The Law of Averages

Chapter 41

Chapter 41

It was a grenade. A riot grenade, to be exact. Tear gas.

This world was insane.

Gregoir had returned to the changing room in short order, with a bundle of legal forms for Dan and Graham to sign. He had either completely failed to notice, or had completely disregarded, the increased tension between the two of them. Based off the giant blonde's ever-sunny disposition, Dan was betting the latter.

Their little party was currently gathered up inside Gregoir's squad car, slowly puttering down a suburban street while the gregarious officer explained the ins and outs of policework in a large city.

"If it were ten years ago, we would be walking a beat," Gregoir reminisced nostalgically. "Foot patrol is, even now, a staple of the job. Interacting with the citizens that we protect is essential. It builds trust, and a visible presence can deter crimes far more effectively than physical action. Few criminals are willing to brave direct conflict."

After a moment, he added, "Though the number has been rising of late. By a great deal, sadly."

"Surely they are not so brazen as to act in the light of day?" Graham demanded in an affronted tone. He looked coiled and taut, ready to leap out of his seat and personally attack whatever fool disrupted the peace in the city.

The effect was slightly ruined by his place in the backseat.

"You'll find that brazen is an accurate descriptor for many criminals," Gregoir remarked simply.

An easy turn of the wheel brought the vehicle out of the peaceful neighborhood and onto a main road. The police cruiser was standard issue for the city, a large SUV with four passenger seats and a caged off rear for criminal transport. The doors were thick and heavy, clearly reinforced to act as hard cover, and the windows were the same.

"These are troubled times, my friends. Recruitment has gone down by forty percent over the past five years. The foundation of the APD remains strong, but we need new blood. The sharks can sense weakness. They are beginning to circle." Gregoir's voice remained chipper, but his smile had dimmed.

"...How bad is it?" Dan asked quietly. He couldn't help but remember walking face first into an armed robbery. In broad daylight. Of a hotel bank. Had the thief been stupid, bold, or just desperate?

Gregoir hummed to himself, bobbing his head left and right. "It's not dire quite yet. The citizenry still hold faith in us. Our individual strength is peerless, at least compared to our enemies. We are simply spread too thin."

"The APD has their own set of upgrades, right?" Dan interjected, trying to drive away the grim mood.

"Quite so!" Gregoir confirmed with a nod. "We have, I believe, around a dozen upgrade options that are restricted to law enforcement."

"How does that work? You guys don't start recruiting until..." Dan turned towards Graham. "How old are you, anyway?"

The question earned him a scowl.

"I am twenty years old, Newman," Graham replied acidly, "and, before you ask, I do not yet have an upgrade."

Dan cocked an eyebrow. The student was waiting until he joined the police department, until he had access to their superior power sets? That was an impressive amount of dedication, considering how widespread upgrades were, in this world. It couldn't have been easy to remain powerless.

"Is that a, uh," Dan gestured at Graham, "a prep school thing? No upgrade until you've graduated?"

A moment passed, and Dan added, "If you keep that up, your face'll get stuck."

The scowl slid off Graham's face like quicksilver. The change was shockingly fast, from furious to blank, and Dan almost recoiled at the dissonance. Graham took a deep, slow breath, visibly steadying himself and his expression smoothed back into a neutral sneer.

"An upgrade that targets physique achieves its maximum effect on the average male when applied between the ages of twenty and twenty-five. While the increase is irrelevant for common citizens, for those of us who seek to protect society, this minor advantage is critical," Graham recited the words robotically, as if he was quoting straight out of a textbook.

"Neato," Dan replied dryly, ignoring the violent twitch his dismissal provoked from the student.

He turned to Gregoir and jabbed his thumb towards the backseat. "Is he gonna be okay without an upgrade?"

Graham began to angrily sputter protests, but Gregoir's genial voice interrupted him.

"Certainly! Though your concern for your comrade is touching, these ride alongs are only meant to be a taste of the lifestyle of law enforcement!" Gregoir raised his hand and, with a whap of displaced air, clenched it into a tight fist. "Though you may one day be called to put your life at risk, it is not this day. That is why I am here."

