The Law of Averages

Book 2: Chapter 94: Greater Evil

Gregoir woke in darkness, surrounded by the gripping cold. He couldn’t move; his body was held immobile by frozen walls of ice. His heart raced as that old and familiar memory replayed, the roar of a collapsing building and the feeling of concrete pressing down on his chest. He remembered the echoing sirens and the overwhelming, all-consuming fear. But Gregoir did not falter, because fear was an old friend. It wrapped him in its familiar embrace, whispering its transparent lies into his ears. It promised weakness and death, an end to all that was good, and Gregoir accepted it gladly.

For what was fear if not fuel for courage?

The engine of his existence roared defiantly in his chest, and he flexed his mighty will! His fighting spirit surged, devouring the fear with hungry fervor! Muscles and sinew, skin and bone, strength unbound by his mortal frame all strained against the walls of his prison and the walls gave first! The sound of shattering ice filled Gregoir’s ears as he twisted and turned and strained! His cage broke into pieces, raining ice chips down his broad back.

He was free!

And still in darkness. Some manner of light was now peeking in from above, and he appeared to be surrounded by—

More ice.

Hm. That wouldn’t do. Now free to maneuver, he fell into a crouch. The floor, he noted, was smooth tile, though iced over. He glanced up, towards the light. His destination was nigh! Legs tensed, arms braced, muscles strained. He lowered his head, tucking it against his chest as his body quivered in anticipation.

With a triumphant bellow, he jumped! The floor broke as he rocketed skyward. He met the ceiling with all the force of a freight train. His shoulders took the impact, those strong, reliable wrecking balls. The ice crumpled like paper mache hit by a baseball bat; its structure collapsed around him as he rose. Gregoir breached the surface at speed, rising a good thirty feet into the air as the dying light of an evening sun reached his eyes. He spun in the air, taking in his surroundings.

Ice. Blue frost, wherever he looked, layered thick like the heaviest snowfall in the world. The Arctic had come to Austin. Where was he? It took Gregoir a few second to remember. The National Guard command post was completely unrecognizable. Tucked between a pair of skyscrapers in the corner of downtown Austin, the NG had taken over a large parking garage. The entire structure was nothing more than a block of ice. Gregoir landed heavily on the roof, having breached an entire floor without realizing it. The position gave him an unobstructed view of the disaster.

The neighboring skyscrapers were frozen over in their entirety. His heart stilled at the sight; thousands of civilians remained inside each building. He could only hope it was the exterior alone that had been frozen. The people within could be released, in time. Beyond the parking garage, ice blanketed the surrounding streets ten feet high. National Guard vehicles were engulfed in ice wherever they sat. The exits were essentially inaccessible by anything other than foot. It made for an odd looking image, almost an arena in its construction.

This was well beyond anything Coldeyes had ever displayed before, eclipsing even his earlier display against the Austin SPEAR Teams and his raid on the power plant. There was a breathtaking level of power on display here, and not for the first time Gregoir wondered if the military had given this threat the appropriate level of attention. The Crew’s namesake had just unleashed a decapitating strike against the National Guard’s leadership, and few, if any, remained standing.

The thought stirred anger in his belly. He was here to protect against just such an eventuality, though it was thought that Cannibal would have been the People’s weapon of choice. The NG commanders had assured him they were prepared for all eventualities, but the simple truth of the matter was that they had no Natural to counter Coldeyes. They relied entirely on military-grade upgrades which, while potent, could not directly contend with the kind of higher order Natural that Coldeyes obviously was.

On offense, in a coordinated strike? Any Natural would fall easily beneath the military’s perfectly tuned upgrades and perfect coordination. But put on the back foot? In a defensive position after a powerful alpha strike? Victory would be hard won. Especially against someone like Coldeyes, who excelled in open spaces like the city.

Gregoir’s fist clenched tight, as he realized the truth: it would be up to him. He was under no illusions about his own capabilities; he was a powerful Natural, quite possibly the strongest individual present in this building. And if he wasn’t, then he would simply push until he was. Gregoir Pierre-Louise could not balk, he could not doubt, and he could not give up.

His fighting spirit flared to life, a burning maelstrom in his chest that fought away the cold!

Gregoir’s ears picked up the sounds of combat. He turned, searching. It was distant gunfire and something else. The hissing pop of ice becoming steam. Gregoir reoriented himself, gathered his strength, and leapt! The ground shattered beneath him as he rocketed across the length of the garage. He landed at the far end. His feet slammed into ice, dug in deep, and pushed! He launched himself over the edge, roaring in defiance as he shot towards the battle.

