Complete lack of moderation

Three months ago

  Thirty years. Thirty years and countless failures, but finally Victor Fries had made progress. After all the turmoil, trial and error, hoping and having that hope turn to ash, Dr. Fries had a concrete theory. A theory that needed only a few more tests before real human trials, before the world was cured of god only knew how many cancers. A theory stolen by a dark shadow creeping into the frigid laboratory late one night. By every meaning of the word, a simple burglar with the foresight to know this information would sell for billions.

  And sell it he did.

  ***

  St. Petersburg

Three weeks ago

  Gustaf Kiriyenko chose the Astoria to stay in whenever he came to Russia. Like clockwork. It was part of his routine, like getting his suits flown in from Paris or sailing around Cape Horn on the summer solstice. Judging by the photos on his private Facebook feed, dining in three-Michelin-starred restaurants with his father was also another tradition. The tradition was broken when Anton Kiriyenko was kidnapped by a political rival. Retaliation was the Kiriyenko trademark, but it wasn't always proportionate.

  That was why Gustaf hired the Secret Six to murder his father's kidnappers.

  ***

  Desert north of Murmansk, Arctic Circle

Present day

  A fur greatcoat was not a good complement for Scandal Savage's typical battle armour. But frostbite resulted in fingers falling off, which was hard for even someone like her to heal from. The wind still bit into the parts of her face exposed above her mask, and it irritated her that her companion was perfectly at home. Maybe it was because she wasn't thrilled with the compromises she'd made to get him here with here, but Mr. Freeze was the ideal tour guide for the North Pole. As they trudged up a ridge, she realised she'd need to shout to be heard.

  "There's a railway line directly below us," she said. "It's carrying Anton Kiriyenko to the next station, where his ransom is waiting. Our client—" And by that she meant the Six, because mad scientists weren't mad enough to match her teammates— "doesn't want to pay up. Intercepting the train midway is the best shot." Finish the one inside, rescue the victim, and get out before the others realised what had happened. Gustaf had assured her that his men would take care of the rest.

  Trudging through the arctic blasts with one Scandal Savage was not the way Victor Fries had intended to spend his week. However, thanks to the promise of mutual gain, here he was. Instead of following his lead on Penguin, he was assisting Savage. His suit enjoyed the cold, not needing to strain against any heat to keep it’s internal temperature down. In fact, if it were a few degrees cooler, Victor might not even need the suit at all. For the coolness, at least. He had little understanding of the background of this mission and it’s potential to turn into any kind of fight, nor did he really care. He would soon  be back on his own mission.

  “I do not care about the payments,” he answered, his voice fighting against the wind. “I will follow your lead.”

  "Good," said Scandal. "More for me."

  Kneeling in the snow, she drew a rough map as quickly as she could before the wind threw it into disarray. Two parallel lines for the railway track going straight until it curved at the signal brushing dangerously close to another track. She explained, as she drew, that the second track was exclusively used by a chemical train. Its irradiated cargo meant other vehicles would want to steer as clear of it as possible. Anton was on a freighter and would reach the signal in five minutes. Twenty minutes later, the nuclear train would chug past as well. They needed to divert Anton’s train into the tracks of the chemical one, hold the threat of that over the kidnappers.

  Victor dropped a knee into the hard packed snow, leaning over to watch his temporary partner carve a map into the ice. She worked quickly against the wind, precise movements. He appreciated the brevity. He nodded along with her words, pushing himself upright when she’d finished. “Then we need to get down there as soon as possible.” He clicked a button on his left arm, the freeze gun whirring to life, it’s noise barely audible above the sleet swirling around them. “How are we diverting the train?” Victor could think of a few ways, most of which involved incapacitating the original tracks in solid blocks of ice.

  Scandal gestured to the giant ice weapon he’d activated, pleased to be working with someone who had a decent toolbelt. (Catman wore something of the sort, but it was apparently not as well-equipped as Batman’s. Batman probably had a portable TV in his belt, too, and the nose of the Sphinx, so she couldn’t rate Mr. Blake too badly for not matching up.) “We’ll just have to move the railway tracks,” she said simply. “Put enough dry ice on the tracks to make the metal bend, twist and manoeuvre into the chemical train’s tracks. When two metal pieces come into contact with each other under enough pressure or in vaccum, they weld.”

