A bad day

May. 31st, 2015 08:18 pm
a_cruel_chill: (Longing)
The tedium was especially heavy today, which was an odd feeling. This was to be a day Tora was coming to visit, which would have done much to alleviate the feeling. It was, instead, extra heavy this day and even considering his limited scope and mobility because of his condition the day felt like he was walking through molasses. And this irritated him. He was normally irked by minor things. His cell was one of the few respites he had from the outside world, that overwhelming heat and anger and loss, and yet today that feeling seeped through the walls like inescapable rot and pestilence.

Breakfast came at it's normal time, but even through the glass and countermeasures to protect the guards from the cold he could hear talk. He could not hear details of the conversation, but by the tone of the voices on the other side they were jovial.

This irked Victor more. There was no need for that. At all.

The specialized books that Victor was allowed to read came in thirty minutes afterwards. It was quite obvious that they were mishandled because of the bent materials. It was minor bending and shifting of materials, but things were now distorted and harder to read.

This irked Victor even further. He may be considered a harmful villain, but he was first and foremost a cryogenicist, and having his reading and research materials damaged is unprofessional and upsetting.

Lunch came. It was just a scant half hour before Toras scheduled visit, and like before the guards transporting his food were in good sorts. But as they were handling the device to allow the transfer into his cell, there was a distinctive clattering of reinforced plastic and synthetic materials.

They had dropped his food. The laughter and jovial attitude quit, and the device moved and revealed his tray. Everything was there, but it was in a state of disrepair. The tray was covered in loose food, his glass of specially treated water was now a third of what it normally was, and the food was mixed together in a way that seemed to pile more insult on top of the day. He stared at it for a moment, ignoring the hastily closed transfer device, before turning towards his bed. But each moment of looking at the disorganized plate made his more and more upset, until, just a step away from his seat, he instead wheeled and threw the tray, plate and all, at the front of his cell. he may not have the raw physical power of Bane, but Victor Fries is still a man of decent height and strength.

The tray hit hard, cracking at the impact. The plate clanked and fell, now battered. The water spilled and began to coat the door. Frost already began to form where the water was, and the Victor began to yell. Incoherently. Angrily. Loudly.

This was now a bad day.
a_cruel_chill: (Longing)
It had been a long grueling number of months since the incident that claimed Noras life and there was not a single moment that Victor Fries did not miss her. But compared to the place the villain known as Mr Freeze was then, he was no longer on suicide watch and had begun to slowly start the activities he had done as an inmate before: extensive reading, some minor continued research (all theoretical; he was not allowed a lab), and some attempts at counseling.

The last part tended not to work, with one exception: the woman who had told his story to so many months ago. The Justice League member Tora Olafsdotter, better known as Ice. it seemed to be the one moment within the week that Victor seemed to have some anticipation for. And today was that time of the week.

He was seated within his specially made chamber, reading a cold resistant book who's name was iced over while waiting for the Leaguer.
a_cruel_chill: (Longing)
It was cold in Victor Fries' cell and it was not a temperature cold. It was a necessity for Victor with his changed physiology, but the cold was emotional. He was dead inside. He did not even have the cold burn for vengeance he had before this moment.

He had failed. He knew where she was, and launched an all out war to get Nora back. And in the end he had not only failed, but he had failed with Nora within his reach. Her tank had been ruptured in the fight, right as his paid forces had turned the tide. Without the soothing cold to arrest the development of her disease, she had based, quietly, silently, with him mere feet from her with his attention on the GothCorp goons on not on her.

He had failed.

There was sustenance for him within the cell. A weeks worth had been left for him, but he was not hungry. He hadn't craved anything since Nora was lost to him. He simply sat on his specialized bed, looking down at nothing in particular.

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Victor Fries

May 2015

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