The Law of Averages

Dan was woken by loud knocking on his door, the following morning. He ignored it at first, burrowing deeper into his bed and muffling the sound with his pillow. Unfortunately, his door's assailant was relentless.

Thump thump thump!!

Saturday was Dan's designated 'sleep until noon' day; a little gift to himself to keep him sane during an otherwise brutal workout regime. Abby had always been a demanding trainer, but ever since Dan's ill-fated ride along, she had been ramping up her efforts to just shy of manslaughter. It seemed to be her way of working out stress, by turning Dan's muscles to putty and his body into hamburger. He didn't even want to contemplate how frantic she'd become once he told her about his conversation with Matilda.

She almost certainly had her suspicions already. Dan had declined to talk about his training exercise when he visited her yesterday, citing mental fatigue. They had spent the afternoon watching old Western movies and eating popcorn, while Dan recovered from his stressful morning. Abby would wait for Dan to tell her what was wrong. She was good like that, letting him process things at his own pace, without pressing. He would tell her, of course. She was his best friend; he had nothing to hide from her. Eccentric coping methods aside, her worry was genuine.

Besides, Dan could deal with an increased workload. He could feel himself growing each day. He liked the person that he was turning into. The process was excruciating, sure, but the results would be worth it. So long as Dan had a day or two of rest each week, he could cope.

Thump thump thump!!

So his reaction to this morning's visitor was completely reasonable. Once it became clear that they were not going away, Dan's irritation quickly evolved into apoplectic rage. He teleported out of bed, not even bothering to change out of his pajamas, and ripped open his door with a snarl.

"What the fuck do you want!?" he bellowed in a sleep addled haze.

The subject of his wrath was taken aback for less than a second. A finger was jabbed in front of Dan's nose, and an arrogant voice declared, "Did you think I'd allow you to call me out without consequence!? Fool!"

The response was so befuddling that, for a moment, Dan forgot to be angry. He blinked blearily at the young man in his doorway. The world slowly swam into focus, revealing...

"Graham?" Dan asked with confusion.

Sure enough, Connor Graham, police trainee, kidnapping victim, and dickhead extraordinaire, was standing outside Dan's hotel room. Though his hair was gelled backwards in an immaculate coif, the rest of his appearance did not quite match the refined image that Dan was used to seeing. The young man was clad in what could best be described as gym clothes for the outrageously wealthy (and vain).

His shirt was clearly made out of nylon, but it was fashioned into a facsimile of a suit and tie combo, and—Dan squinted incredulously—tailored to fit Graham's body. His pants were the same: heavy cotton weave, dyed black, and custom-fit to his waist. He was clearly too good for elastic bands. The only sensible item of clothing that Dan could see were Graham's shoes. It seemed that even Graham was not willing to wear dress shoes while exercising.

This fact did not lessen Dan's confusion.

Dan's eyes quickly roamed the hallway, trying to determine if this was some sort of horrifying prank. With no cameras in sight, he helplessly engaged with the crazy person.

"What are you wearing?" Dan blurted out.

The question had Graham glancing over himself with visible confusion, clearly unable to see the problem. His gaze drifted back to Dan, taking in his pajama-clad glory. The younger man's eyebrows rose to his hairline.

"What are you wearing!?" Graham demanded, somehow managing to sound offended at Dan's completely normal bed-wear.

This conversation was quickly becoming surreal.

Dan took a step backwards into his room, where sanity still reigned. He shook his head, ignoring Graham's question, and retorted, "How the hell did you find out where I live? And why are you here!?"

"You challenged me!" the fop replied indignantly. "My Freya told me so. She would not lie about such a thing!"

That... was a thing that he had done, yes. Dan was deeply regretting the brief moment of empathy that had led him to this moment.

"I expected you to pass along a message, or maybe meet me after class. Something, you know, not this. Now answer my questions!"

Graham sniffed disdainfully, tilting his head upwards in order to look down his nose at Dan. "Hmph. It seems as if I'm already ahead in our competition. You are taking a class on tracking, no? Perhaps you should pay closer attention."

"That's— You're not... What!?" Dan sputtered, at a complete loss for words.

"As is fitting for a future police officer," Graham continued pompously, holding one hand over his chest, "I have cultivated many contacts within the local community. It was a simple matter to determine your living situation."

Dan processed this statement, considered Graham's personality, then immediately disregarded it.

"You asked Gregoir!" he accused angrily. "That blonde ox ratted me out!"

Graham floundered for a moment, but quickly rallied. "Officer Pierre-Louis could be considered a contact of mine, yes. Naturally, I chose the most efficient method of achieving my goal."

"Your goal that you still haven't stated," Dan muttered with murder on his mind.

