren't random. He's no neighbor, but his intel's sharp.
He had planted a seed of doubt. The Discovery Schematic had worked perfectly. He had found a new purpose, a new ally in Lucky, and had just made a potential friend and a target of suspicion in Liz. The three-headed snake pin from the simulation was in his inventory. It was his proof, his starting point. He had to figure out what it meant. And he had to do it before Reddington walked into the FBI and all hell broke loose.
The pin was his first clue. The Investigation Schematic was next.