Life: 20. Phoenix Enterprises (Patreon)

Chapter 20: Phoenix Enterprises

Rigal PhenexGotham, NJ, USA

I stood atop a nearby building, overlooking the pier. It was a pity, but Firebrand’s grave was empty when Max and Serling checked. That meant T. O. Morrow would soon hit Yosemite. I’d been hoping to let Serling study the android, but I supposed I could wait for a little while longer.

Meanwhile, I had to indulge my technically-not-a-dryad. Below me, Ace Chemicals was burning. Thick columns of smoke billowed up into the clouds. Much of their harbor compound was ablaze. It was so hot here that a man could warm his hands from across the street.

I felt the night wind rustle as the Bat arrived. “Rigal. Since when are you interested in corporate sabotage?”

“I’m really not,” I agreed. A miniature crossbow popped out of his wrist and leaned a little to dodge the bolt. They were faster than any boomerang could ever be. “Oh, these are okay, but firearms aren’t?”

“I never claimed my traumas made logical sense.”

“Ah, that’s what I love about you, Bats. So neurotic, yet so self-aware.”

“Why now? You don’t care about Gotham.”

“True, but someone I do care about has decided this is what she wants.”

“Ivy.”

“Right-o,” I chirped, dodging a few more. I plucked one out of the air and held it to the light. “A syringe? Holy water, obviously. And… Is that salt?”

“Consecrated salt. Sanctified silver alloy tip,” he grunted in annoyance. Seeing that they weren’t enough, he put away his crossbow. Knowing him, he’d come back with Tibetan talismans or something next time. “You don’t make things easy.”

“Salt is for spirits. Silver is for werewolves. Come on, now; I’m neither.”

“And for devils?”

“Garlic. Preferably on garlic bread next to a plate of chicken parm.”

“You’re distracting me. This fire is a diversion. Ivy isn’t here.”

“Yup. And you realized that the moment I mentioned her name. So, why are you still here? We both know I’m not going to fight to keep you.”

“I’m too late already. She’s at their production site.”

“Heh, I guess that’s pretty obvious to the world’s greatest detective.”

“Then I may as well ask: What did she offer to get you out here? You’re not the type to move just for a pretty face.”

“A bed,” I said, completely honestly. At his poleaxed expression, I laughed, “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. She literally grew a bed for me out of moss and lichen and shit. It’s the comfiest thing I’ve ever slept on. Really, I’m the sinful one?”

He muttered something I couldn’t catch even with my enhanced hearing. Without a word of goodbye, he tossed a smoke pellet into the rooftop and vanished.

That man was such a drama queen.

X

Dick Grayson

For once in my crimefighting career, I didn’t want to be here. Batman gave me a job, to check on Ace Chemicals’ various holdings in Gotham while he stopped whoever started the fire at the pier.

My thoughts immediately went to Rigal, but this didn’t sound like him. He had the power, but no motive. I strongly suspected Firefly, Garfield Lynns; the pyromanic sociopath didn’t need much of a reason and we hadn’t heard from him in a while. He’d been laying low since Arkham, but there was only so long his patience could last.

There was nothing at their corporate headquarters so I headed up the river. Ace Chemicals had a production facility along the banks of the river, probably why the water stank something foul at all hours. There, I saw that their walls had been taken over by thick tree trunks.

“Poison Ivy,” I groaned in exasperation. “Batman, Ivy’s at their chemical plant.”

“I know. Rigal was here to draw me out,” he growled back.

“Rigal? Since when does he care about any of this?”

“Since she gave him a new bed.”

“Is… Is that a euphemism?” I asked. I didn’t know if I should be jealous or not. Ivy was definitely a femme fatale, emphasis on the fatal.

“No.”

“Great, well, thanks for that mental image.” I rappelled over the wall. Fearing the worst, I put on a gas mask and headed to the gate, only to find the night watchman tied to his chair, but otherwise unharmed. “Batman, I found the night guard. He’s fine, just restrained.”

