The Raid of the Rogues [Open]

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They were grade “A” assholes. Separated from reality, they set up a couch in the Mirror-verse. Drinking, laughing, and spitting up tobacco. “Ah! Ah, watch this! Ah’m gunna dew eet!” Screamed the carrot top red head as he stumbled over to a flat wall mirror. “Evan you idiot, don’t! You’re just going to embarrass yourself!” Leonard laughed, “No, Ah’m gunna dew it!” Evan persisted. He stuck his head through a bathroom mirror as someone was flossing their teeth. The normal citizen was shocked that a head was popping out through his mirror, but what was more shocking is what happened next. Evan puked all over the man and disappeared back into the Mirror-verse.

Howling in laughter, the group of four Central City Rogues slapped their knees, and fell over in the couch. “Oh my god, Evan, you animal!” Mick Rory coughed, wiping beer and snot from his nose. “Oi, mate! I want the next one!” George ‘Digger’ Harkness laughed. “No, Boomer, you’re just going to screw it up! I’m going to do the next one!” Leonard Snart: Captain Cold, said standing up. “Yew cain’t say that! All ya haffta dew is stick yer ‘ead out an’ throw up!” Digger said in opposition. “That’s still a No Digger.” Len said giving a high-five to Evan as he handed him the Mirror Gun. Still laughing and staggering away from the mirror wall, Evan McCulloch wiped his chin of vomit and saliva, “Where’s Axel? E’d luv this! Ah can’t b’lieve we’re doin’ this wifout Axel!”

The Mirror Master collapsed down on the couch next to Mick Rory; Heatwave. “Ah think, this’d be more fun wiff him.” He said, closing his eyes and still lightly laughing to himself. “I think he’s grounded. His mom got pissed when she found his weapons. Now he’s just got to get them back.” Len kept switching mirrors using the gun until he found someone looking directly in the mirror. A girl brushing her hair. Leonard picked up a beer and shot gunned it, sticking his head out of the mirror, the girl screamed in fear. The Rogue then began to upchuck the contents of his stomach onto her dresser and disappeared back into the mirror.

More laughing and falling over, Leonard turned around with his fists in the air, “I did it, boys! Ahahah!” He shouted in triumph and returned to the couch. “C’mon, Cold! Lemme dew it! Yew ‘ad yer fun, is moy tern!” Digger insisted. “Alright, you Aussie piece of shit, go for it!” Leonard finally agreed, patting him on the back as he shot out of his seat. “Wotch this! It’ll be the best one yet! Aye swear it, if moy nayme isn’t Captain Boomerang!!” he yelled popping open a bottle of gin and downing it like it was nothing. Leonard handed him the Mirror Gun and he flipped through a few mirrors before he saw a girl, beautiful, red hair, but she was in a wheel chair. She seemed to be looking at a computer screen. “Oi, Aye think this one’s a keepah!” Digger said turning back to his mates. “Oh, Digger, don’t puke on a cripple, that’s just mean.” Mick piped up, in disagreement. “Aye’m ganna dew it! Wotch this, mates!”

The Australian thug poked his head out of the screen that was in fact Barbara’s computer monitor. Shocked at first, she stopped typing, but she recognized his face to be none other than Captain Boomerang. She began to assess the situation quickly and she grabbed an escrima stick from behind her wheelchair and smacked the Rogue in the face, knocking him out. Barbara then grabbed him by his hair and pulled him out as best as she could.

The Rogues behind the mirror shot up out of the couch in panic, “Grab him! Don’t let her pull him through!” Leonard ordered as he ran up and clutched onto his foot. Mick and Evan scrambled over and seized his other leg and his right arm. Too dizzy to understand what was going on, Barbara pulled out all four Rogues and the crashed onto her floor. “Ahh… sunovabitch!” Evan moaned, “I told you, you’d screw up, Digger!” Leonard griped as he turned on his back, the room spinning before him.

“What the hell is going on?!” Barbara demanded as Digger puked on the floor. “Aye, mate… that was nasty. Ow!!” The hacker tossed an escrima stick at Boomer and he flailed his arms out and scooted backwards to a wall, smearing the vomit across the floor.

Evan did his best to stand up, and used the wheelchair to prop himself up, only to get punched in the face so hard, the gap in his teeth separated a tad. She wheeled herself in the corner, and took out another escrima in defense. “What are you guys doing in my house?!”

