Chapter 5: Fight or Flight, and a Shared Secret
The air at CatCo was thick with tension. A disgruntled former employee, disgruntled enough to apparently weaponize office supplies, was causing chaos, and Kara was caught in the middle. But it wasn't just the physical threat that hung heavy; it was the emotional one. James Olsen, the handsome, earnest photographer, was wrestling with his own demons, specifically the gargantuan shadow cast by his best friend, Superman.
Adam found James staring out the window, a camera clutched in his hand, his brow furrowed. He looked like a puppy who'd just been told he couldn't play fetch with a kryptonite ball.
"Rough day, Jimmy?" Adam asked, leaning against the window frame. "Looks like someone needs a hug. Or a really good therapist. Or maybe just a better camera angle on the chaos."
James sighed, running a hand over his face. "It's… I just feel useless, Adam. Supergirl is out there, risking her life, and I'm… I'm just taking pictures. Like I always have. Always in the background. Always the sidekick." His voice was low, laced with a frustration that was almost palpable.
Adam nodded, understanding. He knew James's canon arc, his desire to be more, to be Guardian. This was the fertile ground for that growth. "Look, James," Adam said, his voice softer than usual, but still with that underlying dry wit. "I get it. Everyone wants to be the hero with the cape and the laser eyes. But you know what? Supergirl needs a good photographer. Someone to capture her good side, because let's be honest, fighting aliens can be a little… unflattering."
James actually cracked a small smile. "Thanks, Adam. That actually helps."
"See?" Adam continued, nudging him playfully. "It's all about perspective. And besides, you don't need powers to be a hero, James. Seriously. You just need a good heart, a cool camera, and maybe a really good insurance policy. Because let's be real, this city is a magnet for property damage. And if you're going to be running into burning buildings for a good shot, you might want to make sure your dental plan covers alien-induced trauma."
James laughed, a genuine, unforced sound. "You always know how to put things in perspective."
"It's a gift," Adam said with a wink. "Or a coping mechanism. Still deciding." He clapped James on the shoulder. "Now, go get that shot, Jimmy. Show them what a hero without a cape can do. Just, you know, try not to get incinerated. Supergirl needs her fan club president."
As if on cue, a sudden tremor shook the building. A loud CRACK echoed from above, and a section of the ceiling, weakened by the earlier skirmishes, began to buckle. A large piece of concrete, jagged and heavy, detached itself and plummeted directly towards a group of panicked employees huddled near the elevators.
Adam's mind, usually buzzing with meta-knowledge, went silent for a split second, replaced by a single, urgent command from his system.
[ADAPT SYSTEM: Host in danger. Threat: Falling debris (concrete). Adaptation: Doubled structural integrity and impact resistance.]
It was instantaneous. Before his conscious mind could even register the danger, his body moved. He lunged forward, a blur of motion, shoving the nearest civilian out of the way with surprising force. The concrete slab, massive and unforgiving, slammed directly into his outstretched arm.
A dull thud. A sickening crunch, not of bone, but of concrete. The impact reverberated through him, a deep, resonant vibration that should have shattered every bone in his arm. But it didn't. He felt a strange, momentary hardening of his skin, like his very cells had turned into titanium. The concrete, instead of crushing him, simply cracked, a spiderweb of fissures spreading across its surface before it broke into smaller, harmless pieces that scattered around his feet.
Adam stumbled back, feigning surprise, rubbing his arm. "Whoa! Seriously? This building needs a serious inspection. And maybe some better contractors." He looked at the civilian he'd pushed, a young woman with wide, terrified eyes. "You okay?"
She nodded, speechless, pointing at his arm. "Your… your arm! It just… the concrete…"
Adam glanced down. His arm looked perfectly fine. Not even a bruise. The temporary hardening had faded as quickly as it came, leaving no trace. He shrugged, forcing a casual smile. "Must be all those protein shakes. Good thing I'm feeling extra durable today." He quickly checked on the other employees, making sure they were safe.
Kara, who had been dealing with another part of the chaos, had seen the falling debris and Adam's sudden lunge. Her super-hearing had picked up the strange, almost metallic thud when the concrete hit him, a sound that didn't quite match what should have happened. She saw him rub his arm, then casually dismiss it. A flicker of confusion, then a deeper intrigue, crossed her face.
Later, when the immediate threat was neutralized and the building secured, Kara found Adam by the coffee machine, attempting to make another latte.
"Adam," she said, her voice quiet. "What happened back there? With the ceiling?"
Adam looked up, feigning a sigh. "Oh, that? Just another Tuesday. You know, falling debris, panicked crowds, the usual. Good thing I have lightning-fast reflexes. And a healthy fear of concussions."
Kara leaned against the counter, studying him. "It looked like… the concrete just broke. On your arm."
Adam chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, you must have seen it wrong. Probably just bounced off the… the sheer force of my awesomeness. Or maybe it was a dud piece of concrete. You know, quality control issues. Happens all the time." He winked.
Kara didn't laugh. Her gaze was intense, searching. "Adam, are you… are you okay? You seem to be in the right place at the right time a lot. And you always seem to know things. And now… this."
Adam met her gaze, a seriousness in his eyes that was rare for him. "She's getting closer," he thought. "Too close to the truth, maybe. But not the whole truth. Not yet." He knew he couldn't reveal everything, not now. But he could offer a glimpse, a shared vulnerability.
"Kara," he said, his voice dropping to a low, confiding tone. "This city… it's a lot. And sometimes, you just have to be ready for anything. I just… I try to help where I can. And sometimes, things just… happen. Lucky accidents, I guess." He offered a small, self-deprecating smile. "It's a bit of a secret, okay? Just between us."
Kara looked at him, her expression softening. She saw the sincerity in his eyes, the quiet plea for understanding. She didn't know how he knew things, or how he'd shrugged off a piece of concrete, but she knew he was genuine. She knew he cared.
"He's not like anyone else," she thought. "He's… different. But in a good way. He's always there, always supportive, always making me laugh. And he sees me, not just Supergirl."
"Okay," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "Our secret." She reached out, gently touching his arm, the one that had just stopped a concrete slab. "Thanks, Adam. For… everything."
Adam felt a warmth spread through him, a deeper connection forging between them. This wasn't just about meta-knowledge or superpowers. This was about trust. And that, he realized, was a superpower all its own.
He later found a moment to sneak over to James Olsen's desk. He pulled out a sticky note and, with a flourish, drew a tiny, slightly lopsided cape. He stuck it to James's monitor, right next to his camera. "Don't forget to wear your cape, Jimmy! (Figuratively, of course.)" he wrote, signing it with a flourish. "He'll get it," Adam thought, a satisfied smirk on his face. "He's got the heart of a hero. The cape is just a matter of time."