Chapter 9: Bridging the Worlds: Initial Discussions
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: CURRENT TP: 500. SKILL: ENHANCED SUPER-SPEED (50-100 MPH), LIGHTNING CONTROL (MINOR), ADVANCED MARKSMANSHIP. INVENTORY: MARK II BOOT REPULSOR (PROTOTYPE).]
After my high-stakes, high-sarcasm encounter with Tony Stark, I decided it was time to dial things back a notch. My adrenaline levels were still buzzing like a particularly enthusiastic bumblebee trapped in a jar, and my brain felt like it had just run a marathon while simultaneously solving a Rubik's Cube. Dealing with Tony required a certain level of mental gymnastics, the rapid-fire wit, the calculated bluffs, the precise delivery of meta-knowledge. I needed a break. A very normal, very human break. Which, for me, meant more time with Kara. And a lot of quiet contemplation about how to gently introduce the idea of "other Earths" without sending her into a full-blown existential crisis or, worse, having her think I'd finally gone off the deep end.
"Okay, Adam, you've got a Mark II repulsor in your pocket and a nascent ability to shoot lightning from your fingertips. You just casually dropped a revolutionary energy blueprint on Tony Stark. How do you explain any of that to the girl who thinks your biggest secret is that you secretly enjoy reality TV? Carefully. Very, very carefully. And with just enough plausible deniability to retreat if she starts looking for the men in white coats."
My goal for the next few days was subtle revelation. Not a full-blown "I'm from another dimension and I have a cosmic trading system that looks suspiciously like a video game interface" confession, but planting seeds. Ideas. Theories. Things that would make the concept of parallel universes less like a fantastical comic book plot and more like… well, slightly more advanced, cutting-edge science. I needed to ease her into it, layer by layer, like adding ingredients to a very complex, multiversal cake.
I started small. Over dinner at her apartment (she made a surprisingly good lasagna, a true superheroic feat that rivaled her super-strength in my book), I steered the conversation towards the nature of reality. I chose my words carefully, weaving my meta-knowledge into casual philosophical musings.
"You know, I was reading this fascinating article the other day," I began, picking at my lasagna, trying to sound genuinely contemplative. "About quantum physics. And how some scientists believe that every decision we make, every alternate path we don't take, actually creates a whole new universe. Like, an infinite number of parallel realities, all branching off from every single choice."
Kara, who was usually quick to jump in with her own thoughts, her journalistic mind always curious, paused, a forkful of lasagna halfway to her mouth. Her brow furrowed slightly, a thoughtful look replacing her usual easy smile. "Really? Like, a parallel Earth where I chose to wear blue socks instead of red ones this morning? Or where I decided to become a veterinarian instead of a journalist?" she asked, a playful skepticism in her voice, but with an underlying current of genuine consideration.
"Exactly!" I said, leaning forward, trying to sound genuinely intrigued, not like I was reciting from a script I'd written in a blank cosmic void. "And not just socks. Think bigger. Universes where history took a different turn. Where different people became heroes. Where technology developed in wildly different ways. Where, perhaps, a version of you is secretly a rock star, or maybe even the President. The possibilities are, quite literally, endless." I watched her closely, gauging her reaction, looking for any signs of discomfort or outright dismissal. Her brow remained furrowed, but it was the furrow of deep thought, not disbelief.
"She's thinking. This is good. Not dismissing it outright. Just… pondering. Like a true journalist. Or an alien who's probably already had this conversation with her cousin. I mean, Kryptonians are probably well-versed in theoretical cosmology. They probably had a class on 'Interdimensional Etiquette for Beginners' back on their home planet. This is going better than expected."
"It's a pretty mind-bending concept," Kara admitted, finally taking a bite of her lasagna, her eyes still distant, lost in thought. "To think there are infinite versions of everything. It almost makes you feel… insignificant. Or, maybe, more connected. Knowing that every choice ripples out into an entire tapestry of possibilities."
"Both, I think," I agreed, echoing her sentiment. "And it raises some interesting questions, doesn't it? Like, if there are other Earths, what are they like? Do they have their own heroes? Their own problems? Their own versions of lasagna? And what if, just what if, there was a way to… glimpse them? Or even, theoretically, interact with them? To maybe learn from their successes, or even warn them about their failures." I tried to make it sound like a grand, philosophical musing, rather than a direct statement of my abilities.
Kara looked at me, a sharp, intelligent glint in her eyes. She wasn't just hearing me; she was listening. "Are you talking about interdimensional travel, Adam? Because that sounds like something out of a comic book. Or something Barry Allen would try to do on a Tuesday, accidentally creating a new timeline where everyone has goat heads."
"Bingo! She's making the connections! And she's already thinking of Barry, who is, conveniently, also a known interdimensional traveler. Perfect segway. She's already conditioned to this kind of weirdness. Thank you, Flashpoint!"
"Well, you know Barry," I chuckled, a genuine smile. "Always pushing the boundaries of physics. Always finding a way to accidentally introduce new threats. But yeah, something like that. I've been doing some… consulting work, actually. With some very brilliant, very eccentric scientists. And they're working on some pretty groundbreaking stuff. Theoretical, of course. For now. You wouldn't believe the theories they're cooking up in their labs. About energy, about space, about… well, everything."
The next day, I decided to give her a more tangible "hint." I brought out the Mark II Boot Repulsor from my inventory. I did it casually, while we were hanging out at my apartment, ostensibly "organizing" my ridiculously sparse belongings. It was perched innocuously on a shelf, glowing faintly.
"Oh, hey," I said, as if just remembering it, picking it up. "Check this out. One of the perks of my new 'consulting gig.' It's a prototype. From a very, very advanced project. They let me borrow it for a bit. Said it was for 'field testing,' but I think they just wanted to impress me." I held out the repulsor, its sleek design and faint hum a stark contrast to anything civilian.
