Cold As Ice

By: Jami JoAnne Russell

The thief looked around the small room. Bah, what a dump. Still, there had to be some cash or

drugs or something around here worth stealing. He needed to bring something back or he was

dead meat.

He began to ransack the tiny apartment, tearing things apart. A dime-store lamp fell to the floor

with a crash.

"We're a messy house-keeper, aren't we?"

The thief spun on his heel. Eyes widening in shock. A woman stood there - a completely blue

woman. Hair, eyes, skin, all an ice blue. Like a beautiful ice statue. And just as hard and cold.

As the woman approached the thief pulled out his gun and fired twice. She barely flinched as the

bullets hit home. Blue blood-like liquid oozed from the holes. Yet she kept walking forward. His

brown eyes locked on her's, the thief found it impossible to move. The hand that grabbed his

throat was so cold it burned. He barely had time to scream as she used him to smash the window.

Holding him above the ground seven floors below. He clung to the icy hand, gasping for air as the

hand tighten it's grip.

As he stared into those cold eyes he saw a flicker of something - Hate. With a gasp the woman

pulled him back in and tossed him like a rag doll across the room. Through his pain-blurred eyes

he could see red tinging the blue liquid that seeped from the wounds he caused. Then all was

black.

Dr. Taylor looked up with a start as Cynthia lurched through the door. Cursing he stood and went

to her side, helping her to the table. The blood was turning more and more red. The flesh was soft

as he cleaned the wounds and stitched them up. "What was it this time?"

"Same as always. Hate." Cyn sighed. "Maybe I'd be better off becoming a bad guy." Moaning,

she allowed the doctor to poke and prod.

"No. You even try and I'll never give you the formula again. You'll have to feel." As he expected,

a shimmer of fear flashed in the grey-blue eyes. Then he swiftly injected her and stood back as she

began to turn back into the ice woman.

This had not been expected. When Dr. Taylor had made this formula he had expected it to be

permanent. It seemed there were some human emotions that were too strong and they fought

through the ice. Burning to the surface like fire. He had yet to perfect it. It was interesting though.

He kept track of the emotions that broke through. He made a mark in the book. So far the one

that had cracked the surface the most was hate. The one that yet had to have a mark made by it -

Love.

Rupert hated these parties. So stuffy and formal. Running a finger around the collar of his tux -

which seemed to get tighter and hotter every minute of this tedious festival of foppery - he sighed.

Why did they bother anyway? It was just a necklace. So what if some pharaoh's wife had worn it?

It was just another piece of unfeeling jewelry. As about as inspiring as Sarah Carter's fake breasts.

No, this was not a thing to write poems about, or throw parties over in his humble opinion.

Yawning, he leaned against the pillar behind him. Standing there, Rupert actually started to doze.

But - he had a very rude awakening. Well, any awakening at this moment would be rude, but

considering this one entailed a gun pressed against his temple it was especially rude.

It took him a few seconds to clear his groggy mind enough to realize that a bunch of idiots were

trying to make like comic-book bad guys. They had taken hostages and were demanding money -

and the necklace. Idiots. Risking their life for coldness.

"You boys watch too many movies," a hard, yet distinctly female voice said from above.

Everyone looked up. Rupert sucked in his breath and felt his heart flip in his chest before taking a

swan dive into his stomach. There on top of a model of a pterodactyl that hung from the

museum's ceiling by thick cables, was a woman. The most stunning woman he ever saw. She was

as blue as the center of an ice cube. She wore a skin-tight suit that was a deeper shade of blue.

There was no emotion on her face as she looked down at the crowd.

"A real quiet bunch, aren't you?" She continued. Shaking the head of blue hair, she waited for an

answer. It came in the form of a bullet, tearing through the paper and plaster wing of the extinct

flying dinosaur. "That," she said blandly, "is no way to treat a lady."