Graham leaned back incredulously. "Of course I have! You insulted me, you challenged me, and so I have come to compete. For now, I shall simply join you on your daily training routine, and prove myself your physical superior. Come! Lead me to your trainer!"

Dan slumped against his door, running a tired hand down his face. "How do you know I have a trainer?"

"Oh please," Graham scoffed. "You beat a professional mercenary in hand-to-hand combat. I can do basic addition, Daniel Newman."

"Of course," Dan hissed from between gritted teeth. "It's social studies where you struggle."

While Graham struggled to unravel whether he'd just been insulted, Dan considered the problem before him.

Today was his rest day. He had hoped to sleep in, then spend most of the day at Abby's house; they had things to discuss, after all. The first half of that plan was well and truly dead, but the latter still trumped the irritant at his door.

"Today is my rest day," Dan informed the human-shaped peacock.

That seemed to take the wind out of Graham's sails.

"Oh." His face fell. "I see."

With those three simple words, Graham's energy seemed to drain out of his body. It wasn't a leak so much as a flood. His posture fell into an undignified slouch, his shoulders drooped, and his arms dropped down to his sides. It was as if he had been driven entirely by indignant pride, and Dan had just cut his fuel line.

Watching a human wilt in real time was never a pleasant experience, and Dan immediately felt like an asshole. Then, he remembered who was responsible for him being awake at this godforsaken hour, and he immediately felt a whole lot better. It was an unusual situation for Dan to be in, feeling both responsible for Graham's misery, and inordinately pleased by it. The boy was (arguably) here at Dan's behest, but he'd gone about issuing his challenge in the most obnoxious way possible.

Then again, that was Graham in a nutshell. Dan really should have seen this coming. He had invited it upon himself. Like an idiot.

Dan sighed. His conscience would be nagging him for the rest of the day if he left things like this. There had to be a way of resolving this situation in a way that left both parties satisfied. It was just a matter of making sure that both of them got what they wanted.

Graham clearly wanted an opportunity to prove himself, to test his competence against an opponent whom he felt had bested him before. Dan doubted that victory was even a necessary outcome for the young man, so much as the challenge itself. Dan could sympathize with that, at least. Graham was stuck in a rut, and was trying to fight his way out of it. Dan was much the same, not too long ago.

So what did Dan want?

Well, he wanted his morning back, for starters. That wasn't about to happen, so he needed to settle for the next best thing.

Violent retribution.

Oh, look! A convenient punching bag!

"Tell you what," Dan began slowly, "let me get dressed, wash up, make a phone call, do my standard morning shit, and then afterwards I'll meet you in the lobby. We'll find an old boxing gym or something, and spar for a while."

Graham's head raised slightly. "That's very generous of you. I don't— I wouldn't," His eloquence had fled alongside his passion. He fumbled for a moment, before settling on, "I do not wish to inconvenience you."

It was far too late for that. Daniel simply raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Graham flushed slightly. "I merely assumed, or rather, I did not consider that your routine would be different than mine. That was... my mistake. I apologize."

Hm. So he had some manners, they were just filtered through a lens of pure ego and narcissism. That was good to know.

Dan was still going to beat him bloody.

"If you wish to, perhaps, arrange a different time for our competition?" Graham continued awkwardly. He puffed up slightly, a small touch of pride returning to his voice. "I refuse to be accused of cheating because I faced you while you were in a weakened state."

Dan snorted, allowing a challenging smirk to crawl across his lips. "Against you? A little soreness won't inconvenience me."

The younger man's eyes widened in outrage. His pride roared back to existence, burning with fury and fueled by vanity. His demeanor sharpened, his posture straightened, and his mouth opened wide, a tidal wave of pompous taunts forming on his lips.

Dan held up a hand to stall him, then made a shooing motion with his fingers. "Go away. Wait for me in the lobby. I gotta wash up."

Then he slammed his door shut in Graham's gaping face.

It felt immensely satisfying.

Dan took his sweet time getting ready. It pleased the deeply vindictive side of him, to imagine Graham fuming impatiently in the lobby of the Pearson. In the immortal words of Tallahassee, you gotta enjoy the little things. Like inconveniencing someone who you don't particularly like.

Over half an hour had passed by the time Dan was ready to go. He had thrown on a set of actual gym clothes, comfortable and breathable and not suit-shaped. His face was washed, his teeth were brushed, he was mostly awake and ready to face the day. As a final chore, he took a brief jaunt over to Abby's house, arriving in her exercise room. Though she was still fast asleep, she had long given him permission to come and go as he pleased. He quickly snagged a pair of head guards, some fist wraps, and a few other safety items, before leaving a cheerful note explaining the situation and promising to return her gear.

Finally, he reappeared in the Pearson lobby, his duffel bag filled with gear slung across his shoulder. Graham scowled at his appearance, stomping over to him in a huff.

