Marcus,

Hey Doc, it's been a while. Well, not really. It just feels like it, I guess. A lot's happened since the last time we spoke. I met some people, tried a few things, got into a fight or two. It's been pretty neat.

Anyway.

Abby (I told you about her, remember?) thought I should check in with you every now and then. Let you know that I'm still breathing and stuff. So, this is me, checking in.

How are you doing Marcus? Hopefully your research is going well. I mean that, by the way. I think I was a little bit... short with you, before I left. The Gap scared me, and the fact that you were messing with it scared me even more. I won't apologize for that. I still think you should have warned me.

I'm not really mad anymore, though. I can't be. Not when I've been spending time there myself. That's what my power does, y'know? Turns out I can just sorta sit in there. It seems safeish. Haven't gotten eaten or anything yet. The whispers have stopped, for the most part. I can still see things, whether they are monsters or Martians or eldritch horrors, I really couldn't say, but they've begun to leave me alone. They got used to me, I guess. Either way, I trust my power to pull me out if I get into trouble.

Abby has been helping me train it up. My power, that is. Mostly by beating the crap out of me. You have that in common with her. I'm getting really good at dodging, even without dropping into t-space.

That's what we call the Gap, by the way. Abby argued (and I agree) that The Gap Between Worlds just sounds pretentious.

Sorry buddy.

But, yeah. Abby's grandma was a total badass back in the day, and Abby is passing down all the neat training tricks she was taught as a kid. I think you might have actually met her before, but that's a conversation I'd like to have in person.

Anyway, we're focusing on my fine control at the moment. Basically, I practice teleporting smaller and smaller chunks out of solid objects each day. Portal Cut is what we called it back home. I'm honestly relieved that it doesn't work on people; I'm not ready for that sort of responsibility. I mostly use it to peel vegetables for dinner, but we've come up with some pretty nasty other uses that I won't get into here.

What else?

I got pulled into a police ride along just the other day. It didn't go so well. My supervisor got kidnapped, along with a student from one of those prestigious military colleges. The guy who did it was a mercenary with this fucked up date-rape power. He mind whammied us into doing whatever he said, and I only got away through blind luck. Oh, also, I fought his partner in the parking lot. The guy was strapping a bomb to the bottom of our car, so, yeah. I'm glad I ran into him. Those combat lessons you gave me really paid off in spades.

Anyway, after that little adventure, I've decided to enroll in the Austin Police Academy. I'll be taking their search and rescue course, starting next week. It'll get me certified for disaster relief, and I think the rest of the training will be valuable. I still haven't decided what job I'll end up with though. Maybe you have some ideas on that account?

Anyway, that's you caught up. Hopefully you are doing well, and not being devoured by Cthulu or something equally horrifying. Let me know, yeah?

Regards,

Daniel

Time passed slowly for Dan, in a gentle haze of training and companionship. He spent most of his days at Abby's house, or roaming around the somewhat bland town of Brunswick, Georgia. Dan wasn't sure why Abby had chosen here, of all places, to reside, but he supposed the southern coast had its own special sort of charm. It was a charm that he was repeatedly forced to experience because, as mentioned, he spent a great deal of time there.

There was a good reason for this. Dan did not want to follow the news of Austin. Any day now, he was certain that there would be a story about an oversized cop and a young student, both found dead. He could handle that. The guilt wasn't quite so bad anymore. Between his talk with Ito and the regular thrashing he received at the hands of Abby, he just didn't have the energy to spare. That said, he didn't want to know.

So, he hid. Stuck his head in the sand like a good little ostrich. It was childish, sure, but hilariously effective.

For about a week. A glorious, productive week, where he split his time between training with Abby and reviewing for the Academy's simplistic entrance exam (He was ignoring the fact that said Academy was in Austin, for now). It's amazing how easily a person can put something out of their mind when they are wholeheartedly devoted to doing so. Unfortunately, Dan's peace was shattered by that most common source of drama, social media.

"Danny!" Abby's voice called urgently from her kitchen. "You need to see this!"

Dan was currently splayed out on her living room couch after a particularly brutal workout and a wonderfully hot shower. His body's status hovered somewhere around the consistency of well stirred jello, with about as much mobility.

"Is it important?" he groaned weakly into the pillow he was snuggling. He couldn't have sat up, even if a gun was held to his head.

"Yes!" came the emphatic reply. Her voice was strange, strained, as if she was struggling not to vocalize something.

Dan considered his options, then considered his comfort. "Stick it on the wall." That was what the SmartPaint was for, after all. If you didn't use it to enable laziness, then what was even the point of having the stuff?

Abby sighed loud enough for Dan to hear it. "I don't think you want me to do that."

