The Law of Averages

Chapter 80

The sound of clamorous banging echoed through the small alcove where Dan stood. Beneath the commotion, he could just about make out the residual echo of gleeful laughter. It appeared that Gregoir had finally encountered something louder than himself, if only just. The floor had finally stopped trembling; whatever defense measure had caused that particular issue had either been disengaged or disabled.

Abby's expression had grown increasingly worried as time had moved on. At present, she was pacing back and forth just behind Dan, alternating between angry cursing and nervous hand-wringing. The fifth minute since Gregoir's swan dive ticked by without any significant change in circumstances.

"We should call the police," Abby announced suddenly, her pacing coming to an abrupt end. Her face was a picture of determination.

Dan gestured helplessly at the hole in his floor. "He is the police."

"Someone sane!" Abby growled, her determination instantly crumbling into angry exasperation.

"I mean," Dan shrugged, motioning once more to the entrance, "he ain't dead yet. I'm gonna assume the man knows what he's doing."

He paused, then added, "For a given value of knowledge."

Abby's face twisted into a snarl and she resumed her pacing. Her hands gesticulated violently, emphasizing each word. "He seemed so normal when I met him! Just a bit overenthusiastic!"

"I did say," Dan pointed out.

"'He's a police officer,' I thought, 'He can be trusted,' I assumed!" Abby continued, ignoring Dan's perfectly reasonable interruption. "Well I've certainly learned my lesson!"

"You wanted to call the police approximately twenty seconds ago," Dan reminded her.

She jabbed a finger in his direction. "You be quiet!"

"In fairness, I'm pretty sure most of the department falls closer to the normal side of the sanity scale. Gregoir is probably an outlier." Dan briefly recalled the pitying looks he'd received upon being partnered with Gregoir for his ride along. "I just... got that sort of vibe from them, y'know?"

Her lip curled in distaste. With a grudging sigh, she admitted, "At least he's been right so far. I haven't heard any explosions yet, and the house is still standing."

"Bonus points: we're not dead either," Dan added cheerfully. He paused, head cocked and ears open. "Now that you mention it, though, things seem to have gotten awful quiet all of a sudden."

Abby frowned at his observation. The various sounds of grinding metal had finally ended, and Gregoir's laughter could no longer be heard. The only sound in the room was that of air flowing through the vents above them. Dan cautiously approached the trap door, but was forced to a stop when Abby's hand clamped around his bicep.

"And just where do you think you're going?" she demanded through gritted teeth.

Ah. She sounded a little angry. He should tread carefully. Dan sheepishly met her eyes. "I was gonna go check it out." He jabbed a thumb towards the opening. "It's quiet now. Should be fine."

"I'm positive that's not how it works."

Dan winced. "I should really make sure Gregoir's okay?"

Abby's free hand rested against her hip, her elbow jutting out at a sharp angle. "Was that a question?"

"I should really check on Gregoir," Dan amended. "Make sure he's, y'know, still breathing."

"YOUR CONCERN IS TOUCHING, BUT UNNECESSARY, MY FRIEND!" The bellowed greeting caught them both by surprise.

"Fuck!" Dan flinched backwards, crashing into Abby's side. They landed together in a jumbled heap of flailing limbs, tipping over a nearby cabinet. The clay pot resting on top of it shattered into pieces, and Abby let out a frustrated hiss.

"I'm gonna strangle that man!" She lifted Dan off herself with almost contemptuous ease, setting him into a kneeling position while he shook off his daze. After quickly checking him over, she spun to Gregoir, eyes blazing. "You ass—" Her words trailed to a stop as she took in his appearance.

His long, normally immaculate, blonde hair looked like it had been run through a car wash, then set on fire. It stuck out at every angle, a tangled, terrible mess, with locks twisted and tips scorched. His bare chest was covered in soot and blood. Black char marks mottled his face and neck making him look more Dalmatian than Viking. Most of his left eyebrow was missing.

His horseshoe mustache remained completely untouched.

Gregoir pulled himself out of the hole, revealing shredded officer pants. Great gouges had been ripped in them, along his thighs and waist. What remained of the pants hung past his knees in ragged strips. He was barefoot, his shoes apparently lost to whatever dangers he'd engaged with. Despite all of the visible damage, the big blonde seemed completely unperturbed as he clambered to his feet and brushed himself off. Each lazy swipe of his hand knocked free blackened ash and dried blood, revealing the pristine skin beneath.

Dan watched the clumps of gross particulate rain down on his once clean floor. "You're cleaning that up, And paying for my pot." he informed the man.

Abby's head jerked towards him, eyebrow twitching. Her silent incredulity was an almost physical thing.

He hadn't been all that concerned about Gregoir, in truth. The jolly lunatic had walked out of his own kidnapping with trivial ease; Dan figured he could probably handle himself. His more immediate concern was what happened now.

"What'd you find?" Dan asked.