"Finally ready?" he asked snootily. "I brought a car. Where are we going?"

Dan gave his best imitation of a Gregoir smile. "No idea! Let me find out." He shoved his duffel bag into Graham's hands, nearly toppling the younger man. Dan spun away from his spluttering companion, heading towards Margaret's little domain. The old woman was as cheerful as ever, greeting him as he strolled up to her.

"Good morning, dearie. You're awfully lively today."

"I've got something I'm looking forward to, this morning," Dan informed her.

Her gaze fell past him, landing on Graham in the distance. She smiled knowingly. "Yes, I can see that."

Dan blinked at her strange response, but decided to breeze past it. "Uh. Right. I was hoping you could recommend us a place to spar. You know the city better than I do." He pondered for a moment. "Somewhere fairly large and out of the way, where we can really let loose on each other. Soundproof too, if possible. I'm gonna beat his scrawny ass till he screams."

Margaret's brow raised higher and higher with each word. She took a moment to fan her reddening face. "Oh my. I suppose I can understand why your hotel room was not suitable for such activities. I do hope you're using protection."

"Of course," Dan said agreeably. He jabbed a finger over his shoulder. "I've got an entire duffel bag full of gear."

Margaret's eyes bulged out. "Good heavens, that's quite a lot of... gear." She coughed awkwardly. "Well, I can think of a few places for you and your male friend to, ahem." She raised both hands and made air quotes. "Spar."

Dan couldn't overlook that odd reaction. He mentally replayed their conversation, furrowing his brow.

"Oh fuck me!" he exclaimed loudly.

"I'm sure he'll be happy too, dearie," Margaret consoled him gently.

"No!" Dan denied emphatically, stuttering in his haste. "That's not— We aren't— I'm straight Maggie! And if I wasn't, I'd certainly have better taste than that asshole!"

"Oh." The older lady blinked. "I'm sorry, I guess I just assumed... Well, you haven't gotten anywhere with my niece, and it's been months."

"Oh God," Dan lamented, covering his face with both hands. He was uncomfortably aware of Graham's presence, hovering just on the edge of hearing range. "I can't have this conversation with you right now, Maggie."

She patted him reassuringly on the shoulder. "It's quite alright if you're out of practice, Daniel. Abby doesn't have much experience herself."

"This is a nightmare. I'm having a nightmare," Dan muttered. He widened his fingers, letting his eyes peek out. "Just... can you help me find a place to spar or not?"

"Oh, well, sure!" Margaret said gaily. "If you actually want to spar, then you should just use the Pearson's ring."

"The what now?"

The Pearson Hotel, as it turned out, was once host to an illegal fight club. An interesting point of history, now irrelevant, as someone had broken the first rule and gotten the whole thing shut down. More relevantly, the hidden room beneath the building where the brawls had been held had never been removed.

"This was all back in the early sixties, of course," Margaret explained, as she led Dan and Graham down through the bowels of the hotel. "Natural powers were all the rage back then. The walls and floors are all heavily reinforced, to account for any oddities that may occur."

They took a turn down a narrow service tunnel, the kind that would have made Dan nervous if he wasn't capable of leaving at any time. The only light came from the occasional flickering bulb, spaced out every thirty feet or so. Margaret brought them to a stop in front of a brick wall, caked in dust.

"Mister Pearson was a big gambler in his day," Maggy continued. "He spent a great deal of money on this little hobby of his." She peered at the wall, biting her lip. Her eyes roamed from the top, downwards, counting the bricks.

"Seventh brick down," she murmured, brushing her hand across the filthy wall. A moment passed, then a dull rumble shook the floor. Dust rained down from the ceiling, dying Dan's hair grey. An entire section of wall groaned and shifted, then slid aside with a rusty screech.

Dan gaped at the massive room revealed to the world. A filthy, dilapidated, run down, secret underground room. The furnishings were antiquated and simple, with a large boxing ring at the center, surrounded by old wooden benches. The room itself was nowhere near as dusty as its entrance, and as he entered, Dan felt the cool breeze of centralized air. Graham followed him, staring wide eyed at his surroundings.

"I should oil those hinges soon," Margaret mused, eyeing the sliding wall with exasperation. "What a pain. This thing was not built with maintenance in mind."

Dan spun around incredulously. "Maggie, how often do you come down here?"

"Oh, not very often," she replied absently. "Maybe once every six months or so, just to check that everything is working."

"And you've been doing this since you've worked here?" Dan tried to clarify.

"For decades now," she confirmed.

Dan took a slow turn around the glorious, glorious room. "You mean to say that I've been living above an underground lair this entire time, and you never told me!?"

"Well I had no idea that you were interested in it," Margaret said with amusement. "Is it suitable for what you wanted?"

"Oh yes," Dan answered, his inner child squealing with excitement. "This will do very nicely."