Chapter 7: Frozen Stiff

  Rigal Phenex

  Phoenix Roost, NJ, USA

  I wiped the dopey, flirty smile off my face as I teleported back home. That had been exceedingly stupid of me, but as they said, hindsight was twenty-twenty.

  I’d always been proud of my magical control. I picked up spells faster than Uncle Riser, almost as fast as Aunt Ravel. And though I lacked her tactical genius, I was also a lot more curious. That curiosity drove me to explore other schools of magic beyond our innate gifts and I considered myself the most versatile mage in the Underworld’s current generation.

  Where most of my family contented themselves with our bloodline magics and the occasional teleportation circles, I wanted to learn all there was to know. It was why I was so interested in relics and artifacts. I doubted I’d ever be as great as the former Beelzebub or Azazel, but magical relics were my passion.

  Unfortunately, like with so many devils, pride was a vice I could indulge in without even noticing. I could admit it: I’d allowed pride and greed to blind me, to make risks that were honestly better left for later. I’d thought that, with my finely honed control and the shadow magics I’d picked up from the Dealer’s grimoire, I could at least make a decent attempt at infiltrating Shadowcrest Manor.

  I knew, of course, that Shadowcrest was one of the most well-guarded bastions of magic in the world, but I didn’t think I’d be so thoroughly outmatched. It wasn’t Zatanna; she was a bundle of potential, but just that, potential. It was her father. He must have placed wards specifically to detect demonic energy, probably since my arrival in DC..

  I’d expected it, at least in part. A wizard of his caliber would obviously prepare his home the best he could. What I didn’t expect was that I wasn’t even able to sense the wards that alerted Zatanna. The big, defensive enchantments meant to withstand an entire siege? Sure, those, I’d sensed. But I’d missed the little tripwires along the way, at least one, or she would have never known I was there.

  He’d warded his home so well that not only was the ward able to detect the minute trace of demonic energy I gave off while hiding, it could trigger the rest of the manor’s defenses and alert its occupant before I realized I’d been made.

  It was my loss, wholly and unreservedly. I’d pit myself against the greatest wizard in the world and come up woefully short. It didn’t matter that I got away scot free, or that I managed to meet Zatanna. The Amulet of Aten remained out of my grasp. I didn’t even know where he kept it, nor was I able to map the ward matrices for the manor. In every respect, this mission was a failure.

  The only saving grace from tonight was that Zatanna had my summoning circle now. I doubted she’d ever summon me into the manor, she wasn’t stupid, but it could act as a form of invitation if she ever did so, keeping me safe from the manor’s wards.

  One way or another, she’d summon me. That much, I knew for certain.

  In that sense, I supposed tonight wasn’t a total loss. She was my ideal bishop candidate. Not only was she absolutely stunning, she had the magical potential to one day rival and humble gods, and all without a Sacred Gear to her name. For her, I’d happily give up both bishops and still think I’d come out the winner in that trade.

  Silver linings.

  I let out a sigh as I hung up my suit jacket on a mahogany clothes hook in my room. What had once been the Mirror House was the height of luxury, at least as far as human creations went. I’d needed to do surprisingly little in the way of redecorating to suit my tastes.

  The auction house was divided into four layers. The first floor was a big, empty hall with a double ceiling. It was where auctions, and the occasional galas according to the Dealer’s old accountant, Dan, took place. The second floor had a few balconies that fed into the hall for VIPs, but was mostly reserved for admin staff.

  The third floor was what served as our living quarters. The building being what it was, we had as much floorspace as a small manor. Max and I each got a room, one was set aside for our permanent teleportation circle so Max could go to his clients, and we still had plenty of unused rooms.

  The final layer of the auction house was a basement. The Dealer used it for inventory storage. Given his proclivities, most of the stock were military-grade weaponry, but we’d also found several cages, some with fresh bloodstains.

