We scientists get hot for patterns. It’s how we figure out something’s cause and effect or establish why things are the way they are. My “abilities” seem to make themselves manifest whenever I’m panicked, stressed, or buzzing with adrenaline. That’s what triggered my first vibe, remember? I’ll never forget that nightmare starring evil Dr. Wells as he stabbed his super-speeding hand through my chest and crushed my heart – I still wake up in a cold sweat about that one. There has been a whole mess of other times I vibed when I was anxious or scared. See? Pattern.

I thought my time was up a few days ago when Caitlin and I were masquerading as Killer Frost and Reverb in a last-ditch effort to thwart Black Siren. Let’s just say that plan didn’t go so well. Panic was high and I was readying myself for that fist pump with St. Peter when something awesome happened. Black Siren opened her mouth to unleash the final homicidal shriek and my meta side took the wheel and blasted her with a pulse punch! Totally cool, right? So, here’s my hypothesis: when freaked the hell out, my powers become manifest. How do we test this? Time to freak out.

I’ve never been a fan of small spaces (Dante once trapped me in the dryer for several hours during a particularly intense round of Hide and Seek). Usually, I start hyperventilating, get vertigo, and see my life flash before my eyes. Read: claustrophobia creates the perfect contingency for triggering latent meta-abilities. Wally hooked me up with a little sedan he used to race (they’re very aerodynamic) and I climbed in the trunk, shut myself in, and waited. It was dark, cramped, and smelled like burnt rubber. Sure enough, the panic set in as soon as the lid closed – my heart raced, my hands shook, and my breathing was akin to a pregnant woman in the throes of labor. I suffered through twenty minutes, but no Spidey senses started tingling. I couldn’t focus any energy, vibe any dimension, or do any yet undiscovered talent.

Just as I was ready to call it quits, the car lurched violently - I hit my head on the latch and passed out for a solid ten minutes. The jolt from a pothole brought me around and that’s when the panic really set in (Central City needs to repave!). Not only was I locked in a tiny trunk, but also I was being kidnapped and taken Grodd-knows! The car finally stopped and I heard someone get out. I started banging on the trunk, screaming for someone to let me out, but to no avail. That’s when it happened – a wave of energy emanated from my hands and blasted through the cracks, unhinging the trunk and letting in sweet, sweet air. It may have been an unorthodox way to test my hypothesis, but you can’t argue with results! I climbed out and found myself in the car jail that is Central City Towing – apparently, STAR Labs is considered “private property” and no one recognized the plates on Wally’s ride. Oops.

I had to bail the sedan out and pay Wally back for the damage to his car but my hypothesis was proved correct! Now, if only I could control my powers without being terror-stricken or fake-kidnapped. As with any scientific pursuit, this one may take decades of research. By the time I master my powers I may look like Gandalf, but by King Shark it will be worth it.