The Law of Averages

Book 2: Chapter 96: Grit

Coldeyes spiraled downwards to the earth, broken shards of ice trailing after him like the tail of a shooting star. His power flared wildly, ice randomly springing into existence in broad patches on the surrounding buildings as the villain’s power searched for purchase. Gregoir descended behind him, his fist numb. He scowled at the rime-coated appendage as he shook feeling back into it. That blow had been meant to cave in Coldeyes’ skull, but the Natural had quick reactions. He’d managed to absorb part of the strike with a barrier of ice and freeze a good deal of Gregoir’s arm in the process. Not that it had slowed Gregoir by much, but Coldeyes had kept his head attached to his body.

Gregoir risked a glance away from the falling villain to track the path of his projectile as it hurtled through the air. He was fairly confident in his throwing arm; the oversized icicle should land somewhere in the Colorado river. It should have minimal collateral damage. Hopefully no idiot was fool enough to go canoeing at a time like this. Reassured that all would be well, Gregoir turned his attention back to Coldeyes.

The villain had managed to stabilize his fall. Ice sprouted from the street, growing quickly upwards to catch its master. It swept beneath him, forming a slide of sorts that would carry him downwards. The soldiers had finally regrouped, and were moving to intercept their falling foe. Coldeyes’ smooth confidence was nowhere to be found as he frantically sighted his strange weapon on the approaching soldiers. There was no visible change, but as he swept it across their ranks they collapsed in screaming heaps. Coldeyes’ back slammed into his ice slide and he skid down towards the street. The weapon raised up towards Gregoir’s descending form.

Pain.

Every nerve in Gregoir’s body lit up at the same time, all reporting sheer agony into his mind. It was a disturbing experience to feel like one’s optical nerves were on fire, and he could feel his muscles attempting to clench. Gregoir’s nostrils flared at the feeling, but the pain was a secondary, distant thing. His fighting spirit roared through his veins, obscuring nearly all else. His eyes were trained on Coldeyes as he fell, searching for a new angle of attack.

The villain’s eyes widened, obviously stunned by Gregoir’s steely determination! His eyes flashed, and the slide melted away. Gregoir soared past the diminishing structure, missing his foothold. His momentum carried him past Coldeyes’ retreating form, and he landed hard against the roof of a nearby building. Gregoir was back on his feet in a matter of moments, bounding towards the enemy Natural who was on full retreat.

Several of the soldiers were not moving, while a few other lay twitching on the ground. Only two were standing, and gingerly at that. They moved with exhausted slowness, their limbs shaking with agony. Gregoir could not spare the time to assist them. They would follow when able, he was sure. He could not allow Coldeyes to escape.

The villain’s movements were more sluggish than before, his power less responsive and the results less clean. Gregoir’s blow had clearly disoriented the man, possibly even concussing him. Gregoir leapt after Coldeyes, who was quickly retreating using his preferred method of skating on a ramp of ice. Gregoir took to the rooftops, bouncing from one building to another with powerful strides.

They were reaching the edge of downtown, and Coldeyes was running out of skyscrapers to exploit. He was forced to stay low to the ground. Though his ice could become supernaturally sturdy, Gregoir did not allow the villain the time to imbue it with such strength. His makeshift sled required supports to stay airborne; supports which Gregoir gleefully destroyed whenever they were in reach.

It was a cat and mouse game that Gregoir was certain he was going to win. Coldeyes had given up all pretense of heroism, not that it mattered anymore. The show he’d put on had been for the inhabitants of downtown, who had seen him all but destroy the National Guard and freeze their leadership. They were moving too fast now, for eyes to be watching. Coldeyes had already succeeded, at least in part, in his goals. It was up to Gregoir to catch the man, or force out an admittance of his crimes.

This was why, when Coldeyes finally began to speak, Gregoir engaged with it.

“You’d fight your own kind?” the villain shouted, eyes staying forward as he focused on running.

Gregoir snorted derisively, even as he destroyed a chunk of ice supporting the man’s retreat.

“You are not my kind,” the officer rumbled. “You are a petty thug with delusions of grandeur!”

“I am a Natural, same as you,” the villain insisted. He chanced a look behind him, face paling as Gregoir closed in. The man immediately turned around, words coming out rushed. “Your masters will never accept you as you are! You have power that most could only dream of! Defeating me will only increase their fear of you!”

He wasn’t wrong. Gregoir had never had a chance to display his full abilities as an APD officer. Austin was a peaceful city, present circumstances excluded. He’d been considered exceptional for something as simple as walking off a shotgun to the chest. In truth, Gregoir hadn’t even noticed he’d taken that hit, all those years ago. He had not mentioned it at the time, not wanting to embarrass his fellow officers by boasting about his own durability, and Kenny had pointedly not asked any questions.

Gregoir was not naive, just optimistic. He knew that his strength frightened people, but that was okay. The world could not always be how one preferred it to be. Gregoir could not control the reactions of others, only his own. And Gregoir Pierre-Louise did not fear other’s fear. Let them be afraid! He would stand between them and danger, regardless! That was the purpose of Gregoir Pierre-Louise!

He laughed at Coldeyes, a great booming thing that echoed off the surrounding buildings. “It is natural to fear what one does not understand! Shall I lash out at others for being human? No! I am not so weak as that!”

“Your own government would see you shackled!” Coldeyes cried dramatically, eyes flaring brilliant white. The air turned to a terrible chill, and a deep fog enveloped the street. “You must have heard Champion’s words! The best of us was taken! Experimented on! Tormented!”

Gregoir followed the trail of ice as it turned a corner.