"Abby, I can't feel my arms. Or my legs. Or my anything. Trust me, I want you to do that." Dan's reply was slightly muffled by the fact that he was face down on the couch and couldn't quite manage to turn himself over. He was pretty sure she got the gist of it, though, because a moment later the wall lit up. The SmartPaint in Abby's living room swirled in a rainbow pattern, before resolving into a copy of Abby's laptop screen. Her browser was open, and a video was buffering.

Dan wasn't sure how he felt about YouTube existing in this universe. It was almost an exact copy too, in both success and scope. All this, despite a vast difference in culture. Humans liked their leisure activities, and media consumption apparently ranked at the very top, regardless of circumstances. Dan really didn't know how to feel about that.

He didn't have much time to contemplate it, as Abby strolled into the living room, laptop balanced in one hand. She glanced at him, barely reacting to his undignified pose. Something was off about her. Her expression was wrong. Dan had known her for long enough now, to tell. She was forcing neutrality. Hiding something.

He had a bad feeling about this.

Her lip ticked upward, a clear sign of amusement, and his anxiety increased.

"This interview went viral last night, but it was shot six days ago." With those simple words, she started the video.

As was common for this dimension, the reporter was unnaturally beautiful, with dark hair and full lips and flawless skin. In stark contrast, the subject of the interview was not beautiful. He was, however, enormous. And blonde. And had a horseshoe mustache that had somehow grown several inches since the last time Dan had seen it.

Gregoir Pierre-Louis beamed into the camera. He was shirtless, with what looked like a tattered and salvaged labcoat wrapped around his waist like a loincloth. His only other item of 'clothing' was a nylon necklace from which hung his shiny police badge. The smoldering remnants of a small warehouse building occupied most of the background. Gregoir himself appeared mostly unharmed, though his skin was marred by black soot and red smears.

"We're in the Warehouse District, just south of Downtown, where an entire building has just collapsed, seemingly out of nowhere!" The reporter spoke into the camera, while smiling giddily at the prospect of an interesting story.

"I have here one Officer Pierre-Louis, who claims to have been the cause of this destruction. Officer, can you tell us about what happened here?"

"But of course!" Gregoir boomed directly into the handheld microphone. "As a sworn officer, it is my duty to enlighten the citizens whenever possible!"

The reporter's smile widened. "Excellent! Shall we start with your... clothing?" She giggled charmingly. "Have the APD instituted a new dress code?"

"Hah!" Gregoir's laugh was short but genuine. "No, dear lady, this outfit was merely a consequence of circumstance. Though it is inadequate to contain my glorious self, needs must, when the devil drives." His pecs rippled as he spoke, and he stood in the classic superhero pose that he often favored. His arms were fisted at his hips, elbows jutting outward from his body.

"Ah, yes," the reporter stuttered briefly, her gaze skimming down Gregoir's body with undisguised interest. She seemed to catch herself after a moment, coughing into a fist and asking, "What circumstances led you to such a situation?"

"Oh, it is quite the tale of intrigue!" An attempt was made by Gregoir to modulate his volume, perhaps to better suit the intrigue that he spoke of, but it failed utterly. "You see, dastardly villains attempted to kidnap my charges and me!"

The reporter gasped sharply. To Dan's ear, the reaction seemed sincere, though her face betrayed nothing. It stayed frozen, kept in an eerily perfect smile.

"Someone tried to kidnap a police officer?" she asked breathlessly. "They must be crazy!"

Gregoir nodded. "Quite so, madam! Naturally, I was curious as to why they would dare do such a thing, and endeavored to uncover the full extent of this plot!"

He proceeded to lay out a bombastic tale of bravery and heroism that Dan was certain only had the barest relationship to the truth, yet contained no substantial lies. From implying that his capture was intentional, to outlining (in excruciating detail) how utterly outclassed his captor was against him, he managed to weave a story that ended with the APD smelling like roses. All of this, he managed, within roughly a minute of rapid-fire, loud, summarization.

"Once I finished interrogating the criminal, I set off to retrieve my brave subordinate, who had been patiently waiting for me! He knew that I would never allow him to be placed into danger, of course. We were kept in the same building, after all, and I was never far from his side!"

Oh good, Graham was still alive.

It was honestly frightening how easily Gregoir managed to underplay the sheer danger the two of them had been in, simply by speaking with brash confidence. The reporter did not even question Gregoir's 'decision' to involve an untrained student in his 'investigative excursion.' Though, that may have been a case of cultural blindness to police authority, rather than the woman's personal fault.

"Unfortunately, the wily villain had booby-trapped his lair! In the process of freeing my subordinate, several vicious contigencies were triggered!" Gregoir sighed heavily, placing a hand over his heart. "Though it grieved me, I was forced to abandon the villain to his fate. I simply did not have the time to save both him and my subordinate. Alas, he reaped what he sowed, falling to the very bombs he placed himself!"

Well, that explained the destroyed warehouse at least.

