The Law of Averages

Dan had been hiking for an hour, through some of the gnarliest, roughest terrain he'd ever seen. He was sweating like a pig beneath his heavy clothing; the badass longcoat he had been so proud of, now a mobile sauna. The scorching Texas sun burned its way through the forest canopy, attempting to viciously throttle the would-be rescuers.

Their mission was a simple one: Track down Officer Dunn. The wily twin officers had each disappeared into the undergrowth at a random point along the ranch's longest hiking trail, simulating the actions of a pair of particularly stupid teenagers. It was up to each team to find their target before the four-hour mark had passed. Fortunately for Dan, much of the tracking was down to Fred and his Eagle-eye upgrade. Tawny patiently walked the ginger through the most common techniques for visual tracking, while Dan quietly melted like a stick of butter on a warm day.

See, Dan, in a turn of events that would have surprised nobody who knew him, had made a shockingly foolish decision. In order to avoid suspicion towards the limits and origin of his power, he had elected to simply not use it. This was an impulsive decision, made long after he had dressed himself with the intention of teleporting everywhere, instead of hiking. Suddenly, his practical outfit was not so practical.

Dan was pretty sure he was dying. His only solace was that there were few people around to see his humiliation. The trail was completely devoid of other hikers. The ranch itself was lacking in both guests and staff.

Red Creek Ranch had, once upon a time, been a fairly popular location for hiking and hunting. It had offered a hundred thousand acres of wilderness adventure for those willing to pay. Everything from horseback rides, to guided hunts of upgraded wildlife had been offered and monetized. Unfortunately, things had gone wrong several years ago, when a massive forest fire had claimed over a third of the ranch, and spread into neighboring properties. Though Red Creek suffered, its surrounding neighbors were devastated, losing almost 90% of their forested areas, and suffering hundreds of millions of dollars in property damage.

The fire had not been natural. It had been a successful arson attempt and, through a legal explanation that left Dan's mind spinning, Red Creek had received the blame. Elijah Burnett had inherited the ranch from his father, who had passed away unexpectedly mere days before the fire. He had found himself completely unprepared to handle the myriad problems suddenly facing the ranch, and squandered most of the reputation and wealth that its previous sucess had amassed with his bungling efforts. Multiple years, lawsuits, and updated safety regulations later, and the ranch had become a wisp of its former self.

This was the story of Red Creek, as told by Michael Tawny. The dog-eared officer had worked alongside Elijah's father on several previous occasions, tracking down lost or injured hikers and hunters. The pair had developed a strong business relationship, which eventually lead to a personal friendship. It was obvious that Dan's teacher lamented the slow death of a once thriving business, just as it was obvious that he didn't expect anything to actually change. The ranch was actually ideal for Tawny's purposes, as its barren state made it possible for a novice tracker like Fred to actually locate his quarry.

Now, none of this trivia was actually necessary to complete the search and rescue exercise that Dan had embarked on. It was simply background information, idle chatter, meant to alleviate the inevitable boredom one accumulates while trekking through miles of dense forest. It was important, Tawny claimed, to allow one's mind to take a break every now and then. Maintaining one hundred percent focus for hours on end was nigh impossible. Besides, talking served the dual purpose of announcing their presence to both their target and any predators in the area. The last thing a rescuer wants to deal with is a surprised bear or bobcat, and most of the time the target wants to be found.

Personally, Dan thought that Tawny was just a bit of a chatterbox while on the job. The man's mild classroom personality had shifted completely upon entering his natural environment. He was clearly at ease, able to teach, hold a conversation, monitor his surroundings, and loudly reminisce about the 'good old days' all at the same time. The man was simply that good. Dan had no doubt that the man knew exactly where both Officer Dunns were, and not because they had told him.

"Oh! I think I see something!" Fred exclaimed in excitement. He pointed a finger towards where the edge of the path met a dense thicket. There was a narrow game trail running through the center of the shoulder-high shrubbery, though Dan could not make out anything special about it.

But Tawny clearly could. He nodded, approaching the trail and gesturing for Fred to follow. The two of them knelt in the dirt.

