Chapter 55: The Birth of Frozen Man

The core of the sub-dimensional energy manipulation device, in essence, is a space folding device. After completing this critical part, Adam Wayne’s task was mostly done. The remaining work was repetitive: constructing another gravity operation device to complete the set.

After finishing his cup of coffee, Adam returned to his work, fine-tuning the machinery and ensuring precision in every component.

While Adam was immersed in his technological endeavors, another part of Gotham City was alive with activity—an undercurrent of schemes and betrayal brewing in the city of prosperity and crime. Gotham was a paradox, housing both the best and the worst of humanity.

As night fell, the city plunged into its darkest hours. In the wealthy outskirts, a grand manor was alive with the sound of music and conversation. Wealthy elites, dressed in their finest, mingled over wine and hors d’oeuvres, masking the darker dealings behind their glittering facades.

In an upper chamber of the manor, two shadowed figures sat across from one another. Their conversation was as cold and calculated as the city they inhabited.

“Joker is dead,” said one of the men, his ruby brooch catching the dim light.

The other man, holding a glass of red wine, raised an eyebrow and took a measured sip. “Who was responsible?”

“The Wayne Group,” replied the man with the ruby brooch.

A small smirk curled at the edges of the wine-drinker’s lips. “Ah, the young Bruce. How predictable. Youth always brings such passion.”

“We’ve lost a valuable piece,” said the ruby-brooched man, his tone sharp with annoyance. “Bruce Wayne is going too far. His illegitimate son has been creating quite the stir as well. Gotham isn’t big enough for all their self-righteous meddling.”

“You’re too impatient,” said the wine-drinker with a calm wave of his hand. “The benefits the Wayne Group brings us far outweigh the loss of a single chess piece. Besides, energetic young men need a purpose.”

“Bruce Wayne has cost me millions this month,” the ruby-brooched man growled. “We need to send him a message—remind him who really controls Gotham.”

“Fine, if you must. But not with our claws. It’s too soon to risk exposing them,” the wine-drinker said. “Send someone else. How about that cryogenics specialist? Victor Fries, wasn’t it? He has potential.”

The ruby-brooched man frowned. “The scientist? He’s just a researcher.”

“Every pawn has potential,” the wine-drinker replied, his smile chilling. “It just needs to be… unleashed. Besides, I hear his cryonics technology is quite fascinating. Perhaps it’s time we helped him reach his full potential.”

The following day, in a private laboratory on Gotham’s outskirts, Victor Fries—dressed in a pristine white coat—was having a heated argument with a man named Jim, his superior.

“Jim! You can’t do this!” Victor shouted, his voice trembling with anger. “I’m on the verge of a breakthrough!”

“I’m sorry, Victor,” Jim said, though his tone carried no sincerity. “The company can no longer justify the expenses of your research. It’s not bringing in results.”

Victor clenched his fists. “You know this project could revolutionize medicine. It could save lives!”

Jim sighed, shaking his head. “It’s business, Victor. Nothing personal.”

With a curt nod to the security guards, Jim ordered, “Shut it down. Pack up the lab.”

Victor’s heart sank as the guards began unplugging equipment, the hum of his life’s work silenced piece by piece. Desperately, he tried to stop them, but they shoved him aside like a rag doll.

As the last machine was powered down, a metallic hiss echoed through the lab. Victor froze. The massive cryogenic tank behind him began to leak a dense white gas, rapidly filling the room.

The guards didn’t notice until it was too late. They turned to see the fog curling around their boots, and within seconds, their movements slowed. One by one, they froze where they stood, grotesque smiles locked on their faces.

Victor collapsed to the floor, the freezing mist engulfing him. But instead of succumbing to the cold, he felt something stir deep within his body. The mist seemed to flow into him, his skin turning a pale, deathly white.

When the fog cleared, the lab was a scene of horror. Frozen bodies glittered like macabre statues, and at the center of the carnage knelt Victor Fries. His eyes burned with an icy light, and a bitter, hollow laugh escaped his lips.

He was no longer just a man of science. He had become something far colder.