The Law of Averages

Book 2: Chapter 136: Juvenile Discontent

A dozen teenagers in spandex walked into a police barbeque. It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke, but Dan watched it play out in real time. There was much awkward shuffling and veiled tension, but the wide river of Gregoir’s charisma somehow carried everyone onward. He cut right through the center of the gathering, seemingly oblivious to both side’s reticence.

“It’s my great pleasure to introduce Austin’s representatives for the New Heroes movement!” he announced, sweeping his hand backwards at the motley collection of capes.

They didn’t look like much, but they’d shown up. Dan supposed it took some bravery to do that. Bravery, or stupidity, or stubbornness. Whichever the case, someone stepped forward. He didn’t look to be the oldest, though he was probably close. Dan judged him to be around eighteen or nineteen. He was slim, obviously athletic, but not toned. His outfit was a hodgepodge of leather strips sewed into what was probably a butcher’s apron. He was probably going for the medieval warrior aesthetic, but it ended up looking like something out of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

The officers were professional. Nobody sniggered at the outfit, but it did raise a few eyebrows. The young man puffed out his chest and introduced himself, quite simply, as Adrian. Credit to him, it broke the ice. His actions set off a whole round of introductions between both groups. Dan was incredibly thankful that the New Heroes had chosen names as aliases, rather than grand heroic monikers. It was much easier to have a conversation with a ‘George’ rather than a ‘Captain Justice Seeker’.

There were two women in the group of twelve which, statistically, was about on point. Powers had served as a great social equalizer in Dimension A—The APD was a little over thirty-five percent women—yet it was still men who historically dominated the vigilante scene. The men of the New Heroes were anywhere between sixteen and twenty-two, with Dan generously ball-parking in both directions. Connor looked more mature than them all, even if he was probably the same age as one or two. They just seemed… unseasoned.

Gregoir clapped his hands.

“Activities!” he announced jubilantly, and the event finally kicked off.

It was a testament to Gregoir’s sheer force of personality that things proceeded without incident. Teams were organized, shuffled between police officers and the New Heroes at Gregoir’s assistance, and a moderately amicable game of flag football played itself out. Dan watched from the sidelines, having been restricted due to his power. Teleportation was a banned upgrade in professional, and casual, play of pretty much every sport. It was one of a very short list.

Upgrades were part of life in Dimension A, and thus they were part of sports as well. The APD had access to many upgrades that were restricted to the public, usually because they were more powerful or versatile than their peers. It was a little comical to watch the officers try and tone down their supernatural athleticism to match the New Heroes. Only half of the vigilantes had upgrades that would help them with the game, while the rest had to rely on sheer physical prowess and whatever mods they might have purchased. Dan didn’t spot any mutations among the upgrades on display, nor anything that resembled a Natural power. He could probably name most of the upgrades they had, just by looking at internet or television ads. Still, the game played out without hostility, each side growing more comfortable with the other.

Soccer was next, followed by volleyball. It was here that Gregoir stepped out, joining Dan on the sidelines. He settled his bulk on the grass beside Dan, leaning back with a satisfied groan.

“This is going well, I think,” he announced cheerfully.

Dan watched one of the New Heroes leap up to the net and spike the ball. An opposing officer fumbled the recovery, and a cheer went up. He watched the officer hide a grin as he stood up, dusting himself off. By Dan’s estimation, that fumble had been on purpose.

“It’s certainly going better than I would’ve expected,” Dan agreed.

“This is the easy part,” Gregoir said, looking up at the blue sky. “Next, comes the hard.”

Dan could guess at the why. “Connor mentioned a policy change.”

“Zero tolerance,” Gregoir intoned gravely.

“What does that mean?” Dan asked, tilting his head.

“We can’t have another Galeforce incident,” Gregoir replied. His great bulk shifted, as he planted his chin on his fist. “Lives were lost because of our hesitance. The next time a vigilante acts out, we will immediately resort to lethal force. That means no officer discretion, and no offers of mercy. They are to be put down, immediately.”

“Acts out?” Dan repeated. “I hope that statement is well-defined.”

“Using an upgrade or power to interfere with any ongoing crime, regardless of if there is active police presence nearby,” Gregoir quoted. ” Self-defense is still excepted, of course, and there are various other allowances. This policy isn’t meant to be subtle. The kinds of vigilantes we are worried about will be obvious.”

“Idiots in costumes,” Dan guessed.

“Just so.” Gregoir nodded, his eyes on the teenagers playing volleyball while dressed in spandex.

“Your entire justification for this get-together was that the New Heroes aren’t breaking the law,” Dan pointed out. He gestured towards the game. “They’re just doing community service, you said.” He hadn’t done much investigation on the group, himself, but he doubted something like this would have been approved, no matter Gregoir’s insistence, if the New Heroes were breaking the law.

“They’ve never been caught breaking the law,” Gregoir corrected. “There have been rumors. I’ve mostly ignored them, but I cannot take that risk, given these changes. They must know what they are getting into.”

“Danger won’t change their mind. They’re teenagers. Their brains literally process risk differently than adults.”

“I am aware.” Gregoir heaved a great sigh. “I am hopeful that I can direct their good intentions to more useful, less dangerous endeavors. Or, failing that, impress upon them the dangers of what they are aspiring to emulate.”

“I assume I’m one of your less dangerous endeavors?” Dan asked. He grinned at Gregoir, a little sardonically. “You realize I’ve been shot at multiple times, yes?”