"Show me," Tawny ordered.

"This trail has been traveled recently," Fred said, practically bouncing in place. He ran his finger along the ground. "You can see the disturbed dirt here. The ground is dry and compacted, but this debris is fresh." Fred, still squatting, shuffled awkwardly forward. His fingers touched a few broken branches. "This is a small game trail, and a popular one, but these breaks are way too wide. Something large took this path recently. Deer prefer their own trails, so this was probably an adult human." Fred paused, then added, "Or a small bear, I suppose. We don't get many of those in Texas, though, and I don't know why it would try and squeeze through this narrow trail."

Tawny snorted at the last comment. He clapped Fred on the shoulder, announcing, "Well reasoned. A human did come through here. Now, what makes you think it's our target?"

Fred blinked, then raised an eyebrow. He made a meaningful glance towards the completely empty trail. "Who else could it be?"

"No, that's not good enough," Tawny chided. "It could be any number of things, only one of which is our target. How do we know that following this trail won't waste time that a missing person might not have?"

While Fred visibly struggled with the question, Tawny turned to face Dan. "Feel free to chip in, this isn't just a question for Fred. You will often face this question in our line of work, this uncertainty. It's not an easy decision to make, and it's your responsibility to make as informed a decision as possible. So." He clapped his hands together. "In this situation, how can we ensure, to the best of our abilities, that we are on the right path?"

It was a riddle, but not a hard one. Something else to thank Marcus for.

"We ask our teammates," Dan said with certainty.

Fred started, almost tipping over into the undergrowth. "We can do that?"

"Of course," Tawny replied with a laugh. "That's what we're here for! Teams are meant to balance each other's weaknesses. In my case," he tapped his nose, "I can confirm that Officer Dunn came through here."

Fred blinked at the admission, before turning towards the final member of their group.

"Wait, then what weakness are you covering?" he asked Karl, the lanky certified volunteer.

"I'm a medic," the man replied proudly, jabbing his orange vest. "I'm here in case one of you kids trips down a cliff or into a thorn bush. Practically speaking, every team needs at least one person with medical training."

Dan eyed the man, taking notice of his fanny pack for the first time. "Is that your first aid kit?"

Karl patted his hip. "Just the basic one. If something serious happens, I've got a bigger kit sitting back in the parking lot that you might have to fetch."

"Right." Dan nodded, then replayed the sentence in his head. Something rang off about it...

Wait a minute. "That I might have to fetch!?"

The rest of the group turned back at Dan's startled exclamation.

Tawny seemed confused. "...Yes? That's your role in this team, Dan. Your mutated upgrade is perfect for scouting and item retrieval."

"The parking lot is several miles away," Dan pointed out.

More confusion from Tawny. "Your file claimed that you were capable of blind teleportation up to five miles. Is that inaccurate?"

His file. Dan had a file on his upgrade. One that Marcus had made. One that cops could presumably pull, and that Tawny, in his ever helpful way, had already read. Likely so that he could better teach Dan.

Dan, who was a fucking idiot.

"Daniel, are you okay?" Tawny asked with some concern. Dan had descended into muttered curses, with his palm planted firmly over his face.

"Nothing, nothing," Dan sighed. "Just... realizing that I'm a moron." He already had a cover for his power. It was registered in the system as a mutation, and Tawny could testify towards the file's existence. Any abberations that occurred could be explained away as being missed during Dan's initial testing. His law-abiding companions would likely insist on updating his file, but that was a minor sacrifice compared to what he had been dreading.

Dan was free to use his power. Well, only in the most basic of ways. He would just have to pretend that he was back in his first week, when all he knew how to do was basic teleportation.

"Don't mind me," Dan said, shaking off his companion's concern. "We've got a trail. What's next?"

"Follow it," Tawny answered with a shrug. "Fred, Karl, and I, will take the slow route, tracking Dunn's path on the ground. Daniel will scout ahead in the direction we believe our target has most likely traveled, regrouping with us every thirty seconds."