  While this was a complete deviation from her normal stab-and-grab style, Scandal believed in using what you had at hand. The more… effort that went into a job, the more she could claim on the bill as expenses. She eyed Mr. Freeze’s suit speculatively for a minute, having heard all about how diamonds were needed to keep him powered up. "Wait. Do you mean you steal…everything?" That wasn't very efficient. "A credit card does wonders for minimising the risks of any transaction, you know."

  Victor nodded approvingly. The woman had done her research. There was nothing worse than entering a one-sided partnership, even a tenuous and brief one such as this. His eyes focused on the track below, his mind formulating exactly how he would focus the stream of ice so nothing was wasted. At the woman’s question, Victor began the descent to the tracks. If they were going to pull this off, they would need to hurry. Pressure welding in the arctic would take more time than he was sure Savage thought it would.

  “I take what I need. I do not wish to donate to the people who call me a villain when I can simply walk in and take what I require.” He dismissed her easily, not in the mood to defend his methods. Creating fake credit cards or siphoning money to spend on diamonds was effort he could be spending on finding his research and continuing his work for the cure he so desperately needed.

  “Of you wish to discuss my personal methods, it can wait until your task is fulfilled.”

  Scandal’s sound of acknowledgement wasn’t loud enough to be audible. Maybe if she cared about her current accomplice even a little bit, she might have introduced him to a good man at Credit Suisse. Maybe she'd do it anyway. Complete her philanthropy quota of the year. The flurries were already covering up their trail as they stamped down the ridge to the tracks. Despite the glibness with which she’d spouted off her plan, she had to narrow her eyes at the long definitely immoveable metal bars at their feet. She prodded a sleeper with the toe of her boot, but it seemed pretty firmly lodged in the ground. If she had a watch, she would have checked that too. Maybe there was a reason they didn’t do the elaborate supervillain plans. She tilted her head quizzically at Mr. Freeze, putting on a scowl as if the delay was now his fault.

  Victor ignored the burning sensation that occured when you felt someone’s disapproving eyes on you. He’d grown to know that feeling well over his life, and he in no way wished to relive it now, but there was no time for that. His entire focus was on the steel beams, hoping whoever had constructed them had left some wiggle room between the joints.

  Bending down, he quickly inspected one side of the tracks, running a hand along the side of the track. “We are in luck.” He announced, readying his freeze gun, shifting the settings to his liking. “These are old tracks, jointed rather than welded, unmaintained. They will easily split.” Before aiming the dry ice towards the track, Victor glanced back up at the woman, eyeing her personage. “Do you have something to reattach the steel? I did not bring a spot welder to the arctic.”

  Scandal frowned, defiantly spreading her arms to show that no, she was bulked up only because of the fur coat, not because of concealed weapons. She suppressed the reflex to check for any oncoming trains, racking her mind for improvisation options. There was probably a train station. There wasn't enough time to trek to a railway station and scavenge for anything useful. They were surrounded by frozen metal and snow and everything was so barren that it was ticking her off even more. "If cold welding needs pressure... what's more effective than the weight of a train?" She gestured vaguely at their surroundings as she said, "You can make a temporary construct out of ice. Hold the rails in place. When the train comes, it'll get diverted. When it travels over the... modified section of the tracks, the metal will be fused in place."

  Had Victor been a different man, he might’ve have rolled his eyes at her gesture. Of course she didn’t. Then they would in fact, need to pressure weld in a matter of minutes. He considered her option for a moment, weighing the potential threats versus what they needed to get done. “The ice will only hold for so long. There is a very large margin of error, considering trains rely heavily on working tracks.” It was as if he was speaking to a third grader. “Your plan may be the only option we have, however. Is it a risk you are willing to take?” He didn’t need an answer. Based off the information he had about Scandal Savage, she would accept. And in reality, when coming this close to a nuclear track, chances were the train wouldn’t be going fast enough to break his temporary supports before the weight of the train fused the brittle metal.

  Gesturing for the woman to stand back, Victor raised his gun to the tracks, carefully creating a thick layer of dry ice over the steel, hearing the metal constrict and crack at it’s weakest points. The easier part was over in a matter of seconds. “How much time do I have?” He asked, preparing his gun to create the temporary bonds.

  Scandal craned her neck, pretending to survey the landscape for a good look. But even as they spoke, they could hear the clanking of ancient metal being tossed and hauled over railway tracks. The train must be gaining close if they could already hear it over the wind. She twitched back her sleeve, checking her watch. "How much time do you need? Say… ten minutes?" The train was gaining on them, but she flashed Mr. Freeze a look that said trust me, I'm a professional. "You concentrate on not losing fingers. Then, come aboard that train. For some tea and biscuits."

