Chapter 2: First Steps in National City
Getting discharged from the hospital was surprisingly easy, a testament to either Adam's newfound charisma or the sheer terror he'd instilled in the nursing staff. He'd spun a tale about a rare, self-correcting cardiac anomaly, peppered with enough medical-sounding jargon he'd picked up from a marathon of House M.D. to sound vaguely plausible. The doctor, a harried-looking man with perpetually tired eyes, seemed more interested in getting him out than understanding how a flatlined patient was now cracking jokes about the hospital food.
"Must be the miracle of modern medicine," Adam had said with a wink, already plotting his escape. "Or maybe I'm just really good at playing dead."
Once outside, the crisp autumn air of National City hit him, a stark contrast to the sterile hospital. The sunlight felt different here, brighter, almost… heroic. He took a deep breath, savoring the scent of exhaust fumes mixed with something vaguely floral. This was it. No turning back.
First order of business: survival. Which, in this reality, meant a place to crash and a steady income. His meta-knowledge, a buzzing, encyclopedic database in his brain, immediately pointed him towards CatCo Worldwide Media. Not just because it was a major hub, but because it was Kara's stomping ground. Proximity, as any good strategist knew, was key.
He spent the first few hours just walking, absorbing the city. The architecture was a blend of modern glass towers and older, brick-faced buildings. People bustled past, some with their faces glued to their phones, others chatting animatedly. He saw a few kids wearing hastily made Supergirl capes, running through a park. A small smile touched his lips. "Yeah, this is definitely it."
He passed a newsstand, the headlines screaming about the "National City Miracle" and "Supergirl: Our New Protector." He even saw a tourist, looking utterly bewildered, staring at a map upside down.
"Lost, friend?" Adam asked, his voice friendly, a touch of his natural sarcasm softening the edges.
The tourist, a middle-aged woman with a floral fanny pack, jumped. "Oh! Yes! I'm trying to find… the gift shop. My granddaughter just has to have a Supergirl doll."
Adam's internal meta-knowledge pinged. "Ah, the Supergirl merchandise stand. Conveniently located near the plane crash site for maximum emotional impact and capitalist exploitation." He grinned. "You're in luck. Just two blocks down, take a left at the giant coffee cup billboard, and you'll see it. They've got everything from capes to coffee mugs. Tell them Adam sent you." He winked.
The woman blinked, then smiled gratefully. "Oh, thank you! Adam, was it? You're a lifesaver!"
"Just doing my part, ma'am," he replied, already walking away, a spring in his step. "Subtle influence, check. Future fan, check. My work here is done."
He found CatCo, a gleaming monolith of glass and steel. Inside, the lobby was a hive of activity, people hurrying with tablets and coffees. He approached the reception desk, a charming smile already in place.
"Hi there," he said to the impeccably dressed receptionist, whose name, his meta-knowledge informed him, was Eve. "Poor Eve. She's got a lot of drama coming her way." "I'm here about the administrative assistant position. Saw it online."
Eve raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Do you have an appointment?"
"Not officially," Adam admitted, leaning slightly over the desk, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "But I have a feeling I'm exactly what CatCo needs. I'm a wizard with spreadsheets, a ninja with scheduling, and I can make a mean cup of coffee. Plus, I have this uncanny ability to predict when the printer's about to jam." He paused, then added, "It's a gift. Or a curse, depending on how much you like paper jams."
Eve, against her better judgment, found herself suppressing a smile. There was something disarmingly charming about him, despite his utter lack of professionalism. "I'll see if Ms. Grant's assistant is available. What was your name again?"
"Adam Stiels," he said, extending a hand. "And trust me, you'll want to remember it. I'm going to be the reason your coffee machine never runs out of beans."
He landed the interview, and then, to his own amusement, the job. It was a low-level gig, mostly data entry and IT support, but it was a foot in the door. And more importantly, it was a foot in CatCo.
His first day was a blur of new faces, endless paperwork, and surprisingly complex coffee orders. He navigated the internal systems with ease, his meta-knowledge providing shortcuts and solutions that made him look like a tech prodigy. He'd even managed to fix a particularly stubborn network issue that had stumped the IT department for days, claiming he "just had a feeling about the firewall settings."
As the day wound down, he found himself in the breakroom, attempting to decipher the cryptic instructions on the coffee machine. He heard a soft sigh behind him.
"Rough day?" a voice asked, gentle and a little tired.
Adam turned. And there she was. Kara Danvers. Glasses slightly askew, hair a little frizzy, holding a half-empty mug. She looked exactly like her canon counterpart, earnest and sweet, with that underlying current of immense power.
"This is it," Adam thought, a strange mix of fanboy giddiness and genuine nervousness bubbling up. "Game on."
"You could say that," Adam replied, trying to keep his voice casual, not like he was talking to a literal superhero. "This coffee machine, though. It's a supervillain in disguise. I swear it's trying to flatline me." He gestured dramatically at the machine.
Kara chuckled, a soft, melodic sound. "It takes some getting used to. Cat has very specific requirements." She paused, then extended a hand. "I don't think we've met. I'm Kara. Kara Danvers."
Adam took her hand. Her grip was surprisingly firm, yet gentle. He felt a faint hum, a resonance he hadn't noticed before, a subtle energy that spoke of immense power barely contained. He had to resist the urge to blurt out, "Oh my god, you're Supergirl!"
"Adam Stiels," he said, giving her his most charming, slightly awkward smile. "New guy in administrative support. Trying to make sense of this… organized chaos." He gestured vaguely around the breakroom. "And you, I assume, are the reason this place functions? Or at least, the reason Cat Grant doesn't spontaneously combust?"
Kara laughed again, a genuine, uninhibited sound that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Something like that. Mostly I just try to keep up." She glanced at his coffee mug. "You know, if you're having trouble with the machine, I could show you the secret to a perfect latte. It's all about the foam-to-milk ratio."
"Oh, a secret technique, huh?" Adam raised an eyebrow playfully. "Sounds like something only a superhero would know. Or someone who's had way too much coffee."
Kara's smile faltered for a split second, a flicker of self-consciousness in her eyes. Adam mentally cringed. "Too close, Adam. Dial it back, you nerd."
"Just a lot of practice," she said, quickly recovering. "Cat's very particular."
"Right, Cat," Adam said, nodding sagely. "The woman who probably drinks coffee brewed from the tears of her enemies. I get it." He paused, then leaned in slightly, a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, your coffee order, though? I overheard it earlier. Double shot, extra foam, just a hint of vanilla. Very… optimistic. I like that."
Kara blinked, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. "You… you remembered that?"
"I have a knack for details," Adam said with a shrug, trying to look nonchalant, as if he hadn't just used his meta-knowledge to recall her exact coffee preference from a fleeting mention in the pilot episode. "And good coffee is a detail worth remembering."
A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the hum of the fluorescent lights. Kara was still smiling, a soft, genuine smile. Adam felt a strange warmth spread through him, not from the coffee, but from the simple connection. This was it. The first step. The beginning of something new. And hopefully, something awesome.
"Just don't screw it up, Adam," he told himself. "No pressure. Just the fate of the Arrowverse, a budding romance with an alien, and your own eternal youth on the line."
He cleared his throat. "So, about that perfect latte? I'm all ears. My taste buds are ready for their heroic origin story."
Kara chuckled, and the tension, if there ever was any, melted away. "Alright, come on. It's a closely guarded secret, but for you, I'll make an exception."
As she showed him the intricacies of the coffee machine, Adam felt a strange sense of belonging. This wasn't just a new reality; it was a new life. And it was starting with coffee, a superhero, and a sarcastic quip. Perfect.