Kara took it, her eyes widening as she examined the intricate design and the unfamiliar, almost seamless materials. Her Kryptonian senses probably picked up on its unique energy signature. "Whoa. What is this? It feels… incredibly powerful. And the craftsmanship is unlike anything I've seen. Is this… alien tech? It doesn't feel like anything from our planet."
"Close enough, Kara. Close enough. It's human, but from a different Earth. And a very, very smart human at that. Don't lie, just… withhold some details. That's the broker way."
"Not exactly alien," I hedged, choosing my words carefully. "More like… cutting-edge human. From a very, very smart human. Let's just say, he's a bit of a visionary. Thinks outside the box. Or, you know, outside the universe. Theoretically. His lab is… something else. Like a real-life sci-fi movie set." I let her play with it for a moment, letting her absorb its sheer technological superiority.
She looked from the repulsor to me, a thoughtful, almost concerned expression on her face. "So, your 'consulting gig' involves… interdimensional prototypes? Adam, what exactly do you do? And why haven't you told me about this before? It sounds… dangerous."
"Okay, she's getting warmer. Time to pivot to the 'it's all very top-secret and theoretical' defense, laced with just enough truth to make it believable."
"It's all very classified, Kara," I said, lowering my voice conspiratorially, as if sharing a deep secret. "But imagine a world where technology is so advanced, it almost seems like magic. Where problems that seem insurmountable here, might have elegant solutions there. My job is to… explore those possibilities. To see if we can bring some of that ingenuity back. For the greater good, of course. To help people. To, you know, give people like you more options when the next giant alien spaceship shows up. It's about preparedness." I paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "It's about making our world safer, by learning from others."
She handed the repulsor back, her smile returning, but with a lingering hint of concern in her eyes. "That sounds… incredible, Adam. Like something out of a dream. But also… dangerous. Are you sure you're safe? You're not getting yourself into trouble, are you?"
"As safe as anyone can be in a city that gets attacked by aliens on a weekly basis, and where giant robots are considered a minor inconvenience," I replied, a wry smile. "Don't worry. I'm careful. And I'm surprisingly good at getting out of trouble. It's a skill I've honed over many years. Mostly by accident, to be honest. It's like my superpower: avoiding getting caught in awkward situations. Well, mostly."
Beyond Kara, I also made sure to check in with Team Flash. I portaled to S.T.A.R. Labs a few times, always with a plausible excuse – "just passing through," "needed to borrow a charger," "wanted to see if Cisco had invented a new flavor of donut." During these visits, I'd casually drop some MCU-derived insights, framing them as theoretical breakthroughs or "hunches."
"Hey, Cisco," I said one afternoon, watching him tinker with a new metahuman dampener, his mind clearly focused on circuits and algorithms. "You know, I was thinking about those Chitauri invaders that attacked New York a few years back. Hypothetically, if they ever showed up here, their armor might have a structural weakness around the joints. Like, a specific vibrational frequency that could disrupt their energy shields. Or maybe a specific resonance that destabilizes their internal power source. Just a thought."
Cisco's head shot up, his eyes wide, his hands freezing mid-tinker. "The Chitauri? Dude, how do you even know about them? That was a classified incident in another city! And how would you know about their armor weaknesses? That's, like, top-level SHIELD intel! Are you, like, a secret agent? Or a psychic?"
"Just a hunch," I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, as if I just pulled the idea out of thin air. "Or maybe I saw it in a dream. My dreams are weird. Lots of purple aliens and guys with glowing hammers and sometimes a giant green rage monster. Anyway, just a thought. For future reference. You know, just in case. Always good to have contingencies, right?" I added, picking up a stray wrench and pretending to examine it.
Cisco immediately started scribbling notes on a nearby whiteboard, muttering about "vibrational frequencies" and "alien armor schematics" and "dream-based tactical advantages." Barry, who was listening in from his workstation, gave me a curious look, his super-speed senses probably picking up on my subtle nervousness.
"You have some very specific dreams, Adam," Barry commented, a slight smile playing on his lips, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "And a very convenient knack for knowing things no one else does. You sure you're not a metahuman? Maybe a 'Dream Oracle' or something?"
"Tell me about it," I sighed dramatically. "Last night, I dreamed I was fighting a giant purple grape with a golden glove. It was terrifying. And delicious. But hey, if my weird dreams can help save the world, I'm all for it. Just don't ask me to interpret them. I usually wake up needing more coffee."
They exchanged glances, clearly perplexed but also intrigued. I could see the wheels turning in their scientific minds, trying to find a logical explanation for my uncanny knowledge. I wasn't giving them direct answers, but I was providing valuable, actionable intelligence, couched in enough weirdness to make me seem eccentric, not omniscient. It was a delicate dance, but one I was slowly mastering. I was becoming their resident weird-but-useful guy.
Kara, meanwhile, was slowly becoming more accustomed to my "quirks." She still had questions, but her initial skepticism was giving way to a fascinated curiosity. She saw me as a genuinely good person, albeit one with a mysterious past and an uncanny knack for knowing things. This slow desensitization was crucial. I wasn't just building a relationship; I was laying the groundwork for a multiversal alliance, one conversation at a time, one subtle hint at a time. The emotional bond was strengthening, and with it, the foundation for something truly extraordinary.
"Alright, Adam. The seeds are planted. The Arrowverse is slowly getting used to the idea of a bigger pond. The groundwork for the ultimate team-up is being laid. Next up: consolidating my position and planning the ultimate team-up. This is where the real broker work begins. No more small talk. Time for big plans. And maybe a few more donuts. Hopefully, Barry hasn't eaten them all."