Captain Gridlock had held emergency meetings about asteroids, alien drones, and even Crimson Nova trying to “see what happens” if she microwaved a plasma crystal. But this was the first emergency meeting he had ever held about a refrigerator. He stood in the break room with his arms crossed, staring at the fridge like it had personally committed treason. Pixel Pop sat at the table with a tablet in front of her, looking exhausted, while Crimson Nova leaned against the counter with her arms folded, amused in the way only someone with fire powers could be amused while standing next to a potential reality breach. And Uncle Glick… Uncle Glick was squatting in front of the fridge, humming like he was listening to it.

Captain Gridlock cleared his throat. The fridge hummed back.

Crimson Nova snorted. “Even the fridge is disrespecting you, Captain.”

Captain Gridlock ignored her and pointed directly at Uncle Glick. “We are here because you drank a mystery liquid out of our refrigerator.”

Uncle Glick looked up with the proud smile of a man being congratulated. “I did,” he said. “And I’d do it again.”

Pixel Pop slammed her hands on the table. “That’s not a flex! That’s a confession!”

Uncle Glick waved her off. “It was delicious.”

Captain Gridlock’s eye twitched. “Uncle Glick, it was labeled SECRET FORMULA.”

Uncle Glick blinked innocently. “And?”

“And nothing labeled SECRET FORMULA should be drinkable,” Captain Gridlock barked.

Crimson Nova nodded. “Fair.”

Pixel Pop leaned forward. “What was it?”

Uncle Glick smiled. “My secret formula.”

Pixel Pop’s expression tightened. “Secret formula for what?”

Uncle Glick scratched his chin thoughtfully. “That depends. Depends on the dimension you’re standing in when you swallow it.”

Captain Gridlock slapped his palm against the table. “We are in ONE dimension. THIS one.”

Uncle Glick’s smile widened. “For now.”

Silence dropped across the room.

Then the fridge clicked. Not the normal click of an appliance cycling, but a deliberate click—from inside the freezer. Pixel Pop slowly turned her head.

“Captain…”

“I heard it,” Captain Gridlock said.

Crimson Nova stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “The freezer door just moved.”

Uncle Glick stood up with excitement, rubbing his hands together. “Ooooh. It’s waking up.”

Captain Gridlock spun toward him. “What do you mean ‘waking up’?!”

Uncle Glick shrugged casually. “Sometimes you drink something, and it changes you.”

Pixel Pop pointed at him. “That’s called poisoning!”

Uncle Glick nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Sometimes it poisons you into greatness.”

Crimson Nova laughed. “Okay. If the fridge opens, I melt it.”

Captain Gridlock raised a hand immediately. “No.”

Crimson Nova stared at him like he’d lost his mind, but Captain Gridlock stared right back. “Nobody touches it,” he said. “Not until we understand it.”

Crimson Nova rolled her eyes. “Fine. But if it grows legs, I’m not asking permission.”

Pixel Pop approached the fridge cautiously. The freezer door was taped shut—Captain Gridlock had taped it the night before after the incident. He had also written a warning sign: DO NOT FEED THE APPLIANCE. Under it, in fresh marker, someone had written: (IT KNOWS YOUR NAME).

Pixel Pop frowned. “That wasn’t there yesterday.”

Captain Gridlock’s face tightened. “Yes it was.”

Pixel Pop shook her head. “No. Yesterday it said ‘it bites.’ I have a picture.”

Crimson Nova smirked. “So the fridge is updating its own warning label.”

Uncle Glick nodded proudly. “That’s a good sign. It’s adapting.”

Captain Gridlock pointed at him again. “That is not a good sign. That is a nightmare.”

The fridge hummed. The handle twitched. Pixel Pop stepped back while Crimson Nova stepped forward. Captain Gridlock grabbed her shoulder immediately.

“No.”

Crimson Nova shrugged. “I’m just standing aggressively. It’s therapeutic.”

Uncle Glick leaned close to the fridge door. “Hello, old friend,” he whispered.

Pixel Pop’s head snapped toward him. “Old friend?”

Uncle Glick smiled. “Oh yes. This one’s got a soul in it.”

Crimson Nova laughed sharply. “No it doesn’t.”

Uncle Glick looked at her like she was ignorant. “You young folks think souls only come in bodies. Sometimes they come in machines.”

Pixel Pop cut him off. “Please stop. My brain is trying to leave.”

The freezer clicked again, and the door cracked open half an inch. Cold air rolled out, but it wasn’t normal cold. It smelled like steel, like rain, like the inside of an elevator shaft that went down too far.

Crimson Nova’s expression shifted. “That’s not freezer air.”

Captain Gridlock stepped forward and grabbed the handle. “Close,” he ordered.

He pulled. The freezer resisted—not like a stuck hinge, but like something on the other side was pushing back.

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