Dan frowned. "I'm not much of a tracker. Especially if I'm just blinking ahead repeatedly. I'm more likely to pass by him than anything."

"No." Tawny shook his head in denial. "You're forgetting, most targets want to be found. Especially in this scenario. Officer Dunn is playing the part of a lost hiker and you"—Tawny unslung his backpack and pulled out an object—"You have a megaphone."

"Um." Dan stared at the bullhorn in his professor's hand. "Really?"

The dog-eared officer prodded him with the handle, smiling earnestly.

Dan reluctantly accepted the object. "I suppose I do."

"Excellent! Now git!"

He got.

Dan blinked his way past dozens of trees, delighting in the feeling of moving without moving. He appeared high in the air, along a thick branch, doing his very best ninja impersonation. Every few seconds, Dan lifted the megaphone to his mouth and shouted "Officer Dunn! Can you hear me!?"

Aaaand pause.

Nothing. Just the fluttering wings of badly startled birds. With a shrug, Dan continued forward.

Every fifth teleport, he returned to the group's last location. They moved slowly enough on the ground that it was child's play to keep up with them. So long as Dan had a bit of elevation, he could pick out Karl's orange visibility jacket through a quarter mile of brush.

Tawny would give him an approving nod, maybe a bit of helpful advice, then send him back out. It was a simple pattern, and one that Dan found he enjoyed. He'd always been a kinesthetic learner. Half an hour of teleporting blindly around the forest had taught him more about how to navigate the wild than any dozen lectures could have. He found himself actually thinking about where a lost hiker might wander, what landmarks they might see and use. He found himself looking for oddities in the woods, things that might draw the attention of a blundering tourist.

So when he saw a patch of black and grey out of the corner of his eye, he turned towards it. A single teleport put him above his target, and he couldn't help but gasp.

Professor Tawny had described the fire that had consumed a third of the ranch. He had spoken about its clearly man-made nature, how the arsonist had used a natural power to wreak havoc within the forest.

The man had utterly failed to convey the horrifying nature of the damage. The ground was pitch black, a horribly charred trail that terminated in a circle six feet across. Dan sat well above the circle, forty feet in the air at minimum, yet still he could feel the lingering heat. The fire had been years ago. Years, the ground remained burned, burning. This was ground zero, where the arsonist had stood to invoke his fire. The trail was a black streak on a green canvas, leading hundreds of feet into the distance. At its end, just within sight, an endless field of black.

The forest was gone. Turned to charcoal. Burning, even now. It would not regrow.

Dan could barely comprehend that kind of damage. The trees in this part of the ranch were massive, with branches thicker than Dan's torso, and trunks wider than the span of his arms. Old things, ancient things, dead at the whim of some lunatic.

Sad didn't even begin to describe it.

Dan couldn't... he could not even bear to look at it. He shifted on his branch, turning away from the sight. His hand reached onto the trunk for support, soft skin meeting hard bark and—

And hot steel. Dan pulled back his hand with a yelp, before it could be burnt. He leaned forward, cautiously, curiously, examining the tiny lump of metal embedded in the tree trunk. It was rounded, a circular object of some sort. The trunk had grown around it; the branch as well.

Interesting.

Dan pressed his hand against it once more, despite the heat, his curiosity guiding him forward. He pushed out his veil, suffusing the metal with its power. He felt its density, its size, he knew its dimensions like he knew himself.

Then, he teleported four feet to the right.

He reappeared on the same branch, a bulky metal collar falling at his feet. It looked like it had been built by a person who had seen a very brief image of a spiked collar, and hadn't quite grasped the point of it. Several stubby rods were mounted on the inner wall, pointed towards the center, where one's neck would reside. Dan could not tell if they had been sharp at some point, as they had been badly melted. The remnants of a lock dangled from one end, blackened to a crisp. The whole thing radiated heat like a furnace.

Very interesting.

Also, not particularly helpful for Dan's rescue mission. Still, this was a fascinating mystery. He'd take it to Tawny once the exercise was over, and see what the man made of it.

In the meantime—Dan hefted his megaphone—he had a twin to catch.