CHAPTER 4: THE WILD WILD WEST (AND ITS LACK OF WI-FI)
The temporal displacement was a dizzying blur of colors and sounds, a sensation like being squeezed through a very narrow, very sparkly straw. Adam braced himself, a low hum of energy vibrating through the Waverider. When the lurch finally subsided, the ship settled with a gentle thud.
Rip's voice, as always, was the first to break the silence. "Alright, team. We've arrived. London, 1942. The Blitz. Try to blend in."
Adam peered out the viewport. "Blend in? Rip, I'm wearing a hoodie and jeans. I look like I just time-traveled from a particularly aggressively casual thrift store. I'm going to stick out like a sore thumb covered in glow sticks."
Indeed, through the reinforced glass, London looked… grim. Buildings were rubble, sirens wailed in the distance, and the sky was a bruised purple-grey, punctuated by the faint glow of searchlights. The smell of smoke and damp earth permeated the air even inside the ship.
"We're setting down in an abandoned warehouse district," Rip explained, the holographic map highlighting their current position. "Gideon has detected significant Nth Metal readings originating from an old, disused factory building approximately three blocks from our current location. That will be our primary target."
"Right," Adam said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "So, infiltration, extraction, avoid death by falling debris. Got it. Standard Tuesday. Although, given the era, I'm already mourning the lack of decent Wi-Fi. How am I supposed to google obscure facts about the Blitz if I can't get a signal?"
Mick snorted. "You really are an idiot."
"Says the man who literally just spent the morning craving milk," Adam shot back, earning a low growl from Mick and a suppressed chuckle from Jax.
The team geared up. Sara strapped on her staff, Snart checked his cold gun, Ray activated the micro-adjustments on his Atom suit, and Jax and Stein prepared for potential Firestorm integration. Adam just… stood there. His "gear" was essentially his powers. And his sarcasm. Which, he felt, was a pretty formidable weapon in itself.
"Remember, no unnecessary engagement," Rip cautioned. "Our priority is the Nth Metal. Avoid civilian casualties at all costs."
As the ramp lowered, a gust of cold, damp air, thick with the smell of coal smoke and fear, washed over them. Adam shivered, but it was more from the palpable tension of the era than the temperature. This wasn't a game. This was history, unfolding around them in all its brutal, messy reality.
They moved through the desolate streets, sticking to the shadows of bombed-out buildings. The distant rumble of explosions was a constant, unsettling soundtrack. Adam kept his senses alert, not just for threats, but for the subtle hum of his own powers. He tried to focus, to feel the connection to objects around him, to anticipate threats before they materialized.
Suddenly, a series of rapid-fire gunshots echoed from ahead. A group of figures, clad in dark, tactical gear, were herding a few terrified civilians into an alleyway.
"Savage's men," Sara hissed, her hand already on her staff. "They're not supposed to be here."
"This is an unauthorized temporal incursion," Rip muttered, his face grim. "They're attempting to sow chaos. We move in."
Adam didn't wait for orders. He saw a young boy, no older than ten, try to break free from the grasp of one of the soldiers, only to be roughly shoved back. 'Not on my watch, pal. No kids get hurt on my timeline.'
He rushed forward, not with a plan, but with pure, unadulterated instinct. "Hey, fascists!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the wail of distant sirens. "Leave the kids alone! Don't you know bullying is bad? Didn't your mothers teach you any manners?"
The soldiers, clearly surprised by his sudden appearance, turned their weapons on him. One of them, a bulky man with a cruel sneer, leveled his rifle. "Another fool? Get lost, civilian!"
He fired. Adam didn't dodge. He stood his ground, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. The bullet slammed into his chest with a sickening thud. The impact sent a jolt of pain through him, staggering him back a step. But even as the pain registered, his body was already at work, the regenerative process kicking in with astonishing speed. The bullet hole sealed, the blood vanished, and in seconds, he was whole again, the only sign of the injury a slight crumpling of his hoodie.
The soldier stared, his jaw slack. "What in the…?"
Adam grinned, flexing his chest. "See? This is why you always bring a spare. Or, you know, just be unkillable. Much more convenient."
He extended his hand. A nearby pile of loose bricks, probably from a collapsed wall, suddenly shot forward, pelting the soldiers like a volley of angry projectiles. They staggered, yelping in surprise and pain. This was more controlled than the apple incident; he was actually trying this time.
Sara and Mick charged in, taking advantage of the distraction. Sara moved like a deadly dance, her staff a blur of motion, disarming and incapacitating soldiers with brutal efficiency. Mick, a fiery demon, unleashed blasts of heat, turning weapons to slag and sending soldiers scrambling.
Adam, feeling the adrenaline surge, joined the fray. He was reckless, relying on his regeneration. A soldier lunged at him with a bayonet; Adam met it head-on, letting the blade pierce his shoulder, only for it to heal instantly, trapping the weapon. He then used his telekinesis, giving the soldier a subtle mental push backwards, sending him tumbling.