“Then the rest will be as well. Test for airborne pollen before proceeding.”

“On it.” I pulled out a miniaturized spore trap and cassette from my utility belt. They came in handy when so many villains used aerosolized toxins. Joker. Hatter. Scarecrow. Riddler. Ivy. There really was something about Gotham that made war crimes sound like a grocery list. “No mind-altering substances detected. What’s going on? This isn’t like Ivy.”

“Proceed. I’ll be there in four minutes.”

I sighed as I headed deeper. I saw more or less what I expected. Their equipment was ruined, reduced to scraps of metal and plastic. Thick roots clogged the vents. Flower bulbs, which I knew from experience would likely spread pollen if disturbed, covered what could not be easily broken.

Carefully, I cut out one of the bulbs and allowed the pollen to disperse. A minute later, my computer gave me a chemical breakdown. It was a paralytic designed to keep men unconscious for a day or so. After that, they’d need another several days to recover full usage of their limbs. It wouldn’t hurt anyone permanently, but would likely cause weeks of delays if the vents and other unseen places were trapped with them as well.

Hundreds of millions. I was looking at damages in that range, at minimum. The building was a write-off because digging out literal tons of plant matter from vents and between walls was practically impossible. Most of the equipment couldn’t be salvaged. What little that could would have to be checked for paralytic pollen and decontaminated. And that was ignoring the productivity lost in all this.

I relayed all this to Batman and let out a low whistle. “This isn’t like Ivy. It’s… smarter. Less lethal, but that means the workers are still salaried.”

“Rigal’s doing. Ivy?”

“Long gone.”

“Figures. Meet me back at the Cave.”

“We’re not going to try to track her down?”

“Do you really not know where she is by now?”

“Right, the Phoenix Roost,” I groaned. If Rigal was willing to help her this much, there was a good chance she’d received his support in staying safe, too. There was no way in hell we’d be raiding that, not without serious League backup. “Is this a good or bad thing? Less lethal is always good, right?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll have to see.”

I collected a few more samples, just in case, and headed back. We’d investigate and pass our findings along to Commissioner Gordon. Otherwise, there wasn’t much we could do tonight.

Even if Ace Chemicals repaired everything, I had a feeling Ivy would just return and ruin it all again. An hour of work for her, countless millions for them. She’d take that deal every time.

Personally, I couldn’t bring myself to care too much. Already, my mind was elsewhere. If Rigal was protecting Poison Ivy for some reason, then there wasn’t a whole lot Batman was willing to do. At least, not unless she went on a killing spree to warrant picking that fight.

No, my attention was fixed on something closer to home: Mount Justice was a wreck right now because Red Tornado betrayed the Team and Justice League. He and several other androids, Red Inferno and Red Torpedo, almost killed us before vanishing somewhere.

Or, it seemed that way. Batman always said I should be wary of hidden meanings. Still, things weren’t looking good for the android’s innocence.

The last thing I remembered was seeing Red Tornado touch Red Inferno. He then abruptly turned on everyone, sucking the air out of the room and making us all pass out from the sudden vacuum. That looked like a cyberattack, some kind of corrupting program meant to rewire Red Tornado back to “factory settings.”

Originally, the Red-series androids were the work of Dr. T. O. Morrow. He was a genius scientist who tried to destroy the Justice Society of America, the precursor organization to the League. Red Tornado was made to infiltrate the JSA from within, but developed a conscience and became a hero in earnest. If anyone could force Red Tornado to betray us, it was him.

Then there was the mole. Sportsmaster told Aqualad that we had one. Given our mission track record, I was inclined to agree. Red Tornado could have been the sleeper agent, possibly without his knowledge. Or, he could have been hacked recently, in which case we were stuck looking for the mole Sportsmaster was talking about. We wouldn’t know until we found Dr. Morrow or Red Tornado.