With that she jumped off her mount feet first. The hostages were shoved aside. Only Rupert

stayed there. Watching as the woman landed. It should've been bone-jarring. It should've caused

her pain. But she didn't even grunt. Just stood straight and tall and with those cold eyes looked at

the men in front of her.

An order was called out from the man next to Rupert. Some men rushed the woman. Others

broke into the case, ignoring the lasers and alarms as they took it and ran for the door.

The ice woman took every punch without even a grimace. Giving them back without a word. The

men fell from her. Finally one thought to use his gun.

"NO!" Rupert screamed, diving for the man and driving him down. He looked at the woman to

see her grab her thigh. The others were running away. Following their leader. Rupert found

himself struggling to keep this one from going with them. The wrestled for the gun. There was the

tangy taste of his own blood in his mouth and stars burst before his eyes as a fist slammed into his

chin.

Cynthia was going to follow the others. Get the necklace back. Until she heard the grunt of her

rescuer. Turning back she saw now her would-be killer was about to pull the trigger on his gun.

There was no time - she was too far away to run. So with a powerful push of her legs she sprung

into the air, spinning. Her feet shot straight out as she landed on the man's shoulders, driving him

to the floor just as his victim rolled away.

Now Cyn looked at the man, planning to tell him they were now even. Though the bullet wouldn't

have killed her. Nothing did.

Something happened then - Looking into the man's green eyes Cyn felt something. Her heart beat

a little faster. A moan escaped her lips as the pain in her thigh flared. He was there then,

supporting her. She whispered Dr. Taylor's address to him. Fighting to stay in control of the pain.

Only there was something that made the pain worst. An emotion she hadn't felt in so long she

didn't even recognize it. Only knowing it wasn't hate that made her blue blood red. Or the pain so

unbearable that she passed out from it.

"So she can't feel anything?" Rupert looked at the doctor. In the last few hours he had found out

things he never thought possible.

Nodding, Dr. Taylor sighed. "No love, no hate, no pain. She has incredible strength, healing, but

no feelings. No pain recognition of any kind." He had just finished sewing up the hole in Cyn's

thigh and was now injecting her with the formula. "But sometimes an emotion fights through. And

when it does she - well, you saw."

Reaching out, Rupert fingered a strand of blue hair. For a moment it glinted blond. What pain had

driven her to this? Whatever it was, Rupert vowed that he would take care of it.

For Rupert, in one brief glance, had fallen in love.

Several days later -

"You should go home, Rupert." Cynthia said in her robot-like voice. "This is no job for a human."

"And what are you?" Rupert teased with a smile, poking Cyn in the ribs, hoping she was ticklish.

Despite the way her cold skin burned him.

Turning a dispassionate eye to him, Cyn answered, "I am far above humans. A creature of cold,

hard science." With that she threw a bag at him. "If you must come, at least take some weapons.

There's some bullet-proof armor in there too. Put it on or I will dress you in it myself."

"Sounds like fun." Rupert smiled, though she didn't smile back. With a sigh he went and dressed.

Surprised she was waiting for him, he had fully expected her to leave without him. Instead she

picked him up in her arms as if he were a small child.

"You're not fast enough." She said, her scentless breath washing over his face. Again she felt her

heart thumping, but this time she put a stop to it, focusing on the mission ahead. With one push of

her legs they were out the door.

It had been ridiculously easy to find the thieves. Well, easy to one with as cold and analytical a

mind as Cyn's. A mind clouded by emotion couldn't have seen the evidence that pointed in such

an obvious direction.

A mind clouded by... Cyn wanted to moan. There went her heart again. And with it her strength

and speed flagged. Only by concentrating on what lay ahead, what she had to do, gave her the

coldness she needed to reach the intended spot. Though she had broken out in an unusual sweat

along the way.

Rupert had noticed this. In the past few days he had attempted to make Cynthia feel. She didn't

take too kindly to it though. He had seen her angry. Seen the color come back to her eyes, but

then she would turn away and become cold again. It was frustrating. The more he talked to her,

the more he loved her. Yet she refused to feel anything.