  I’d teleported directly into my room, which was why I hadn’t realized we had guests on the first floor. I’d put on something more comfortable and gone to find Max to see if he’d decided to participate in the Team’s fight against Amazo when I smelled the unique scent of fresh corpses, a mix of blood, piss, and shit.

  I felt a savage grin spread across my face. High society type or not, I was still a devil and someone had seen fit to invade my territory. Just in time too, Shadowcrest had done a number on my ego and I could use a pick-me-up.

  X

  “My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined,” I deadpanned as I floated down the stairs.

  I’d been ready to rain literal hellfire on my intruders. My wings itched with unshed feathers that would soon turn the auction house floor into an inferno. Surely, if any were brave enough to assault my new home, they were ready to face a devil of my caliber.

  Alas, it was all for naught. My trusty rook had responded before me, and the intruders were woefully unprepared to face a super-clone.

  I arrived to find Max, wings outstretched and looming over several men. They were cowering, hands held in front of their faces as if to shield themselves from the angry kryptonian’s wrath. My brother looked thoroughly unimpressed.

  There was, however, one figure who wasn’t cowering. He was a bald man in a futuristic suit that might have looked impressive if the headpiece didn’t remind me of a goddamn fishbowl. He looked reasonably athletic, or I assumed he was to lug around that heavy equipment. The “gun” in his hand looked rather heavy for a regular human to wield with any accuracy.

  All around, I saw broken weapons and men. Some weren’t breathing, but I paid the corpses no mind. Only two or three of them had been slain via blunt trauma, the rest had been shot, which meant Max had only intervened shortly before I did.

  I recognized a few of the bodies as part of the thirteen “security” I’d kept around. They’d been holdovers from the Dealer and I hadn’t exactly gotten around to hiring staff that were to my standards. They weren’t exactly well-trained, but neither were our attackers, clearly. It looked like an all-around shitfest, children slapping at each other in the sandbox rather than a true battle.

  “Oh, you’re back,” Max said with a bored shrug. “We have guests.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” My eyes traced back to the man who could only be Mr. Freeze. He was one of Batman’s classic rogues, and… and someone who was supposed to be in prison.

  Back in early July, he and several other cold-themed villains assaulted a number of cities. They got themselves captured by the heroes and were locked up in Belle Reve, a super-max jail that specialized in detaining metahumans. Amanda Waller, perhaps the least likable person in this world, was its warden currently.

  It would later be revealed that this was a part of a Light plot to initiate a mass breakout, which itself was a distraction to compromise the prison’s systems and install Hugo Strange into a position of power. In turn, that would free Amanda to work on other projects.

  Which raised the question: Who released Victor Fries?

  I shook my head. No, that was a stupid question. The Light did, obviously. Which meant they’d offered me the Amazo job to get me away from my Roost. Even after I rejected the job, they must have noticed me leaving and decided to go ahead with this little game anyway.

  And this was a game, not a true assault. There was no way any of them, especially Klarion, thought Mr. Freeze of all people could win here.

  As for why, I wasn’t sure. This could possibly have been an attempt to get information on Max’s new changes. Or, it could be that Lex was seeing how I’d react to build a profile on me. A third option was that Klarion was just bored and fucking around.

  Really, it could be any or all of the above.

  Victor himself wasn’t a hard man to convince. He’d likely been coaxed with the promise of phoenix tears for his terminally ill wife and research funding for if the tears didn’t work.

  I narrowed my eyes in thought. He wasn’t loyal to the Light, not really. His only loyalty was to Nora Fries, and would always remain so.

  Victor probably didn’t even know who was pulling his strings, which meant killing him here would accomplish nothing. That said, his loyalty to his wife made him easy enough to turn. His puppet masters knew that of course, but they probably didn’t care. He just wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things so losing a piece like him meant nothing to them.

  I briefly entertained the notion that Victor Fries was meant to surrender to me. Perhaps they expected me to pressgang him into my service? After which, he could act as a mole in my budding organization, passing along information to Lex or whoever monitored their clandestine assets.

