In the abandoned factory in Gotham City, Victor and Nora sat together on the cryogenic preservation machine that had just been shut down. The beautiful crystal coffin—the technological marvel that had kept Nora suspended between life and death for months—had lost its original function. For the couple, its value now was merely as a slightly cold seat with sentimental significance.
Jude still hadn't seen Victor produce a stool or chair for him to use. The man was either too emotionally overwhelmed to remember basic hospitality, or simply didn't have furniture in his abandoned warehouse hideout. So Jude shrugged and followed their example, hopping up to sit on the machine's housing beside them.
Nora carefully flipped through a worn notebook Victor had handed her—pages filled with newspaper clippings from Gotham during the time she'd been frozen. The compilation was meticulous, almost obsessive. Perhaps anticipating a potential legal battle or trial, Victor had documented everything with the precision of someone building a case file.
His entry into Goth Corp. The freezing of Nora when her condition deteriorated. The boss's demands for project termination and financial accountability. The laboratory accident that had transformed him. The company's attempts to capitalize on Nora's frozen body and his cryogenics technology for investor publicity. And finally, his revenge—the assault on Goth Corp, the rescue of his wife, the destruction of the facility that had exploited them both.
He'd cut out every news report with scissors and pasted them into the notebook with care, interspersing the clippings with his own handwritten additions. Dates. Contextual notes. Emotional observations written in cramped script during long nights watching over equipment.
"Victor." Nora's voice was soft, thick with emotion as she read through the pages. "You've been through so much."
She finally put the notebook down, unable to continue reading the catalog of suffering her husband had endured. She hadn't expected to be frozen for so long. Hadn't expected so much to happen to Victor while she slept. Hadn't expected that waking up would mean discovering her gentle scholar husband had been transformed into something the newspapers called a "dangerous super-criminal" and a "frozen freak."
Seeing him now in that armor, he no longer resembled the man she'd married. The gentle academic who'd loved literature and classical music. The shy researcher who'd blushed when she'd first asked him to dance. Now he looked like something from a nightmare—bluish skin, red goggles, encased in technological horror.
She reached out and stroked his helmet with visible heartache. At this moment, she couldn't even touch his actual face—just cold metal and transparent polymer. But the gesture made Victor flinch slightly, pulling back as if her touch burned.
"I'm a monster, Nora." His voice came through the helmet speakers flat and defeated. He lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes. "I've become a criminal. A murderer. I broke into Goth Corp with a freeze gun and killed people. I robbed a bank this morning. Now I'm wanted by the police. I've become a cold-blooded animal in the literal sense. I can't take off this armor without dying. I can't survive at normal room temperature. My body is frozen inside."
His voice cracked slightly. "My heart is cold. I can't even kiss your face now, Nora. I can't hold you properly. I can't feel your warmth. What kind of husband can't even touch his wife?"
"Victor." Nora's voice was fierce despite the tears gathering in her eyes. "We can leave together. Disappear from Gotham and go to another country. Start fresh somewhere they've never heard of Mr. Freeze. I don't mind what you've become. I don't care what you look like or what you have to wear. You saved my life. You refused to let me die. We can build a new life together."
"Uh, no. Sorry to interrupt." Jude's voice cut through the emotional moment with the timing of someone throwing cold water on a romantic scene. "With all due respect, you can't start a new life just yet. There's a complication."
Victor and Nora both turned to look at him in astonishment. Jude had been sitting there fiddling with his phone for the past several minutes—they'd half-forgotten he was present during their reunion. They certainly hadn't expected him to suddenly insert himself into their conversation at the worst possible moment.
"It's not like I'm from the FFF Inquisition trying to punish public displays of affection," Jude said quickly, holding up his hands defensively. "It's just that we agreed on a fair exchange earlier. I do you a favor and you do me a favor in return. That's how deals work."
At this reminder, Mr. Freeze nodded immediately, straightening in his seat. "Of course. I remember our agreement. No matter what you need, I will do my absolute best to fulfill it. You saved Nora's life. I owe you everything."
"You need to go to jail," Jude said simply.
Both of them froze completely—no pun intended.
The silence stretched for several seconds while they processed what they'd just heard.
"You know what I mean, right?" Jude clarified, his tone matter-of-fact. "Going to jail means honestly turning yourself in to the authorities. Honestly going to court for trial with full cooperation. Honestly serving whatever sentence the judge hands down. No escape attempts. No running. No disappearing to another country."
