The Law of Averages

Book 2: Chapter 80: Natural Bias

Dan wasn't too concerned about being infected. His veil would have picked up anything truly dangerous entering his body. He knew that with a sudden clarity that caught him off-guard. He'd only ever manipulated the veil within himself once before, to remove Bartholomew's bomb all those months ago. Yet he now felt absolutely certain that his veil could sense, and remove, any foreign danger within himself. It wouldn't have been possible even a day ago, but it seemed his new understanding of his power was already paying dividends.

Dan had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't be getting sick in the foreseeable future, and if someone were to inject him with anything uncouth, it might not have any effect at all. Had he been like this a week ago, Dan might have even risked following Bartholomew's insane plan to self-sedate, and maybe things would be going better for Austin.

"Do you have a doctor that you trust around here?" Dan asked Abby, because he was making a real effort to be less of an idiot. No matter how confident he was in his power, he was basically guessing based off theories and feelings. Getting a simple blood test was no trouble, and might save Dan some danger down the line.

Abby blinked at the sudden question. "Yes. Why?"

Dan quickly summarized the conversation he'd just had, Abby's eyes growing wider with every word. She quickly scrambled for her cell, pulling it out and scrolling through her contacts. The call was made quickly, and an appointment immediately scheduled with little fanfare. Abby clearly did not share Dan's confidence in his own immunity.

Dan texted Gregoir, just to double check that the doctor's story wasn't a lie. When he got confirmation, they hammered out a plan.

Dan went to his appointment alone, which had been a point of some contention between himself and Abby. She had argued fiercely in favor of accompanying him alongside half a dozen Coldwater bodyguards. Dan figured that would only draw unwanted attention, and put Abby in unnecessary danger. Dan, on his own, was both fairly incognito and infinitely mobile. The appointment wasn't even under Dan's real name. He was as safe as he could reasonably be.

Abby caved eventually, and Dan found himself inside an unfamiliar doctor's office. He hadn't visited a doctor since he'd left Marcus behind, and this office was a far cry from the drab and messy confines of Mercury Station. The walls were painted in vibrant colors and the floor was clean and uncluttered. The chairs were soft, and the nurses pretty. When they called his name (Manny Oldman), it was with a smile, not a cranky grimace.

Abby's doctor was a consummate professional; he'd worked with the Summers family for years, and was perfectly comfortable with strange requests and secrecy. He took Dan's blood, and agreed to consult with Doctor Simon in Austin. Dan blinked back to the Summers compound feeling like he'd accomplished something today.

He appeared in time to witness the latest news from Austin: Coldeyes had finally made an appearance. The gang leader had personally destroyed the largest power station in Austin, knocking out power for tens of thousands of people. including a police precinct and the National Guard's primary staging area. The attack had been swift and sudden, precipitated only by the distinctive flash of purple lightning that accompanied the People's teleporter.

The power station had been guarded by Coldwater's best, but they'd been quickly overwhelmed. Between surprise, a powerful Natural, and a score of gangsters, the paramilitary contractors stood no chance. Several mercenaries survived being entombed in ice, and they reported that the Crew's assault lasted all of five minutes. The power station was now nothing more than a block of impervious ice.

It was, if anything, a solid confirmation that the Crew was working alongside the People. Not that it would matter at this point. The city was in uproar, and the sudden absence of electricity would only worsen things. Some would blame the People, others would blame the government, everyone would be unhappy. The truth of the matter had been lost to a screaming crowd, and nobody really cared anymore besides.

The unfortunate reality was that the People had a figurehead, and his word was nearly unassailable. Champion was remembered fondly as the one beacon of light in an otherwise horrific decade, his honor and integrity were unquestioned even by his enemies. The only counter argument one could present against the man was, ironically, the truth: that man is not Champion. Yet the presence of Cannibal and Bastion, two men who were very much supposed to be dead, lent credence to the strange, conspiratorial tale the People were attempting to sell.

On the other side, there was no major figure to counteract Champion's popularity. The current president held a middling approval, and had won his post by virtue of being hated less than his opponent. Anastasia Summers certainly wouldn't be winning any popularity contests. The most prominent police officer to interact with Champion and the People was Gregoir, and he was a Natural himself.