  I snorted. That wasn’t likely. Me keeping him alive was contingent on me knowing what drove him. The Light didn’t know I knew and so couldn’t prepare that far in advance. Besides, even putting aside the question of his loyalties, Victor Fries was not a man suited for intrigue.

  I kept my face carefully devoid of my thoughts. It was easy to play the cocksure devil, charming smirk and all. “I’m surprised you stuck around, Max. I thought you wanted to check out your little brother.”

  “Nah, decided against it. Like you said, he’s got growing to do, right? Like me?”

  “He does indeed.”

  “Maybe it’s better for everyone if we grow on our own. I’m not hiding from him or anything, but I won’t go seeking him out either.”

  “You’re not wrong there.” I considered the situation and came to a decision. Maybe it was hasty, but I figured having a quasi-metahuman who could remain with the Roost while Max and I wandered couldn’t hurt. “Well, Victor? Anything you want to say for yourself?”

  The man looked fearful, like a snowball in Hell, but determined. He met my eyes with a steady gaze. “I did what I must. The risk was worth taking.”

  “For you? Or Nora?”

  “You–!”

  “Yes, your wife. I know, Victor. I know lots of things. I know that you weren’t originally motivated by greed when you became a villain, though I admittedly don’t know what drives you now.”

  “Nora… Everything I do is for Nora.”

  “I’d always thought you were one of Batman’s smarter rogues,” I said nonchalantly, circling him like a shark. “I’m not so sure of that anymore. Most people would try to buy the phoenix tear. I don’t take kindly to those who try to steal from me.”

  “I’ve seen what your tears are worth,” he spat. “Each vial started at two million in last month’s auction.”

  He was right. Max and I had held a single auction since taking over the Mirror House, and that single auction had been more than enough to keep the lights on. It had certainly set the tone as to our value among Gotham’s elite. At this point, it was known that a tear could only be acquired through the right summoning contract, which was a long shot, or more money than most could afford. A universal cure for all diseases and injuries was worth at least that much.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Though I wasn’t aware of the exact profit margin, a minimum balance of two million was a lot of money to dump into a single vial of anything. How much did a bank robbery pay? One hundred grand? If that? He could probably make more money acting as security for a drug trafficking operation.

  For a villain like Fries, purchasing a vial for his wife was probably out of the question. He had mooks to pay, bases to upkeep, and research to fund. Hell, a sizable chunk of his earnings probably went into a cryogenics bank somewhere to keep his wife stable in the meantime. And knowing him, he’d want to hedge his bets in case the tear didn’t work so it wasn’t like he could stop doing all those things to purchase a single vial.

  The Light wouldn’t fund him to this extent, he just wasn’t important enough and doing so would make him lose value in their eyes, which meant he was shit out of luck. He was just a desperate man resorting to desperate measures.

  “You’re right, you’d never be able to afford a vial with cash alone,” I hummed.

  “You said ‘cash alone,’” Victor said with cautious optimism. Quick on the uptake, this one; he’d figured out that I wasn’t going to kill him, at least in the moment.

  “Good, you’re listening. I’ve got a deal for you, Victor. I’ll give you a dose of phoenix tears right now, no questions asked.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much of a deal.”

  “No, I suppose it’s not, but as they say, you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. And, truth be told, I’m not entirely unsympathetic. I can respect a man with your fidelity.” I tossed him a vial, smirking slightly as he almost fumbled it. He held it close like it was his own firstborn child. “You can walk away, right here and now. Take it yourself. Use it on Nora. It’s yours; I don’t care. My sole catch is that from this point, you are not to act against my interests. We’ll call this my good deed for the year.”

  “And what if I don’t walk?”

  “Then you’re mine. You get a second vial, but that one’s not free. You work for me now, you and yours. You take charge of my security detail, arm my men, conduct research for my sake… You get the idea. Suffice to say, you won’t ever lack for funding.”