“On your feet, boys! She means business!” Leonard screamed, as he himself got to his feet. He pulled out his ice gun and had it trained on the Gothamite. “Wait a minute… I know her! She’s that commissioner’s daughter who got crippled by the Joker!” Captain Cold announced. “Oh shit, Len! We should hold her as hostage! Bribe the fuzz for some cash!” Heatwave said, aiming his own flamethrower at the cripple. “I wasn't planning a hostage situation, but… hey we could do with a few bucks.” Cold shrugged. “Evan, back in the Mirror-verse, we could use you later if things go south.”

Mirror Master nodded and disappeared in the one of the computer’s reflective monitors. “Wait… does that mean Aye didn’t screw up?” Captain Boomerang asked, getting up on his feet. “Boomer, you were a screw up since you joined the Rogues.” Cold retorted, “But you’re alright.” He smiled. “Send a tip to the Gotham Police, or whatever. Do it fast, Boomer. We’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Aye mate.” Boomer said stumbling off in a drunken stupor to send the message. The smell of alcohol stained their suits, it wasn’t pretty, and Barbara was at least thankful that she was looking up cat memes and didn’t have any of her major computers on at the time with vital information. Still, the super-powered weaponry pointed at her didn’t make her feel any more comfortable.

“So let me get this straight… you guys just happened to drop into my lap?” Barbara asked, switching from Cold to Heatwave. “Got that right, sister. You should have let Boomer just puke on you.” Heatwave confirmed, holding his gun up higher towards her head. “Can’t help myself, I guess I don’t like getting hurled on by Central City trash.” The redhead sassed. “Feisty. You think that’s a smart thing to say when you’ve got two criminals pointing weapons at you?” Captain Cold sneered. “The way I see it you guys need me.”

“Awroight… is done.. the GCPD know we want money. Loike lotsa money.” Boomer slurred, coming back in the room with his cell phone in his hand. “How much did you ask for Boomer?” Cold asked without looking at him. “Loike.. a jillion million.”

”Not a number, Boomer.”
“Well point is, Aye asked for a buttload of money in cash!”
“Whatever Boomer.”

Oh, this is going to be fun.

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His stomach was still churning from when he had upchucked all over that girl, in retrospect one of their more childish escapades; but man the look on her face….

Now--The look on Barbara Gordon’s face, that was a sobering thing. If she got a chance she’d slam the first solid object into their tender parts and leave every single one of the Rogues twitching in pain on the floor, they all had to be careful with this hell cat.

Unfortunately they were all drunk and most likely one of them would slip up, Cold had to pull himself together to keep all of them on point and focused. “Mick, you keep that gun pointed at Miss.Gordon’s pretty little head. If she moves---leave a scar----on her legs. Save that face”

Pulling his other pistol out of it’s holster, Cold looked about at his wasted comrades and rolled his eyes. “Boomer, keep an eye on Mick and the Girl. Evan--” Cold turned to one of the computer monitors, into the reflection of Mirror Master. “I want you keeping an eye on the outside. Lamp post reflections. Hub caps. I don’t care. Oh--and I am only leaving you one door”

A he spoke Cold pointed his gun at a monitor and destroyed it in a bright flash of white ice. Then another, and another until only the one Mirror Master had been in remained. “I’m going to go plug this place up, it’s about to get a little chilly in here” With that said the Rogue trudged off towards the various windows and doors and began blasting them shut.


Mick merely grunted, not reacting as he might have to the jab Cold cast his way; but if she moved he had permission. Just the legs. That’s all he needed. Boomer wasn’t as sober or in as good shape as the rest of them, maybe if Barbara got out of line he could burn a few fingers too. A small price to pay considering she’d already lost her legs.

“One wrong move baby---that’s all I need---better behave yourself” All the mirth and humor had left him, he was Heatwave once again and that meant his ‘problem’ was unleashed and with Cold gone, temporarily unchecked.

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Barbara still clutched onto her escrima stick, white angry knuckles, and heart hammering against her chest, she couldn't believe her own bad luck. As if answering the door without checking the peephole wasn't her own fault. The redhead took a deep breath, and had her eyes locked with Heatwave's, she would glance over to Captain Boomerang every now and then, to make sure he wasn't up to anything. From the looks of it, the Australian was still sobering up, and wiping his chin. This was her first impression of meeting the Rogues for the first time, and despite how everything was so scattered at first, they seemed to get themselves together rather quickly. "Oh I won't be doing a damn thing, Mick." She told him through her teeth, "Though I'm not sure if Boomerang is feeling too great there, you sure Len paired you properly?"