"I understand the concept of incarceration," Victor said slowly. "But... why? Why would you take such a risk—coming here alone to help a dangerous super-criminal cure his wife—just to send that criminal to prison? There's no logical benefit for you in this arrangement."
The two looked at Jude with genuine confusion. The math didn't add up. The motivation made no sense.
"I already told you," Jude shrugged. "The price might be a bit high. For you, specifically."
He leaned back against the machine housing, getting comfortable for the explanation. "District Attorney Harvey Dent will do his best to defend you during the trial. Based on your voluntary surrender, your complete confession of guilt, your cooperation with authorities, and considering Goth Corp's well-documented history of corporate malfeasance and exploitation, he'll petition the court for the most lenient sentence possible under the circumstances."
Jude paused. "But you'll still have to serve actual prison time. You killed people during your attack on Goth Corp. You robbed a bank. You're a fugitive who's been evading law enforcement. Considering that you essentially annihilated Goth Corp's entire executive leadership in your revenge attack, your sentence will likely start somewhere between ten to twenty years. Possibly longer depending on the judge."
Victor's expression behind the helmet was unreadable, but his posture suggested he was processing this information with grim acceptance rather than shock.
"However," Jude continued, "that's not all I'm asking for. The actual favor I need is this: after entering Wayne Private Prison as a convicted inmate, I need you to help manage the other prisoners. Administrative work from inside the system."
He gestured vaguely. "Wayne Group's private facility is trying something new. The prisoners there are treated like actual human beings rather than warehouse inventory. It's filled with members of the Falcone and Maroni crime families, plus various other criminals caught up in the gang war legal proceedings. Because there's so much potential for violence and so many dangerous individuals concentrated in one place, we need someone who can maintain order effectively."
Jude smiled slightly. "You're one of the best possible choices. You'll have the rights and authority of a prison guard while technically being an inmate yourself. You can even bring your freeze gun into the facility—within reason, obviously. When troublemakers start causing problems, you can freeze them into ice sculptures for a few hours until they calm down. Think of it as therapeutic intervention through cryogenic time-out."
Mr. Freeze immediately began thinking through the implications, his scientific mind analyzing the proposal from multiple angles.
He knew about Wayne Prison, of course. The news of the two gang bosses—Falcone and Maroni—fighting their legal war in Gotham City courthouse had been dominating headlines for weeks. The fact that Wayne Group had rapidly converted many of its idle buildings into prison facilities was common knowledge throughout the city.
However, he genuinely hadn't expected that Jude was actively recruiting for prison administration. That the cure for Nora had been a transaction to secure his cooperation with Gotham's criminal justice reform.
"Victor." Nora's voice drew his attention. She was looking at him carefully, studying his reaction. Notably, he didn't seem to have any expression of anger or disgust at the proposal. Just contemplation.
"I'm not afraid of going to court," Victor said quietly. "I've known for a long time that I did terrible things. Unforgivable things. If it weren't for Nora—if it weren't for my desperate need to keep her alive—I probably would have surrendered myself to the police months ago."
His tone carried genuine relief, like a burden being lifted. "The guilt has been crushing. Every day knowing I killed people who probably had families. Knowing I became the kind of monster I used to read about in the news. I wanted consequences. I wanted to face justice. I just... couldn't afford to until Nora was safe."
He gently wrapped his arms around Nora beside him, the armor making the embrace awkward but sincere. "I'm sorry, Nora. I just got you back. Just cured you. And now I have to say goodbye again. But I think... I think I need to do this. To serve my time. To pay for what I did."
Nora's eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over. It was obvious she was heartbroken at the prospect of being separated from Victor, who loved her so completely and had sacrificed everything for her survival.
But she also understood. She'd married a good man. A man with conscience. A man who couldn't live with himself unless he made things right.
"How long?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "How long until you're free?"
"Ten to twenty years, possibly," Jude said gently. "But with good behavior, work credits, sentence reductions for cooperation—probably less. Harvey's very good at his job."
Seeing that the matter was essentially settled, Jude nodded with satisfaction and jumped down from the machine.
"The cryogenics research," he said. "Your work on freezing the human body safely. That's your achievement, your intellectual property. It's up to you to decide how to handle it. Maybe donate the research to medical science. Maybe patent it properly. Whatever you think is right."
He glanced at his watch. "You two still have one night to spend together. Take the time. Say what you need to say. Then remember to turn yourself in tomorrow morning. I'd suggest going directly to Commissioner Gordon at GCPD. He's trustworthy."
