The man lifted a board, inviting Gideon behind the counter. Gideon smiled and passed through, putting a hand casually on his tome. If the ice cream vendor recognized the gesture, he didn’t react to it. He pushed open a door, gesturing for Gideon to go first.

“Name’s Jimothy, by the way. Everyone calls me Jim,” the man introduced himself.

“Gideon, Ice Cream Investigator,” Gideon responded. He paused. “We call ourselves ICI for short. You know, icy.”

Jimothy chuckled. He pointed ahead of Gideon, down a narrow set of stairs into the dark, and lofted a lantern high. “Right down there.”

Gideon nodded. Gripping a dry, half-rotten railing, he descended into the dark.

“Gideon, that’s an interesting name,” Jimothy remarked.

“Says Jimothy,” Gideon replied.

“Eh? It’s an ordinary name, sir. Very normal.”

“Did your mom mess up when she wrote the T for your name, or…” Gideon asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Jimothy frowned at him, lost.

“It’s a very nice name,” Gideon said, smiling. He doesn’t know, huh? He really thinks it’s a normal name. The human mind is a wonderful place…

“Have you ever heard that rumor? About that name of yours. Gideon,” Jimothy continued.

"I've heard a lot of rumors. Most of them were about me, actually,” Gideon replied, lifting his nose high.

A distinct chill arose from within the cellar. The deeper they walked, the colder it grew. Thick brick walls appeared around them, replacing the wood, and it grew even colder. The staircase looped around itself, drawing lower and lower. Humidity began to build up on the air, adding to the chill.

“The one about the leader of the Nightfellows being the one called Gideon, is that one true, too?” Jimothy asked, his voice still as pleasant as ever.

“Oh, well, of course,” Gideon replied.

A boot smashed into his shoulders. He tumbled wildly down the stairs and smashed into the landing below. Before he had a chance to right himself, Jimothy leaped after him, both legs raised to kick again.

“This city only needs one Gideon, and that’s Jimothy Gideon!” Jimothy said evenly, a customer-service smile on his face.

Gideon smirked. “I knew it.” He lifted his hand to meet Jimothy’s feet, lightning already sparking around his palm.

A rectangle of light appeared at the top of the stairs. “Boss, you called?”

Gideon’s hand met Jimothy’s incoming feet. Lightning sparked. Jimothy’s eyes widened. He jabbed his hand down. A silver pendant around his wrist glowed bright blue, and a pillar of ice materialized under his hand, which he grabbed onto. He spun around it, stopping himself short.

“Dang, I didn’t know I was getting a show, too. Work it, work that pole,” Gideon smirked.

“Lightning magic is so passe. The Gideon of this generation is an ice user!” Jimothy declared. Blue light flashed around his wrist again.

The door closed. From above, blue light burned in the darkness. A sudden chill fell over the air.

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Gideon laughed. “This? This is what you have to offer? Jimothy, Jimothy. Did you really think you could be Gideon with a few paladins? Let me show you what it means to be the Gideon Nightfellow.”

He gestured again. Lightning condensed into a bolt that hovered over his arm. Hauling back, he punched at Jimothy.

Jimothy raised his hands to block.

“Idiot.” Gideon punched Jimothy’s block unhesitatingly. Lightning crackled over Jimothy’s body. His eyes went wide, then rolled back. He fell to the floor, blackened and smoking.

Ice rained down from above. Wind magic mixed in. The ice swirled around him as a thousand cutting blades. Gideon charged forward, raising his tome. “Lightning Rain!”

Lightning flickered down from the heavens, crashing into the henchmen high above. They screamed out and fell, scorch marks darkening their clothes.

“I didn’t Critical-Cast that. You should still be alive,” Gideon called. “But your boss Jimothy isn’t. Will you recognize the one true Gideon, or die here?”

Silence. From above came the sound of surreptitious conversation. After a few beats, one of the henchmen, a muscular, bald man, appeared over the edge of the balcony. “We surrender.”