The big man had seemed less himself last Dan had spoken to him. It seemed as if Anastasia was attempting to turn him into one of her little henchmen; the task was going poorly, but it served as a means of hiding Gregoir from the spotlight. He wasn't patrolling the streets of the city, a recognizable, possibly controversial face for rioting civilians to focus on. Neither had he spoken to any press about his experiences with Cannibal and Champion. Gregoir's media presence had all but disappeared, despite outcry from the tabloids and the press. Whoever was in charge in Austin did not want his story told. Gregoir would not be the face of the APD.

Dan wondered how much of that decision was politics, and how much was Natural bias. He felt sad for his friend, who might have been robbed of some acclaim that he rightfully deserved, but he knew Gregoir held no vengeful thoughts. The blonde officer wasn't built that way. He wanted only to protect people in whatever way he could, though Dan knew that Gregoir had been disappointed by the state of the city, and the response of his government.

He shook off those dark thoughts, and refocused on the television screen, where an enormous pillar of ice towered like a skyscraper over Austin's horizon. It was a taunt; the only way it could've been more obvious is if it'd been shaped like a naked ass, mooning the city. The message was clear: You can't stop me. It wasn't even a lie.

The feds were floundering in their investigations. Abby spoke to her grandmother, only a night previous. There was frustration abound. The presence of a teleporter threw everything into disarray. They knew too little about the mysterious villain's capabilities, and could not properly plan around him. It was only Coldeyes' psychological profile, and Anastasia's insistence, that kept the FATs inside the city limits. Their prey could have moved on at any time, given their nigh limitless mobility, but Coldeyes had too much pride to abandon the city of which he'd staked his claim.

Echo, likewise, desired a showdown. At least, according to Anastasia. The leader of the People was attempting to reverse a war he'd been losing for decades, and Austin was the location he'd chosen. Backing away now was both out of character, and a certain loss. The country was in a state of turmoil, but people held short memories. A month from now, maybe two, and this drama would be over and gone. The country would move on to the next tragedy, in a world that was never lacking them.

Echo needed to strike hard, while the iron was hot. It was his only chance at success. He needed to turn this brief victory into something that would last. Otherwise, with his shadow organization brought out into the light, he would be inexorably crushed by the might of his many enemies.

That was the theory, anyway.

Dan didn't know enough about Echo to comment. So far, the villain had seemed content to sit back and let the city self-destruct. Judging by the mob of men Coldeyes had purportedly brought with him, they'd spent that downtime allowing members of the Crew to recuperate from the APD raid that had decimated their ranks. That was not a good sign. Things had kicked off, and would only get worse from here.

He moved further into the sitting room where Abby and Margaret watched the news. He slipped behind Abby, leaning down to wrap his arms around her shoulders. She squeezed his wrist, her eyes not leaving the television.

"How'd it go?" she asked quietly, as the news showed the towering edifice of ice over and over again.

"Fine," he murmured, planting a kiss on her cheek. He pulled back, but she dragged his arm back around her.

She nodded to the television. "Things are going to get worse."

"I know."

"You won't go running off again, right?"

Dan huffed. "No. I promise."

"Good." Abby gave him one last squeeze, before releasing his arm. "Stay here, Danny. Where it's safe."

The picture on the screen flickered, then died. The mansion plunged into darkness as the power failed, only to return a moment later as the reserve generator kicked on. Dan blinked spots out of his eyes as he looked around the room in alarm. He felt the floor beneath his feet tremble, just for a moment.

Abby shot out of her seat, sticking her head out the door and shouting something to the nearest guard. Margaret left her place on the couch to glance out the window. Clear, sunny skies poured into the room. She turned back to Dan with a frown.

"I don't see anything—"

They heard the crack of a passing shockwave, and the windows rattled in their frame. Dan blinked beside Margaret, dragging her away from the breakable glass. They sheltered down by the wall for almost a minute while Abby held a hushed conversation with the guards just outside. When Abby re-entered the room her face was pale, stark white, and she clutched her cell phone in her hand.

"Someone just attacked the ocean highway," she said, referring to the long stretch that connected Florida's Keys, where the Summers mansion was located. "They blew it up, Danny! A fireball, they're saying. A fireball the size of a small town."