The Law of Averages

The sewer eventually began to narrow, and the pipes branched into three separate paths. Dan followed the trail down a narrow culvert, short and shallow enough that the top of the pipe was showing signs of the Natural's power. The villain's shoulders had scraped the ceiling as he walked.

The culvert terminated at the grated entrance of a roadside storm drain. The drain was built into the side of an elevated street and horizontally facing. Dan's veil quickly spotted the telltale warping that accompanied the villain's overt use of his power, all along the steel bars barring his path out. He found another patch of warped concrete in the wall of the concrete tunnel, and he probed past it with his veil. Inside, was a cubby hole. The ground around it showed the subtle signs of passage. He'd stopped here, for a time, working his power on the walls of the pipe to create or uncover a storage space.

Dan was betting on the former. There was something hidden inside the wall. His veil struggled to parse what it felt. Clearly, the Natural had held it for a time, and his power had infected its makeup. If Dan had to guess, though, it was... plastic? He wasn't prevented from affecting it, at least. With a mental command, he triggered his veil.

A handful of plastic bags fell on the sewer floor. Dan stared at the collection, then fell into a crouch and slowly uncrinkled the mess. There were clothes within: the tattered remnants of a pair of familiar jeans, and a filthy orange jumpsuit. They changed here. Right here, inside this stinking sewer. They changed, the Natural used his power on the grate, and they walked right out.

The grate was so rusted, and caked through with grime, that Dan couldn't even tell it had been altered. The giant villain had obviously put it back in place, to hide what he'd done. It would have worked on just about anyone else, but Dan had all the evidence he needed. He was on the right track, and now he had solid proof. The kind he could hold in his hands, and show to someone.

Dan dropped the bags into t-space, keeping them wrapped in a bit of his veil like his sword and ball bearings. Hammerspace, baby! He'd keep these for later. Dan was sure they'd be useful, somewhere, somehow.

He sent his veil out, searching the street above for traces. He found them quickly, and blinked himself upwards. The road was dimly lit by street lights every hundred feet or so. He was still somewhere near downtown, as a skyscraper still loomed nearby. The night made it difficult to tell, but this place seemed oddly familiar.

One of the few downsides to teleporting everywhere was that landmarks stopped being much of a concern. Dan didn't know how to actually get places, he just knew where he needed to go. His power did the rest. Dan couldn't give directions to so much as a gas station, but he could appear there with a thought. He didn't really need to pay the surroundings any mind. Between the darkness, and this unfortunate habit, it took Dan almost a full minute of spinning in circles to realize where he was.

He was down the block from the Pearson Hotel. His old home, in this dimension and the last. Every inch of Dan locked up in horror. His mind raced. When was the last time he'd visited the hotel? When was the last time he'd spoken to Miss Margaret? She was Abby's aunt, the one who'd introduced the two of them, and Dan's first friend in Dimension A. Dan hadn't spoken to her in several days. Not since the breakout. Did Bartholomew know about her? About here?

Dan's veil raced along the ground, searching for a trail. He began to jog forward, frantically tracing the villain's path. It meandered in the direction of the Pearson, each stride significantly shorter than before. He was clearly no longer in a hurry. The street was empty; it was almost midnight. Dan began to blink forward, ten paces at a time.

The trail stopped.

Dan paused, backtracking. His veil skittered across the concrete, searching. He found what he was looking for, and more. The Natural's path ended beside a bus stop. His power's subtle touch had altered the concrete in a wide, circular blob. The villain had waited here, Dan thought. The man's power worked even when he stood idle, quietly, invisibly, changing the world around him.

The Pearson was in sight. The towering hotel loomed over its neighbors in all of its old, creaky glory. Dan blinked towards it, his veil scanning for traces the entire way. He found nothing, but that meant little. Andros Bartholomew left no traces. He could go where he wanted with impunity, Dan would never know. Bartholomew could be in the Pearson right now!

Dan clamped down on his immediate impulse, to appear in the lobby hooded and masked. That would be incredibly foolish. He needed to think, to actually engage his brain and consider the situation. It had been several days since Bartholomew's escape, and the Pearson was in a fairly populated section of town. Somebody would have noticed if the man was playing mad scientist here. Whatever his plans were, they clearly were ongoing. There was no rush. Dan could take his time.

Dan reappeared in his shower, turning it on. He was filthy, and stank like the sewer he'd just crawled out of. He quickly stripped off his jacket and bandana, bundling them up and tossing them in the corner. Later, he'd consider ditching them in t-space. For now, they were safe at home. Jeans came next, hurled towards laundry hamper like any other pair. He slapped soap and shampoo on himself, scrubbing quickly. Once he was satisfied, he stepped out of the shower, and sent the loose water into t-space. His hair was still wet—He was too scared of making himself bald to try something so precise—but that was quickly rectified.

Dan threw on a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, before checking himself in the mirror. He looked perfectly normal. Innocent. Definitely not the person poking around in the FBI Headquarters. His power lacked any distinctive flair, and he'd only teleported the once while outside. It was entirely possible that it would be mistaken for some kind of invisibility, a disturbingly common power.

Good enough. Dan reappeared on the street outside the Pearson, and immediately sent out his veil. He found little of note. The villainous Natural hadn't come close, as far as he could tell. The lobby of the Pearson was almost empty. Only a single soul stood inside, working the graveyard shift. Dan had a feeling he knew who it would be, but he needed to see her with his own two eyes.

He stepped inside, and there she was: Margaret Summers, in her wide-brimmed bonnet and Puritan-era dress. She was an older woman, nearing fifty, and streaks of grey had crept into her dark hair. She had matronly features, but soft eyes and a gentle smile, and she graced Dan with both as he entered.

"Daniel!" She gave him a modest wave. "I wasn't expecting you. It's dangerous to be out so late!"

Dan smiled at her, trying not to let his relief show. "You know me, Maggie. Danger is my middle name."

She scoffed at him, but waved him forward. Dan stepped up, and she wrapped him in a familiar hug. Unlike Abby, who was just as tall as Dan, Margaret was tiny. Her bonnet barely reached his chin.

"It's been a spell," she noted once he broke the hug.

"Busy," Dan replied with a helpless shrug. "I was volunteering during the attacks. Had some follow-up to take care of." He didn't specify which attacks. He didn't need to.

She pursed her lips at him. "Sad business, that. I do hope you've been looking after yourself. And how is my niece?"

"She's—" Dan paused, furrowing his brow. "She's at the family reunion that Anastasia called. Did you... not know?"

Margaret barked out a laugh. "I haven't been invited to a family function since my husband died, dearie. That old hag Anastasia and I never got along." She shook her head. "She's the one that forced a pre-nup, did you know that? I told her when she showed up at the wedding, I marched right up to her stuck-up face in my poofy white dress and said 'I don't want a dime of your blood money you bitch!' We haven't spoken much since then."

She blinked, coming back to herself.

"Oh but Abby is a treasure, Daniel," she reassured, patting his forearm affectionately. "Takes very little after her grandmother despite her unfortunate upbringing."

"Um." Dan had no words. "Did you record your wedding?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "Of course I did. Why?"

He wanted a copy.

"No reason." Why had he come here again? His eyes widened. "Maggie! Were you working during the attacks? Did anyone strange come into the hotel?"

"No, thank goodness," she replied. "I was safe at home, but I heard that all kinds of people were taking shelter in here. It was insanity."

Dan glanced around the lobby. He'd been caught on camera here, once before, so he knew that they covered several angles.

"I need a favor, Mags," he said.