CHAPTER 12: The System's First Mission
The shock of Adam's latest "death" and resurrection lingered in the S.T.A.R. Labs Cortex, but life, and metahuman threats, continued. Barry was becoming more adept at using his speed, and the team was slowly, grudgingly, accepting Adam's bizarre existence. For Adam, however, the focus shifted from immediate death-farming to the other crucial component of his system upgrades: money.
" Four deaths down, sixteen to go for the first upgrade. And a whole lot of zeros for the cash requirement. Time to put my 'future insights' into something truly productive: making obscene amounts of money. Because nothing says 'hero' like a bulging bank account. "
Adam's internal system remained mostly silent, but he felt a subtle shift, a new awareness of the "Mission Perks" and "Merge Perks" that awaited him. He knew the first upgrade was crucial, not just for increasing his death limit, but for unlocking the strategic potential of his powers. And for that, he needed cash. Lots of it.
He approached Wells, who was, as usual, meticulously reviewing data on his tablet. "Dr. Wells, about our little 'investment fund' idea."
Wells looked up, a flicker of interest in his eyes. "Ah, yes. Your 'future insights' into the market. Have you had another… vision?"
"More like a very strong, very specific hunch," Adam said, leaning against the desk. "There's a small tech startup, barely on anyone's radar right now, called 'Stryker Industries.' They're working on a revolutionary new type of quantum encryption. Very niche, very ahead of its time. But in about six months, they're going to be bought out by a major conglomerate for an astronomical sum. We're talking 'retire to a private island and buy a pet unicorn' kind of money."
Wells raised an eyebrow. "Stryker Industries? I confess, I'm not familiar with them. And quantum encryption is a highly speculative market."
"Exactly!" Adam beamed. "That's why it's perfect! Low entry cost, massive potential returns. Think of it as a long-term play. We invest heavily now, quietly, through shell corporations, of course. No one needs to know S.T.A.R. Labs is moonlighting as a venture capital firm. And when the buyout happens, boom! Instant billions. Enough to fund our metahuman prison, develop new tech for Barry, and, of course, fuel my… personal development." He gave Wells a knowing look, implying the system upgrades without explicitly stating it.
Wells considered this, his gaze intense. He ran a quick search on his tablet. "Their current valuation is indeed minimal. And their patents, while intriguing, are far from proven. This is a considerable risk, Mr. Stiels."
"But a calculated one, Dr. Wells," Adam countered, his voice confident. "My 'hunches' are rarely wrong when it comes to money. Ask anyone who ever played poker with me. I'm a natural. A financial savant. A walking, talking, sarcastic crystal ball for market trends. What do you say? Want to make a fortune while saving the world?"
Wells, ever the opportunist, finally gave a slow, calculating smile. "Very well, Mr. Stiels. A small, initial investment. Consider it a test of your… unique abilities. If your 'hunch' proves accurate, we can discuss further ventures."
"Excellent!" Adam chirped. "You won't regret it! Unless you do. But probably not. Mostly not."
Over the next few months, Adam meticulously guided Wells through a series of shrewd, low-profile investments. He'd "predict" minor fluctuations, advise on specific buy-ins and sell-offs, always with a casual, almost dismissive air, as if he were merely making educated guesses. Wells, initially skeptical, became increasingly impressed. The small, initial investment began to grow, steadily, then exponentially.
Cisco, meanwhile, was fascinated by Adam's new "power" of financial foresight. "Dude, you're like a human Bloomberg terminal! Can you tell me if my lottery numbers are going to hit? Because I've got a really good feeling about 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42."
"Sorry, Cisco," Adam said with a shrug. "My powers don't extend to random chance. Only to highly predictable, yet incredibly obscure, market trends. Besides, if I told you the lottery numbers, where would the fun be? No, my friend, we're going for the long game. The 'buy out a small country and turn it into a superhero theme park' kind of money."
Caitlin, while still focused on Barry's training, couldn't help but notice the growing numbers on the discreet financial reports Wells occasionally reviewed. "Adam, are you really making that much money?" she asked one day, genuinely surprised.
"Just a little something on the side," Adam replied modestly, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. "Diversifying my portfolio. You know, for retirement. And for all those times I need to buy a new body after a particularly aggressive metahuman encounter. Medical bills add up, you know."
Six months later, the news broke. Stryker Industries, a little-known tech startup, had been acquired by a major global conglomerate for a staggering sum, far exceeding initial estimates. The S.T.A.R. Labs "investment fund," thanks to Adam's "insights," had multiplied exponentially. They were, discreetly, obscenely wealthy.
Wells looked at Adam, a genuine, if still calculating, admiration in his eyes. "Mr. Stiels, I must admit, your… foresight is truly remarkable. Our investment has yielded… unprecedented returns. It seems your 'hunch' was indeed accurate."
Adam merely smiled, a knowing, triumphant grin. "Told you. Never doubt the guy who can predict both the weather and the stock market. Now, about those system upgrades… I think I've got the cash part covered. Just need a few more… incidents." He tapped his temple meaningfully. "The system is calling, Dr. Wells. And it's asking for more deaths."