Boomer looked offended, leaned forward and spat at the cripple. "Oi! Yew bettah wotch that mouth of yers before Aye show you jast whut Aye can dew teh yew!" Still slurring, and still stumbling about, Boomer did his best to sober up, but couldn't even muster a decent comeback. His delirium got the better of him, but at least most of what he had recently downed was on the floor before them.

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Mick turned his head to the Aussie thug and crinkled his nose. “Boomer. Sit down before you throw up again” His head snapped back quick like a snakes, his eyes narrowing as he advanced on the redhead; his guns having never left their position aimed at her head.

Grimacing, the pyro let a breath exhale out from between his teeth; the man towered over her but kept a distance that suggested he wasn’t about to let her take swings at him. “Keep sayin’ my name like that, Baby, and I’ll get the wrong idea”

Meanwhile, Cold had already iced up five windows with about six feet of ice and was rounding on the front door. He didn’t know if the filly had managed to set off an alarm but sure as hell there was someone on they way here, possibly a caped crusader someone. That six feet of ice was going to come in real handy when that happened.

The man clicked a switch on his gun and set both of them on the main entrance, holding it for a good thirty seconds till there was nothing but a solid block of hard, jagged ice where the door once stood. Here’s hoping Gotham PD’s S.W.A.T department didn’t have heavy explosive.

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“Oi!” Boomer yelled in protest before hiccupping and falling backwards on his butt. “Bah, Aye’ll show yew. Aye’ll show yew both.” He slurred and drew a boomerang from his bandolier, to keep himself at the ready. The villain’s head was spinning, it was getting better, but he wasn’t in any state to be throwing anything, except for throwing up. The puke did make him feel better, but he was still sore from the initial hit to the face. Captain Boomerang then muttered something in his heavy slurred accent and crossed his arms. From what Barbara could make out, it was something about vegemite.

What was this creep talking about? She had only known Mick Rory as a name and a face. She had everything on file, powers, abilities, and even preferred 80’s pop song, but actually meeting Heatwave face to face was a strange experience. He kept trying to hit on her. Was he honestly into his hostage situation so much that he thought she would get Stockholm syndrome? Maybe it was that notion floating around, or maybe it was the vomit drying up on her floor, but it made her sick to her stomach. The pyromaniac wasn’t dangerously handsome, but seemed confident enough to hold a conversation with her.

She could hear police cars drive up, but it didn’t bring her any solace. There wasn’t much Gotham’s finest could do in this situation. Barbara’s attention never left the Rogue. “What’s the matter, Mick? Can’t keep it in your pants? Need some help putting it back?” She teased. If she could keep this up, there was a possibility she could catch him off guard. Then all she’d have to deal with is Captain Cold, who was making this place a winter wonderland. Barbara was only half glad she was wearing a sweater despite it being summer in Gotham.

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Evan watched the police roll up outside the Clock Tower. He could probably take them out, but if they had the ransom they asked for, he would let them be. They clearly didn’t, but it was at the very least something to hope for. The Mirror Master kept reporting to Cold, keeping a mirror close by to follow his movements around the building. “Ah count eight, an more comin’. S.W.A.T’s shore t’arrive. Ah don’t see any wey they’ll maek et in… but Ah had a friend in Blackgate. Ee sed th’Bat used th’air ducts. Should plog tha’up tew. Oh... hold on boyo.” Evan left Cold’s side for a moment, just silence as Captain Cold did his thing. “Ahh, hey listen. Cold? Ah tried to tell ‘im we got et und’r control, but ee didn’t listen, the lad didn’t! Ah cain’t.. whoa!”

Evan was pushed aside as a man, dressed in a green suit and yellow suit stepped out of the reflective surface he was speaking with Cold to. Mark Mardon, the Weather Wizard stepped out before him. “Ah’m sorry, Len. Ee insisted.” Mirror Master apologized. Mark took a deep breath and sighed looking around and judging Cold’s handiwork. “Gotham?” He asked then turning to face the chilly villain, “I hate Gotham.”

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The man clicked a switch on his gun and set both of them on the main entrance, holding it for a good thirty seconds till there was nothing but a solid block of hard, jagged ice where the door once stood. Here’s hoping Gotham PD’s S.W.A.T department didn’t have heavy explosive.

