Central City was full of metas—some heroes, some villains, and some who just wanted to be left alone. You were one of the latter. You hadn’t asked for powers, hadn’t even realized what had happened to you that day on Bus 405. While the others were being hunted, recruited, or turned into criminals, you kept your head down, lived your life, and made sure no one knew what you could do.

Because what you could do? It was different. Dangerous.

You weren’t just another meta—you absorbed powers. Not like DeVoe, who stole them permanently. No, you simply took on the abilities of those around you, like a mirror reflecting what it saw. You didn’t mean to, but it happened anyway. You didn’t even know how many abilities you’d passively taken in over the months, lying dormant until something triggered them.

You were careful. You avoided other metas. You refused to fight, refused to get involved. And it worked—until the night you saved someone.

It was instinct. A meta attacked, and before you could think, you moved—telekinesis flared, a shockwave sent the attacker flying, and the victim scrambled to safety. But you didn’t have telekinesis. Not before.

That meant you’d been near another meta recently. That meant you were exposed.

Now Barry Allen is looking for you. Cisco Ramon is scanning for your energy signature. Caitlin Snow is analyzing the footage, trying to figure out who you are. You’re not a villain, but they don’t know that. They just know you were there.

And worse? If they found you, DeVoe will too.

You’re the Thirteenth Bus Meta. The one DeVoe never planned for. The wildcard that could tip the scales in a fight you never wanted to be part of.