Gregoir considered that. “Yes, well, you’re a unique case. The overwhelming majority of crisis volunteers live to see retirement.”

“Yeah, after about five years,” Dan muttered. The withdrawal rate for crisis volunteers was no secret. They were called in for the aftermath of large-scale disasters, and saw many horrible things. Most couldn’t bear it for long. It was just a fact of life.

“Five years of making a difference, followed by a long life afterwards,” Gregoir said. “Much better than the alternative.”

“It’s still dangerous. People die doing it, all the time.”

“Safer than being a vigilante,” Gregoir countered. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll lure as many as I can into the APD camp, but some will be against it out of sheer contrariness. I just want them to know they have other options. I don’t want them to wander off, looking for those options. I want one right there on the table, waiting for them.”

After the games, came the food. This was Texas, so grills were broken out, and burgers were distributed. Gregoir donned a gargantuan chef’s hat, and shouted enthusiastic instructions at Connor, who manned the grill. Coolers were brought in, filled with iced tea and beer and soda. Drinks were passed out. People were fed and watered. It was a happy moment. The crowd was satisfied.

Gregoir made his move. He called the New Heroes inside, asking to speak with them as a group. They gathered up slowly, stuffed and drowsy. There was a general mood of joviality hovering around the group. Things had gone well, thus far. Nobody had been arrested. No threats had been made. Things were good. That mood went away real quick, once Gregoir outlined the new department policy.

“We had nothing to do with Galeforce!” Adrian protested angrily. “He is completely separate from our organization! His actions shouldn’t reflect on ours!”

They’d adjourned to a meeting room inside the athletics center. Most of the group had found seats in the well-furnished room, but Gregoir stood at its center, addressing the gathered vigilantes. They were taking the news poorly, but meekly. Adrian was one of the few willing to speak up, and he was finding very little support from his peers. Dan didn’t blame them for their silence. It was a group of teenagers facing off against the symbol of societal authority. Gregoir was an especially potent figurehead, as everyone in the room knew what he was capable of.

“Galeforce’s actions have no effect on how we will treat members of the New Heroes,” Gregoir replied diplomatically. “The law is the law. So long as your actions remain within its bounds, there will be no problems.”

“You wouldn’t have pulled all of us to the side, just to say that,” Adrian pointed out, crossing his arms impetuously. It was true, to his credit.

“No,” Gregoir admitted. “I have concerns about… let’s call it escalation. While I have no issue with the New Heroes current activities, and indeed am quite pleased with your interest in community service, I would be gravely disappointed should your members turn towards actual vigilantism.”

“Helping our community and protecting our community are one and the same,” Adrian replied stubbornly. His arms were wrapped tight around his chest, elbows jutting out at harsh angles.

“There’s nothing wrong with thinking that, but you need to be properly trained,” Connor butted in. “You saw for yourself what a lack of proper training and oversight leads to. Galeforce hurt hundreds of people.”

“Galeforce was a moron,” Adrian declared. “We’re better than that.”

Dan held up his hand, halting Connor’s reply.

“Just out of curiosity,” Dan said slowly, “what is your particular grievance with the police?”

The question seemed to stump Adrian, who floundered for a moment. “Well, we don’t have any issues with the APD in particular. The New Heroes aren’t against law enforcement as a principal, we simply believe that you shouldn’t require a badge and a fancy upgrade to stop criminals! It’s obvious that the APD is undermanned, so why shouldn’t we do our part for the city!?”

“If you think the APD is undermanned, why not sign up to join?” Dan asked.

Adrian scoffed. “None of us have the kind of money needed to attend those fancy police prep schools, and I’ve looked up the washout rates for the public academy. That place might as well not even exist, considering the number of officers it actually produces!”

“We’re refurbishing it, actually,” Connor offered. “Granted, it will take a few years to get where it needs to be, but classes are still ongoing in the interim.”

“The city doesn’t have a few years,” Adrian said, his voice passionate. His fellow New Heroes were beginning to nod. “Things have been getting worse. This past year alone has been one disaster after another. Who knows if the city will even be standing a few years from now! We can make a difference right now!”

“Or,” Connor countered sharply, back straight and tall, “you could do what Galeforce did, and get a great many people killed. We cannot see the future. We cannot predict how events will play out. We, the APD, cannot afford a repeat of Galeforce. We have to assume the worst, and act appropriately.”

There was a ringing silence, into which Gregoir stepped, confidently clearing his throat.

“Officer Graham is correct. With that in mind, I’m asking— no, I am begging you all: please do not act rashly. Your spirits are admirable, and your intentions, good, but righteousness must always be tempered by wisdom! Vigilantes are defined by their lack of training and authority. We offer both.”

There was a rumbling of juvenile discontent in the room. Nothing was spoken, but it hung there in the air, obvious to all. Gregoir seemed to be cheered by it. It meant, at least, they were listening.

“Should that not appeal to you, there are other paths towards serving your community,” he offered with a wide grin. “Not all heroes have to wear the uniform. You have options.” Other than vigilantism, went unsaid.

Adrian seemed unconvinced. “Name one,” he challenged.

Gregoir’s grin widened. He gestured grandly. “For that, I shall cede the floor to my good friend: Daniel Newman!”

Dan tamped down his initial urge to scream. A dozen pairs of eyes swung to face him. He sighed, and stood up.

Time to give a speech.