Chapter 10: Plastique
The incident with Captain Cold had left me with a lingering chill that no amount of hot cocoa could entirely shake. Caitlin was still running tests on my blood samples, muttering about "thermodynamic impossibilities" and "unusual cellular resilience." I just tried to avoid her gaze when she had that particular "I'm going to figure out your secrets" look in her eye.
Then, Bette Sans Souci, aka Plastique, entered the picture.
"She can turn anything she touches into an explosive?" Barry exclaimed, his eyes wide as he watched a news report of a bus exploding after she touched it. "That's… terrifying."
"Yeah, Barry. And she's a victim, not a villain. Mostly. This is where the moral dilemmas start to get really messy." "It is," I agreed, my voice serious. "And she's not doing it on purpose. She's scared. She's a victim of the explosion, just like you. We need to approach her carefully. Non-lethally. And we need to convince her we're here to help, not hurt."
Wells, however, had a more pragmatic view. "She is a threat, Mr. Stiels. A highly unstable one. Containment is our priority."
"Containment, yes," I countered, looking at him. "But not elimination. She deserves a chance. We need to find a way to nullify her powers, not just blow her up." I subtly nudged Cisco. "Maybe something that can disrupt her bio-electric field? Or a frequency that can stabilize her molecular structure?"
Cisco, ever the enthusiastic inventor, was already on it. "Ooh, a bio-electric dampener! I like it!"
Barry, meanwhile, was grappling with the moral complexities. "She blew up a bus, Adam. How do we help someone who does that?"
"She didn't mean to, Barry," I explained, trying to channel my inner wise mentor. "Sometimes, powers are a curse, not a gift. Think about it. If you couldn't control your speed, and you accidentally caused damage, would you want someone to just… shoot you?"
My words seemed to resonate with him. He nodded slowly. "No. No, I wouldn't."
While the team worked on a containment strategy for Bette, I found myself increasingly drawn into Barry's personal life. He was clearly struggling with his feelings for Iris, constantly second-guessing himself.
"She's my best friend, Adam," he confessed one afternoon, pacing nervously in the cortex. "What if I tell her how I feel and it ruins everything?"
"Dude, you're Barry Allen. You're literally The Flash. You're going to marry her eventually. Just rip off the band-aid." "Barry, look," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Life's too short for 'what ifs.' Especially in this city. If you care about someone, you tell them. You don't wait for the perfect moment, because the perfect moment might never come. And if it ruins everything… then it wasn't meant to be. But at least you'll know. And you won't spend the rest of your life wondering."
He looked at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You're surprisingly good at this relationship stuff, Adam. Got a secret girlfriend I don't know about?"
I chuckled, a dry, self-deprecating sound. "Nah. Just… observed a lot of human behavior. And read a lot of bad rom-coms. They're surprisingly insightful."
Later, as we worked late into the night, fine-tuning Cisco's "bio-electric dampener," Caitlin and I found ourselves in a comfortable rhythm. Our hands brushed as we reached for the same tool, and a spark, almost literal, passed between us. We both froze for a split second, then quickly pulled away, a blush creeping up Caitlin's neck.
Cisco, oblivious as always, was humming to himself. "This dampener is going to be awesome! No more accidental explosions! Unless, you know, it explodes on its own. Which it won't. Probably."
Then, he paused, looking between Caitlin and me, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Hey, are you two ever not giving each other googly eyes? Seriously, it's like watching a really slow-motion rom-com. Just kiss already!"
Caitlin's blush deepened, and she stammered, "Cisco! We're… we're working!"
"Yeah, working on your mutual attraction," he retorted, winking.
I just rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. Damn it, Cisco. You're ruining my carefully cultivated 'just friends' facade. But also, thanks, buddy. You're the best wingman a transmigrated meta-human could ask for.
The tension, however, was undeniable. Later, after Bette Sans Souci was safely contained (thanks to Barry's compassion and Cisco's dampener), Caitlin and I were alone in the cortex, cleaning up. The city outside was quiet, finally.
"He's right, you know," Caitlin said softly, her back to me as she wiped down a console.
"Who? Cisco? About the dampener being awesome?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
She turned, her blue eyes meeting mine. "About us. About… the googly eyes."
My heart hammered in my chest. Okay, Adam. This is it. No more sarcasm. No more deflection. Just… be honest.
"Yeah," I said, my voice a little rougher than I intended. "He's right."
She took a step closer, her gaze unwavering. "Adam… I… I don't know what this is. With Ronnie… it was so clear. But with you… it's different. It's… new. And I'm scared."
"Me too," I admitted, taking a step towards her. "More than you know. But… maybe different isn't bad. Maybe different is… good."
We stood there, inches apart, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Her gaze dropped to my lips, and mine to hers. The moment stretched, pregnant with possibility. We leaned in, slowly, inexorably, drawn together by an invisible force.
Then, a sudden, piercing BEEP-BEEP-BEEP! from a console in the corner. An alert. A new metahuman sighting.
We both jumped apart as if shocked, our faces flushed.
"Oh, for crying out loud!" I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "Can't a guy get a moment's peace in this city?! Seriously, universe, your timing is terrible!"
Caitlin, flustered but with a small, embarrassed smile, hurried to the console. "New metahuman signature! Looks like… a strong one!"
Of course it is. Because the universe hates my love life. Or, you know, just wants to keep me on my toes. I sighed, but a small smile touched my lips. The moment was interrupted, but it wasn't gone. It was just… postponed. And the anticipation, now, was almost as good as the kiss itself. Almost.
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