The Law of Averages

Book 2: Chapter 164: Party Crashers

This, Dan reflected, was a terrible idea. He trailed only a step behind Abby as they walked through the dismal streets of Sewerville. While not the official title of this misbegotten sector of Austin, it was certainly a fitting one. It was dark and damp and humid, and stank like death.

There was mist in the air, hovering like a thick cloud right at street level. A constant, lingering malaise almost the color of dirt, which soaked clothes and skin and hair. It was obviously unnatural, steaming up from sewer grates and manholes and sitting heavy despite the breeze. His veil could feel the half dozen people below the street, constantly producing it. Dan idly wondered if the upgrade pattern had been pillaged from Coldeyes' Crew. Mist seemed more their thing, than the Scales.

They'd adapted it well to serve their own purposes. In daylight, the fog would scatter the sun, coating the street in a vivid, blinding glare. At night it was worse, an oppressive shroud of black and grey that neatly obscured everything beyond thirty feet. Street lamps became distant fireflies, tiny motes of dull flavor against the pallid background. All else was darkness.

Public transportation did not run through this part of the city at night; the nearest metro line was five blocks away. Neither were there cars. Dan and Abby walked brazenly down the middle of the street, never seeing a single hint of headlights. Occasional shadows flickered in and out of the fog. Shapes moving beyond sight. Who or what, it was impossible to say.

It was twilight, the last vestiges of the sun slipping under the horizon and leaving the sky cast in shades of dusky red and gold. They'd chosen the time purposefully, as an allowance and a statement. They'd deliberately given up the advantage of daylight, allowing the heavily modded eyes of the Scales to seize the advantage of their darkvision. The two of them were invaders, of a sort, encroaching on Scale territory without invitation. Night was the Scale's time, and everybody knew it. Dan only hoped it would soften the inevitable offense.

Abby had, at least, announced herself before coming, though her method had left much to be desired. She'd simply called one of her patients, one that she felt certain still had ties to the Scales, and informed him that she would be in Sewerville that night, looking to speak to someone in charge. Dan had very little knowledge of gang politics, but he suspected this was probably not the generally accepted path to setting up a meet.

As they walked, Dan took in the scenery with his veil. His own power rendered their night time arrival symbolic at best. His veil felt more than any eye could ever see, no matter how modded it might be. And what it felt told a grim story of decay and dereliction. He'd never visited this part of the city while living in Dimension A, and he was fairly sure it hadn't existed in his own. For good reason. This place was just shy of a tomb.

He could feel almost every inch of the block. He could feel every broken foundation, poorly molded concrete weighed down by the building above, dragged slowly into the sewers. He could feel every piece of rusted metal, steel supports eaten away by time and lack of upkeep. He could feel rotten wood and festering mold and bugs by the billions. And deep inside the seemingly abandoned and boarded up buildings, far enough that light could not spill out, he felt cooking fires and bedrolls and people, huddled together like animals.

It wasn't anything untoward, so far as Dan could tell. They weren't locked in or being threatened. They were just... homeless. Or rather, this was their home now. This dark, dank hole. He could feel their clothing, ratty, torn, moth-bitten. There were strange bulges here and there, marking where mods had changed their shapes. Tails abound, extra limbs, clawed feet bursting through shoes.

It was hard to make out the details through his veil. He could only feel their outlines, and guess at what was there, but Dan felt certain of his conclusions. This was Scale territory. For all that these people seemed destitute and defenseless, he knew that they likely were not even uncomfortable. Hardened skin, like the leathery hides of a lizard, would let them sleep on any surface. Many would have upgraded digestive systems, akin to vultures, able to live off nearly anything. Sharp claws and teeth, perfectly capable of defending themselves. He wondered how many had chosen this life, and how many were victims of the Scales rampant upgrade and mod distribution.

"These buildings are not abandoned," he murmured to Abby.

She nodded but her focus didn't waver, eyes forward and stride inexorable. They walked through the fading twilight and mist through the streets of Sewerville, with only one destination in mind. Gregoir had supplied the location, his best guess for where the new Scales' management might be located. Abby didn't seem to be particular about who she spoke to, so long as she spoke to someone in charge.

There wasn't a plan, per se. So far as Dan could tell, Abby only intended to chew out whoever was supplying faulty upgrades to Scales members. It was up to Dan to convey Gregoir's request for a meeting, and deal with whatever backlash that might bring. So, they walked. Purposeful and unafraid, they walked towards the old wastewater treatment plant, long abandoned, where the Scales had made their home.

