The Law of Averages

"Well then, let's get down to it," Professor Tawny said, after Dan the room settled down. He clapped his hands together. "First, introductions. Give me a name, why you decided to take this course, and what you plan on doing with what I teach you."

He stared expectantly.

Dan glanced around at his fellow students. Fred seemed contemplative, or perhaps just itchy, as he slowly scratched beneath his chin. Freya was doing a tremendous job of averting her eyes from the teacher without appearing deliberate. She was staring down and to the side, keeping up an expression of haughty self-assurance that Dan could only barely tell was forced. Gregoir was shifting in his seat, oblivious to the world around him, as he attempted to fit three hundred pounds of muscle into a chair that seemed designed for the average middle-schoooler. There would be no help coming from that direction.

Dan sighed and introduced himself for, like, the third time that day.

"Daniel Newman," he said with a raised hand. Every head in the room snapped in his direction, and he did his best not to flinch. "This course was recommended to me by an acquaintance in the APD. I've been studying to take the Disaster Relief Certification test, and this seemed like a good way to get some hands on experience and broaden my knowledge. After I get my DRCT... well, I suppose I'll find a job that lets me use it. I'm not sure on the specifics."

"Villain or natural?" Professor Tawny queried, his ears twitching slightly.

"What?" Dan replied dumbly.

The dog-eared professor raised an eyebrow. "What are you planning to specialize in, villain-made, or natural disasters?"

"Um." Dan considered it. "Both? I wasn't planning on specializing."

Professor Tawny frowned, but only for a moment. "Most do. There is significant overlap in skill set, the DRCT wouldn't account for both, otherwise, but the execution can vary greatly. It's a high stress job, even without additional complications. Forcing familiarity is a widely used, if not perfectly reliable, method of coping."

"I'm aware, sir," Dan told him politely. The man was just trying to help, after all. "I'll keep it in mind."

"Good." Tawny nodded, then turned his eyes to Fred. "Next."

The red-head straightened in his seat, assuming a perfect posture and practically shouting his response. "Fred Sawyer, sir! I got lost hiking three years ago, and probably would've starved to death if my local PD wasn't trained in S&R. I still need training, but I'm going to be an officer!"

"How old are you, Mr. Sawyer?" the professor asked curiously.

"Seventeen, sir!" Fred replied, doing his very best to mimic Gregoir's volume.

Tawny gave him an easy smile. "I see. Have you chosen where you will further your education? The police department requires prospective recruits to have more than a GED before you are allowed to apply."

"Ah. Well," Fred stammered for a moment, glancing between the professor and Freya, "I was planning on attending this Academy, actually. I know it doesn't have the best reputation, but it's my only affordable option. A-and besides, it's the man that makes the officer, not the school!"

Freya's nostrils flared, even as Professor Tawny nodded approvingly. The older man's keen senses did not miss her action, and his eyes zeroed in on her. "And you, young lady. What's your story?"

"Private," she responded immediately. It was almost impressive how she managed to sound both respectful and imperious at the same time. A woman used to being obeyed.

"Now now," Tawny chided, completely undeterred, "your classmates have shared, it's only fair that you do the same. Just a little bit about yourself."

She took a steady breath. "I did not ask them to do that."

"No," Tawny agreed. "I did."

It was the most polite stare-down in human history, Tawny's mild-mannered expectation clashing with Freya's strong-willed stubbornness. Eventually, cultural conditioning won the day. Freya caved to the authority figure.

"My name is Freya Valentine," she repeated, her face unnaturally composed. "I just graduated from Saint George's Academy. I will serve as a police officer alongside my intended, starting next year. I am taking this course because—" She paused, chewing over her response. Or, more likely, calculating how little she could reveal without drawing her professor's ire. After a long moment, she continued, "Because I dislike feeling helpless."

After it became clear that she would offer nothing more, Tawny nodded. "Thank you, Miss Valentine." He turned to the final occupant in the room and sighed. "Gregoir."