Mr. Freeze nodded, already mentally planning how to spend their last night of freedom together.
Jude hesitated, then thought about something he'd noticed during the healing process. When he'd used the Fast Life Recovery on Victor—attempting to cure his cold-dependent physiology—he hadn't received the usual system notification about permanent healing. Instead, he'd gotten a concerning message:
[Treatment is only effective for 24 hours. Condition will return after temporary remission.]
This was similar to what had happened when he first met Solomon Grundy in the sewers. The zombie's undead nature couldn't be permanently altered, only temporarily suppressed.
Was it because Mr. Freeze, as one of the established characters in the DC universe's narrative structure, couldn't be fundamentally changed from his frozen state? Or was it because Jude's current asset point levels weren't high enough to completely cure him—that a more expensive intervention might work permanently?
Jude wasn't certain. But he couldn't just leave Victor in his frozen state without trying something.
He took out another piece of candy from his pocket and handed it to Victor. "Eat this. Your condition is quite special—I can't cure it completely or permanently. But I can turn you back into a warm-blooded animal for approximately twenty-four hours. One day of feeling normal temperature. One night of being able to properly hold your wife."
Victor's hands shook slightly as he accepted the candy, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't... I don't know how to thank you. You've given me everything back. Everything I thought I'd lost forever."
"Just turn yourself in tomorrow," Jude said simply. "That's all the thanks I need."
He turned and walked toward the factory exit, not waiting for further emotional responses while also use the Fast Life Recovery. Behind him, he could hear Victor explaining to Nora about the armor's emergency release protocols, about how for one night he could be himself again.
When Jude stepped outside into the cooling evening air, he looked up at the sky. It wasn't fully dark yet—the sun had set, but twilight still painted the clouds in shades of purple and gray.
"That doesn't make sense," he muttered to himself, checking his watch again. "It's been at least half an hour since I entered that warehouse. No one's waiting for me outside. Harvey and Gordon haven't shown up with a tactical team, which means they actually trust me to handle this negotiation alone. That's... uncharacteristically reasonable of them."
His eyes narrowed. "Which means the unreasonable one arrived early. Damn it, Batman must have been here the whole time!"
Right on cue, a familiar low voice emerged from the shadows near the warehouse corner—that distinctive gravelly tone that sounded like someone gargling gravel and intimidation.
"Neither of your candies can be used to treat diseases," Batman said, stepping partially into the dim light. "At least not serious conditions like cancer. I've tested them extensively."
"Of course you've tried analyzing them." Jude rolled his eyes dramatically. "I gave you so much candy over the months, and you're still a paranoid psychopath who trusts nobody and tests everything. What a waste of perfectly good sweets."
"What did you actually use to cure Nora Fries?" Batman's tone suggested this was not a casual question. "What cured Victor Fries, even temporarily?"
"Don't you already know?" Jude countered. "You've obviously figured it out, or you wouldn't be asking leading questions."
"Camilla" Batman's voice was certain now, presenting evidence like he was in court. "Drake's wife. She had terminal stomach cancer. Complete remission within weeks of meeting you. Her recovery pattern was almost identical to Nora's—sudden, complete, medically impossible."
He paused. "I've reviewed all the medical records. Interviewed the doctors who declared her terminal. The only variable in her case was a story. A children's story about Santa Claus that you supposedly told her. But I don't believe in stories magically curing cancer."
"You even tracked down what specific story I told her." Jude sighed with a mixture of admiration and exasperation. "Your detective skills are genuinely impressive and also deeply concerning. Are you really not going to see a psychiatrist? This level of investigative obsession can't be healthy."
He gestured at Batman's armor. "By the way, did you install a tracking device on me when you snuck into the warehouse earlier? I'm going to check later, and if I find one, I'm very disappointed in you."
Batman didn't answer the question about therapy or tracking devices. He simply stood there, waiting for Jude to actually explain the healing mechanism.
Seeing that Jude was deliberately changing the subject—deflecting with humor and accusation rather than providing real answers—the Dark Knight made a decision.
The conversation was over. He'd learned what he needed to confirm: Jude had access to genuine healing abilities that defied scientific explanation. The source remained mysterious, but the pattern was clear.
Without another word, Batman melted back into the shadows, disappearing into Gotham's night with the silent efficiency of someone who'd perfected the dramatic exit as an art form.