Milk_Is_My_Drug
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Chapter 24: Dreams Turned Into Realities
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 18:43:00 +0000 UTCThe glow from the potion had long faded, but Victor Freeze remained still, staring at his own reflection in the one-way mirror like he was looking at a stranger. His fingers trembled as they brushed against his cheeks, his breath calm and warm for the first time in years.
Ashborn let him have the moment, saying nothing. Even Supergirl stood silently, watching the man process the unimaginable.
Victor finally broke the silence, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Am I… really cured? Not just temporarily?”
Ashborn gave a single nod. “The potion cures any illness. No need to worry about becoming a snowman again.”
Victor turned slowly, his eyes searching Ashborn’s face for even a hint of deception. Before he could speak, Ashborn pulled out a second vial, identical to the first, the red liquid inside gleaming faintly in the dim room.
“The same potion,” Ashborn said calmly, “can save your wife.”
Victor’s breath caught. His lips trembled. “It… can save Nora?”
Ashborn nodded once more. “Yes. But understand — these potions are extremely expensive. You’ll have to work for me… for the rest of your life. I have big plans for you.”
The words barely settled before Victor’s knees hit the floor. “Please! I’ll do anything you want. No matter what it is, crime, science, anything! Just… save Nora. I’m begging you.”
Ashborn’s smile stretched slightly, amusement flickering behind his dark eyes. “Then take a seat, Victor. Let’s discuss the terms like civilized people.”
Victor scrambled back to his feet and sat down on the chair like an obedient child summoned to the principal’s office.
Ashborn walked around the table slowly, his voice even and smooth. “No more crimes. I’ve been wanting to work on something for a while, something new. Something that will bring real change to the world.” He paused dramatically. “And it needs someone of your particular talents.”
Victor nodded eagerly, desperate. “Anything. Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
Ashborn clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward ever so slightly. “I want to make a new kind of ice cream.”
The silence was immediate.
Victor blinked. Supergirl blinked. Both stared at him like he’d suddenly spoken in ancient Sanskrit.
“…Ice cream?” Victor asked slowly, baffled.
“The great project that will change the world is… ice cream?” Supergirl added, brow furrowed.
Ashborn’s confident grin didn’t waver. “Ice cream flavors haven’t evolved in decades. This is unacceptable. My taste buds cry for salvation. So I’m going to get the best chef money can buy — and you, Victor, will be my cryogenics expert. We’re going to redefine what ice cream is.”
He leaned in. “So, are you willing to work in ice cream development… for the rest of your life?”
Victor opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He searched Ashborn’s face for a crack — a twitch, a smirk, anything that would betray this as a joke.
He found nothing.
“…I am willing,” Victor finally said weakly, praying this wasn’t all a cruel trick.
Ashborn laughed and clapped his hands together. “A wise decision. I’ll begin the process to get you out — then we’ll head to Gotham and save your wife. For now, say your farewells to your goons. We’ll be seeing each other again soon.”
With that, Ashborn turned and exited the room, leaving behind a hopeful and very confused Victor Freeze. Supergirl followed, her eyes narrowed, as if trying to see directly into Ashborn’s brain.
Once they were outside the station, she asked the question burning in her mind. “Were you serious in there? This is all about ice cream?”
Ashborn laughed lightly. “Of course.”
Supergirl folded her arms. “Those potions of yours are worth more than anything on Earth. You’re telling me you’re using them for… dessert?”
Ashborn shrugged. “To me, they’re not. I have more money than I’ll ever need. What I lack is new experiences. Joys. Curiosities.”
Supergirl gave him a long, skeptical look. “I don’t believe you. Not one bit.”
Ashborn smirked. “Believe whatever you want. But let’s not forget, earlier you said I acted like a villain. Yet you helped me in there. You held a desperate man down so coldly. You broke him more than I ever did.”
Supergirl’s eyes narrowed. “I was helping you. I didn’t like it.”
Ashborn stopped walking and turned to face her, arms spread. “Deep down, you enjoyed it. The act of cruelty. How evil of you, Supergirl! The world should mourn the birth of a sadistic girl pretending to be a hero.”