  “And what would your ‘security detail’ be asked to do?”

  “Exactly what it says on the tin. I don’t need protection. Neither does Max here. Instead, you’ll be acting as guards here at the Phoenix Roost. You’ll provide security when we hold auctions, hold down the fort when Max and I are gone, and generally keep people honest.”

  He stared me down, desperation tinged with hope. “If you can return Nora to me, I will give you the world.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Victor. Well, whatever. Welcome to the team.”

  X

  In general, the Underworld’s nobility made humanity’s capitalist fat cats look like paupers. We had literal millennia to build up our wealth after all. And the Phenex were the wealthiest of all. Our family fiefdom was larger than the contiguous United States.

  My spending money as a ten year old would have made the so-called one percent weep with envy. I’d never lacked assets. Though pops kicked my ass enough to keep me humble, he never really deprived me of the luxuries my family had accumulated. Even now, separated from my family wealth, I had the phoenix tears to rely on for capital.

  Which was to say, I had no idea what the fuck I was doing when it came to organization-building. Because I’d been born into the absolute wealthiest house in the Underworld, the idea that I might one day have to build up my own faction from the ground up had been inconceivable to me.

  Sure, I’d secured connections for myself using my contracts. I’d even gotten us convincing IDs and ensured the Phoenix Roost was a “legitimate” business under my name. But now, I’d felt like a dog that caught the mail truck.

  Now what?

  In that light, Victor Fries was a wonderful addition. Though relatively small-time compared to Gotham’s mafia families, he actually had experience building his crew, securing his hideouts, and generally surviving in one of the most cutthroat cities in the world, and with far fewer resources than I’d given him at that.

  In the past week, he’d moved into the third floor with his wife. He said something about wanting to keep her away from “this life,” but couldn’t deny that Nora would become a target if left alone. My minions couldn’t be allowed to have such convenient vulnerabilities.

  He’d vetted the remainder of the Dealer’s cult. A few left, a few were culled, until I had a more reliable core group. His own men had integrated well enough and he was in the process of outfitting the men with cold guns that had both nonlethal and lethal settings, mostly to keep the Batfam off my back. The basement of the auction house had been converted into a lab for his cryogenics research.

  Nora Fries was… Well, she existed. She was a young, attractive blonde who’d met Victor way back in boarding school. She’d been a graduate student and a semi-professional ballerina, whatever that meant. I didn’t even know what she studied. Though she had no noteworthy talents, she acted as Victor’s secretary and kept him happy.

  “I think your accountant is stealing from you,” Victor said. He, Nora, Max, and I were chatting in my office over tea. Or Sprite in Max's case. My little brother had developed a vivid hatred of “soggy leaf juice,” the plebe.

  I raised an eyebrow in question. “Oh? Already?”

  “What do you mean by that? You expected your own men to steal from you?”

  “Of course. They’re not my men. They were part of the Dealer’s cult, remember? I came, murdered their boss, and forcibly took over, after which I burned several of them alive. It’d be really fucking weird if they were loyal to me.”

  “That’s horrible,” Nora gasped.

  “Devil,” I said, as if that explained everything. It kinda did. I wasn’t hiding anything from her, even if Victor would probably prefer I did. She and Victor enjoyed my patronage, and through it, security, so she ought to know how that security was won. Besides, she was from Gotham. It wasn’t like she was naive, just a bit out of date. “If it makes you feel better, I burned them alive for human trafficking. Slaves, sex workers, harvested organs, that sort of deal.”

  “O-Oh… I… That’s not as bad as you made it sound, Mr. Phenex.”

  “If you want to be formal, it’s Lord Phenex. Otherwise, it’s Rigal. Or Tweety. And that’s because I’m not trying to defend my actions. I’m a devil, Nora. Devils aren’t cartoonishly evil, but we tend to be a lot more impulsive and straightforward with our desires. If we want something, we go for it. If we disapprove of something, we make our displeasure known.”

