The Law of Averages

The ball was hiked backwards into waiting hands. Two lines of men crashed into each other to the sound of thunderous applause. Clods of dirt exploded in every direction, as writhing bestial forms pushed against a wall of solid steel. The quarterback juked nimbly aside, as a lithe man jumped clear over the clashing lines. The two men passed each other by mere inches; flailing silver limbs reached out, scrabbling against loose clothing and failing to catch. The quarterback spun away, sighted down the field, then the ball left his hands like it'd been fired out of a cannon, arcing high over grasping hands.

The receiver leapt a full eight feet into the air to catch the pigskin. The man's uniform ended around the thighs, showing off his thick, furry jaguar legs to the entire stadium. The wide receiver landed at a run, but was instantly plowed into the ground by his rival cornerback. Their bodies hit the turf hard enough to leave a crater, and Dan exploded out of his seat, bellowing his approval.

Fuck yes! Football was amazing in this dimension!

Connor clapped politely beside him, while Freya and Abby were lost in their own little world, somehow having a conversation amidst all the noise. Gregoir was somewhere higher in the stands, doing his best to remain unobtrusive and alert. Seven feet of blonde Viking wasn't exactly subtle, but neither were football fans. Besides, this whole adventure was the very definition of hiding in plain sight. He was doing just fine.

Cornelius was... somewhere. The man was a ninja when he wanted to be. Lost among the enormous crowd. Dan hoped he was at least enjoying the game in between guarding them.

Somewhere along the line, the rules of football had taken a turn for the dramatic. Upgrades offered new and exciting opportunities for advertisement and revenue. Every single player on a team used sponsored upgrades, all conforming to their respective theme. Injuries were all but a thing of the past, with every player being monumentally reinforced against physical trauma through cosmic fuckery. Padded uniforms were no longer necessary. American football was a full contact sport in every sense of the word.

Down at the stadium, a group of caretakers finished fixing the field. Each of them carried upgrades to manipulate dirt and earth, smoothing over the destroyed grass. The teams lined back up. Texas Tech versus UT. Dan held some loyalty to his Austin alma mater, but the University of Texas that he saw here and now bore little resemblance to the one he remembered. They might as well be completely different institutions. The stadium spoke to that more than anything. Advertisements hung from every corner, but nothing that he recognized.

Vita-Man, the official mod of the National Football League! Below the slogan, a man flexing with perfectly sculpted muscles. They must have waxed him with oil; nobody was that shiny. Another poster, of a hulking man with wide-set steer horns. Brown fur covered his forearms, and his muscles bulged beneath his shirt like they'd been packed with toilet paper. Minos, it read, official upgrade of University of Texas football!

Far below, the defensive line of bristling furries crumbled beneath an onslaught of tin men. The quarterback danced between them furiously, but ultimately fell to the tide of silver bodies. The stadium erupted once more, with Dan joining in. Whatever team won, he was here to enjoy the show.

Yeah, he thought. This was more like it. None of the grim, oppressive mood that had been lingering in his mind for the past couple of days. Abby had felt it too, he knew, and Connor must have as well. He'd jumped at the opportunity to get out and do something, anything, too quickly to not share the feeling.

Connor side eyed Dan's whooping form.

"This wasn't what I had in mind when you said that we should go out," Connor, the lying liar, said.

Dan grinned back at him. "America's pastime, my friend! Perk up and enjoy two teams beating the shit out of each other!"

"You're thinking of baseball," Connor corrected, his nose wrinkling.

"Details." Dan dismissed.

Connor eyed the clashing people on the field. He cocked his head, as if examining a painting.

"It does have a sort of savage appeal," he observed.

"You never played football at school? Or even watched it?" Dan asked. "This can't be the first time!" He didn't know much about Connor's childhood, other than that he'd gone to some expensive prep school. But this was Texas! Football was the local religion here!

Well, maybe not here, here.

"Of course I've seen a football game before," Connor snapped, mildly annoyed. "I'll admit this is the first I've been to a live game, but I've certainly watched it on television."

"I'm surprised you didn't play," Dan remarked. "I bet your skinny ass can run pretty fast."

"I was focused on other things growing up," Connor admitted, ignoring Dan's prodding. "My college, though, lacked a team."

Dan frowned, while the crowd roared. "I figured private colleges would have some supercharged sports programs."

"Collegiate sports require specific upgrades, as I'm sure you know," Connor replied, nodding to the field. "Saint George's was almost a vocational college. We were expected to go into fields which offered restricted upgrades. Government work, mostly. Civilian and military. It would be impractical to force us to take suboptimal upgrades for the purpose of running a ball around and scoring some imaginary points."

"You don't have to put it like that," Dan said, offended on behalf of sports everywhere. "You could have also kicked a ball around, or dribbled a ball down a court, or spiked one over a net."

Connor rolled his eyes. "The point is, sports weren't the focus. I've never had time for them."

"Boxing is a sport," Dan pointed out. "And mixed martial arts." Which were, unsurprisingly, very much a thing in a dimension where people could take hits like action heroes and keep on fighting. Spectacle, spectacle, spectacle.

Connor smirked back and corrected himself. "I never had time for most of them."

Dan heard the tale tell call of a hotdog and beer vendor, wandering up and down the stands. He called the man over, buying enough franks for his whole group. He passed it down the line, laughing as Freya stared at the sausage like it had offended her.

"Well you're an adult now, Connor," Dan told the younger man, passing him a fully loaded hot dog.

Connor held it awkwardly, squawking as mustard dripped down his hands and onto his pants.

Dan rapped the back of his hand against the young man's chest. "You've got time for whatever the hell you want."

Connor frowned at Dan, but took a large bite out of his frank. Dan accepted one last dog, then paid the salesman. The Longhorns scored a goal, down on the field. The crowd exploded into cheers. Distantly, Dan thought he heard Gregoir crying something dramatic. It was a good day.

Once things had settled down again, he turned to Connor, who had finished his meal and was furiously scrubbing mustard stains out of his pants.

"So what is it you did for fun?"

Connor shrugged. "Read books. Watched movies. Sparred with my friends and my family members. It really wasn't all that unusual."

"You're an alien, Connor," Dan shot back. "Like some kind of pampered princess from outer-space."

"Fuck off, Newman."

They watched the game for a while longer.

Finally, Dan glanced over to Connor. "Sparred with your friends huh?"

Connor bobbed his head, eyes still directed towards the field. He smirked, slightly.

"That's right. Though I haven't had a chance since my change in circumstances."

Dan leaned back in his chair. "I'm gonna whoop that ass, bucko."

"Bring it, Newman."