The Law of Averages

Dan floated in the cold embrace of the Gap, doing his best to scheme. It wasn't exactly his most polished skill, but practice made perfect. So far as he was concerned, he had two major goals that he needed to accomplish once he dropped back into reality. The first was to make sure that Andros Bartholomew did not escape again. The man was a bastard of the highest order; not only had he killed who knows how many people in an insane attempt to capture and experiment on Dan, but he had also deeply traumatized someone who had become a decent friend. Connor deserved closure and, possibly more importantly, retribution.

Which neatly segued into Dan's second major goal: he wanted it to hurt. He wanted Bartholomew to feel at least a fraction of the suffering that he'd caused in his lifetime. It was a vicious thought. Dan was almost unnerved by just how angry he had been in those last moments, a jolt of pure rage that had surge through him like lightning. Here and now, feeling the numb and disconnected clarity that t-space always brought, he could see why he had been so affected.

It was guilt. People were hurt, people had died, were dying even in this very moment. All because of a madman's obsession with him. All because Dan had drawn too much attention to himself. It wasn't his fault. Objectively, he understood that. But knowing something and feeling it were two different things. Emotions rarely bowed to reality and anger always needed a target.

So he wanted it to hurt, when Bartholomew went down. To do that... he might need Anastasia. Dan was loathe to even speak to her, but in this case he was technically doing her a favor. The older woman had been the first person to suggest something like a kidnapping might happen, after all, and he still had the phone she'd given him with a built in tracker. The real question was if she'd turn Bartholomew over to the FBI after she was done with him.

He might not have a Magic 8-Ball on hand, but signs pointed to no. He couldn't honestly picture her sharing the man when he had such clear ties to the People. She'd drop Bartholomew in a hole somewhere and the world would never hear from him again. Which would leave Dan to answer some very uncomfortable questions. Questions like 'where have you been for the past four hours?' His disappearance was undoubtedly noticed by now. People would be worried; his friends would be worried.

He'd have to let Abby know he was okay.

Regardless, questions would come in the aftermath. He could tell the truth, and implicate Anastasia, but all that would do is piss her off unnecessarily. It was incredibly obvious to him that she had the kind of clout necessary to dodge anything short of a presidential assassination, caught on camera, in front of a crowd of thousands. She'd walk away smelling like roses and he would look like an idiot. He could hear it already, the obvious question: why call her, instead of the police?

Which meant Anastasia was out of the picture. She couldn't help him in a way that wouldn't backfire on Dan. That left... who exactly? Who could he call that had a grudge against Andros? Who would take down the scientist with maximum force and minimum risk?

It wasn't just a matter of calling the police, either. He had to know that he wasn't endangering any more lives on this. Whoever they sent needed to be competent and experienced. Moreover, he wanted to help. At least a part of this mess lay on his shoulders, and he refused to ignore that responsibility. The police would direct him to retreat; they'd call him in and interrogate him on what he remembered, but Bartholomew would be long gone by the time they tracked down the dingy little doctor's office he'd kept Dan in.

So someone with the capabilities of a SPEAR team member, who had a grudge against Andros Bartholomew, and was willing to play fast and loose with the law.

A face twigged in his memory.

Right, that guy.

"Cornelius Graham speaking, who is this?"

It was Abby, of all people, who had acquired the phone number of Connor's uncle. The reasoning she'd sheepishly given, was that Dan could give the man a call if Connor hadn't made an appearance within a week or two. It was, she had reasoned, an entirely rational action, and not at all fueled by helpless worry. Dan hadn't been sure how she'd found the older officer's number, nor was he inclined to ask. He'd simply added the thing to his contact list and moved on, assuming that it might be useful at some point.

Well that was certainly paying off in spades, and much sooner than he'd imagined.

"Officer Graham, it's Daniel Newman," Dan said quickly. He didn't have the luxury of time in real space, so he couldn't be subtle about this. "I was kidnapped by Andros Bartholomew, the same asshole to kidnapped your nephew. Track this phone. I'm going to stall him as long as I can."

"You what—!?"

Dan ignored the incredulous shriek in favor of teleporting back to Andros' lair. The phone would lose connection for a moment, but he was using the advanced model that Anastasia had given him. Having looked up the specs online, he was certain that something as trivial as teleportation wouldn't impact its performance for more than a moment.

