Arrowverse: I'm a Hero

Chapter 3: Penthouse Views and Plotting for Perfection

[ SYSTEM MESSAGE: Adam Stiels' Personal Finance Status: Healthy. Very healthy. Congratulations, you're officially the richest transmigrated fanboy in the Arrowverse. Don't spend it all on novelty Batarangs. Or do. Your choice. We're just here to observe. Mostly. ]

Adam Stiels surveyed his new domain: a penthouse apartment that screamed "I'm either a ridiculously successful tech mogul, a trust fund baby, or I just won the cosmic lottery and decided to splurge." It had floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking, 270-degree view of National City. From up here, the bustling streets looked like a miniature diorama, and the distant shimmer of the ocean was almost calming. Almost.

"Okay, this is excessive," he muttered, running a hand over the polished marble countertop in the kitchen – a kitchen so large, it probably had its own postal code. "But in for a penny, in for a pound, right? Or, in this case, in for a few million dollars and a lifetime supply of existential dread."

He'd spent the afternoon arranging his affairs. Turns out, his substantial financial resources were indeed very real, transferred seamlessly into this dimension with a few quick calls and the waving of some impressive-looking (and probably very real) documents. He had a vague explanation ready for anyone who asked: "International investor, looking for new opportunities in the burgeoning National City market. Very niche, very lucrative. You wouldn't understand." It was vague enough to be believable, and impressive enough to deter further questions. People tended to not pry when they thought you had more money than God.

Now, with the mundane (if ridiculously luxurious) details sorted, it was time to focus on the truly important stuff: being a hero. Or, at least, being a very well-informed, subtly manipulative sidekick with a penchant for sarcasm.

He pulled out his phone again, tapping the glowing 'C' icon for the Copy System.

[ SYSTEM MESSAGE: Current Emotion Lock-ons: Kara Danvers (Curiosity/Amusement, 10%). Status: Steady increase. Keep up the charm offensive. Or, you know, just exist near her. She seems to like you. For now. Don't get cocky. ]

"Don't get cocky? Me?" Adam scoffed, pacing the absurdly large living room. "I'm a connoisseur of cockiness. It's my natural state. Besides, 10% is progress. Soon, I'll be able to lift a car with my pinky finger, or at least open a really stubborn pickle jar."

He glanced at his personal notes, scrawled hastily in a luxurious leather-bound journal he'd bought specifically for this purpose. It felt more dramatic than a spreadsheet.

Goal 1: Date Kara Danvers. Progress: Initial contact made. Intrigue established. Minor flattery deployed. Success imminent. (Probably.)

Goal 2: Befriend Team Flash (especially Barry). Progress: Not yet in Central City. Patience, grasshopper. Or, you know, find a wormhole. Whichever comes first.

Goal 3: Prevent Tragedies. Progress: Future Insight is a bit vague. Needs more concentrated focus. And possibly a flowchart. Lots of flowcharts.

He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city lights twinkling below. The sheer scale of it hit him sometimes. He was here. In the Arrowverse. A universe where people casually exploded, where aliens were filing for citizenship, and where the biggest fashion trend seemed to be leather and various shades of brooding.

"Alright, universe," he mused aloud, "let's talk strategy. First, the 'Mini-Crises' as the template so eloquently put it. I need to get involved, subtly. Nothing that screams 'I'm from another dimension and know everything,' more like 'I'm just incredibly lucky and surprisingly observant for a guy who spends most of his time thinking about pizza.'"

He pulled up a news feed on the gigantic smart screen that took up an entire wall of his living room. He'd had it installed this afternoon, because why not? Money was no object. The headlines were exactly what he expected: minor robberies, a suspiciously large cat stuck in a very tall tree, and a blurb about a new exhibit at the National City Museum of Art. Standard stuff.

But then, a small blip in the background of a live report caught his eye. A flickering energy signature, almost imperceptible, near the industrial docks. Not a major threat, not yet, but definitely something. Something that screamed "potential alien incident."

"Aha!" Adam pointed at the screen triumphantly. "Found you, you tiny, soon-to-be-contained problem! This is exactly what I need. A low-stakes opportunity to show off my 'uncanny luck' and get a closer look at how things work here."

He thought about the "First Skill Acquisition" part of the template. "From a minor alien villain or a civilian expressing intense emotion." This dock incident sounded promising. Maybe some low-level thug gets frustrated his robbery isn't going well, or a terrified civilian accidentally sets off a minor power. Either way, prime copying material.

"Alright, time to get dressed," he announced to his empty, ridiculously large apartment. "Can't go to a potential alien showdown looking like I just rolled out of bed, even if I totally did." He walked into his equally absurd walk-in closet, which was already filled with brand new, ridiculously expensive clothing. He chose a dark, stylish, yet practical ensemble. Something that said, "I'm here for a casual observation, but I won't object to looking good while I'm doing it."

He grabbed his car keys. "Operation: Subtle Savior, Phase 1.5.1: The 'Conveniently There' Maneuver. Engage."

As he headed for the elevator, another thought struck him. The future insight was passive, a "feeling" or "hunch." He couldn't just know everything. The more he interfered, the more the timeline would ripple, and the fuzzier his knowledge would become. This was going to be fun. Like playing a ridiculously high-stakes game of 'pin the tail on the donkey' with the fate of the universe as the prize.

"Just remember," he muttered to himself as the elevator doors chimed open, "don't screw up the timeline too much. Barry's got enough on his plate without me accidentally turning him into a grumpy, timeline-hating cat person."

He stepped into the luxurious elevator, already picturing the potential chaos at the docks. He had a feeling this was going to be a long night. But at least he had a comfortable bed to come home to. And, eventually, Kara. Priorities, Adam. Priorities.