Chapter 16: An Echo in the Void
The System's unexpected notification still hummed in the back of my mind: Cosmic Empathy (LVL 1). It felt less like a new skill and more like a permanent, unsettling background noise. My previous powers were tools I wielded, extensions of my will. This… this was different. It was an intrusion, a blurring of lines. A faint, almost imperceptible echo of another person's emotional state, filtered through my own chaotic internal landscape. It was disconcerting.
"Great. Just what I needed. More feelings. As if two sets of catastrophic grief weren't enough, now I get to piggyback on someone else's mundane disappointments," I grumbled to myself, staring out the mansion window at the perfectly manicured lawn. The irony wasn't lost on me. I, a being of near-omnipotent reality-bending power, was complaining about feelings. The universe truly had a wicked sense of humor.
The initial surges were disorienting. A faint flicker of frustration, like a distant static on a radio, would momentarily wash over me. Then a subtle wave of weariness. And then, a sharper pang of self-doubt. It was always Kara. The Anchor Connection wasn't just a marker on a HUD anymore; it was a conduit. And it was terrifying.
My deepest fear wasn't just losing control of my powers and proving the 5th Dimension Imps right. It was failing to protect Kara. And now, this new ability felt like a direct threat to her, or rather, to her pure, unwavering hope. What if my own accumulated grief, my cynical meta-knowledge, my very being as a traumatized anomaly, bled into her through this empathic link? What if I corrupted her, even unknowingly? The thought sent a cold shiver down my spine.
I tried to isolate the feeling, to push it away, to filter it. It was like trying to scoop water with a sieve. The emotion would recede, only to surface again minutes later, a subtle undercurrent beneath my own thoughts.
The culprit for Kara's recent emotional echoes seemed to be Cat Grant. The news had reported on a particularly scathing editorial Cat had written about a rival media mogul, and apparently, Kara had been tasked with the impossible mission of tracking down an obscure, ancient proverb to justify Cat's cutting remarks. Mundane, yes. But for Kara, it was clearly a source of mounting frustration.
I felt it: a spike of annoyance, followed by a deeper sigh of inadequacy. Kara, the Girl of Steel, feeling inadequate over a proverb. It was almost endearing. Almost.
"Alright, Adam," I lectured myself, pacing my control room. "This isn't about you. This is about learning. About controlling. And about not accidentally turning your anchor into a nihilistic cynic who communicates solely through sarcasm." The Burden of Power had just gotten a whole lot heavier, weighted down by the invisible chains of emotional responsibility.
I sat in my chair, closing my eyes, trying to focus on the feeling. It was a faint, warm vibration, almost like a distant, sympathetic hum. I tried to mentally push back, to create a barrier. It worked, temporarily, but the effort was immense. It was like holding back a rising tide with my bare hands.
Meanwhile, the D.E.O. continued its relentless pursuit of "the Glitch." Alex Danvers, bless her methodical heart, was still trying to trap me using increasingly complex energy nets and frequency analyzers. I could almost hear her frustration from my mansion. Her methods were getting more sophisticated, her tracking algorithms more precise. They were like a very determined, very intelligent dog chasing an invisible laser pointer.
A news clip showed Alex at a press conference, looking tired but determined. "Our efforts to identify and categorize the anomalous entity, 'the Glitch,' are ongoing," she stated, her jaw tight. "While its actions have, thus far, been largely beneficial to Supergirl and National City, its very existence as an uncontrolled, inexplicable variable remains a significant concern."
"Uncontrolled variable. That's me, baby," I thought, a sardonic smile on my face. "Though if she only knew how uncontrolled this new empathy thing feels right now, she'd probably call in the big guns. Or a team of therapists."
The current wave of Kara's emotion hitting me was a mix of exasperation and a faint, underlying sadness. She couldn't find the proverb. Cat Grant was, predictably, being Cat Grant. And Kara was feeling the familiar sting of not being "enough."
It was a small thing, a mundane problem in a world of alien invasions. But the empathic echo made it real, immediate. It amplified my own buried insecurities, my own fears of inadequacy from my past life, and the trauma of Adam Stiels's life. This new connection wasn't just information; it was a shared vulnerability.
"Okay, System," I mentally commanded, a new determination setting in. "How do I control this? How do I filter? How do I make sure my baggage doesn't become her baggage?" The System remained silent, as usual. It never gave answers, only data.
This new facet of my power was a true test. It wasn't about strength or cleverness. It was about emotional control. About navigating the incredibly messy, unpredictable landscape of human (and Kryptonian) feelings. And that, for a cynical imp-hybrid with two sets of trauma, was the most daunting challenge yet.
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