  With that, she flexed her arms, re-adjusting to the weight of the laminas pesar strapped over her heavy sleeves. Then, she ran for the train. Scandal was in excellent physical shape, but this felt like giving physics the middle finger. It seemed like the train was barrelling straight at her, and her legs couldn't move fast enough towards it. This was every commuter's worst nightmare. When she was close enough to see ladder-like handrails on the side of the nearest car, she let out a silent prayer that sounded more like a curse, and jumped. She caught the handrails, but the wind and speed of the train made it feel like her lower body was being wrenched in half. One foot was on the ladder, her other foot slipped off the icy metal. She clung as tightly as she could and forced herself to climb. She just needed to get to the driver's cab before the goon squad guarding Anton Kiriyenko caught up.

  Victor felt the vibrations of the oncoming train echoing through the frozen earth. He had maybe moments to finish the haphazard bonds holding the steel plates in place. In theory, this should work, but Victor much preferred to work in absolutes, despite the nature of his research. In no time, the train was barreling over the steel, but the machine kept moving, proving that their improvised plan had worked, for the moment at least.

  He watched as Scandal ran after the train, nimbly throwing herself at the car. Heaving out a sigh, he urged his suit forward, feeling the resistance in the metal but catching up to the car. Activating the short term hover ability, Victor felt himself rise above the swirling snow just long enough for him to grab the handrail and swing himself inside with a loud clang.

  “Now I follow you.”

  Scandal half-expected there to be an audible crunch as the train flew over Mr. Freeze's ice blocks. The only thing she could feel was the wind trying to peel her off as she laboriously dragged herself onto the roof of the train. She knew she'd mistimed when she'd taken the first jump, and could only hope that Mr. Freeze had better luck. Flat on her stomach, she clenched the grooves in the roof so tight that her fingers might break. She pushed against the wind and ice flying into her face, making her eyes and nose burn, and wriggled forward bit by bit. Even a full marathon would have been easier. She was now flattened over the driver's compartment. With more manoeuvring that made her feel like a mass of lead weights, she carefully swung herself down the side and into the compartment. The relative stability from being inside a train disoriented her for a second, but the driver was already yelling in Ukrainian and drawing his weapon. Scandal had a lamina pesar at his throat before he got any further, enjoying his belligerence morph into fear as blood generously trickled down her blade. "My partner and I," she announced pleasantly, "have diverted the tracks. We're heading straight into the path of a chemical train. If you stop this vehicle, you die. Understood?"

  Victor stood to the side as he watched Savage struggle against the biting wind. Though Victor longed for the feelings he used to have, fresh air on his face, the warmth of sun on his skin, he certainly had to admit some advancements his condition had granted him with. He knew better than to offer a hand, understanding the woman’s capabilities. The man stood aside as his partner threatened the driver with her blades, hardly acknowledging the threat. From the look on the man’s face, he understood.

  Stepping forward, Victor addressed the driver in a flat, commanding voice. “We are locating Anton Kiriyenko. If you alert anyone to our presence, you will die.” It wasn’t a threat, merely a fact. “Perhaps you can tell us exactly where he is being held.”

  The driver might not have understood much English, but the freezingly robotic Mr. Freeze must have seemed more inhuman than Scandal. He sputtered, "Back there, way back there," in Ukrainian. "The train—distress signal—a collision—are you mad?"

  Scandal translated for Mr. Freeze's benefit, then shrugged. "What do you recommend doing with him?" she asked her new partner in English.

  Victor glanced toward the back of the train, his mind calculating the time it would take to reach the back, deal with whatever guards were holding Kiriyenko and disembark from the train versus how much time they would have before collision. Not enough time to properly deal with a frantic Ukrainian. “I doubt he will warn anyone.” But for good measure, Victor aimed his gun at the man’s lower half, freezing him in place in a matter of seconds. From the wide eyed expression filled with nothing but fear, Victor assumed he would do as they said, keeping the train on track until they told him otherwise.

  They headed through the door that led to the other compartments, in search of the abducted man. A trio of men in expensive suits were sitting in a rickety old-fashioned dining car. It was furnished with everything from tables to a buffet, and only lacked food. The men made up for it with their liquid diet, but from their coldly sober faces, it'd probably have taken a gallon of vodka (each) to knock them out.

