Chapter 2: The Catalyst and the Consultant (Refined)

Chapter 2: The Catalyst and the Consultant (Refined)

The air in Central City was thick with an almost palpable buzz of anticipation. Not the good kind, like a concert or a holiday. More like the kind of buzz you get from a faulty electrical wire right before it sets your house on fire. Adam, having just had his consciousness forcibly relocated across dimensions, was acutely aware of the impending doom. He had roughly twenty-four hours until the Particle Accelerator decided to throw a city-wide tantrum. His first priority: secure his spot at ground zero. His secondary, equally vital priority: make sure Clyde Mardon was the one holding the cosmic frying pan.

He pulled out the burner phone again, the one he'd used in his previous, non-transmigrated life. Good thing the system apparently comes with a universal data plan and a knack for seamless integration. Or maybe it's just my Minor Luck Manipulation kicking in. Probably both. He typed out the email to Harrison Wells, making sure it was just cryptic enough to pique Thawne's interest, but not so specific as to make him suspicious enough to, say, vaporize Adam on sight.

To: h.wells@starlabs.com Subject: Anomaly Detected. Future Echo.

Dr. Wells, My apologies for this unconventional communication. My name is Adam Stiels. I possess... unique insights into anomalous energy signatures and temporal distortions, particularly those converging on Central City in the coming days. Specifically, anomalies related to a significant upcoming scientific event at your facility. My data suggests a deviation from predicted timelines. I believe a brief consultation could prove mutually beneficial, especially concerning the stability of... certain timelines.

P.S. You're going to need more coffee. A lot more. And maybe some industrial-strength earplugs. Just a friendly heads-up.

He hit send, then tossed the phone into a public trash can. No digital footprints, no lingering trails. He hummed a little tune, feeling a surge of mischievous glee. This was the fun part. The setting of the trap. The intricate dance of manipulation. He was practically a puppet master, only the puppet was a super-genius villain from the future, and the strings were made of vague warnings and sarcastic commentary.

Less than an hour later, his main phone rang. Unknown number. He answered with a casual, "Stiels here. You called? Because if this is about my car's extended warranty, I'm going to be very disappointed. I don't even have a car."

"Mr. Stiels," a voice, smooth as silk yet laced with an undeniable undercurrent of authority, flowed through the phone. Harrison Wells. "This is Dr. Harrison Wells. Your email… it was most intriguing. Alarmingly specific, in fact. What exactly do you mean by 'deviations from predicted timelines'?" Wells's voice was measured, a careful probe, like a surgeon testing for a tumor.

"Oh, just a little something I picked up from a... well, let's call it a highly theoretical 'neural network' that occasionally gets glimpses of tomorrow's weather, if tomorrow's weather involved, say, a giant, city-destroying explosion and a whole lot of weird science," Adam drawled, leaning against a lamppost with an exaggerated sigh. "Look, Dr. Wells, I know you're a busy man, probably perfecting your evil laugh or something equally productive. But I have information that could save you a lot of trouble, a lot of lawsuits, and potentially, a lot of… everything. I just need to be in the room where it happens. Metaphorically speaking. Or, you know, literally speaking, if that's easier. I'm not picky."

There was a beat of silence on the other end, a pause that spoke volumes of Wells's internal processing. Adam could almost feel Thawne's mind racing, calculating the risk, the reward, the sheer audacity of this unexpected variable. He's probably thinking, 'Is this guy a threat? A rival? Or just a very annoying, very lucky idiot?' I'm going for 'very annoying, very lucky idiot with a secret agenda.' It's a classic.

"And why would you share this 'information'?" Wells finally asked, his voice now colder, sharper, a hint of steel beneath the velvet. "What is your price, Mr. Stiels? Because information of this nature always comes with a cost."

"My price?" Adam scoffed, pushing off the lamppost. "Well, first, a decent coffee. Seriously, your Jitters stuff is atrocious. It's like they brew it with regret. Second, a ringside seat to the biggest scientific event of the decade. I hear it's going to be quite the light show. And third, maybe, just maybe, a chance to stop some seriously bad stuff from happening. Think of me as a… consultant. A slightly unhinged, morally flexible, incredibly handsome consultant with a knack for predicting disasters. You get the brains, I get the view. Win-win. And I promise not to touch anything important. Much."

The nerve of this guy, Thawne must be thinking. He's either incredibly stupid or incredibly dangerous. Or both. Probably both. Adam grinned. He loved playing the chaotic element. He was a glitch in Thawne's meticulously planned matrix, and that was just delightful.

"Very well, Mr. Stiels," Wells said, his voice now tinged with a grudging curiosity, a hint of a challenge. "Be at S.T.A.R. Labs by 5 PM. Security will be informed. And do try to avoid any… 'unhinged' behavior inside the facility. My team is already under enough pressure."

"No promises, Doc," Adam chirped, then hung up, a triumphant smirk on his face. Step one: infiltration. Complete.

He arrived at S.T.A.R. Labs precisely at 5 PM. The security guard, a hulking man named Tony, eyed him with suspicion, but a quick call confirmed Wells's authorization. "Fine, weirdo. But no touching anything," Tony grunted, waving him through. Ah, Tony. Good to know some things are consistent across timelines. Still grumpy.

