Chapter 6: The Fastest Man Alive
The air in the S.T.A.R. Labs cortex still hummed with the afterglow of victory, a faint scent of ozone clinging to the air like a celebratory perfume. Clyde Mardon was locked up, the city was safe (for now), and Barry Allen, Central City's very own blur, was finally starting to get a handle on his powers. He zipped around the cortex, a red streak of pure, unadulterated excitement, occasionally slamming into a wall or a piece of equipment with a surprised "Whoa!"
"Yeah, Barry, 'whoa' indeed," I thought, wincing as he nearly took out a rather expensive-looking oscilloscope. My own body felt like a sack of wet cement after the Adapt System's workout against Mardon's wind. Every muscle screamed, and my head throbbed with a dull ache. The system was amazing, a literal lifesaver, but it definitely came with a hefty invoice.
Cisco, of course, was in his element, practically vibrating with excitement. "Dude, you're like, a human lightning bolt! We should call you… The Streak! Or… The Blur! No, wait, I got it! The Flash!" He punctuated his declaration with a dramatic flourish, nearly smacking Caitlin in the face.
"Cisco, careful!" Caitlin chided, but there was a soft smile playing on her lips. She looked tired, but the worry lines around her eyes had softened considerably. She glanced at me, and our eyes met. A quiet, shared moment passed between us – a silent acknowledgment of the chaos we'd just survived, and the strange, exhilarating new path we were on.
"The Flash," I mused, pushing myself off the console I'd been leaning against. "Yeah, I like it. Short, punchy, iconic. Plus, it sounds way better on a newspaper headline than 'The Guy Who Runs Really Fast And Sometimes Knocks Over Trash Cans'."
Barry skidded to a halt beside me, a whirlwind of nervous energy. "So, what now? I mean, I can run really fast. That's… cool. But what do I do with it?"
Wells, ever the orchestrator, wheeled forward. "Now, Mr. Allen, we begin your training. We refine your abilities. We turn that raw power into a precise instrument." He looked at me. "And perhaps, Mr. Stiels, your… unique observational skills could be of assistance. Any 'hunches' on how to train a nascent speedster?"
Oh, you bet your time-traveling, manipulative butt I do, Thawne. "Well, Dr. Wells," I began, adopting my most thoughtful, 'just-thinking-out-loud' tone. "If I were trying to get a super-fast person to control their speed, I'd probably start with something that forces them to be precise. Like… a treadmill. A really, really fast treadmill. One that can simulate different environments. Like, say, a city street, or a… a cosmic landscape." I paused, letting that sink in. Cisco's eyes were already wide, his brain clearly whirring.
Wells raised an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. "A cosmic landscape, Mr. Stiels? An interesting suggestion. Perhaps we should look into developing a more robust training apparatus, Cisco."
"On it, Dr. Wells!" Cisco practically saluted. "A super-treadmill! This is going to be epic!"
While Cisco sketched furiously, Caitlin approached me, a medical scanner in her hand. "Are you sure you're okay, Adam? You looked… completely drained after Mardon. And that wind… it should have broken every bone in your body." She pressed the scanner to my arm, her brow furrowing at the readings. "Your bone density readings are fluctuating wildly. And your muscle fibers… it's like they were temporarily reinforced. It's truly baffling."
"Just a weird adrenaline thing, Doc," I said, forcing a casual shrug, though my body still felt like a bag of loose parts. "My body just… really doesn't like being blown away. Or, you know, being hit by giant metal rods. Turns out, I'm surprisingly stubborn. And sturdy. My mom always said I was a tough nut to crack." Please don't ask for a blood sample, please don't ask for a blood sample.
She sighed, pulling the scanner away. "Well, whatever it is, it's unlike anything I've ever seen. You're a medical marvel, Adam Stiels." Her voice was soft, laced with genuine concern. "Just… try not to put yourself in harm's way so often. You're not invincible."
"Oh, if only you knew, Doc. If only you knew." "I'll try," I promised, and for a moment, our eyes locked. The air thickened, charged with an unspoken current. It was more than just concern; it was a warmth, a connection that had been steadily growing between us. My heart did a little flutter-kick. Okay, Adam, don't simp. She's tired. You're tired. This is not the time for a rom-com moment.
Later that evening, after Barry had been sent home (with a stern warning from Wells about not running wild in the city), Caitlin and I were the last ones in the lab. The hum of the equipment was a comforting background noise. She was reviewing some data, and I was just… existing, trying to conserve energy.
"You know," she said, without looking up, "this isn't exactly what I signed up for. I wanted to advance science, find a cure for cancer, not… chase weather wizards."
"Yeah, well, life's funny that way," I replied, leaning back in my chair. "Sometimes, the universe throws you a curveball, and you just gotta swing. Besides, you're doing good, Caitlin. You're helping Barry. You're helping the city. That's pretty heroic, even if it's not in a textbook."
She finally looked at me, a small, tired smile on her face. "You always know what to say, Adam. It's… comforting."
"It's a gift," I said, a dry chuckle escaping me. "Comes from watching too many inspirational movies. Or maybe I just have a knack for stating the obvious."
We fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from shared experiences and a growing, unspoken understanding. The lab felt less like a workplace and more like a sanctuary. It was a fleeting moment of normalcy in a world that had suddenly gone insane. And in that quiet space, the unspoken question hung in the air: what was this between us? It wasn't just friendship anymore. It was something deeper, something nascent and fragile, but undeniably there.
Wells wheeled past the open doorway, his gaze sweeping over us. He paused for a fraction of a second, his expression unreadable, before continuing on his way. He sees it. He sees everything. Great. Now I have to worry about the Reverse-Flash playing matchmaker. Or, you know, just using it against me later.
"You know," Caitlin said, breaking the silence, "Dr. Wells mentioned something about a more formal role for you here. Said your 'intuition' was invaluable."
"Oh yeah?" I feigned surprise. "Guess I'm just that good. Or maybe he's just desperate for someone who can figure out Cisco's whiteboard scribbles."
She laughed, a genuine, melodic sound that warmed the sterile lab. "Probably both. But seriously, Adam. You're part of this now. You're part of… Team Flash."
Team Flash. Yeah. Sounds about right. Just hope I don't get fired for excessive sarcasm.