There was a third option: Rigal. He knew things. He made no secret of that fact. He even named his familiar, a pet robin, “Rick Grayson.” It was like he was waving his knowledge in my face. If he ever wanted to sell information about the heroes, he’d have no end of buyers. Given his sale of phoenix tears, he had plenty of contacts in the underworld already.

Except, this wasn’t his style. He was flamboyant, annoying, and knew too much, but he wasn’t actively malicious. I hadn’t forgotten what he did for my friends in Salem. Or for Dr. Roquette. He wasn’t an enemy, not always an ally either, but he wasn’t out to get us. The fact that neither Mr. Zatara nor Dr. Fate were in a rush to hunt him down supported this.

In the end, we knew what he wanted, or who. He wanted to grow his peerage and he wanted Zatanna. He wanted to impress her, convince her to join him willingly.

That was… I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but it did make him predictable: He likely wouldn’t do anything that directly opposed Zatanna’s morals, or might get her hurt, like help orchestrate an attack on Mount Justice.

I snorted in annoyance. Did he know who the mole was? Surely, he would have mentioned it earlier? Since he hadn’t, was Sportsmaster lying to throw off Aqualad? Or did Rigal think keeping silent would later provide a good chance to win brownie points with Zatanna?

All possible. The sad reality was that I had no way of knowing. Even if I marched into the Phoenix Roost to demand answers, he’d probably tell me nonsense just to fuck with me. He was most likely to give a straight answer to Zatanna, but we’d still be left second-guessing everything.

So in the end, my thoughts circled back to Red Tornado and Dr. T. O. Morrow. Whether there was a mole or not, whether Rigal knew or not, the only way to really be sure was to find the truth for ourselves.

X

Rigal Phenex

I rolled on my side, burying my face into the softest pile of grass I’d ever felt. The smell of fresh-cut hay filled my nose. It was one of many new pieces of furniture Ivy supplied for me.

She’d been positively delighted since last night. She got to make her enemies suffer, secured protection for her “babies,” and moved into far more spacious accommodations. She’d already claimed much of the first floor for herself, the former auction floor providing plenty of space for her indoor garden.

I considered stopping her, but thought better of it. The auctions had been a good way to advertise my abilities. Hell, I didn’t come here planning to run auctions in the first place; that mess with the Dealer summoning me had been his own idiocy alone. Now, everyone who was anyone knew about phoenix tears so the auctions had served their purpose.

And if I ever wanted to host an event here, Ivy’s plants could easily rearrange themselves to provide seating and a stage. They could also pacify any rowdy guests while avoiding a fight altogether. Really, I just chalked it up as our new security feature.

It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, however. At the moment, I was lounging in one of my new moss recliners, watching my ever-growing collection of eggheads bicker over lab space on the second floor. 

“Nora’s already fine,” Serling pointed out. “You can’t possibly need six cryo-pods.”

“You are dabbling in the occult now. Can you even call yourself a scientist anymore?” Victor shot back coolly.

“You take that back,” she hissed like a drowned cat.

“Perhaps you should learn to keep mystic tomes away from sensitive lab equipment, and vice versa.”

“Formalcraft is just programming language that uses mana. Those books are just as valid as any other reference material.”

“And my cryo-pods are necessary to explore different avenues I can take my cryogenics research. Besides, they’re incredibly expensive and difficult to replace. We’d be looking at a loss if we got rid of them and needed them later.”

“It’s not like we’re hurting for money.”

“But that doesn’t mean we should be wasteful.”

“Well… What do we do, then? Ivy needs a lab.”

“Is her first floor garden not sufficient?”

“Absolutely not,” Pamela cut in insistently. “The garden is just that, a garden. My babies can supply raw material, but I still need lab space to conduct chemical analysis, make new fertilizers, and develop better growth formulas.”

They turned to me as one. Each stared at me expectantly, my oldest minion, my Pawn, and my peerage-hopeful. I hadn’t planned it this way, but somehow, I’d ended up with a small team of highly competent geniuses, each a master in their respective fields, each with the ego to match.