Dan and Graham spoke at the same time.

"Oh, good."

"Why not!?"

Conversation stalled briefly as the older pair processed what had just been asked.

Gregoir found the senior's eyes in his rear-view mirror. His voice was low, and as serious as Dan had ever heard it.

"Mr. Graham, you should not seek out conflict. Not now, when you are untrained and vulnerable; not even later, once you've come into your full strength." Gregoir spoke slowly, emphasizing every word. "We do not hope that those we protect find danger, we merely protect them when danger inevitably finds them."

"....I understand," Graham replied stiffly. "My apologies."

The car was silent for a time. Only the heavy thrum of the engine and the dull roar of wind against the window broke the quiet. Gregoir guided the SUV onto a freeway, driving towards downtown Austin. His face was, by his standards, exceedingly grim. There was no smile to be seen.

After several more awkward minutes, Dan spoke up. "Where are we going?"

The question seemed to snap Gregoir out of his funk. The smile returned, blinding in its intensity.

"As I was saying earlier, interacting with the community is key. With that in mind, we will be focusing on civil disturbances and smaller issues such as misdemeanors. Easier problems, just to get a feel for policing. I'm on a separate channel," Gregoir flicked the radio at his waist, "so we won't be tempted by anything out of your league. Currently, we're heading to a small hotel just outside downtown. The owner called in while we were leaving. He claims that someone is stealing electricity from him."

"A milk run," Graham observed. Though his tone was even, his arms were crossed across his chest in the timeless pose of a pouting child.

"You object?" Gregoir asked with a disarming grin.

"No— of course not," Graham denied hurriedly. His hands untucked from beneath his elbows and he held them in a warding gesture. "I will follow the directives of my commanding officer."

"Excellent!" Gregoir boomed. In the small confines of the vehicle, his volume was high enough to leave his passengers' ears ringing.

Despite the twinge of pain, Dan felt like laughing out loud. He had intended on poking Graham a bit, annoying the boy with comments that might seem innocuous to Gregoir. The cheerful giant seemed to look for the best in people. Dan suspected that, rather than having to toe the line between passive and aggressive, it would take more of a pole vault to draw Gregoir's attention. He could get away with quite a bit of innuendo.

And yet, Dan hadn't needed to say a thing. Gregoir was doing a fine job of torturing the boy just by existing! He'd have to send the older man a fruit basket once this was all over.

They arrived at the 'crime scene' in short order. The small hotel was relatively inconspicuous, nestled between a pair of larger office buildings and somewhat run down. At four stories tall, it had barely crossed that fine line between hotel and motel.

They pulled into the surprisingly full parking lot, as Gregoir expounded on the role that Dan and Graham were to play. Though the full explanation involved several dozen exaggerated gestures, a handful of heroic poses, teeth shiny enough to reflect the sun, and the combined volume of a professional marching band, Dan was able to summarize it thusly:

"You want us to be flies on the wall."

"Not quite how I'd put it," Gregoir replied with a wince.

At this, Graham seemed to snap.

"How would you put it then, sir?" The emphasis was so packed with sarcasm that it was developing its own gravitational field. "You've all but ordered us to remain in the car."

"Not so!" Gregoir denied with a swipe of his hand. "This is but the first stop of the day. You'll simply observe for now, while I take a statement from the owner. Pay attention to my manner, my poise, my ability to project authority. All of these things are important! On our next call, you'll help me interview any witnesses or victims, and I expect you to have the presence of a proper trainee! Perform well, and you will receive the appropriate responsibilities. Who knows? By the end of the day, perhaps I'll be watching while you act."

It was a fair deal, Dan thought. Graham must have agreed, as he settled back into his seat, grumpy but compliant.

"Though, feel free to mingle with any passerby that you see," Gregoir added without hesitation. "As I said before, community outreach is very important. There is a difference between taking a statement, or speaking to witnesses, while on official business, and speaking to the community to build trust. There are two sides to the coin: the watchman and the confidant. It's a delicate balance that takes time to master."