A spurt of fire illuminated the chilly room and his the floor a few inches from Bab’s feet, burning the ground but dying down into a charred spot on the floor. Mick felt a real sense of disappointment that it hadn’t at least gone on for a few minutes. But his point had been made. “It’s not what’s in my pants you have to worry about sweetheart”

Cold had now frozen most all of the structural openings in the clock tower, he could hear the muffled sirens through the ice but paid it no heed, he would nod or grunt as he finished up his work.

When Evan started getting louder, Cold actually walked back in where the shattered computer monitors were, raising an eyebrow as he peered into the sole surviving screen. “Evan what the hell is goin--” Weather Wizard stepping out into the icy room was the last thing Cold expected; but it wasn’t wholly unwelcome.

He was still a little buzzed and he knew Boomer and Heatwave were going to be pain’s in the ass, as drunk as they had been before this all went wrong. Mardon was going to be that clear head they needed to get out of this.

Cold turned his head to look at Mirror Master through the reflective screen. “ Don’t worry about it Evan, keep those eyes peeled for anything in black leather. Ya got me?” The large brunette cast a smirk at his comrade and shook his head. “You’re a fuckin’ curmudgeon Mardon. The babes here are worth the shitty weather”

Cold thumbed a gesture towards the room where he had left Boomer, Mick and Barbara; signalling that the brontomancer should go check out their prize.

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Everyone was drunk, that or doing their best to get sober; clearly his friends just didn’t know when to stop. Mark wasn’t angry about what they were doing, rather, that he had to be there for the single voice of reason. Mark nodded as his friend was happy, albeit drunk, to see him--returning his handshake. Still, he couldn’t help but be slightly interested in the “babe” that they scored. He sneered at Cold and turned, walking over to the room with Barbara. When he saw her, Mardon involuntarily whistled at her, yet pulled himself back. He wasn't ready to show up and present himself just yet. There was too much going on right with Cold, and the police as they stacked up around the Clock Tower. He decided he was going to ask about the girl first before getting down to business.

Weather Wizard found Cold ”The wheelchair kinda throws it off, dontcha think?” He asked when he turned around, keeping his hands to himself. Mark wasn’t a bad man, he was just turned off and a little weirded out by the fact that of all the women that were out there, the disabled chick would be a prime target to harass. ”I mean… you guys are holding a ransom on a cripple. Just think about that, Cold.”

She wasn’t half bad… but she was in a wheelchair.

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“First off--” Cold had to take a moment to gather his faculties, he was pissed and sober and that was no state to be in when a random hostage situation takes place. “It wasn’t exactly planned, no one thought some random ass prank victim would be Jim Gordon’s kid, and no one anticipated that she’d grab Boomer and yank him through.”

Cold holstered his weapon and moved to where Weather Wizard stood, stopping at the man’s left to peer in unseen at the redhead being held at fire point. “Second, all I see is a pair of big, pretty green eyes and a pretty figure. Cripple or not, doesn’t change the fact she’s a beautiful woman, Mardon” The ice villain had to tilt his head to look at Barbara from a different angle, only realizing all too late that she was unfortunately, right up Heatwave’s alley.

“We gotta get Mick outta there before he pops a gasket”

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Weather Wizard, massaged his eyes. He couldn’t believe the situation they were in, and the pigs outside screaming through megaphones weren’t helping. Mark could send a tornado out there to give him some time to think, but the only thing really on his mind was just what the Rogues were doing. True, if he had been apart of the initial group, he probably would have joined them, but now wasn’t the time. “Okay, wait… let me get this straight.” Mark said, collecting his thoughts.

“Just to be the devil’s advocate, you decided to plug up the place in case Batman decided to give you the drop, right? That’s a good idea, I would have done that. But then you demanded for a ransom on the chick in the wheel chair. How are you supposed to get the ransom if no one can get in or out?”

Mark stood there and decided to watch the gears spin a bit, but he wasn’t done yet. He wanted to address the girl in the wheelchair. The villain thought he put his foot in his mouth, and he needed to clear his name. “Also,” he began, crossing his arms, “I don’t have a problem with cripples, I was just taken aback by the fact she was in a wheelchair. You don’t see those every day, and you don’t see models posing in wheelchairs either. I’m not denying the fact that the chick in there is a total babe, I’d do her; I’m just saying it throws you off at first.” With that counter, he was satisfied. Weather Wizard peered back into the room and shook his head at Heatwave.

“Come to think of it, you’re probably right about heading back in there. She seems like Mick’s type. We should just apologize and leave while we still can. You don’t want to get in any deeper than we have to.”