The main atrium was buzzing with anticipation. Scientists scurried about, a palpable energy filling the air. Adam found a quiet corner near a large, reinforced window, giving him a good view of the particle accelerator's core. He saw Caitlin Snow and Cisco Ramon bustling around, their youthful enthusiasm evident, oblivious to the coming disaster. Caitlin, with her neat ponytail and serious expression, looked like she was already carrying the weight of the world. Cisco, vibrating with excitement, was probably already naming future metahumans in his head. He felt a pang of protectiveness. Soon, guys. Soon your lives get a lot more interesting. And a lot more tragic. But hey, I'm here to try and make it less tragic. Mostly. And maybe get some cool powers in the process. Selfish? Perhaps. Effective? Absolutely.

He scanned the faces around him, specifically looking for the lanky, disheveled figure of Clyde Mardon. Bingo. The criminal-to-be was working as a technician, checking some wiring near one of the accelerator conduits, muttering to himself. Adam subtly maneuvered himself closer, maintaining a casual distance. He needed to be near Mardon, but not too near. A direct hit from the lightning was preferable to being vaporized by the core. He had a specific skill in mind, and that required a specific killer.

The countdown began. 10… 9… 8…

Adam felt a strange sense of calm. This was it. The moment everything changed. For the Arrowverse, and for him. He imagined the lightning striking, the power surge, Mardon's nascent metahuman ability flaring, the brief, agonizing pain of death, and then… the glorious, ting of the system.

This is going to hurt like hell, probably. But hey, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do for super speed, a killer ice queen, and a best friend who can fly. Priorities, people. Priorities. And if I get to confuse Wells in the process, that's just a bonus.

7… 6… 5…

A faint rumble started, growing louder, vibrating through the floor. The lights flickered. On the main monitor, the energy readings spiked, higher and higher.

4… 3… 2…

A high-pitched whine filled the air, escalating to an unbearable screech. The very air around them seemed to crackle with raw, untamed energy. Adam saw Clyde Mardon, just a few yards away, stumble, a look of confusion, then terror, on his face. He was clearly feeling the energy, the nascent power stirring within him.

1…

And then, the world exploded. Not with a bang, but with an overwhelming, silent rush of blinding white light, followed by a concussive force that slammed Adam against the reinforced window. He felt a searing pain, a sharp, violent electricity that coursed through every nerve ending. He saw Clyde Mardon, his eyes wide with a strange, nascent power, flail as a bolt of raw, red lightning, infused with the chaotic energy of the accelerator, erupted from his hands. It wasn't aimed. It was a primal, uncontrolled discharge, a desperate reaction to the overwhelming power.

And it hit Adam. Directly.

The last thing he felt was the agonizing, burning sensation as his nervous system overloaded, his muscles seizing, his heart exploding. He tasted ozone and the metallic tang of blood. Darkness. Silence.

Well, that sucked. Seriously, not a fan of the whole 'electrocuted to death' thing. Hope I got that skill. And a decent resurrection. Because if this is permanent, I'm going to be seriously ticked off. No Killer Frost. No Supergirl. Just… oblivion. That'd be a cosmic prank on me, wouldn't it? And I hate being the butt of the joke.

Then, a faint, metallic ting echoed in the darkness.

[SYSTEM ALERT: HOST DEATH – CONFIRMED. KILLER: CLYDE MARDON. SKILL ACQUIRED: ATMOSPHERIC PRESSURE MANIPULATION (MINOR). DEATH COUNT: 1/20 FOR UPGRADE 1. REVIVAL PROTOCOL – INITIATING.]

YES! Take that, oblivion! Who's the cosmic prankster now? Atmospheric Pressure Manipulation! Not exactly flight, but I can probably make people's hair stand on end. Or make it rain inside. The possibilities for pranks are endless!

Adam's eyes snapped open. He gasped, a ragged, desperate breath filling his lungs. He was on the floor of S.T.A.R. Labs, amidst rubble and flickering emergency lights. Pain, a dull ache, lingered everywhere, but he was alive. He pushed himself up, his limbs shaky. He looked around. Chaos. Panic. Screams. The particle accelerator still glowed, a malevolent sun.

He saw Clyde Mardon, lying unconscious nearby, a faint, dark electrical discharge flickering around him. Gotcha, you weather-controlling fiend. And thanks for the skill. Much appreciated. No hard feelings. Mostly. Just don't try to kill me again, because that would be awkward for both of us.

He heard muffled groans, and saw Caitlin Snow struggling to push rubble off Cisco Ramon. Caitlin, her face smudged with soot, looked utterly terrified, her eyes wide with a grief that hadn't fully set in yet. Cisco was groaning, but seemed mostly intact. He saw Dr. Wells, crumpled in his wheelchair, looking strangely… calm. Too calm. A calculating glint in his eyes, even in the dim emergency lighting.

Showtime.

Adam stumbled towards Caitlin and Cisco, forcing a pained grimace. "Well, that escalated quickly," he wheezed, collapsing near them with an exaggerated sigh. "Anyone else feel like they just got hit by a bus driven by a lightning bolt? Because I'm pretty sure I just did. Twice. And I'm pretty sure the bus driver was a cloud. A very angry cloud." He caught Caitlin's wide, horrified eyes, full of shock and confusion. "And for the record, this 'Particle Accelerator' thing? Zero out of ten. Do not recommend. Might want to put that on the warning label, Doc. Seriously, the safety briefing was severely lacking."

He winked, a flicker of his normal sarcastic self, before feigning another groan. Caitlin, despite the trauma, looked at him with a mixture of bewilderment and… something else. Curiosity? Confusion? Definitely confusion. Her brow furrowed, a tiny crease forming between her eyebrows, as if trying to reconcile the impossible.