Nick Wagner wasn’t supposed to get under my skin this fast. But boy does he give me the creeps every time I see him on the screen.
He walks into High Potential like an HR memo in a suit: awkward elevator banter, political polish, and that “I’m just here to listen” energy that immediately makes you want to lock your whiteboard.
But the longer he orbits Morgan Gillory, the more it feels like something darker is quietly threading its way through the precinct.


This is a man who clocks people fast, files them mentally, and then starts pressing at the soft spots just to see what gives.
Nick didn’t just show up to keep Morgan in line; he feels like he came to study her. Maybe even break her.
Watching him lean closer at just the right time, push the right buttons, and wear that little half‑smirk when Karadec finally bares his teeth?
That isn’t a clueless new boss. That’s a chess player counting moves ahead.


The Charm Offensive That Feels Like a Test
On paper, Nick is the kind of captain every mayor dreams about.
He’s media‑ready, fundraiser‑friendly, and sells himself as the guy who wants one‑on‑ones with everyone to “learn how they work.”
In practice, it plays like a very polite interrogation. He gets close to Morgan by treating her like a resource, not a problem — someone to be redirected, never shut down.
He doesn’t slam the brakes on her chaos; he gently adjusts the steering wheel and watches where she crashes.


With Oz and Daphne, he speaks fluent self‑interest.
A hint about promotions here, a casual comment about budget and exposure there, and suddenly their ambition looks less like a character flaw and more like leverage in his back pocket.
With Soto, he sits quietly on the sorest nerve in the building: the promotion that should have been hers, and lets that resentment simmer while he registers exactly who she covers for and who she’s willing to sell out.
It’s classic Moriarty energy, just filtered through a precinct comedy‑drama.
Moriarty doesn’t kick the door in; he sends a problem you don’t realize is his until it’s already blown up your life.


Nick feels like that kind of operator — always present, rarely obvious, but somehow at the center of every pressure point.
That “evil smirk” after Karadec threatens him doesn’t look like a man who’s scared.
It looks like someone delighted to discover how far Morgan’s favorite detective will go when you start tugging on the right string.
The Man Who Knows Too Much
What really seals the Moriarty vibe is how much Nick seems to know — and how careful he is about when he lets that slip.


Showrunner Todd Harthan has already teased that Wagner’s family history and past cases will matter, which means this is not some random transfer; this is legacy in a very expensive suit.
A man that connected didn’t just wander into Morgan Gillory’s life by accident.
He arrives with a mandate, a backstory, and probably a file on her that’s thicker than any case board she’s ever hijacked.
Instead of shutting Morgan down, he lets her run wild while quietly tracking every line she crosses.
Internal Affairs hovering over the team, rumors about the program being shut down if Morgan steps too far out of bounds — Nick doesn’t rush to protect her or to throw her under the bus.
He stands in the middle, collecting data. A straightforward villain would try to get rid of her.


A Moriarty type wants to see what happens when the genius is cornered, desperate, and just reckless enough to prove his point for him.
That’s the unsettling part: Nick doesn’t seem interested in keeping the peace. He seems interested in controlling the explosion.
And in a show that’s all about a brilliant, messy woman who can’t stop solving puzzles, the scariest adversary isn’t a killer of the week — it’s the man who’s been quietly solving her from the moment he walked in.
Now it’s your turn — do you think Nick is just a flawed captain in over his head, or is High Potential slowly building him into Morgan’s big‑bad mastermind?
Drop your theories, favorite Wagner scenes, and wildest High Potential Season 2 predictions in the comments.