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Barbara saw him, she saw Mark Mardon poke his head in, briefly, but surely. She was also sure that for a moment there, he was checking her out. The creeping sensation became all too clear to her that Mick was probably doing the same thing as he aimed his flamethrower up and down her body—like he was imaging taking off her clothes by fire. It was becoming apparent that no one was coming for her. The police couldn’t handle the entire cast of Rogues before her, Barbara wasn’t even sure Batman could. She had to improvise, she had to save herself. “Say… Mick.” Barbara cooed, feeling her heart beat rapidly increasing “Catch!”

It was crazy a crazy move. Maybe it was desperation, maybe it was the only thing that she could think of. Barbara hated feeling helpless, she hated being the person who needed saving. She couldn’t count the times she needed it. If anything, it made her feel like she wasn’t useless, even for a second. Tossing her escrima stick right at Mick’s smug face had never felt better. It brought back memories; memories of being in her suit, beating up thugs twice her size, and three times her body weight. She never felt more at home when it bounced off his face, and as his head knocked back a trail of blood flowed from his nose. The only thing she prayed for was that he wouldn’t squeeze the trigger out of pain. Barbara was frozen in that moment of glee and happiness, but she wasn’t done.

Mirror Master worked off of reflections, not the fact that he could teleport and jump from mirror to mirror. The only way reflections work is if there’s a light source. The thing is, Barbara’s wheelchair was probably more sophisticated than the computer that Cold trashed. It was linked to all the defense systems in the tower, the problem was with Cold shooting his gun at anything that could fit a bat inside, such defense systems were going to prove useless. All the technology was frozen solid, all except the florescent lights, which were still buzzing. It was simple enough, but hitting the button on her wheelchair cut all the power to the lights, and chances were they weren’t going to come back on. Not any time soon at least.

All the training in the wheelchair, seemed to prove itself useful, but she had to ditch it. It was going to be clunky and hard to maneuver around all the Rogues quietly. Barbara felt like she only had a chance because the better half of them was still drunk. The lights were off, Captain Boomerang shot out of his seat in panic, and Mick was still in mid-scream; Barbara reached around for a small pair of goggles behind her and shot out of her wheelchair, and hit the freezing ground. To her good luck, the puke from earlier had frozen up, and she rolled underneath her desk for cover and crawled for her life. She could hear the fear in their voices as they scrambled around and bumped into each other.

Putting on the goggles from the back of the wheelchair, which revealed a sonar image of her surroundings; it was still in development, but she was able to take out the tech in her old cowl and use a more discrete version of night vision at her side. She could see through walls, isolate armed hostiles, and even locate breakable objects. Barbara came to the her emergency wall, one she designed in the event such as this, which she could climb to get to the rafters for a better view her surroundings. She didn’t count on it being frozen solid though. The cripple bit her lip as she ascended the makeshift ladder to avoid making any audible sounds of pain; a voice in her head which sounded of her father told her that she was a survivor. In the back of her mind, she hoped it wouldn’t be the last thought she had, though it was a very real concern.

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Cold scrunched up his nose as he sneered. “ Come on Mardon, give me some credit. I have Evan on standby around the entire place to be our eyes and ears and the middle man for taking the cash from the cops. And we asked for the ransom BEFORE I started icing the place” Cold crossed his arms and huffed, taking a peek into the room where their hostage was one last time before turning his back on it. This would prove to be a big mistake.

He let Weather Wizard go on without rebuttal for awhile, as a general thing he agreed as this was a poorly thought out and panic influenced plan that he was not comfortable with. “Yeah, maybe not apologize but just up and leave--” Cold was interrupted by the sound of Heatwave yelping as the redhead’s escrima stick bashed his nose bloody.

The pyro didn’t drop his gun but years of use and experience allowed him enough foresight not to squeeze the trigger. The Rogue clattered to the floor, holding his nose in his unoccupied hand, tears wetting the inside of his goggles as he shook off the pain. “SNART!” Heatwave roared for Captain Cold just as the lights went off, causing the Master of Absolute Zero to whip back around and curse. Loudly.

Cold rushed into the room, only to run into Boomerang, who he shoved to the ground and whipped about. “Dammit! YOU HAD ONE JOB RORY! WATCH THE PRETTY LADY IN THE WHEELCHAIR!”

