The Flash : Please Kill Me (Complete Remake)

Chapter 6: The Bolt Strikes –(REMAKE)

The air crackled, not just with the distant rumble of the Particle Accelerator, but with an almost palpable sense of inevitability. Adam Stiels stood on a rooftop overlooking Central City, a half-eaten hotdog in one hand, his eyes glued to the S.T.A.R. Labs building. It was 2014, two years since he'd face-planted into this reality, two years of meticulously building a financial cushion (mostly through "finding" forgotten lottery tickets and "investing" in companies he knew would boom). Two years of strategically dying to minor threats – a particularly aggressive pigeon for "Enhanced Pigeon Avoidance," a rogue skateboarder for "Basic Balance," a truly unfortunate encounter with a leaky faucet for "Minor Water Resistance." Don't ask. The point was, he was ready.

"This is it," he muttered around a mouthful of hotdog, crumbs scattering in the evening breeze. "The big bang. The moment everything goes sideways. And I'm here, with a front-row seat. Just like I always wanted. Except, you know, with less dying. For now."

A blinding flash of light erupted from S.T.A.R. Labs, painting the sky in hues of impossible yellow and blue. A shockwave hit, rattling the rooftop and nearly knocking Adam off his feet. He braced himself, feeling the familiar hum of raw, untamed energy washing over the city. This wasn't just a power surge; this was the universe hitting the reset button, and he was smack dab in the middle of the reboot.

"Holy. Crap," he breathed, a genuine, unadulterated awe replacing his usual sarcasm. "It's even more impressive in person. And way louder."

The chaos that followed was immediate and absolute. Sirens wailed, car alarms shrieked, and the distant screams of panicked civilians filled the air. Buildings flickered, lights exploded, and the very ground seemed to tremble. Adam, however, felt an odd sense of calm. He knew this script. He knew the players. And he knew exactly where he needed to be.

He used his "Urban Navigation" skill, a delightful little perk he'd picked up from a particularly aggressive cab driver (don't ask about that death either), to weave through the rapidly forming gridlock. His "Basic Enhanced Reflexes" (from his very first, accidental death) kept him from tripping over debris or getting trampled by the fleeing masses. He was a ghost in the chaos, heading straight for the epicenter, not to gawk, but to… consult.

His target: Joe West. The moral compass of Central City, Barry's surrogate father, and the man who would soon be very, very confused by the sudden influx of super-powered individuals. Adam needed to get on Joe's radar, subtly, without screaming "I'm from the future and I know everything!" because that usually ended with a one-way ticket to a padded room.

He found Joe amidst the wreckage near a collapsed building, barking orders into a crackling police radio, his face grim. People were trapped, injured. It was a mess. Adam took a deep breath, mentally preparing his opening line. It had to be just the right blend of helpful and slightly off-kilter.

He spotted a woman pinned under a large piece of concrete, her cries muffled. Firefighters were struggling to move the debris. Adam, with his "Minor Strength Augmentation" (a surprisingly useful skill gained from a weightlifter who accidentally dropped a barbell on him, long story), knew he could help. But he couldn't just lift it. That would be too much.

Instead, he moved quickly, his "Enhanced Observation" kicking in. He saw a loose rebar, a precarious angle. He "accidentally" kicked a small, strategically placed rock, causing the rebar to shift just enough to create a small, crucial gap.

"Hey!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the din. "If you push there," he pointed vaguely, "the weight might shift enough for her to slip out!"

Joe, mid-sentence on his radio, looked up, a bewildered frown on his face. "Who are you?"

"Adam Stiels," he said, offering a charming, if slightly breathless, smile. "Just a concerned citizen. And a really good observer. See? She's almost out!"

Indeed, with the rebar shifted, the firefighters managed to free the woman. Joe watched, his eyes narrowed, as Adam then pointed to a flickering power line that was about to arc dangerously close to a rescue worker. "Uh, live wire, three o'clock! Might want to get that before it decides to go all 'electric boogaloo' on someone."

Joe's eyes followed Adam's gaze, and sure enough, sparks flew. He barked an order, and the line was secured. He turned back to Adam, a mixture of suspicion and grudging appreciation on his face.

"You seem to know a lot about… disasters," Joe said, crossing his arms.

"Comes with living in a city that apparently decided to become a disaster magnet," Adam quipped, shrugging. "Plus, I watch a lot of documentaries. And I have a knack for spotting things. Call it… enhanced common sense."

Joe gave a skeptical grunt. "Enhanced common sense, huh? Look, kid, I appreciate the help, but this is a crime scene. And a disaster zone. You should probably head home."

"Oh, I would," Adam said, already walking alongside Joe as the detective moved to another area. "But my apartment building just lost its roof. And half its walls. So, technically, I'm homeless. And surprisingly good in a crisis. I mean, who else is going to point out the obvious death traps while also making mildly inappropriate jokes?"

Joe stopped, turning fully to face Adam, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "You're serious?"

"As a heart attack," Adam replied, trying to look appropriately distraught about his non-existent apartment. "But don't worry, I'm surprisingly resilient. And I'm pretty sure I could tell you exactly where that next gas leak is going to happen, just based on the way the wind's blowing and the color of that smoke plume. Or, you know, because I saw it in a documentary."

Joe stared at him for a long moment, then let out a weary sigh. "Alright, 'Mr. Enhanced Common Sense.' You stick with me. But one wrong move, one joke too many, and I'm putting you on clean-up duty for the next month. Got it?"

"Got it, Detective West!" Adam chirped, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "Consider me your newest, most unsolicited, and probably most annoying CSI consultant. Though I prefer 'Disaster Whisperer.' Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Joe just shook his head, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. Adam knew he was in. The first step was complete. Now, to wait for Barry to wake up. And try not to die from sheer excitement. Or, you know, a stray piece of falling debris. He still only had three lives per killer, and he hadn't even met a proper supervillain yet. This was going to be fun. And probably painful. Mostly painful.

" Okay, Adam, you're in. Joe's suspicious, but he's also desperate. Classic cop move. Now, just gotta play the long game. Don't reveal too much. Don't act too smart. And definitely don't mention the future. Or the fact that you died from a goose last week. That would definitely ruin the 'Disaster Whisperer' vibe."