It wasn’t that we didn’t have space necessarily, but that we didn’t have good space. At least, according to my eggheads. It couldn’t be helped; the auction house was never meant to host multiple cutting edge labs.

The basement had been converted into a training area. That was non-negotiable, especially since future peerage members would all be using it. What little space was left was reserved for parking. Max and I didn’t need a car, but we had human employees who did.

The first floor was mostly an event venue, but it wasn’t particularly attractive to my eggheads. Victor hadn’t been interested in the space because converting it to a usable lab would have taken too long. Individual rooms would need to be walled off, then fitted with the full gamut of electrical, HVAC, insulation, and plumbing work before any talk about specialized equipment could even take place.

And since the third floor was reserved for my peerage’s living quarters, that left the second floor. Here, we had essential administrative personnel, such as Dan, the accountant who was still convinced I’d marked his soul, and Ivan, the non-supe head of my security team. They dealt with shit I couldn’t be bothered to care about so I couldn’t exactly kick them out, either.

“RIght, so what exactly is the problem here? I thought we had plenty of space on the second floor,” I asked.

“We did, for my lab,” Victor pointed out. “We added a second and third scientist in short order.”

“Our disciplines overlap sometimes, but not always, Tweety. Things we do can be chemically or environmentally sensitive so we need the space to avoid risking ruining each other’s work,” Serling added.

“This, and even when our disciplines overlap, we cannot always share the same lab equipment.”

I nodded in understanding. The gist was that they were three people with three distinct specializations. I didn’t need a lab; I needed three. “Okay, I think I get what you’re telling me. What if… I move the admin staff and CCTV control room downstairs?”

“But my garden–Fine, that’s fair. But I get to do whatever I want with that space.”

“That was always the plan. It’ll take a little while to get you settled, though.”

“I understand. I have plenty to occupy myself with in the meantime.”

They discussed Ivy’s integration more, but much of the technical details flew over my head. With the space issue tentatively resolved, they began talking about what they could do together.

Victor could produce superconductors and make cryo-guns specifically for stabilizing traumatic injuries. Ivy had super-crops, better fertilizer, and a nearly infinite supply of organic chemicals valued by the pharmaceutical industry. Serling had her multi-functional nanites and a growing understanding of literal magic.

I knew magic. That was the beginning and end of my comprehension. But, even I could see that they had good ideas. In front of me was the core of an R&D department that corporations would kill to have. At this point, starting a research company would be wise.

“A corporation? I suppose it’s not the worst idea,” Serling hummed, mulling the idea over. “I’m not opposed to it, but I’m a researcher, not a businesswoman.”

“We can get people who know business. You did say you wanted to make nanites that can help the world,” I pointed out. “You and Ivy can’t do that on your own, no matter how smart you are.”

“I’m not against it, so long as we don’t get lost trying to make money. That means we remain a private entity. No board, no input from investors.”

“Who’s the angel investor who’d drop money without the right to comment on the company?”

“So no investors, either.”

“That’s fine. I can make more money. Besides, Ivy’s also an idealist. She’d rather strike out on her own than put money before her vision.”

“You know me so well,” the redhead said dryly. “And you do have a point about our limited reach. I think the three of us are familiar with the patent process so we could license distribution to others.”

“Victor? Thoughts?”

“You gave me Nora back and she is all I’ve ever wanted. The chance to expand my research is nice, but I am largely content with my role,” he replied, shrugging.

I clapped my hands in delight. “Excellent! Welcome to Cluck Bucket Incorporated, everyone!”

“We’re not calling ourselves that,” Serling said, shooting me down with ruthlessness even the Baels would have approved of.

“The Birdbrain Brotherhood?”

“Half of us are women, that sounds like a cult, and the only birdbrain here is you.”

“Alright, a name for you smart people, then. I know! Eggheads Ecological Enterprises.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Tweety Taskforce.”