Heatwave felt his anger spike as he clumsily stood to his feet and jerked around towards Cold’s voice. “Can it ‘fearless leader’ the bitch is still in here somewhere!” “NO SHIT” Cold managed to find Heatwave in the dark and jerked him off balance, shoving him off towards the entrance to the room and consequently Weather Wizard.

Cold stood very still as he tried to listen for movement, but the heavy breathing and muttering of his comrades made it impossible to locate the girl. “She’s on the move. We need light. NOW. I don’t care who does it. Weather Wizard? Heatwave? FIX. THIS. PROBLEM”

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Oh, this was great Mark was no stranger to the outbursts Leonard often had to offer his team. Still, he only heard thumping and moving about, shuffling as his screams echoed off the icy walls.

Weather Wizard followed Cold blindly into the room and clutched onto his wand. He tapped on it a few times and let a current of electricity dimly light the room. ”I got you cold.” Mark told him, raising it up to reveal that the wheelchair bound woman had ditched her ride. He found it odd that it had no handles, but he shook that notion off, as other things had to be handled at the moment.

Reflecting off one of the broken monitors, Mirror Master poked his head out, “What happened? Yeh boyo’s mirrors bluddy out fer a few beats, there.” He said in concern, looking into the darkness of the room. ”Nothing, Evan, get back to your post. Check the floors guys, she couldn’t have gotten far.” Weather Wizard said spinning around to see if she had crawled right past them. Mirror Master smirked in concern, but dipped his back through, not wanting to get in Cold’s way, nor his bad mood.

“She might be hiding somewhere, I’m going to check behind those computers, Heatwave, can you light your torch and try not to burn this place to the ground?”

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Freezing! The entire place was colder than it had ever been, and Barbara had to stop crawling on the rafters. Her legs were getting in the way of moving about quietly, and the crippled cursed herself in silence as she knew what the only logical thing to do is for survival. Taking off her top, she began to quietly tie her legs together with the long sleeves of her shirt.

“Bloimey!” the Australian thug cried out as Cold pushed him away in the dark, he tumbled to the floor and scraped his chin. Captain Boomerang’s stomach wasn’t feeling too great either, and an audible puking sound could be heard. Moaning in agony, Boomer stumbled back up to his feet, and leaned against the nearest wall. “Yew didn’t have to dew that, mayte. Bitch’ll tern up soon, no need tah get yer knickers in a knot.” He slurred wiping his chin yet again.

Now only in a bra and jeans, the redhead felt the true chill of Captain Cold’s gun. She cupped her hands together and exhaled deeply to gather some sort of warmth, before beginning her crawl through the rafters yet again. A light turned on, emitting from Weather Wizard’s wand. It wasn’t enough, and all the air vents were sealed off, and they were all armed. She had to be smart about her approach. They seemed to be splitting off to search for her. Barbara didn’t want to judge based on how dangerous each Rogue was, rather, their level of drunkenness. She could probably take them out one by one if she was smart about it. Weather Wizard was already breaking for the computers, but she didn’t want to take him out first, if the light source went out, they’d immediately tell what was going on. She had to wait. In the cold, cold darkness.

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Cold looked over to the wheelchair and felt his blood pressure rise to dangerous levels, a headache threatened to bloom in his temples and it only made his trigger finger itchy. They shouldn’t be having THIS much trouble, and it was pissing him off. Just as Weather Wizard gave Mirror Master the order to go back to spying on the GCPD, the master of Absolute Zero pointed both guns at the empty wheelchair and let loose.

He made no growl or roar of anger, his eyes were obscured by his goggles but his mouth was contorted into a silent snarl. Ice covered the wheelchair, crunching and crushing it’s delicate controls and effectively encasing the thing in a four foot by four foot block of ice.

Mick watched Cold throw his subdued tantrum in horrified silence, he still hated the cold and seeing it unleashed in a frenzy was---not to make a pun but---chilling. Weather Wizard snapped him out of his stupor as he nodded his head and tapped the trigger of his gun, a tiny flame danced seductively to life, gyrating and twisting in the dark room.

“G-gotcha Mark”

Cold looked around once he was done, gritting his teeth as he looked about the room now illuminated in a orange light. She was no where to be seen, which meant that she was either really good at hiding or had an escape route that took her into the deeper recesses of the clock tower, or worse. Outside.

“McCulloch, look outside for the redhead. Boomer. Mardon. Rory. Split up and search for her, anywhere you think she might be. Meet back here in five minutes. If you can’t find her we’re fuckin’ out of here”