Another soldier tried to tackle him from behind. Adam felt the impact, rolled with it, and as they hit the ground, he focused. The soldier's own rifle, lying nearby, suddenly floated up, spun, and smacked him squarely in the face.
"Don't worry," Adam quipped, scrambling back to his feet. "It's for your own good. Concussions build character."
Ray, having engaged a group of soldiers, zipped around in his Atom suit, firing non-lethal blasts. Snart, ever cool, froze weapons and immobilized enemies with precise blasts of cold. Jax and Stein, as Firestorm, created controlled energy bursts, providing cover and neutralizing threats from a distance.
'This is insane. This is absolutely insane. I'm fighting Nazis—or, like, Nazi-adjacent thugs—in 1942 London, alongside actual superheroes. This is way better than my previous life. Even with the constant threat of getting vaporized.'
A loud whistle pierced the air. A larger, more menacing figure emerged from the alley – a heavily armed operative, clearly a leader. He carried a strange, glowing device. Savage's technology.
"The Nth Metal device!" Rip shouted over the din. "Don't let him activate it!"
The operative, seeing his men overwhelmed, raised the device, aiming it at the terrified civilians. It pulsed with a dangerous energy.
Adam saw it. He reacted. He sprinted, ignoring the incoming fire, ignoring Rip's frantic shouts. He focused all his nascent telekinetic energy. He pictured the device, pictured it tearing apart.
A faint, invisible force slammed into the operative. The device in his hand shuddered, sparks flying. He stumbled, roaring in frustration. He tried to maintain his grip, but Adam pushed harder, a vein throbbing in his temple. The device vibrated violently, then, with a sharp crack, it shattered, pieces flying.
The operative roared in anger, pulling out a pistol and firing wildly. One of the shots clipped Adam's ear, another grazed his cheek. The pain was sharp, but fleeting, the skin already knitting itself back together.
Sara was on the operative in a flash, disarming him with a swift kick and knocking him out cold with a precise strike.
The fight was over as quickly as it began. The remaining thugs fled, leaving behind a chaotic scene of stunned civilians, scattered weapons, and the faint smell of ozone and gunpowder.
Rip rushed over to Adam, his face pale. "Mr. Stiels! What were you thinking?! You just ran headlong into enemy fire! You could have been killed!"
Adam shrugged, patting his still-healing cheek. "Nah, not really. Besides, the guy was going to hurt those people. And honestly, I just kind of… felt it. The device. Like I could make it break. Guess my powers are leveling up, huh?"
Sara, standing next to Rip, looked at him with an intensity that made him momentarily forget his bravado. "You really just let them shoot you?"
"Well, yeah," Adam said, a little defensively. "It's efficient. Why dodge when I can just regenerate? Saves energy. Less running around. More time for witty banter."
Mick grunted. "Still an idiot."
"An idiot who just saved those civilians and destroyed Savage's Nth Metal device," Snart commented, a hint of grudging respect in his tone. "Not bad, Anomaly. Not bad at all."
Ray was practically vibrating with excitement. "You didn't just push it, Adam, you disrupted its internal mechanisms! That suggests a much finer control over your telekinetic abilities than we previously observed! This is a significant leap!"
Professor Stein, ever the cautious one, adjusted his glasses. "While your recklessness is alarming, Mr. Stiels, your effectiveness in the field is undeniable. Your abilities are evolving at an astonishing rate."
Adam preened, basking in the rare moment of collective approval. "What can I say? I'm a fast learner. And I thrive under pressure. Especially when there are bad guys who need a good, telekinetic smackdown."
Rip, however, still looked utterly exhausted. "Come on, team. Let's get out of here before the Germans realize there's a glowing spaceship parked in their industrial zone. And Mr. Stiels, we need to have a serious conversation about 'human shield' tactics. Or rather, the lack thereof when you are the shield."
As they made their way back to the Waverider, Adam felt a profound sense of satisfaction. He'd done it. He'd saved people. He'd used his powers. And he'd managed to annoy Mick Rory while doing it. Not a bad day's work for an anomaly.
'Okay, so my telekinesis is definitely growing. And the regeneration means I can be ridiculously reckless without actually, you know, dying. This is a game-changer. It means I can be right in the thick of it, taking the hits, disorienting the bad guys, and letting the actual trained fighters do their thing. I'm basically a human, highly sarcastic battering ram. And it feels… right. Like I was meant to do this. Who knew being dead would lead to such an exciting, if chaotic, new life?'
He glanced back at the city, the distant sound of anti-aircraft fire echoing through the night. The Blitz was a horrific moment in history, but he had played a small part in making it just a little bit better. It was a humbling thought, even for him.