Women.

He was broken from his revery by her voice hissing in his ear. "Move." She pushed him and

Rupert smiled to herself. She was irritated. Not what he wanted, but she was feeling something at

least.

Still, now was not the time for her to feel. It would make her vulnerable and she could die. Rupert

- a hopeless romantic who believed in happy endings though he had none himself - was not about

to allow that.

Cynthia hadn't had any happy endings either. Even now he could hear her. "I always loved the

wrong person. The one who couldn't love me back. The one who betrayed me. And you ask me

to feel? Why?! I don't want to feel! To be cold as ice is all I want! Unable to feel pain, anger,

frustration. To never again cry and despair!"

"Or laugh, love, and just enjoy life." Rupert had replied quietly.

"Who needs that? It's just the way to more pain and suffering." Cyn had returned to her cold self

now. Ice cold.

Again, Rupert had to shake himself away from the newly made memory. Watching through the

glass to the thieves below. He could see now that the thieves had made quite the little haul. More

then just the museum had been hit.

"So how long have you been following them?"

"Months. Ever since I realized that the sudden crime spree wasn't as random as the police think."

The ice blue eyes just watched the men below. "It's actually quite complicated. They have several

rings. The lowest members - the outer ring - has the crud jobs. Breaking into slums. Then each

ring gets better and better jobs. When a person proves themselves they get to rise to another ring.

The third ring sells drugs. The second ring imports the drugs."

"And the center ring?" Rupert asked.

"The center ring steals the most valuable items to trade for the drugs." Drawing forth a glass

cutter, Cyn began to open their way in. "When I'm done, climb onto my back, wrap your legs

around my waist, and don't let go till we hit the floor."

Rupert did as he was told. Clinging tightly as Cyn jumped down from above. There was shouts as

they did this. Then Rupert pulled away, yanking out his gun.

What resulted was a literal riot. Rupert didn't know what he was doing, let alone what Cynthia

was doing. All he knew was that there was a lot of gun fire and a lot of people yelling. Adrenaline

caused him to be able to ignore the pain of the punches and kicks. Thank God for the bullet proof

armor!

Meanwhile, Cynthia was having a much easier time of it. It was effortless to jump in the air and

deliver kicks and punches. Well, as long as she didn't look at Rupert. When she did she felt the

pain. Why, she didn't understand.

Now some of the men got the idea, running from the room. Others laid on the floor, out cold or

close to it. Only three stood still, in the very center of the room. A man and a woman flanked a

man about fifty years old. He didn't speak, just pointed to Rupert. Cyn looked to her frustrated

suitor. He was beaten up pretty badly. One eye swollen shut. Blood pouring from a shallow scalp

wound.

The woman turn and shot Rupert. His body jerked as the bullet slammed into his shoulder.

Cynthia screamed.

Rage boiled in her. With the scream came an icy blast as the formula was completely purged from

her body. The threesome frozen solid by the blast. Cold as ice...

The floor rushed up to greet Cynthia. Her blond hair falling in front of her eyes. "Rupert," she

whispered, reaching out to him. Struggling across the floor to each other. Their bloody hands

touching. "Don't die."

Grinning, Rupert pulled out a cell phone and hit the speed dial for 911. "Never planned on it,

love. Always be prepared."

Cyn laughed softly, for the first time in a very, very long time. Then laid there, smiling. The sirens

wailed and people came, separating the lovers for a moment. But both knew there was a chance

now. To work on their own happy ending...

Meanwhile - Doctor Taylor threw the last bit of his research on the fire. The formula itself had

been dumped in the garden - so it would kill the plants - it needed a weeding badly anyway. No

more suppressing emotions. Humans needed to feel. To love.

No. What he needed was a formula that brought love to the surface and suppressed hate... With a

snort he dismissed the idea and went to bed.

The End