The Law of Averages

Dan floated bonelessly in t-space, quietly evaluating just how much trouble he was in. On the one hand, he'd basically just been roofied by someone's voice and only escaped through blind luck and his tendency to teleport everywhere. On the other hand, Gregoir and Graham were both still affected and presumably marching back towards the squad car like a pair of good little automatons. A bit of a pickle, that.

Fortunately, Dan had all the time in the world to contemplate his options.

His first impulse was to immediately return to the manager's office and break Eddie's jaw. It probably wouldn't even be that hard. He'd just have to teleport beside the man, shock baton in hand, and club him in the face. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Some small rational part of Dan's mind warned him that this idealized scenario was about as likely as Gregoir learning to moderate his enthusiasm, or Graham spontaneously developing humility.

The problem was the inherent uncertainty of superpowers. What were the details of Eddie's power? How did it work, how long did it last? It had taken a minute or two of conversation for Dan to really feel the effects, but he hadn't even noticed it happening. If he reappeared, would he instantly go back into that compliant trance? Too many questions, too many uncertainties.

Not to mention, they had already made a plan for this sort of situation. Dan's job was to call for help, Gregoir's job was to confront the threat, and Graham's job was to run away screaming. Or something. Either way, Dan was the only one who could actually perform his role.

He wasn't gonna lie to himself, he was worried. It would take maybe thirty seconds to verify his identity, explain the situation, and call for backup. That was... a lot of time for things to go wrong. His companions were helpless, and while Dan hoped a good slap might snap them out of it, he couldn't be certain.

He really wished he could teleport other people.

What had been the last order given? To leave? Would Eddie have given further orders? Accompanied them outside? Either way, they'd presumably be making their way back to the squad car. Dan's disappearance might have thrown a wrench in that, though. Could Eddie question them while they were under his power? Dan was having trouble forming coherent thoughts near the end, to say nothing of speaking, so that was unlikely.

Dan crossed his legs and hummed to himself. The sound was strange in the void, echoey, reverberating off of nothing. He scuffed his nails against his kevlar vest, barely noticing how completely silent the motion was. Occasionally, his hand would brush against a velcro strap, opening and closing it with a skrtch skrtch that was lost to the void.

He was stalling and he knew it. Nothing in life was certain.

Gregoir would tell him, "BELIEVE IN YOUR COMRADES DANIEL!" but seeing as the man was currently sporting a vacant stare and an empty mind, Dan would have to disregard that advice.

Instead, Dan would believe in himself. He would be fast enough. He would be strong enough. Nothing would go wrong.

He had a job to do. Make the call, get help, then intervene where he could. Simple and easy.

Dan reappeared in the passenger seat of the squad car. He took a few moments to reorient himself and glance around the parking lot. Marcus's lessons echoed in his mind: know your environment.

Gregoir had parked at the far end of the property, away from the building. Dan could see the front door in the distance, alongside the odd civilian moving in and out. He couldn't spot Gregoir's massive form anywhere, but that was normal. No time passed within t-space, so his two companions were likely still inside the manager's office.

Move move move. Dan popped open the hidden compartment in the car's dashboard, revealing the emergency radio. He grabbed the looping cord at its base and dragged the microphone into his hand. A quick adjustment to his grip put his thumb over the trigger, and he opened his mouth to speak—

Something brushed against the bottom of the car and Dan froze. The sound was gentle, soft, more Casper than Freddy Kreuger. A scraping noise, followed by a quiet click. Then a hand pressed itself against the passenger window and it was all Dan could do to not shriek like a teenage girl in a slasher film.

Hair, long and black and shaggy, crept over the horizon of the windshield. A forehead followed, heavily tanned and glistening with sweat. Then, eyes, dark brown and gazing downward, above a face scarred by time. The man crawled out from beneath Gregoir's squad car, grumbling to himself and straightening his overalls. He was dressed like Eddie, like an electrician, General Electric logo and all. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips. The man took a draw from it as he came to eye level with Dan.