  "Enforcers," Scandal guessed aloud. "For whatever pig scum is holding our Mr. Kiriyenko hostage. Gentlemen," she added, crossing her arms, "do you want to make this easy or do we need to steamroll you?"

  They reacted by drawing their guns all at once and opening fire.

  Following the woman through the train, the sting of massive quantities of liquor filtered through Victor’s suit, burning his nose. In a matter of seconds, the room was ringing with the sound of gunfire echoing off the train walls. Victor had long since given up the fear of gunfire, having engineered his suit to stand up to much worse than these men with terrible aim. “It is not enough to fire a gun, you need to aim it.” He said calmly, the gentle whir of his freeze guns mingling with the ricocheting bullets. In only a few minutes, three men were frozen solid, save for their faces, and the other few rapidly trying to avoid his adept partner, albeit badly. No matter how much these men were paid, it certainly did not give them advantage over Victor and Scandal.

  "Ever considered being a Bond villain?" asked Scandal, marvelling at Mr. Freeze's inability to be fazed by anything, even adrenaline.

A metallic thump sounded from the compartment beyond. It came again, only muffled. Angry swearing in Russian, then a retort in Ukrainian. Kiriyenko must be trying to get their attention, but he obviously had a guard. No point. How much time did they have left? "Mr. Kiriyenko," she called out in her most professional, soothing voice as she stepped forward. "Help is here. If your captor doesn't agree to let us help you, then my partner and I are going to disembark and this vehicle will be in a grisly collision with a chemical train. Being old, I'm sure death will be a relief to you. Hopefully, you can convince your companion to be just as gracious." Turning to Mr. Freeze, she lowered her voice to a low whisper and asked cautiously, "Your suit is anti-radiation...isn't it?"

  Victor turned towards the noise in the back of the car. Surely their prize resided beyond, guarded. With little time, Victor wasn’t one to waste what they did not have. He regarded Scandal with a calm facade. “Of course. It would be foolish not to implement any number of safety features if I am to be trapped in this machine for the rest of my life.” There was a twinge of bitterness to the man’s voice, but it ended there. There was work to do. “Have you made yourself radiation-proof?”

  Professionalism on hold for a second, Scandal had the intense urge to reach out and touch Mr. Freeze's arm. Even if he wouldn't feel it. On the clock, she reminded herself. Besides, he would mistake it for pity. Instead, she shrugged and said, "Doesn't matter. I'll heal." Probably. Had to be.

  Stepping towards the next compartment, Victor lifted his gun, quickly changing its settings before aiming it at the solid metal wall. “Step back Miss Savage.” He warned before activating the weapon, sending out a stream of icy air intended to create a portal through the locked door. “If you do not wish to become human ice sculptures before you are radiated beyond recognition, I suggest you surrender.” He called over the sound of his freeze.

  "Goddamnit innocent man here!" barked Anton Kiriyenko in English from the other side of the door. "My death will be on your conscience and my fucking son's, you so-called heroes on a rescue mission."

  Scandal didn't want to touch the irony in that with a ten-foot pole. More metallic thumps, and curses in Ukranian, probably Kiriyenko haranguing his guards. "I suggest listening to my partner," she called out in Russian. "That is if you can hear him over the sound of the oncoming chemical train. Not to mention the really big--" she glanced at the ice ray contraption Mr. Freeze had and upgraded to-- "Laser we have."

  The battered and half-frozen door was awkwardly forced open from within the compartment. A ferociously scowling senior citizen in a crumpled and dirty Armani suit and furs wheeled himself out. Sticking right behind him, using Anton Kiriyenko as a human shield, was the last kidnapper. Unmindful of the old man, Scandal lunged forward over his head and speared the kidnapper with a blade.

  Bloodspattered, Kiriyenko threw a contemptuous glare at Scandal, before eyeing Mr. Freeze with suspicion. "What are you, a talking robot?"

  Victor paid the man no mind. He’d gotten that and much worse throughout his time trapped within the suit. Their mission was far from over. Time was ticking down and he could almost feel the radiation leaking through the walls of the train, not that they could touch his frozen skin. “Scandal Savage, we still need to exit the vehicle. Can this man withstand a leap from the moving train?” He had a contingency plan in mind, but leaping would probably be the preferable option. “Then we will discuss what you may do for me.” He added, addressing Kiriyenko. The thought of his nearly trademarked chemical, one of the key aspects of his research, being in the hands of this imbecile was revolting. If it was true that the Kiriyenkos may have gotten hold of it, then perhaps he would be able to rebuild what was stolen without infiltrating the Penguin’s lair.