He didn't know how long it would take for Cornelius to act, nor how long it would take to track Dan down. Hopefully the man would believe him and do his best; Dan would do what he could in the meantime. Less than ten seconds had passed since Dan had escaped. Hopefully Andros was still in the room. Dan wasn't looking forward to hunting the man down through his lair, as there were bound to be all manner of unpleasant traps awaiting him outside the little doctor's office.

He reappeared in a corner of the dilapidated room he'd been stashed in. Immediately, he pocketed his phone, before examining his surroundings. Andros was still present, coughing violently and leaning almost parallel to the ground. His situation almost mirrored Dan's, moments before he'd been rendered unconscious. On the floor, covered in bodily fluids, was the mad scientist's kill switch. The tiny plastic orb had been vomited up by the doctor. Unfortunate.

The man was clearly distracted, so Dan leapt into action. He blinked behind the man, slamming his heel into the back of the villain's knee. At the same time, he attempted to loop his arm around Andros' neck, and put the man into a choke-hold. Both actions were immediately foiled as, upon impact, Andros shattered into a thick fog. Dan reflexively flinched backwards, teleporting to a corner of the room. He stumbled as he reappeared, his foot slightly numb. Dan was still wearing the heavy work boots he'd chosen for rescue work, yet the gaseous substance making up Bartholomew's body had almost instantly soaked through it.

The enraged scientist's body had dispersed upon Dan's strike, but it slowly drifted back into humanoid shape. Dan, unsure of how he could attack a ball of gas, sent his veil snaking along the tile floor. The tendril wrapped itself around the discarded poison device, and with a flicker of Dan's will, it reappeared in his hand. He grimaced at the slimy texture, but any disgust he might have felt was disregarded when Andros reformed.

"You impudent, cloddish Neanderthal!" Andros spewed between great, wracking coughs. His shoulder shook, either with effort or rage, as he pointed an unsteady finger in Dan's general direction. "I'm going to make you regret ever—"

Dan vanished between one word and the next, reappearing directly behind the mad scientist. This time, rather than striking at the man, he simply fisted his back collar and yanked gently backwards. The scientist's unsteady, wide-legged stance, while good for dramatically threatening an enemy, wasn't particularly stable, and he toppled like a tree. Dan helped him along, lightly but steadily pulling backwards, while neatly tripping the man with his free leg.

Andros hit the ground and his body faded into vapor. Dan vacated the area before the gaseous substance could touch him, but he couldn't help but frown. The discorporation seemed entirely automatic thus far. He waited until the man's body reformed itself, before reappearing over the mad scientist's head and stomping down. Andros' body popped like a zit, and Dan retreated once more.

Any level of force sufficient to harm the villain turned him into some kind of anesthetic mist. That was... problematic. Fortunately, Dan didn't need to capture Andros, he just needed to stall him. Something made infinitely easier by the fact that the mad scientist seemed entirely focused on angrily berating him.

Andros reformed in a standing position, resuming his accusatory pose. He immediately fell back into ranting, first insulting Dan for his interruption, before falling into a long-winded lecture filled with vague, generic threats. Dan allowed it, seeing no need to interrupt an enemy while he was making a mistake. Instead, his mind raced for an alternative method of subduing the man, for when they inevitably got back to fighting.

Maybe he could... try a pressure bomb? It had worked against the last villain Dan had faced, though he had used smoke as a conduit for his veil, rather than air. Still, Dan had improved by leaps and bounds since he'd last tried this. His fine control over his power had drastically increased, and he felt confident enough to at least try.

Dan pushed out his veil, letting that sapphire cloak fall into place around him. It expanded outwards, not in tendrils but in a wave, pushing forward against the air, slowly crossing the distance between Dan and his enemy. He could feel his reserves plummeting as it billowed outwards, foot by foot, inch by inch. There was an invisible pressure pushing back against him all the while, like wading through quicksand.

And then the feeling changed. It lightened. The texture of the air shifted into something denser, heavier. It took Dan a moment to understand: Andros was doing something. There was a gaseous distinctly not-air being pushed outwards from the man, slowly drifting towards Dan. Dan's veil sank into it, and he noted how much faster forward progress suddenly became.