  “I see. Would you describe your race as predisposed to hedonism then?”

  “For the most part, yes. There are exceptions, but as far as sweeping generalizations go, it’s not an inaccurate one. More to the point, Victor, do you have any proof that my accountant is stealing from me?”

  “I do. The invoices provided by contractors for remodeling my lab don't match when compared with what he's reported,” the rogue scientist responded.

  “Let me guess, he's skimming cash off the top?” Max yawned, bored. Admittedly, discussions about financial crimes probably didn’t rank too highly on his “new experiences” list. “Does it even matter? How much could it be?”

  “The amount isn't large, about twelve grand for now, but it is not the amount that is important.”

  “Oh, it's one of those ‘sending a message’ things, isn't it? Want me to go break his legs?”

  I waved him down. “Nah, don't bother. A broken bone won't keep him loyal. That'd just make him resent me more, yeah?”

  “You need to get rid of him completely, or make him fear you so much that cheating you won't ever enter his thoughts again.” Surprisingly, it was Nora who spoke. At my look, she shrugged carelessly. “What? I'm a Gotham native. I know how these things work. Besides, I was a history major. Ever read The Prince?”

  “‘It is better for a ruler to be feared than loved,’” I paraphrased, eyes rolling. “Yes, actually. Or rather, I’ve talked to the guy before. Father knew Machiavelli. But you know, that little booklet was originally meant to be a satirical critique of Italy's merchant princes, not a how-to guide for despots.”

  “Well, he achieved the exact opposite.”

  “Yes, the self-induced depression at that bit of irony was a bit of a running joke in the Underworld for centuries. What do you recommend, Victor?”

  “A new accountant,” he replied dryly. “But killing him would send the message that you'll incinerate people for any slight at all. Most people would not kill for a mere twelve grand.”

  “True. So I should just fire him, metaphorically, I mean.”

  “That would do the least damage, but any new accountant might be just as greedy, or worse, inept. This one does at least seem to know how to do his job given everything else I've checked.”

  I nodded. This wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, but it had to be done. “So fear it is. Yeah, I can do that. Max, can you bring him up? Uninjured, please.”

  He stood with a grunt. “Sure, one sec.”

  Victor looked at the door, then back at me. “You know, boss, your little brother looks an awful lot like Big Blue.”

  “Well, I’d hope so,” I laughed. “They’re related.”

  “He’s a kryptonian.”

  “And a devil. Any more than that is his story to tell.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Max blurred back, my accountant held like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. He dropped the man unceremoniously on the floor. “Back.”

  “So you are,” I chuckled, “and here’s our man. Dan, right? Care to tell me why you’ve been stealing from me?”

  “I-I haven’t, sir. There’s got to be some mistake,” he stammered. Dan was a tall, round man with a clean-shaven face and dusty, brown hair. He looked unassuming, which was probably a good thing in our line of work.

  “Will you say that even when we have evidence?”

  “No, it’s a mistake!”

  “Oh, relax, I’m not going to cremate you, Dan. I mean, it’s just… How much was it again, Victor?”

  “Twelve grand, boss.”

  “Yeah, that. No biggie. Really, it’s barely a rounding error given how much I make off the phoenix tears.”

  “R-Right, it’s just a mistake, a rounding error.”

  “Yes, just like your soul is a rounding error in Hell.”

  “Wha–”

  Maybe that wasn’t the best one-liner, but it got the message across. With a lazy smirk, I flared my wings in a blatant threat display.

  I reached for the air and slowly increased its density even as the temperature rose. Then, I compressed his chest, slowly squeezing the breath from his lungs. The effect was akin to being telekinetically held in place, with the added discomfort of suddenly being in a dry sauna.

  Dan struggled to breathe. He clutched at his throat, trying to suck in air that would not move. As he flailed helplessly, I strolled towards him, languid steps, like a tiger stalking its prey.