The reporter, finally, decided to ask an actual question. "Where is your subordinate now?"

"He is resting, out of sight," Gregoir announced, jabbing a thumb behind him. "While I am a fully trained officer, and bear all the responsibilities that such a burden entails, he is under no such obligation! When I noticed your news van, I ordered him to stay put." Gregoir's everpresent smile became something darker. "His identity will not be exposed to the media."

The woman reeled back at his sudden intensity. Even the cameraman seemed to flinch, and the camera briefly fell out of focus. The moment passed quickly, however, and the reporter was soon nodding agreeably.

"Excellent!" Gregoir clapped his hands together. "Now, I'm sure first responders will be here soon." He glanced at the pretty reporter. "Or, perhaps I should say second responders. Hah!"

She tittered accommodatingly.

Gregoir grinned. "I did not exactly have an opportunity to call in my situation, but I suspect that the burning building is as good an emergency beacon as any. You were quite fast, yourself."

"My office is actually right there." She pointed down the street, at a small office building in clear view of the warehouse.

"Oh." Gregoir blinked. "I suppose I forgot to ask, what channel is this for? Your van seems to be missing its label."

Approaching sirens could be heard in the background, as the reporter stuttered awkwardly. "Ah, I'm not— That is, we," she gestured to her cameraman, "are just starting out. We don't work for any of the local stations... Just a YouTube channel, I'm afraid."

"Oh." Gregoir seemed lost for words, a singularly unique occurrence, but he quickly rallied. "I see! Well, it is always good to see young entrepreneur's succeeding! I hope this interview helps you!" He laughed nervously. "Though I, perhaps, will be in for a bit of a telling off after this. Again."

The sirens grew louder, ending in a squeal of tires. The camera panned slightly, showing flashing lights and a small army of uniformed officers. A familiar face led them, looking both relieved and intensely frustrated.

"Gregoir!" Sergeant Kaneda Ito bellowed. "What did the captain say about giving interviews on your own!?"

Gregoir's brow furrowed. "I believe he said that I was both eloquent and well-spoken. Which is silly, as those two terms mean essentially the same thing."

"Don't," Ito roared. "He said don't, because you speak to every idiot with a camera!"

"Hey!" the young reporter protested.

The cameraman zoomed in on Ito's face as the scarred man groaned. "Is that thing still on? For fucks— Okay, you're both coming with me."

"What—"

Ito's hand came up, clamped over the lens, and everything went black.

Dan stared numbly at the screen. "Was that the end?"

Abby nodded, her face fit to burst.

Dan sighed. "Go on, let it out."

She exploded into gut wrenching laughter.

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up. I had to spend over an hour with the man," Dan complained halfheartedly.

"He seems delightful," Abby said happily. "A real peach."

Dan rolled his eyes but didn't contest her words. "I think I'm missing something, though. What, exactly, did he do wrong there?"

Abby snorted. "I keep forgetting you're not from around here. Shove over." She effortlessly dragged Dan's torso upright, took a seat, then dropped him back down. He ended up splayed across her knees like a pet dog. "The police aren't supposed to just give out interviews willy nilly. Especially not first exclusives, like that one. Those are reserved for local stations, and are usually heavily scripted."

Dan frowned up at her. "To hide information."

"Of course." Abby shrugged. "You can't expect them to give out the full story. Especially in a case like this. People need to believe that they're safe. If a police officer can be kidnapped..."

"Then so could a civilian," Dan finished lowly. "What a drag. Gregoir wasn't even that honest. You could tell, right? Ninety percent of what he said was pure obfuscation."

"Maybe," Abby admitted, "but a clever viewer could read between the lines. Few will bother, but even one is one too many. That's why the video was suppressed."

"They can do that?" Dan asked incredulously.

"Sure," Abby replied. "Not forever, obviously, and they'd need reasonable cause. The video we just watched is a leak, not the original."

"Oh." Dan paused, then chuckled. "That poor reporter girl. She forgot to plug her channel."

Abby laughed along with him, and they descended into a comfortable silence. Dan contemplated what he'd just seen, idly wondering how he would've felt about the situation months ago. He suspected that he'd be more indignant, at the very least. Were his sensibilities finally adjusting to this new world?

Was that a good thing?

"He didn't mention you." Abby broke the silence with an observation.

Dan mentally replayed the video. "No, I suppose he didn't. Maybe he forgot about me?"

"You should be so lucky."

Dan sighed. "Yeah."

Abby ran her hand through his hair, gently patting his head. "Look on the bright side, Danny. He's probably in deep shit with his boss."

Dan perked up at that. "Yeah, that's true. He'll probably be in too much trouble to look for me anytime soon."

"Right?"

He resolved to put Gregoir out of his mind. The Academy was starting soon. His focus should be there, not on a gregarious giant who Dan probably wouldn't see again for many days.