Gregoir was dressed as casually as Dan had ever seen him. His collared button-up was the exact shade of blue as his officer's uniform and a full-size too small. Though the top three buttons were left loose, it strained against his barrel-chest, and valiantly fought to contain his muscular arms. He wore a thick leather pocket protector, stuffed to the brim with a veritable army of pens and pencils. His pants were, Dan shuddered, massive bell-bottom jeans dyed so white that they were almost blinding. A thick belt secured them around his waist, and Dan could only be grateful that the man wasn't wearing suspenders. Hidden beneath Gregoir's flared trousers were a pair of sturdy work boots, the only concession to common sense in his choice of attire.

The gregarious viking perked up as his name was called. He shot to his feet, slightly cracking the tile floor in his enthusiasm. "I am Officer Gregoir Pierre-Louis! Proud servant of Austin's Third Precinct! A veteran warrior with over a decade of experience!" He spread his legs, toppling over his desk and chair in an effort to strike a heroic pose. "My wise captain has ordered me to take several courses at this Academy in order to refresh my memory of proper protocols and further my own expertise! I am grateful for this opportunity, and will gladly provide assistance to my fellow students!" He beamed at the class, shining with sincerity.

Professor Tawny, to his credit, did not wince at Gregoir's display. An impressive feat. Dan's eyes watered just by looking in his general direction. Instead, the dog-eared officer offered an expression that was more grimace than smile.

"Gregoir will sometimes serve as a teacher's assistant, in addition to being a student. Feel free to go to him for help. That said, Gregoir," The giant blonde smiled attentively. "the last time you took this class was over a decade ago. Many things have advanced in that time. Do pay attention."

"Of course, Professor Tawny! I never give anything less than one-hundred and ten percent to all my endeavors!"

"Thank you, Gregoir." Tawny took a deep breath. "Now, I suppose it's my turn. My name, as you all know, is Michael Tawny. I am thirty-seven years old, and have been an officer for only six of those years."

Freya twitched almost imperceptibly. Fred's reaction was less muted, both eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. Dan could understand their confusion, even if he didn't share it. These specialist classes were usually taught by an elite within their field. Dan's fellow students must have assumed that their teacher would be a long-time veteran of the force.

The professor took in their reactions without comment. "For a decade before that, I was a private investigator."

That drew a startled gasp from Freya, though Dan couldn't imagine why.

But Tawny clearly understood. He smiled faintly. "Not the most prestigious of careers, I know. What can I say?" He shrugged. "I was raised on pulp novels and penny dreadfuls. I gained a taste for mystery at a young age, and a slight distrust towards the system."

Freya was openly frowning now. Dan decided to take a chance, and raised his hand.

Tawny nodded at him. "Daniel?"

"Sir, is there some sort of taboo against private investigators?"

The older officer's ears twitched. He glanced towards Freya and said, "Not a taboo, no. It's just that, within certain spheres, they are looked down upon as incompetent or untrustworthy. Often, rightly so. As far as public perception goes, it's an issue of accountability, really. Why would you hire a private investigator when you could go to the police instead?"

Dan blinked. "I can think of a few reasons. Catching a cheating spouse comes to mind."

"Ah... I suppose?" Not just Tawny, but the entire room, looked puzzled at Dan's comment, as if he had just suggested something hugely wasteful. "Most private eyes would be a bit overqualified for something like that. I certainly would have never taken such a job. Anyway, historically speaking, private investigators were often hired by criminals seeking to undermine an officer's case." He grimaced, his ears twitching irritably. "This was especially frequent in the fifties and early sixties, when upgrades were poorly understood by most juries, and evidence could be easily muddied. Though private eyes are not nearly as common these days, the stigma has, unfortunately, endured the test of time."