“Don’t pretend to be a believer,” he scoffed. “You, who has ordered the massacre of thousands, now fight for the rights of the downtrodden? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Champion has shown me the light.” The words lacked sincerity, even to Gregoir’s ears.

Gregoir found himself facing a thick wall of ice. He leapt over it, unwilling to break through when he could not see clear to the other side. He caught the last flicker of Coldeyes’ jacket as it crossed a rooftop, and he gave chase.

“You are no true believer,” Gregoir replied. “Why bother with the lie? We both know the truth of things.”

He’d read the FBI’s psych profile on Coldeyes. Freya Valentine’s grandfather had acquired it from his old contacts within the organization shortly after the Crew had gone to war with the Scales. It painted the man as a narcissist with an inferiority complex. He needed to be unique. He needed to be special. He wanted the world to worship him. This man was a cult leader, not a follower. He had rules and discipline, and he enforced both among his men in a warped parody of honor. Coldeyes respected only strength, because he wished for the strong to admire him.

“I think I’ve earned a little honesty,” Gregoir tried, leaping after the trail of ice. He could barely see ten feet in front of him, but his ears worked just fine. He could hear Coldeyes panting, he could hear the man’s voice as he justified these atrocities.

Gregoir’s boots suddenly landed on grass. He frowned at the feeling, checking his mental map and realizing he wasn’t quite sure where he was anymore. He supposed it didn’t matter. So long as he followed the fog and the ice, it would lead him to Coldeyes. Let the man plan an ambush. Gregoir would gladly take an offer of more criminals to arrest!

The fog ended as abruptly as it began. Gregoir stepped out onto the bank of a frozen stream. Coldeyes stood a good distance beyond him, eyes glowing with power. His strange weapon was clutched in one hand, and a phone held loosely in the other. He pointed the weapon almost casually in Gregoir’s direction. Gregoir stopped, eyes narrowed and searching for the trap.

“You have been a worthy opponent,” Coldeyes acknowledged without reluctance. His face was clear again. Whatever trouble he’d experienced from Gregoir’s earlier blow had obviously faded. He kept himself out of lunging range, skating backwards across the frozen stream as Gregoir approached. “Come then, let us speak as men. Surely you know you’re on the wrong side?”

“That is a matter of opinion,” Gregoir stated as he stoically advanced.

True anger flashed across Coldeyes face for the first time. “It’s a fact. I don’t buy into the People’s bullshit, but even I can acknowledge that any Natural in service of this government is a fool.”

Gregoir paused, sensing opportunity.

“So not a true believer, then?” he asked Coldeyes.

The villain snorted derisively. “Echo is a fanatic that believes himself a messiah, but he’s powerful and motivated. I’m perfectly at ease working with that in pursuit of my own goals.”

“Which are?” Gregoir asked, He was not subtle, so he didn’t bother trying to be. Coldeyes clearly saw him as an equal of sorts. There was an unspoken truce in place as the two argued their convictions.

“I’ve already said: I like this city. I want to make it mine. It’s nothing I haven’t done before, just more overt, and on a larger scale.”

“Your own little fiefdom?” Gregoir asked pointedly.

“Why not?” Coldeyes punctuated his words with a smile and a shrug. “It’s only what I deserve. People like me and you, we can take what we want. We have that capability. Others should be thankful that we ever deign to stop.”

“Does Champion share your beliefs?” Gregoir asked.

Coldeyes snickered. “How should I know? I’ve never met the man. Never so much as heard him speak. I don’t care much for ancient history nor the opinions of the dead.”

That would do. At the very least, it contradicted things Coldeyes had said before. Gregoir transitioned from an idle stance to a flat out charge between blinks. Coldeyes flinched backwards, startled by the sudden change as Gregoir launched himself forward. The man seemed genuinely flabbergasted that Gregoir was not adhering to the villain’s twisted sense of honor. It seemed to catch him completely off-guard, and Gregoir was happy to exploit this weakness.

He made it to the edge of the stream before Coldeyes reacted. Spears of ice launched out from the riverbed, sharp points crashing into Gregoir’s frame. He ignored them entirely, and they struck like hammers, slamming into his broad chest. The force pushed him back, but he thrust a hand into the frozen river to steady himself. The ice was incredibly thick, and he was forced to exert much more strength than before to break through it. Gregoir smiled at the feeling.

His gamble had paid off: Coldeyes had reinforced this ice. The spears spawned from the river shared its strength, but Coldeyes was standing on the same same river, though a ways downstream. Gregoir flexed his mighty frame, and the spears in his body snapped. He slammed down his other hand, digging deep into the ice of the frozen river bed. Coldeyes sent another wave of sharp daggers to pepper Gregoir’s back, but the officer would not be deterred. He knelt, his thighs bulging out of his pants, and heaved upwards!

The frozen river shattered below his feet, and a mold of ice rose clear out of the bed. The long, snaking, solid river soared up into the air, with Coldeyes locked at its tip. The man’s feet were anchored firmly into the ice, as that was his usual method of maneuvering himself. In this case, it trapped him for the crucial moment it took to glance downwards. Gregoir did not give him that moment. He heaved up and back, uprooting the entire frozen river and slamming it down behind him in a single violent movement. Coldeyes had all of a single second to brace himself, before he was hurled into the ground at earthshaking speed.

The hardened ice broke under Gregoir’s monstrous strength, and he cast aside the pieces. Gregoir sprinted forward, lunging towards where Coldeyes had landed. The villain was twitching weakly, frost forming on the dirt beside his head. Gregoir stomped down on the villain’s knee, almost severing it. The enemy Natural groaned, and his eyes began to glow. Gregoir flipped him onto his back and slammed his fist into the man’s forehead with just enough strength to incapacitate.

Coldeyes went limp.