She scoffed. “If I was one, the first person to feel it would be you.”
Ashborn chuckled and turned back toward the building. “Fair enough. But for now, I’ve got a man to release. What comes next is boring bureaucratic nonsense. Spare yourself the pain. Go patrol the city, cruel hero.”
Supergirl shook her head, sighed, then took off into the sky. “Good luck, Ice Cream Lord.”
Ashborn smiled to himself.
“Oh, I won’t need luck. I have the fate of ice cream on my side.”
___________
It took an entire day — and several phone calls — to cut through the bureaucracy and walk Victor Freeze out of the police station. The charges against him, mainly for his assault on Shadow Corp’s lab, were quietly dropped after a generous “donation” exchanged hands, along with a hefty sum posted for bail.
Now, as the city shrank beneath them, Victor sat stiffly beside Ashborn in a luxurious private jet, the kind of aircraft few even saw, let alone boarded. The leather seats, soft lighting, and silent hum of the engines all seemed like something from another world.
Victor couldn’t speak.
He couldn’t think.
It felt like he was drifting inside a dream — surreal, too delicate to be real. Across from him, Ashborn lounged easily, tablet in hand, tapping away at some game with casual focus, completely unfazed by the man watching him in awe.
Victor couldn’t reconcile it — this young man, playful and relaxed, was the same person who had threatened him then turned his cursed life around and gave him hope to restore his wife. If not for the living proof — his skin warm again, his lungs breathing in the cabin air without machinery — Victor would have dismissed all of it as madness.
But here he was.
Alive. Free. Normal.
And headed to Gotham.
The jet landed with barely a tremor. Gotham greeted them as it always did — gray skies, gothic spires, and the weight of old stories hanging in the air. Victor led Ashborn through back alleys and guarded gates, eventually bringing him to the quiet, secured Wayne storage unit where she waited — his wife, Nora.
As they walked, Ashborn talked.
Not about science or business, but about food.
And movies. And what kind of games made people smile.
To Victor, it was baffling. Silly, even. This was the man who had cured him, who held power beyond explanation, and yet he was now asking whether sushi was overrated or if arcade games still held up.
Victor didn’t know what to make of it. Was Ashborn trying to play with his mind? Or was he... just being himself? The inconsistency was maddening.
They arrived at the chamber. Victor quickly entered the access code, the door unlocking with a quiet hiss. Inside, behind a wall of reinforced glass and cryogenic mist, was Nora — the same as he had left her, beautiful and silent.
Ashborn stood behind him and wordlessly handed him the potion.
“She must drink all of it,” he said simply.
Victor held the vial like it was sacred, his hands trembling with emotion. Slowly, gently, he began the process of waking Nora from her suspended state. The moment she was stable enough, he fed her the potion as delicately as if it were a kiss.
Seconds passed.
Then she stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Nora…?” Victor whispered, voice cracking.
Her eyes locked on his. She blinked, confused — then focused. “Victor…?”
Tears fell freely from his eyes. “You’re awake… you’re really awake…”
Ashborn gave a polite cough from behind. “I’ll give you two some privacy.” He turned and stepped out, letting the door seal shut behind him.
He stood outside, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. The minutes passed. Then half an hour. Then nearly an hour more.
Finally, the door opened.
Victor walked out, hand in hand with Nora, who now stood tall, alive, and whole beside him. There was a soft glow to her cheeks, her voice steady as she greeted the man waiting.
“You must be Ashborn,” she said with a warm smile. “Victor told me about you. I could never thank you enough for what you've done.”
Ashborn gave a low chuckle. “No need to thank me. It was your husband who did all the work. He fought for you, clawed through despair, and never gave up. I just… gave him the last piece.”
He looked at Victor, his tone still light. “He’s your hero. I only helped because of him.”
Nora turned to Victor, her hand tightening around his.
Victor, for once, smiled without sadness. It was a true smile, wide and unguarded.
And Ashborn, watching them, allowed himself a quiet nod.