Their eyes met through the windshield and the man's boggled outward in surprise. The cigarette fell to the ground as he jerked away, and a plume of smoke spewed out from behind his lips. The brief exhalation quickly became a gust of black smog; the man belched dark clouds, spreading out against the chassis and coating the car. The fog pressed up against the glass, and a thick mist poured in from the air conditioning.

Dan quickly decided that he wanted nothing to do with that, thank you. He dropped back into t-space, mind whirling with questions. It was obvious that this was the partner that Mr. Gonzalez had mentioned. It was equally obvious that the pair of them were bad news bears.

Of course, this led to a problem. Gregoir and Graham were still in trouble, and Dan hadn't yet called for help. The radio was still in the car which, as far as Dan was concerned, was absolutely off limits. Without even getting into whatever that smoke might do to Dan physically, the man had just strapped something to the undercarriage. Maybe he'd been watching too many spy movies, but Dan's first thought was bomb.

So, yeah, no way was he going back into that.

Which meant no help was forthcoming. Not unless Dan went back to the station personally. He'd have to go in through the front door, because teleporting directly into it was just about the worst idea ever. He'd be gunned down before he could even open his mouth, APD issue kevlar vest or not. Beyond that, it would draw more attention to Dan's power than he was currently able to deal with. It's one thing to see, on paper, that he can teleport to a target out of sight. It's quite another to flaunt that fact to the police, to give a visible example of what it meant. The front door was the only option, which would take even more time that he didn't have.

Which left... what? Bringing down Smoke Guy and then using the radio? Preferably after stuffing the man inside the car, just in case. He was clearly no suicide bomber; Dan wouldn't be alive if that was the case. There had been plenty of time to trigger the theoretical bomb, but no. Retreat had been the man's first choice. Well, retreat backed by an attempt at slow asphyxiation. Not exactly the choice of a pacifist, but Dan would take what hope he could get.

Unconsciously, Dan began to smile. This was it. This was his moment. He was excited. He shouldn't be excited, because Gregoir and Graham were still in danger, and honestly, so was Dan, but he couldn't help it. He'd been, lord help him, looking forward to this. Looking forward to... proof. To vindication. A chance to irrefutably demonstrate that he wasn't just wasting his time trying to improve himself. While getting into a brawl wasn't exactly what he was looking for, apprehending a criminal was almost indisputably a good thing. It was far better than the alternative. The problem with wanting to help with disaster relief, is that it needed a disaster to participate in. Dan refused to hope for such a thing. Not specifically, at least. He was happy settling for this moment.

It hadn't escaped Dan's notice that he could unstrap his vest while in t-space. It was a physical thing, the vest, carried with him into this place by his power. He could manipulate it here, take it off, turn it around. He could leave it here, floating in the Gap, though he didn't know if he'd be able to find it again. Regardless, he could move it around however he liked. It wasn't a large mental jump to extend this ability to the rest of his gear.

Dan reappeared in the parking lot, directly behind Smoke Guy, police baton in hand. The man must have heard Dan's feet scrape against the concrete, because he whirled around in an instant. Black ash, thick and cloying, still poured from his mouth, from his nostrils, and a sharp wind sent it towards Dan's face like a grasping tendril.

Dan limboed beneath the limb of smoke, heart racing and adrenaline pounding through his veins, then jammed his baton into the man's belly. His thumb slipped down onto the halfway point of the handle, and pressed the button concealed there. Sharp barbs, hidden at the tip of the baton, stabbed outward. Smoke Guy convulsed briefly as electricity arced into him, but his thick overalls prevented solid contact. The taser slipped free, and Dan dove backwards to avoid a wall of soot that crashed down where he had just been standing.

He bounced to his feet, grinning widely at the criminal across from him, meeting the man's snarl with a giddy laugh. More smoke poured out, circling the man, forming a dome around him. His face was the last thing to be concealed, still twisted into an angry grimace before vanishing completely from sight. The black orb shuddered, then bulled its way forward.

Dan wasn't sure if Smoke Guy could see through his own, well, smoke. Maybe with some sort of kinesthetic sense? That would be a nightmare to fight against, if it were true. It didn't matter though, because Dan was absolutely not going into that shit. He liked being able to breathe, and getting some sort of super black lung would be problematic.

