CHAPTER 7: Catching a Metahuman (and a Ride)
The news reports were unavoidable. Strange, localized weather phenomena popping up across Central City. Sudden, intense gusts of wind, small, isolated thunderstorms, even a brief, terrifying hailstorm that seemed to target only one specific car dealership. Clyde Mardon was back, and he was no longer just a petty thief with a knack for atmospheric pressure; he was a full-blown metahuman, angry and dangerous.
" See? Told you. And they called me crazy. Now who's the weather girl? Wait, that's not right. Who's the meteorological maestro? Better. " Adam was practically vibrating with a mix of anticipation and a healthy dose of morbid planning. He needed to get himself killed by Mardon again. This time, he'd aim for a more… controlled demise.
The team, now officially in crime-fighting mode, tracked Mardon to a farm on the outskirts of Central City, where he was creating a truly impressive, and terrifying, tornado. Barry, in his first (and very clunky) Flash suit, was eager to prove himself.
"Alright, Barry, remember the plan," Caitlin instructed, her voice tense over the comms. "Get in, stop him, get out. Avoid direct confrontation with the storm."
"And Barry," Adam's voice cut in, a mischievous tone evident. "If you see a really intense gust of wind heading straight for me, don't worry about it. It's part of the… experimental data collection. Seriously. Just focus on the tornado. I'll be fine. Probably."
Barry, mid-run, almost tripped. "Experimental data collection? Adam, what are you talking about?"
"Don't worry about it, Flash!" Adam chirped. "Just focus on the bad guy! I'm going to attempt a… distraction. A very, very vital distraction." He had positioned himself strategically, slightly away from the main team, but directly in Mardon's line of sight, if Mardon were to, say, unleash a burst of concentrated wind.
As Barry zoomed towards the farm, Adam started yelling at Mardon through a megaphone he'd mysteriously acquired. "Hey, Mardon! Nice hat! Did you get that from a discount Halloween store? Because it looks a little… drafty! Get it? Drafty? Because you control wind? It's a pun, you meteorological menace!"
Mardon, consumed by his rage and powers, snarled, his eyes glowing. He turned his attention from the nascent tornado to the annoying voice. "Who are you?! Get out of my way!"
"Oh, I'm just your friendly neighborhood critic!" Adam yelled back, gesturing dramatically. "And frankly, your special effects budget is a little low. I've seen better tornadoes in kindergarten art projects! You call that a storm? That's barely a stiff breeze!"
Mardon roared, his hand extended. A focused blast of wind, imbued with the raw, dark power of his metahuman abilities, slammed into Adam. It was like being hit by an invisible freight train. Adam gasped, the air knocked from his lungs, his body lifted and thrown violently against a nearby tractor. The world spun, pain blossomed in his chest, and he felt a sickening crunch as his ribs probably caved in.
" Well, that was effective. And painful. Not quite as graceful as last time, but beggars can't be choosers when it comes to getting killed. At least it wasn't a super-glue mist. That would have been embarrassing to explain. "
He heard Barry's frantic shout over the comms, a distant, horrified cry. "ADAM! NO!"
As consciousness faded, the last thing Adam saw was Mardon, his face contorted in a sneer of triumph, before the system messages flooded his mind.
[ SYSTEM MESSAGE: HOST DECEASED. SKILL ACQUISITION INITIATED. ACQUIRING: MINOR WIND CONTROL. ]
[ SYSTEM MESSAGE: REGENERATING... ]
Moments later, as Barry finally disarmed Mardon (with a little help from Cisco's quickly deployed sonic gadgetry), he sped back to where Adam had fallen. He skidded to a halt, his heart pounding. Adam was lying there, completely still, a horrifying stillness. Caitlin, arriving a moment later, dropped to her knees, her face pale.
"Adam! Adam, can you hear me?" she whispered, her fingers fumbling for a pulse that wasn't there.
Then, Adam coughed. A weak, theatrical cough. He opened his eyes, blinking slowly. "Wow. That was… surprisingly invigorating. A real blast. Literally." He pushed himself up, groaning, but otherwise seemingly unharmed. The dent in the tractor was a lot more impressive than his own injuries.
Caitlin gasped, stumbling back. Barry stared, his mouth agape. Cisco, running up, simply froze, his eyes wide.
"Adam! You're… you're alive!" Caitlin stammered, her voice a mix of shock and scientific awe. "But… how? You had no pulse! Your injuries…!"
Adam rubbed his chest, wincing slightly. "Yeah, about that. See, this is where my 'future insights' get a little… complicated. Think of it as a… very robust healing factor. Like Wolverine, but with more sarcasm and less adamantium claws. And also, I get a cool new party trick whenever I kick the bucket." He wiggled his fingers, and a faint gust of wind ruffled Caitlin's hair. "Minor wind control, baby! Who needs a fan when you've got me? Though, honestly, not exactly 'fly like a bird' level. More like 'annoy someone by blowing their papers off their desk' level. Still, progress!"
Barry, still reeling, could only manage, "You… you died? And then you just… came back?"
"Pretty much!" Adam beamed. "It's a long story, Flash. Involves a system, some very specific rules, and a whole lot of calculated risk-taking. But don't worry, it's all for the greater good. And for the occasional really, really good prank. Now, about Clyde Mardon… is he still gloating? Because I have a sudden urge to make his pants spontaneously combust. Or at least flap around him really annoyingly."
Cisco, recovering from his shock, looked at Adam with renewed awe. "Dude… that's… that's insane! You can't die?!"
"Not permanently to the same person, usually," Adam clarified, pulling himself to his feet. He brushed off his clothes, remarkably intact. "It's a bit of a process. And it's complicated. And it costs money. But hey, it means I can be your designated decoy. Or your human shield. Or just the guy who distracts the bad guy with bad jokes while you do the actual heroing. I'm a team player, really."
Wells, who had arrived on the scene, looked at Adam with an intense, unreadable gaze. "Indeed, Mr. Stiels. A most… unique asset. It seems your 'insights' are even more profound than you let on. We will need to discuss the full implications of your… condition."
Adam met his gaze, a challenge in his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure we will, Dr. Wells. I'm sure we will. Plenty of time for existential conversations about mortality and superpowers. But for now, I think we have a meteorologist to lock up. And I really need a sandwich. Being dead works up an appetite, apparently."