  Scandal glowered right back at Kiriyenko and said, "No... Unfortunately." At the same time, the highly well-paying client's father let out a snort of derision. "Killed by the rescue mission: charming. One wench, one Android, and it's not even my phone." She ignored his ravings, turning back to Mr. Freeze. "I trust you have a back-up plan for him?"

  Victor nodded, turning to a door leading to the frigid outside, wrenching it open quickly and aiming the freeze gun down the side of the train. “Thankless Kiriyenko, I will create an ice slide for your escape. It is either that, or you jump yourself, or perish.” With a loud whir, the gun came to life, spouting out a steady stream of ice along the side of the train, building and building until the end of the makeshift slide hovered above the ground as it sped past them. “The slide will lessen your impact, but do not fight gravity as you make contact with the snow bank.”

  The man turned to his partner. “We have little time. Is there anything else we need from this train?”

  Scandal paused for only a second. "The driver."

  How much time was left, because she could definitely hear the thunder of another train. And this one wasn't about to stop moving. She glanced at Mr. Freeze, and without looking at Kiriyenko, shoved him down the slide.

  "Give me five minutes, Victor."

  She ran through the train straight back to the front compartment. The driver was frozen in place, frantically hacking at the ice around his legs with a metal bar. Ice flew off in feeble chips, and he strained forward to reach the controls. He barely noticed Scandal, just renewing his efforts. There was no time for anything else.

  She could see the chemical train, abandoned on the tracks ahead of them. The fortified driver's cabin was empty, the crew visible as they ran like hell for the ridge.

  "Which one stops the train?" she snapped at the driver. He pointed, and she yanked the lever.

  If Victor had been a different man, he might’ve tapped his foot in annoyance. The man they’d come for was now out of harm's way and currently speeding away from them, along with any information about his serum. He would give her five minutes exactly and then he would leave.

  However, he didn’t need to. About three minutes in, Victor felt the train screech to a halt, and just in time from what he could gather. He didn’t need to rescue the driver, and judging by the fact that Scandal rejoined him alone, he guessed she wasn’t too preoccupied with freeing him from the ice either. “Your task is complete. Now you will assist me with mine.” Without looking back, he stepped off the side of the train, hovering down to the hard packed snow. He could see Kiriyenko in the distance, though he wasn’t too far. “Stay where you are, Kiriyenko!” Victor called, feeling the small stirrings of passion boiling, but they were quickly frozen in place. This was a means to an end, hopefully the last end before Nora joined him again.

  “You have something that belongs to me.” He stated once they’d reached the man, his icy tone leaving no room for argument.  “And I would like it back.”

  Anton Kiriyenko was intractable, and Scandal didn't especially care about him. The left wheel of his chair was stuck in a snowdrift, and he had given trying to free himself. In fact, he was blowing on his gloved hands and flexing his arms unhurriedly as Mr. Freeze and Scandal approached. The disgruntled, expectant look on his face meant he was waiting for them to escort him home. She supposed they would have to, since his body was too feeble to keep up with his age and recent kidnapping ordeal. But the contrast to Mr. Freeze coudn't be clearer. The two made their money in exactly the same dirty and dishonourable ways, but while Kiriyenko fed off his spoils of war like a callous glutton... Victor fought for love. Something noble.

  Kiriyenko barely looked at Scandal. He was appraising Mr. Freeze with a grimace, as if trying to remember what dealings they might have had. His eyes were sunken in his face, and even for a senior citizen, he looked ill and starved. His Armani suits would fit him badly for a while. Scandal didn't have pity to spare. Everyone went through special levels of hell: it was how life worked, it was as unremarkable as a sunny day. And Kiriyenko's turn was close to ending anyway.

  "Ask my son, Robocop," he said finally in impeccable, accented English. "I've been touring the North Pole." His eyes glazed over for less than a second. His exhaustion and surrender was clear. Then, he swore. "Just.. take me home."

  Victor let the irritation at this man cool before answering. It was yet another roadblock. He wondered briefly what he had ever done to deserve this endless purgatory away from his wife. Glancing at his partner, he knew there was nothing more he could gain from this man. In the back of his mind, he made a note that if this lead turned out to be a dud, he would come back and haunt this man past the end of his days.