Well, if he's gonna make it easier, then who was Dan to complain? Whatever the gas was, it made for a fine conduit. His veil lanced through it, drenching a full quarter of the room before Dan's pool ran dry.

"—stories about the horrors I will visit upon you! Your suffering will be a thing of legends!" The doctor continued to rant, his angry facade perfectly masking his second, invisible assault. It was really rather clever. The man was weaponizing his own massive ego. Dan expected the mad scientist to be loud and angry and insane, but he'd never have expected the subtle knife hiding beneath the overt rage.

But as the old adage goes, better to be lucky than good. Dan's veil settled around Andros Bartholomew, having followed the man's own attack all the way to his side. Then, Dan pulled.

He reappeared in his kitchen, having dumped the excess air and poison gas in t-space. He spent a quick moment digging through his cabinet, before seizing his trusty +5 Eldritch Bane Iron Pan. Another flex of his will sent him spinning through reality, back into the now familiar doctor's room.

He arrived to a scene of complete devastation. The fragile, dilapidated room was in shambles. Wood and plaster and dust and debris rained down from the ceiling, coating him in a fine layer of filth. A massive cloud of grey mist was spread across the front half of the room, slowly swirling. Dan watched as it coalesced into human form, before solidifying into Andros' bedraggled form.

The doctor looked like shit. His glasses were cracked and his lab coat was in tatters. More importantly, running along the hand that had only moments before been pointing angrily at Dan, there was an angry red gash. It looked like the top few layers of skin had simply been scooped away. A gouge about a finger's width, and twice as long, running from his thumb down past his wrist. Strangely, there was no blood pouring from the wound.

"What was that?" the doctor asked in a steady voice. All anger had fled, leaving a cold, stern visage. The scientist, minus the mad.

"That was not simple teleportation," he observed coolly. His eyes roamed over the gash in his arm with interest. "You were over five meters away. You didn't touch me. If you'd touched my substance there would be a sign." His eyes flicked over Dan. "What an interesting power you have."

Dan smiled blandly. "I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course not," the doctor acknowledged politely. He straightened his posture, sighing as he dusted himself off. "Well, I'm clearly not going to be capturing you today." In a swift motion, he opened the cracked wooden door, and stepped into the hallway. The hinges gave a whine of protest at his actions, before finally giving way and collapsing. The doctor stared bemusedly at the destruction Dan had wrought on his former prison.

"Well then," Andros said, "I'm off. Feel free to follow me, though do try not to die. I'd hate for such a promising subject to be killed before I could perform any tests."

Traps, then. This was a man who had rigged his last safe house with enough explosives to bring it down. Dan didn't doubt Andros was every bit as paranoid as the ex-vigilante who had owned Dan's house. It wasn't something he was willing to dive into, face-first.

How long had he stalled the man? Surely not more than a few minutes. If that. Time seemed to pass so erratically in combat, Dan genuinely couldn't tell. Either way, he needed more time. He considered the risks of chasing this man, considered what options were still available to him, and came up with one final idea.

Dan's body flickered . In the eyes of Andros, he went from standing perfectly still, to the final motion of a baseball pitch, all while appearing less than a body's length away. There was no transition time, no period to react. Dan's actions had been taken in the Gap, where time was nonexistent. The small, plastic projectile rocketed out of his hand at the moment of emergence, crossing the boundary of the room in a fraction of a second. As soon as it passed the threshold, red alarms blared across the base, and the plastic orb shattered.

Whatever toxin was contained in the device splashed across Andros' face, into eyes that were still in the process of widening in surprise. The liquid immediately started to dissolve everything that it touched, releasing the familiar hiss of cooking meat. The man screamed, a shrill, agonized sound, before exploding into mist.

Dan didn't have time to be horrified. He pushed out his veil, forcing the shimmering blue representation of his power forward through the air, until it reached the mist that was Andros Bartholomew. His veil sank into the gaseous cloud of not-person, meeting only minor resistance. Dan imagined it to be like cutting a pie. He was taking a slice of the man, and he didn't much care about the particulars. Crippling the mad scientist was a risk he was willing to take at this point. The man would not get away.

His resolve firm, Dan wrenched a chunk of his foe into the Gap.