“Sounds like we’ll be waiting for wabbit season.”

“Phoenix Enterprises?”

“You threw out joke names so we’d say yes to the name you actually wanted, right?”

“I mean, I would totally be down for the CBI. The acronym sounds very professional.”

“Unfortunately, the full name sounds like a joke. No one would ever take us seriously,” Serling snorted. “Phoenix Enterprises it is. Everyone who matters knows who you are by now, anyway.”

“Good. There’s also an additional benefit for you and me, Serling.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“What did I say contracts were, Serling?” I asked leadingly.

“Devils fulfill the desires of humans. In exchange, we gain objects or services of equal worth, alongside a small amount of mana.”

“That’s right, a textbook-perfect summary.”

I could see the precise moment the dots connected. Her eyes lit up, only to grow cloudy with annoyance. “At no point did you say that proximity matters. If anything, it’s the ‘fulfillment of desire’ that matters most.”

“Correct~ Take Uncle Gasper, for example. He was a dhampir before he was reincarnated by Aunt Rias. For reasons, he used to be a shut-in neet who was terrified of any kind of physical contact with people. Despite this, he actually held the record for the largest number of contracts fulfilled by a low-class devil, not just in her peerage, but in the entire Underworld.”

“And you didn’t tell me this before? I could have saved so much time!”

“I mean, while digital contracts can work, you still need a viable service and people with a lot of mana who are willing to use said services.”

“What did he sell without even leaving his house?”

“Basement. Uncle Gasper didn’t even visit the rest of the peerage. Uncle Issei legitimately didn’t know he existed until months after he joined.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Like I said, he had good reasons for his seclusion. He cultivated a circle for socially awkward people like him. He played video games, organized large-scale raids, and watched anime online with other people through a shared chat.”

“So… I could market anything? So long as a contract is being formed?” She stood and turned away with an angry grumble. “Excuse me. I’m going to go make some online tutorials.”

“Won’t that take a while?”

“No? I hoarded everything from my student days. I can use my undergraduate syllabi as guidelines. Basic programming, robotics, and academic writing are things I could do in my sleep.”

“You could try making a gacha game. Maybe a parody of heroes and villains?” I called after her.

“I thought devils weren’t evil?” Ivy laughed.

“Me? Evil? Making fun of the heroes is a time-honored hobby, and pretty harmless.”

“Maybe, but I was talking about paid gachas. They’re basically just online gambling with prettier graphics.”

“Eh, I’ll shelve the plan for now. I don’t want Serling to do too many things at once, maybe when we’re more established.”

“Hmph, looks like I joined an interesting bunch.”

“Yup. Welcome to the Phoenix Roost, Ivy. I promise you’ll never be bored.”

Author’s Note

Poor Dick. He’s thinking in circles because Rigal exists.

More to come soon-ish.

Animal Fact: Island gigantism says that isolated animals evolve to grow bigger than their mainland counterparts. However, there is the counter-theory known as insular dwarfism, which states the opposite.

Both theories can cite concrete examples. The komodo dragon is bigger than other monitor lizards. The kiwi is a ratite, related to the ostrich and emu, but can fit in your cupped hands. So which is it?

The answer is that this is species and context-dependent. Scientists found that species isolated to colder islands grew bigger than their mainland counterparts, because bigger animals lose less heat. They also found that islands with defined seasons, and therefore fluctuating availability of food, resulted in bigger reptiles, who could outlast lean periods better.

The inverse is also true. Insular dwarfism can occur due to resource scarcity, lack of predators, or faster gestation periods. Resource scarcity is obvious. One of the main ways prey compete with predators is by becoming too big to be worth hunting. Lack of predators means bigger individuals are favored less.

As for the gestation period: It is thought that animals that are smaller require less resources and reach maturity faster. If each individual breeds within a shorter generation, it can offset the genetic bottleneck of a limited population.