With a boom

"And so you see, I really don't t-think it's quite fair all things considered that, um, I just think you should reconsider your approach here is everything I wanted to say."

"I see, mhm, yeah, I get it. So if I were to do something like... this,"

A blue bolt shot out from the woman's pale, extended finger. Moving serenely through the bank's otherwise empty reception area, — like lightning — it emitted an almost calming beauty where it traveled, before striking the floor near the main entrance with a most malicious sound resembling that of cracks running through a frozen lake. Following, a huge wall of ice rose up over the doorway, blocking any further entry, as well as encasing three unlucky civilians yet to flee the crime scene in a sheen of ice. Civilians who — much like everyone except yours truly — had manically rushed for the exit the moment explosives went off inside Gotham City Bank.

"Doing something like that would be the wrong approach, you think?"

"Ahaha o-oh my. Say, those people, they f-froze really fast. Would it not be dangerous to um, how do you intend for them to be thawed out safely when the entryway is unavailable for ambulance use?"

My question was answered shortly when a slim figure — whose face was hidden behind a hill of green — made the effort of kicking its dainty shoe against the outstretched ankle of one of the ice statues standing just out of its arm's reach. Said ankle shattered instantly, the new loss of balance causing the smashing of the statue's outreached hand against the floor, ending in a terror-filled expression turning to mere shards before me, completely unrecognizable as a human being. "Less flirting, more grabbing money, Frost. The deal was finders keepers, so you have to go fetch your own paycheck. Remember, we're on a time table: We don't know if any supers expected our attack or not."

Keeping her piercing eyes on mine, the infamous Killer Frost (I hate to admit) had no difficulty incapacitating me using just one hand and a simple collar grip. The ice-cold murderer stood with her other hand on her hip in an unsettlingly casual manner as she shouted over her back, "Really? The heroes are waiting for Killer Frost and Plastique — the classic duo — to team up in Gotham of all places? Shut up and let me play with little Hot-Stuff here before I freeze your second rank villain ass. You're lucky I'm even helping you with this."

The newly revealed Plastique (never heard of her) let go of the huge pile of money she held clutched between her arms, dropping it into the back of the grey truck parked just outside the giant hole standing where the bank's back door once used to be located. This simple action revealed three pieces of information to me:

1. What her plan was for escaping with the money.
2. How sexy she looked in her skintight bodysuit now that I could see her banging upper form.
3. How unamused she seemed at her partner's disinterest in helping her with their robbery.

Turning around in the sassiest manner imaginable, she — unlike me — instantly stabbed back at Frost with a verbal lashing of her own, "I'm not exactly gushing over your warm company either, Honey. If it wasn't for our sponsor's request I'd have ditched you already. At least do something useful and watch the door while I get the engine running." Her voice held a slight Canadian accent that — although adamant — felt very inviting in comparison to Frost's more crass, wild voice. One look at the Canadian bombshell and most people with a working set of eyes would commit to devoting all their attention to her alone; however, I'm not most people: I'm Matt Door, world-class detective. And if there's one thing working as a private eye for years has taught me, it's to never overlook a clue. A blue's clue to be exact.

The frosty ruffian looming over me rocked spiky blue hair, bright blue lipstick, and a ripped blue t-shirt under her leather jacket. A surprisingly casual getup considering how most super-villains tend to be the ​ostentatious type. Could it be she didn't take this robbery seriously enough to bother dressing up?

No. That's the logic the hacks down at the police station would follow. I'm better. I pay attention. I catch the red strings connecting everything. I see myself much like The Batman in that sense.

That is, I don't dress up like a bat and use kung fu to fight bad guys together with Wonder Babes on the regular (I wish.) But the world's greatest detective part? That's totally me!

And the world's greatest detective definitely knew he'd stared at the rack in front of at him once before.

Yeah, from earlier in the day, when I first entered the building — Killer Frost was already present in the bank's reception when the explosives went off! Before her partner entered with the car!