Gideon grinned. “Good. I’ve got a job for you Nightfellows…”

“Er… is it making ice cream? Because… we aren’t good at anything else,” the henchmen said.

“You—er, what?” Gideon said, momentarily taken aback.

Another henchman appeared over the balcony, this one covered in scars. “Yeah, Jimothy hired us after he took over. We’re really just ice cream makers.”

A handsome man looked down at Gideon, raising a hand. “I’m from before, but Jimothy purged most of us when he took over. Since then, it’s mostly been ice cream. Turns out all the cheap real estate we had, with the deep basements for burying bodies and plotting things in, were perfect to be converted to ice cream shops. Er, when it comes to typical Nightfellows things… we run a strip club down the way, but er…”

“It serves ice cream?” Gideon guessed.

“It’s entirely ice cream themed,” the henchman admitted, scratching his head.

“How did a group of criminals end up making ice cream?” Gideon wondered.

The handsome man shrugged. “There’s a lot of similarities, you know? You’ve gotta pick the good milk out of the counterfeit stuff, same as dealing with underground jewels and jewelry. Cutthroat business practices and handling loans… well, that goes without saying. Squeezing every last penny out of a customer’s wallet with add-ons like peanuts and sprinkles, too… well, that’s an outright scam. Half a penny for a sprinkle of peanuts? Those peanuts cost us half a penny for the whole damn lot! And of course, churning the ice cream is a good outlet for all the dumb muscle we had sitting around.”

Gideon took a deep breath. “Guess I’m going to have to get evidence the good old-fashioned way.” He shoved up to his feet.

“Er, since you’re the new boss, should we… keep making ice cream?” the handsome man asked.

“Do whatever you like. But it’ll help me if you expand your repertoire a bit,” Gideon admitted.

The handsome man punched the air. “Yeah! Start up that batch of strawberry, boys! We’re branching off from plain ice cream!”

Gideon climbed up the stairs, ignoring Jimothy’s body. “Strawberry? Don’t dream so small. Think about the possibilities. Blueberry, apple, pumpkin pie… I want a dozen flavors on the menu by the end of the week.”

“Pumpkin pie? Where’d you come up with that one?” the handsome man asked, putting a hand on his chin.

“Gut feeling. It’s got potential,” Gideon said, nodding.

“Maybe as a seasonal flavor… seasonal flavors!” The handsome man’s eyes lit up with the possibilities.

The scarred man slapped the handsome man. “He means going back to Nightfellows things. Assassinations and stuff.”

“Well, that too,” Gideon said, nodding. He clapped the scarred man on the shoulder as he passed. “You sure you weren’t a Nightfellow before?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m a cowhand,” the man replied with a light laugh, waving his hand.

“But you’re fine with assassinations?” Gideon asked.

The scarred man shrugged. “Sometimes the herd needs culling.”

Gideon paused. He looked at the handsome man and patted the scarred man’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on this one. He’s got real potential.”

“Oh, I… should warn you. Jimothy only controlled the ice cream shops on this half of town. The other half’s ice cream shops are run by a lady Gideon who goes by Laura most of the time,” the handsome one said.

Gideon scowled. “I did hear there was unrest—wait, she does ice cream too?”

The handsome one shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a real fad.”

Gideon put a hand to his forehead. What happened while I was gone? The Nightfellows used to be a self-respecting criminal organization. I leave for a few years and come back to a bunch of ice cream stalls? Were the Nightfellows that delicate an organization?

“Er, what should we call you?” the handsome man asked.

“Eh?”

“Well, Gideon Nightfellow is kind of an honorary name. So… what’s your name?”

Gideon laughed. “Gideon.” He stepped out into the sunlight, a grin on his face.

The henchmen looked at one another. After a moment, the handsome one shrugged. “We’ll call him New Boss. All in agreement?”

The Nightfellows raised their hands.