Gregoir's speech ended, and silence reigned while his passengers digested his advice.

Dan could see it. A guardian needed to be trusted, respected, adored, yet remain threatening. They had to be loved and feared equally. Officers had so much power, here, so much discretion and so little oversight. Despite the culture of public service that seemed dominant in the country, there was an instinctual fear that followed that level of authority.

Had a version of the Vigilante Act somehow passed in Dan's reality, there would've been riots in the fucking streets. Here, it was reluctantly accepted as just another fact of life. It bought a bloody, tense peace, one that was only maintained through the sterling reputation of local law enforcement. No wonder their recruitment standards were so high.

And no wonder Graham was so pissed off at Dan's presence. The student had been training for years for this opportunity, only to watch Dan added in as an afterthought. It must have looked like nepotism of the highest order. The boy had an uncle in the force, yet no exceptions had been made for him, so far as Dan could tell.

The kid was still a dick, though. His attitude was deplorable, no matter how justified he felt.

...This was why Gregoir's reputation was so shit. How many prospective recruits had the over-optimistic viking snatched up off the streets, only to find them unqualified and unprepared? Why was his behavior tolerated? Did the department assume that he'd get lucky eventually, and unworthy trainees could simply fail out of the program?

All things that warranted further investigation. Dan mentally added it to the ever-growing list. For now, however, he would do as Gregoir asked. The man had to be, at the very least, somewhat qualified. Surely.

Ah, well. Hope springs eternal.

"Excellent!" Gregoir abruptly clapped his hands together. He seemed bizarrely adept at knowing when to interrupt one's thoughts. "There is one more thing to speak about!"

Graham, despite his earlier protests, seemed impatient to begin. He fidgeted in his seat at Gregoir's words, one leg bouncing in place uncontrollably.

The blonde smiled amicably. "We need a plan in case things go bad."

The bouncing leg stuttered to a stop.

"Is that likely?" Dan asked slowly.

"Of course not!" Gregoir exclaimed in shock. "Why would you think that?"

Dan was rendered speechless, and his fellow passenger took advantage to add his two cents.

"Best to be prepared," Graham grunted from the back. Dan had never heard such a simple sentence come out of the kid's mouth. Was that a sign of nervousness, or anticipation?

Either way, Gregoir agreed.

"Quite so, Mr. Graham. Proper planning and preparation prevents piss poor performance!" Gregoir beamed happily. "Now, if something goes wrong and I am somehow incapacitated, Daniel," Gregoir pressed a thick finger against Dan's sternum, "your job is to call for backup."

Dan flicked his eyes down to Gregoir's handheld radio.

"No, you won't use mine," Gregoir said, after following Dan's gaze.

The blonde giant gently patted the dashboard of his car. "The emergency radio is right here. You hit this button"—He knocked a knuckle against a small depression, and a hidden compartment popped open—"and call in your emergency."

It looked like a classic CB Radio, a rectangular box filled with switches and a corded microphone. Dan very deliberately closed the hidden panel, careful not to nudge any of the dials.

"Perfect!" Gregoir said happily.

Dan disagreed with the sentiment, but wisely kept silent.

"Now, for Mr. Graham." Gregoir turned to the backseat. "Your task is to de-escalate and escape. Secure as many civilians as possible, but prioritize your own safety. St. George's Academy trains its students well, but you are not yet an officer. You know how to use your countermeasures?"

Graham nodded seriously, thumping a fist against his kevlar vest and the devices hidden within.

"Good," Gregoir acknowledged with an approving nod. "Well then, let's be off. No need for fear, my brave ducklings! This exercise was simply to build good habits. Nothing will go wrong, so long as I am here!"

Right, of course. Gregoir had been an officer for years. Decades, even. Dan could trust him to do his job. And it was a simple call. What kind of master criminal steals electricity from a dumpy hotel? Graham had the right of it. This was a milk run.

Nothing would go wrong.