Gregoir fell in a parabolic arc, the city zipping past him. Ice coated the streets and buildings, locking in civilians and vehicles. Gregoir could see people moving beyond the thin sheets of ice. They seemed unharmed, though curious. Faces peeked through increasingly transparent ice as Gregoir flew past, wide eyes following his trail.

He landed at the end of the block, feet breaking through the outer layer of ice and digging into concrete. He turned the corner, hearing the fight more clearly. The streets were similarly frozen, though the layers over the buildings were melting in places. The ground was similarly scorched, with water pooling along the dips of the sidewalk. The source was obvious, as a group of a dozen armed soldiers fought a single man with glowing eyes.

Every single soldier held some kind of pyrokinetic upgrade. Some were wreathed in flames, while others threw fire from their fingers or spat it from their mouths. One had hands that glowed like the sun, and they swiped at Coldeyes with waves of billowing heat. The enemy Natural seemed completely at ease in the battle, quenching each soldier’s power with nothing more than a glance, and shielding himself with walls of ice that sprang into existence in an instant.

A single assault rifle remained between the soldiers, and even as Gregoir watched it was plugged with ice and grotesquely warped. The soldier cast it aside in disgust, shaking out a frozen hand. Bereft of firearms, the team persevered nonetheless, hurling their upgrades at Coldeyes and moving with the clockwork precision of a military unit. Coldeyes did not move, himself. The ice beneath him shifted like a living thing, pulling him along and out of danger. His hands were clasped loosely behind himself, and a small, unconcerned smile adorned his face.

Gregoir decided that he would break the man’s jaw.

Coldeyes seemed to be talking, either to himself or the soldiers. Gregoir disregarded the poison for what it was, and steeled himself once more. He leapt, the sound like a gunshot drawing all eyes to his form. The moment Coldeyes’ gaze fell on him, a wall of frozen blue sprang into existence around him. Gregoir plowed into it without slowing and came out the other side swinging.

Coldeyes wasn’t there. He’d skated to the side, and Gregoir immediately reoriented. He reared back for a tremendous haymaker, then paused as he realized what lay behind the villainous Natural. The face of a curious child was pressed up against the nearly translucent ice covering the building behind Coldeyes, young eyes roaming the battlefield with wide, innocent eyes.

“Mind the civilians,” Coldeyes chided, wagging a finger at Gregoir. He shot upwards a moment later, carried aloft on a pillar of ice. Twin fireballs struck where he’d stood, converting the ice into steam with a flash of heat and noise. Lost somewhere in the commotion was a child’s scream. When the steam faded, most of the ice remained intact, though badly melted. The child was nowhere to be seen. With any luck, a sensible adult had pulled them away from the battlefield.

Gregoir spun towards the soldiers and bellowed, “Mind the civilians!”

He hated to echo the villains words, but it was a genuine concern. Not just for moral reasons, either. Coldeyes could not be perceived as caring more about the civilians than their own military. The frozen buildings, the iced over entrances, they were being used as shields. Coldeyes was a villain feigning valor; his every action was a performance for the crowd. Gregoir already felt a creeping feeling of disaster, as he searched the frozen windows and streets for signs of watchers. How much had he missed? What damage had already been done?

“We can’t,” a soldier rasped, as he landed beside Gregoir. Heat billowed off the man in desperate waves. Desert air licked at Gregoir’s face, and the man gestured upwards, at the retreating form of Coldeyes.

The villain dodged to the side, carried to safety on a sled of ice, and the heat struck the side of the building. Ice turned to steam as the heat coursed onward. Glass melted and steel bent. Something caught fire and someone screamed from high above, before Coldeyes put it out with a glance.

“See how little they care for your lives?” Coldeyes said, the ice vibrating in tune with his every word. “These men who call themselves your protectors, they would kill you without even noticing.”

The ice surrounding the buildings began to clear. Dozens of civilians watched as the soldiers bombarded Coldeyes, utterly disregarding the chance of collateral damage. Coldeyes dodged and weaved, carried along by a twisting snake of ice. He took the time to snuff the flames before they could reach civilians, mocking smile in place all the while. There could be no hiding this.

“You must!” Gregoir said to the soldier beside him. “Don’t you see? He is poisoning the minds of these people. You cannot play into his narrative!”

“It doesn’t matter what he says,” the soldier replied grimly. “Not if we kill him.”

With that, the soldier leapt at Coldeyes, propelled along by jets of fire.

Gregoir cursed the man’s stubborn pride, but seeing no better options, joined him.