As they neared it, the shapes at the edge of the fog began to resolve into bodies. Every step, and their watchers took another. Towering figures, with tails and scales and wicked claws. Two dozen by Dan's count, hidden here and there and out of sight. Only five confronted them as they approached the entrance of the plant, a cast iron gate chained shut and tall walls covered in barbed wire.

The Scales were nearly identical, each an imposing figure almost eight feet tall and covered in armored ridges. They looked like Godzilla in miniature, with legs like tree trunks and wickedly sharp claws. Their tails did not lash as they moved, merely trailing after them. Lizards, not dogs. They approached from fog cover, stepping fully into vision. One on each corner, forming a box around Dan and Abby, while the fifth stood directly in their path, forcing them to a halt.

Abby crossed her arms, looking singularly unimpressed. She had dressed in her work outfit for this excursion, a dark blouse and neat slacks. Her ID badge was pinned to her waist, so that there could be no confusion. Her bearing was unlike anything Dan had ever seen from her before. Cool self-confidence mixed with a sort of deadly intent. None of the softness she reserved for friends and loved ones. All hard lines and cold glares.

"Move," she ordered with a voice like a whipcrack.

The Scale, to his credit, did not flinch at her tone. He stared right back, completely motionless. The sort of absolute stillness that only the cold-blooded could achieve. He met Abby's eyes and—

They were having a staring contest. Dan wanted to groan aloud. He kept it in with tremendous effort, and spent the next few minutes on something productive. His veil swept the surroundings, picking out the waiting Scales and their armaments. It was mostly melee weapons, and nothing exceptional at that. Bats, clubs, a crowbar. Then, there were the guns. Three pistols, and some asshole with a hunting rifle perched on the roof of the neighboring building. From the way he was standing, Dan doubted the idiot could even see through the mist, but he wasn't about to take chances.

Dan kept his hands in his pockets as he worked, neatly removing gunpowder and firing pins. For the melee weapons, he hollowed them out, creating dozens of narrow stress fractures and giving them the durability of rotten wood. None of the Scales noticed a thing. There was nothing to notice, and their guard was down. They were confident in themselves, and why wouldn't they be? Two people in the heart of their territory, an unassuming man and an unarmed woman? What threat could they pose?

Abby snorted, suddenly, breaking the stare-down. She strolled forward, quick and smooth, with the obvious intent of bowling over the guard. How her 5'9" form could possibly hope to shift the titan in front of her, Dan didn't know. But by the set of her shoulders, she firmly intended to. The guard saw it too, and between the risk of injuring an almost revered physical therapist, or moving out of the way, he chose the latter. Abby swept past him, but his massive hand reached out and clamped on her forearm.

"You cannot enter," he rumbled with a voice like sandpaper against raw flesh. His companions crept a little closer at the declaration. He glanced from Abby to Dan, perhaps expecting him to jump to her defense. His fellows, likewise, seemed focused on Dan. It was completely the wrong target.

Abby moved faster than Dan could even process. Between one moment and the next, her arm was free, and her fist was embedded in the massive Scale's jaw. There was a tremendous crack, and Dan's heart leapt into his chest, only to realize that the Scale's razor teeth had shattered. Bits of dentin and enamel rained down from a jaw that hung loose in its socket. The big Scale reeled, staggered away, and Abby languidly pursued. She kept one hand on his bicep, casually ducked below the flailing limb, then planted her boot between the man's legs hard enough that his feet left the ground. He blew out a harsh cry that quickly guttered out, then dropped into a squirming, groaning ball of pain.

Abby stepped away, and continued towards the entrance gate as if she'd never been stopped. The rest of the Scales milled about, uncertain. With their spokesman down, none seemed keen on trying Abby's patience again. It was a little unfair, Dan reflected. They weren't really allowed to fight her, and Abby was plenty vindictive enough to take full advantage. Finally a decision was reached. The square formation fell apart, and they drifted towards their downed leader. But Dan felt eyes following them forward.

The gate was shut, chained close, with bands thick enough that even Gregoir might call it adequate. Abby didn't even pause, gesturing at the chains imperiously. Dan bit back a laugh, and ripped them into t-space. The gate sagged open, and Abby stepped through the gap without a break in her stride. Dan followed, veil probing for more resistance.

They were not stopped again.