Instead, he waited until the cloud was a foot away, then lashed out with his veil. His power surged out from him, that shimmering beautiful blue that only Dan could see. It burrowed through the air like tiny drills, as thin as Dan could imagine them, seeking out prey. His power struggled with air, with the lighter gases in general, really, but his target was smoke. It was soot and ash and whatever nasty carcinogens were inside cigarettes. It was as close to solid as a gas could get, and filled with particulate matter besides.

He felt it, when his power connected with the cloud of smoke. It was a sort of background sense, a sort of subtle knowledge. His veil was in the cloud, was part of the cloud. The smoke was lifeless. His power could spread like a virus.

One hundred and fifty pounds. That was Dan's limit. Smoke was heavier than air, but not by much. It was also thicker, easier for Dan's power to seize. He stole the lot. He reached out, wrenched it away, and dragged it into t-space. He dumped it there, in that void, left it for the monsters to enjoy as his veil returned to him. Dan reappeared on the opposite side of the parking lot, fingers firmly planted in his ears. Even so, he couldn't help but wince at the whipcrackof displaced air, as atmospheric pressure violently reasserted itself on his previous location.

Glass shattered and car alarms blared and someone behind him screamed. The fog of excitement fled his brain in a hurry, as he spun to face the new voice. It was a civilian, a young woman, phone in hand. They stared at him with wide eyes, stunned from his sudden appearance or the noise or some combination of both. The woman raised her hands defensively, some sort of plea on her lips, and Dan realized that he was a moron.

"Call the police!" he told her urgently. "Let them know there's an officer down."

A lie, hopefully, but it'd get them moving.

The panic in her eyes receded ever-so-slightly at his request. She blinked, obviously taking in his uniform, the Kevlar vest branded with APD. She nodded shakily, and opened her mouth, but Dan was gone. The nod was confirmation enough.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, it was so hard to keep track when he was dipping in and out of the Gap, but it couldn't have been longer than a minute. Even so, time was no longer on his side. The fight was too obvious, too drawn out. He'd forgotten, in his blind, idiotic excitement, that there were people relying on him.

Stupid. Impossibly stupid. This wasn't supposed to be fun.

"Brief and brutal," Marcus had once told him. "That should be your goal. Put down the enemy as fast as possible and move on to the next one. You can attack from any angle in an instant, Daniel. Constantly. If they aren't supernaturally resilient, they should drop in seconds."

Dan reappeared at the center of the parking lot, placing the squad car in view. The windows of the vehicle were cracked, and the ground was littered with broken glass. Smoke Guy teetered drunkenly in place, blood leaking out of his ears and smog dribbling weakly from his mouth. He was down but not out.

Brief and brutal, Marcus had told him.

Dan blinked forward, appearing behind his target. His leg was mid-kick, crashing into the villain's knee and sending the man tumbling to the ground. Dan's body flickered in place, like a television with poor reception. His positioning shifted as he reappeared, instantaneously recovering from his kick. Dan's arm jabbed downward, taser baton in hand, and the barbs stabbed into the man's armpit.

The villain didn't scream. His mouth was set in a grim line as he writhed under the electric shock. Dan let up after several seconds, and the man went limp. He didn't smile. Nothing about this made him happy.

He had a job to do.

Zip tying the man took up time that Dan couldn't spare, but he wasn't willing to let the criminal escape. Every second that passed hurt him, until Dan reappeared in front of the hotel, primed for a fight. Civilians were streaming out of it, scattering in every direction. Dan's fight hadn't been subtle, and people were responding appropriately by fleeing the area.

But they were witnesses. He needed them. He needed to question them, but there was no time!

He craned his head, looking for a blonde giant in the crowd. Nothing.

He blinked again, dropping into the manager's office. Mr. Gonzalez was collapsed against his desk. A quick check of his pulse proved him alive, but unconscious.

There was no sign of Gregoir, nor of Graham.

Dan dropped back into the lobby, frantically looking around.

No civilians, no Gregoir, no Graham. No one to ask for help, no one to question.

Dan didn't know what to do.

They were all gone.