I bet my ass they had her dress up as a civilian to make sure everything was safe before they initiated their plan. That would also guarantee she's unarmed. Not that that information's going to better my situation much considering who she is, buuut...

Lifting my arm towards my face, I smiled as what I predicted came to fruition. The orb filled with a thin, yellow fog.

Reinvigorated by my accomplishment, I finally took the time to explore the positives of my situation. For one, Frost doesn't appear as titillating as her bodysuit wearing "friend" seen from a distance; however, standing up close — almost pressed against her as I was — I could make out something sizable hidden underneath her unzipped jacket, and something marvelous hidden behind her leather pants. I suspect the pale-skinned girl bearing her teeth in front of me (Was that supposed to be a smile?) was hiding some real treats for those who could just break the ice.

Speaking of breaking the ice. Instantly disregarding the door, Killer Frost grabbed my arm sensuously, and stroked a blue painted nail over the irregularity she'd noticed in my hand, "Say Hot-Stuff, could you tell me what this cute little thing here is supposed to be?"

A question I receive a lot. On my wrist shines half a glass sphere, the circumference of which aligns with my skin, and therefore leaves the radius of about an inch jutting out of my hand; like the glass encasing of a compass. Of course, at the time it was especially noticeable because of the thin, yellow gas floating around inside it.

Not wanting to anger my captor (And not disliking her obvious affection for me,) I answered her question, "Oh, um, that's nothing special; or I guess it is a little special. A shop in Vegas did implants like this, and apparently I was drunk enough to get one. Would have honestly preferred a tattoo." We shared a laugh. She was kind of cute when she laughed.

That was a lie by the way. My mother told me I was born with this thing in my arm; like a birthmark of sorts. I also know that it's very, VERY much special. Just another thing I don't have in common with The Bat. I'm a certified meta-human. I wasn't going to explain that to my captors, though.

Frost kept her eyes wide and wondrous as if fascinated by what I'd told her; however, her words betrayed her innocent act, "Wooow, really? You see, I find that really interesting. Perhaps you could help me answer this other question I've been struggling with for a while? You see, there's this creep with a glass thingy just like that one who's been staring at my tits and talking mad shit ever since I walked into this bank. If I freeze him to **** and then break his body with a bat as punishment — would that pretty ball in his arm shatter with him, or would it just fall unscathed down into a pile of you-pieces ready for me to use as an accessory?"

I suddenly swallowed ten knives. My legs reflexively kicked away, but looking down revealed that the soles of my shoes had been frozen fast to the floor without me noticing. "H-hey, come on Frosty, we were hitting it off so well. D-don't joke around like th... COLD!"

Keeping her ever psychotic smile uncomfortably close to my face, Frost slowly buttoned-down my shirt, "What's wrong, Hot-Stuff? You seemed so eager to get it on just a minute ago. Now you're giving me the cold shoulder?" she said in her ever flirtatious tone that I first now realize was soaked in dry sarcasm. I gasped as I felt her place a single finger at the base of my throat, sensually moving it down towards my chest. However, instead of the warm feeling of a woman's touch, her finger left only a solid stripe of glistening ice in its trail.

Following said trail, came a burning pain, unlike anything I'd felt before. Jesus fuck that hurt! However, somehow I couldn't build up enough strength to lift my arms in defense. It was more than just the pain itself. It was as if all the warmth in my blood was being sucked out of me; like facing a vampire of heat.

Frost smirked knowingly as if she understood what I was going through and enjoyed it immensely. "Mmmm, you're getting me all hot and bothered here. Oh? What's wrong Hot-Stuff? Don't tell me you're not in the mood? If that's the case then perhaps..." She let her words hang in the air for a second as her finger derailed from the gorge of my upper chest, instead starting a new ominous path towards my left. Towards my heart! "Then perhaps we should put our session—on ice."