  When I reached him, I held out my hand, palm settling over his heart. Slowly, smoke began to waft from his shirt as I burned clean through it. I watched him writhe in pain as my hand left a scorching brand over his heart.

  Then, only about ten seconds later, I pulled away. As I did so, the air pressure around him amplified, making his vision swim. The human body wasn’t meant to handle rapid changes in atmospheric pressure and it showed in the way his eyes dilated.

  He stared, transfixed by fear as I smiled innocently at him. In my hand was a soft, blue flame that gave off an eerie glow. Here, in his oxygen-deprived, pressured state, the little wisp must have looked all the more ghostly.

  “Do you know what this is, Dan?” I asked softly, genially, like I was chatting with a friend at the bar. “This is your soul. Pretty, right? You can feel it, can’t you? The metaphysical weight of your existence pressing down on you? The body is just an empty shell without a soul to fill it up, give it substance.”

  “Ghkk…!” he choked. Whatever he wanted to say, he didn’t have the air for it. The sheer terror in his eyes told me he believed me though.

  “Yeah, you need this. To live, sure, and also to cross the river. You know, that river. Want it back?”

  He nodded frantically, as fast as his failing body would allow.

  My genial smile morphed into a contemptuous snarl as I thrust my hand forward, slamming the little, blue fire into his chest. At the same time, I let go of the air, releasing him.

  He flew back and slammed into the wall with a thud before sinking to the floor. He laid there, coughing and taking deep, desperate gulps of air. The sensation of coming back from the brink really helped sell the lie and craft the illusion that I’d literally ripped out his soul, only to put it back.

  Then, when he finally stared up at me fearfully, I pointed at his torn shirt. There it was, the “devil’s mark,” branded onto his heart. It had been made with the slightest trace of hellfire and though my magic had long since dissipated, it would never heal completely, leaving him with an uncomfortably warm feeling.

  “You stole from me, Dan. The amount isn’t as important as the fact that you stole from me,” I said, shaking my head in disappointment. I walked over and knelt on one knee, tipping his face upwards so he could meet my eyes. I spoke gently, almost in a whisper. “This is your one chance. I’d like to think of myself as a fair man. Just? No, but fair, yes. When you take something that belongs to me, I take something that belongs to you, easy, right? And next time, I might not give it back. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Y-Yes, s-sir,” the terrified man stammered. I didn’t blame him. He’d quite literally had a religious experience, albeit in the exact opposite way than the phrase was usually meant.

  “Excellent. Be good, Dan,” I smiled again, as innocent as an angel. I tapped his chest in one, final reminder. “Or I will know.”

  “Y-Yes, sir.”

  “I’m glad we had this chat. You’re free to go.” Then, as he scrambled for the door, I called, “Oh, Dan? The twelve grand? That’s yours now. I’m letting you have it. Let’s call that your signing bonus, hmm?”

  I ignored him as he scurried out of the room like a bat out of hell. Turning, I found Nora and Victor looking distinctly uncomfortable. It was finally sinking in for them that I was in fact a devil.

  For his part, Max looked curious rather than afraid.

  “I thought you didn’t deal in souls,” he observed.

  “I don’t,” I replied, making a wreath of blue fireballs orbit my hand. “It’s just a beginner color-changing charm along with my usual fire and air magic.”

  “Huh.”

  “Nothing says fear quite like the existential dread of an afterlife, and one of its wardens taking a personal interest in you. Why? Too much?”

  “I… I dare say you will not have such problems again,” Victor said carefully.

  “Great, glad to have you on board.”

  Author’s Note

  I wasn’t sure what there was to know about Nora so I just combined a few backgrounds I saw. I don't know if she'll be Mrs. Freeze in this timeline, but we'll see.

  Animal Fact: The great blue heron form flocks, sometimes called heronries, ranging from 5 to 500 nests. On average, they form flocks of about 160 nests per colony. An adult heron can eat up to 11 pounds of fish per day.

  Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: .