"An excellent question!" Gregoir boomed his approval. He gestured them forward with one arm. "Come, my friends, and witness what was hidden beneath your home!"

Despite her reservations Abby still struggled to argue with a police officer.

It was a straightforward trip. A thin ladder had been bolted to the inside of the trap door, which Gregoir led them down. It dropped them into a narrow corridor, about a hundred feet long and five feet wide, and just barely tall enough for Gregoir to stand in. The walls were lined with contiguous squared panels, dozens upon dozens, each covering, concealing, small apertures. They were traps, mechanical and otherwise. Many panels had been ripped free, leaving dangling circuitry and sparking wires. Bits of deformed metal and machinery were scattered across the floor. The ceiling was scorched black and riddled with holes.

Dan's veil had sensed the metal and circuitry before, but he had no idea what to make of it. Now, he did. Good thing he had sent in the insanely durable giant first, rather than face-checking a hallway filled with traps.

Gregoir waved a careless hand at the debris. "As far as secret bases go, this was fairly standard. Non-lethal tasers at the front," he shoved his fist through a nearby panel, pulling out a handful of wreckage and gesturing to it, "with escalating lethality the further down one goes." Dan couldn't even begin to guess at what the smashed example had been.

The corridor terminated in a set of stairs going downwards. The staircase was flanked on either side by a pair of open panels. The tip of a nozzle protruded slightly from one of the hidden cavities, its once-round barrel smushed flat in the shape of a large thumbprint. Some kind of viscous liquid dribbled out of the opposite panel, oozing down the wall and onto the floor. The hallway was filled with the noxious smell of gasoline.

Dan eyed the sparking wires, and the encroaching liquid. "Is that gonna be a problem?"

"Diesel," Gregoir replied airily. "Used as fuel, not an accelerant. It appears that the dearly departed Captain Quantum was uninterested in burning down his own home, even in the face of an intruder."

"You couldn't have known that," Abby muttered under her breath, one hand covering her nose. Dan could see her faith in the proper authorities dying in real-time as she examined the haphazard wreckage. It was almost hypnotic.

Gregoir led them through the corridor, and down the stairs. They emerged into a square room, not much larger than Dan's bedroom. The walls were plain steel, though several cabinets had been mounted on them. A red toolbox sat in the corner of the room, with several drawers hanging open. A large table had been placed against the far wall, covered in tools and—

And customized armor.

"Is that..." Abby's voice trailed off as they both stared.

Gregoir was far less reverent. Two strides brought him to the table, and he scooped up the discarded breastplate. He considered it for a moment, then held it aloft. It had clearly been designed for a smaller man, the entirety of it not even reaching across his chest. It was shaped like a stylized Roman cuirass, complete with forged muscles and elaborate patterns scrawled across its length. It was colored a dark red, with splashes of blue accenting the artistry of the plate, with one exception. A stylized atom had been carved into the center, painted a brilliant white.

Gregoir spun it around, giving them a view of the armor from the side. The inner layer was covered in circuitry, and covered again with a layer of soft leather. Parts of the leather had been peeled away, and dangled loosely.

"He must have been doing repairs," Gregoir mused, idly twirling the piece of armor like a child's toy. He glanced around the room. "I don't see the rest of his suit..."

Dan very carefully said nothing. He had sent his veil into the room the very instant he set foot in it, and it was very loudly insisting that the wall behind the staircase was only a foot thick. Beyond the wall, a treasure trove of goodies that he couldn't identify. Greed warred with caution, and emerged victorious. Now that his veil had gotten a feel for the ex-vigilante's traps, he should be able to identify them on his own. Probably.

"I expected more than this," Gregoir announced with a sigh. He shook his head sadly. "I suppose disappointment was inevitable. The man was retired, after all." He frowned, then glanced to Daniel. "Though, my instincts tell me that there is more to this place than meets the eye. Still, I'm not prepared to start punching holes in the walls based on a hunch." Dan silently gave thanks for small mercies.

The officer continued, "Instead, I shall simply offer some advice: Be careful, should you make use of this room in the future, Daniel."

Dan blinked in confusion. "Does that mean I get to keep the house?"

Gregoir grinned, taking his favorite pose. Both hands fisted at his waist, elbows cocked out. His wild hair seemed to wave in a windless breeze.

"Of course, my friend!" Gregoir announced proudly. "I would never think to confiscate your beautiful home! We have measures for situations like this, and I am positive that I can produce an outcome acceptable to everyone!"

Dan slumped in relief, with Abby mirroring him at his side. "That's a relief, Gregoir. Really."

"That said, naturally I will be confiscating everything down here," the giant blonde added, waving the breastplate for emphasis.

"Ah." Dan stifled his frown. No need to get too greedy. "That seems fair."

"It's just a shame at how little there is," Gregoir lamented. "Captain Quantum's technology was quiet advanced for a man without a genius upgrade."

"Yes," Dan said slowly, his veil silently mapping the hidden room behind him. "Such a shame."