Then
Bulge swallowed hard.
"…Dr. Freeze."
Silence.
Not the normal kind.
Everything stopped, as if the air itself was holding its breath.
The lights above buzzed louder than before, like angry insects trapped in a jar.
Even the tiny specks of dust in the sunlight looked frozen, suspended in the weight of that name.
Carmichael lowered his glass slowly.
Clunk.
His face changed, slowly, strangely. Like he wasn't sure whether to laugh, scream, or give Bulge a hug and then slap him.
Mostly, he looked tired. Deep, soul-weary tired. Like someone had just mentioned a name he hoped he'd never hear again.
"Freeze."
He exhaled. It came out long and low, like a sigh that had waited years.
"Kid… you have no idea what you just signed up for."
The words lingered in the room like smoke from something still burning.
Bulge felt it hit, low in his chest,but didn't show it.
He stayed still. Straight-faced. Pride kept him from backing down.
Carmichael didn't press him.
Instead, he turned back to the mess on his desk. Papers, datapads, old receipts, a whiskey bottle without a label,and, weirdly, what might've been a broken taser.
With a grunt, he pulled something out from the mess
A fax machine.
Ancient. Rusted. The plastic stained yellow like old bones.
He placed it on the desk carefully, like it mattered.
Thud.
Dust rose into the air.
The room smelled like melted wires and dry rubber.
Then.,Carmichael started typing.
Not fast. Not lazy.
Each key press felt deliberate, like he was pressing a nail into a wall that couldn't be un-nailed.
TO: EF CENTRAL
SUBJECT: EARTH CASE – ACCEPTED
DETECTIVE ASSIGNED: DR. FREEZE
Bulge leaned closer, a smile starting to tug at his lips.
"What's the big de....,"
Carmichael looked up.
One look.
It stopped Bulge cold.
Not angry. Not mocking.
Just… knowing.
The kind of look that said:
"You're walking into a storm, and you don't even feel the wind yet."
Bulge stood up straighter without even realizing it.
Carmichael's finger hovered over the SEND key.
It just sat there, trembling in the air like it was too heavy to press.
The whole room felt like it was balanced on that one button.
Then...,he pressed it.
The fax machine jerked to life.
It shuddered, coughed, whined like an old beast dragged out of hibernation.
The gears inside groaned, chewing themselves into motion with slow, painful screeches.
The screen blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then...,it hummed.
A steady tone. Rising.
The kind of sound that made the hairs on your arms stand up, like something just woke up that shouldn't have.
Bulge stepped back instinctively.
The room was colder now.
Not the sharp cold of Freeze's office...,but something deeper.
Not the cold of temperature,
The cold of consequence.
Something had been set in motion.
The machine spat out a confirmation slip.
Ping.
The hum stopped.
Silence again.
Bulge didn't move. He kept his back to the desk, shoulders stiff like a statue.
Behind him, Carmichael's chair creaked as the old man slowly stood.
Every movement felt like it cost him something.
The lights flickered.
Once.
Then again.
Carmichael's voice broke the silence,low, dry, rusted with time.
"…Freeze…"
He swallowed.