Tawney had, for a moment there, sounded uncomfortably close to describing a defense attorney. Dan hadn't looked very far into the court system, and now he was dreading what he would find once he got around to it. He was incredibly grateful that his mouth hadn't blurted out the second reason one might hire a private investigator: to double check the police's work. Freya probably would've flayed him alive with her gaze alone.

Instead, he nodded and smiled. "I see. That makes sense." When in doubt, lie your ass off.

"Of course. Where was I?" Tawny pondered for a moment. "Ah, yes. I loved mystery novels as a child, and got myself licensed to be a private investigator as an adult. Incidentally, this class is one of four you would need to take, in order for your evidence to be admissible in court as a PI, should you go that route." He looked around the room, smiling grimly. "No takers? Oh well, moving on. During my time as a PI, I worked closely with the APD, and was hired on as a consultant."

Freya scoffed, then immediately flushed at her loss of control.

The professor laughed. "The police need help sometimes, too. We can't be competent at everything. Investigation is a major part of the job, but you'd be astonished at how few of us are actually qualified to do it. It's important to have a good, reliable investigator who you can trust, on hand. The only reason this isn't more common is because how difficult those qualifications are to fulfill."

The girl's expression spasmed between frustration and anger. "We should not have to rely on outsiders."

Tawny shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe. But we do, sometimes."

Dan glanced at Gregoir, astonished that the Loudest Officer hadn't offered up his opinion during this discussion. The big man was simply nodding along with Tawny's explanation, his expression fixed on dutiful respect. Apparently, Gregoir was taking the 'student' aspect quite seriously.

He returned his attention to the front, as Tawny continued to list his qualifications. "In addition to basic investigation, I worked several hostage rescue cases, a few child abductions, and tracked down dozens of lost campers." The last statement was given with a nod to a red-faced Fred. "After a series of criminal cases, where I identfied some wildly impactful evidence, I was offered a place on the force. I took it, and here I am. Any questions?"

Crickets chirped in the distance.

"Good." The professor took a moment to catch his breath and meet each student's eyes. "Now, pay attention, because this next bit is important."

Fred somehow straightened his posture even further. Gregoir's chair creaked dangerously.

"This class will teach you everything you need to know to get started with search and rescue. We'll cover both urban and rural environments. You'll learn how to track down lost children, how to follow digital traces, how to navigate hostile terrain without injuring yourself, how to extract an injured person from the same, and more. I have a syllabus here—"

Gregoir shot out of his seat, making it to the front of the classroom in a single huge stride and accepting the pile of papers.

"Thank you, Gregoir. A syllabus that will go over most of what we are trying to accomplish over the next three months. Keep in mind that this is only a primer. One should never stop learning, especially in a field as critical as this one."

Gregoir obediently handed a stack of papers to each student, before taking the final bundle for himself. Dan glanced down at his new curriculum.

Search and Rescue had a much broader connotation in this dimension. Not limited to simply looking for the lost, a fully licensed S&R operative covered everything within its extremely literal name. Dan had known this already, yet he was still unprepared for just how much material was to be covered. This was only an introductory class, yet a good quarter of the syllabus outlined various forms of criminal investigation. It was baffling.

At which point, Dan remembered he was taking this class at the Police Academy.

Right. That explained quite a bit.

"As a final note," Tawny announced, after giving everyone a moment to scan their papers, "completing this class will allow you to pass a variety of licensing exams, almost none of which will require updating. Your license, once obtained, is permanent. This is a hugely flawed and outdated method of guaranteeing competence. I encourage you to take a class such as this once every five years at least." He paused, turning his gaze on Gregoir. "Times change, as do techniques, as does technology. Do not let lives be lost because you were too lazy to update your knowledge."

The blonde viking bowed his head contritely. Tears of shame flowed freely down his face, drenching his chest and shirt. Dan looked away from the gruesome visage.

Even Professor Tawny, level-headed though he was, could not bear the sight. He looked heavenwards, before sighing.

"Okay. Let's get started."