The Villain you Love to Hate IC

It was a typical afternoon at the bank. People were waiting in line, mothers were being hassled by their antsy kids, tellers were obviously bored with their jobs, and the whole place had a certain quiet feel to it. The thought that a robbery could happen had undoubtedly crossed the minds of someone that day, but the events that would soon unfold was certainly not how they would have figured it to go down.

The doors of the bank burst open, armed men storming in. Behind them, a man dressed as if it were the dead of winter sauntered inside. He had a certain air of overconfidence to him as he glanced around at the startled eyes.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I am afraid that I am cinematically inclined to announce that this is a bank robbery. Don't do anything stupid, and you won't get hurt. There's no need for heroes today." The armed men patrolled the area, instructing everyone to get down and remain still. The obvious boss of them strode off towards the bank vault. He froze the giant metal door, then conjured a giant block of ice to bust it open. The glorious loot inside was much to behold. And it would be all his. Save for the pitiful amount he would share with his lackeys.

She had been in the back janitorial rooms for about an hour now. There was no need to move quickly, she was in no rush. The delay would only help her, any cameras that had caught a corner of her body would be played back much closer to the time of when she decided to step from the closet and make the grand entrance. She had switched her pantsuit for her usual fitted black one, her classy shoes for crime-causing ones. Pulled the hair ties out and let her scarlet curls fall down around her shoulders and over the band holding her mask on. And then she had sat there, fiddling with things and playing with the odd gadgets in the room. Going over the very simple plan she had formulated in her mind, assuring herself there would be no Faun or Phish-face to mess her up this time. They'd have no idea about it until she was back at home with the goods.

Finally, she decided it was time. Throwing open the door, sliding down the hall just out of the camera's reach, and rounding the corner, she grinned. This would be fun. Or at least that's what she was thinking until she opened the door to the main lobby and found a sight she would never have expected. Stepping into the room she heard a gruff man's yell and turned to find a thick armed(in arms and armory) man barreling towards her, the look of surprise on his face matching hers. Angrily she narrowed her eyes at him, and then took him down with a swift blow whilst he was distracted by his entire attire suddenly bursting into flames. She heard another man yell at her to get down on the ground like everyone else, and watched his bewilderment as he realized who she was. Before he could make another move she rushed towards the vault, and then froze, staring. "Hey!" Hellfire yelled at the eskimo-like man in front of her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Frostbite was busy shoving money into bags. It was quite a good catch today; maybe he could finish paying off those renovations now. He hummed happily to himself as he found that he had a few bag fulls left before he would be done. That is, until some woman yelled at him from behind. The man straightened and turned with an inquisitive "Hm?"

He looked at the woman for a moment before answering. "What does it look like? I'm robbing this bank."

Rage flooded through her. Was this supposed to be a joke? Because if it was, she wasn't laughing. One bit. She snorted loudly and looked at him. Who did he think he was and why in the world was he wearing that? Didn't he know he looked ridiculous? She narrowed her eyes at him, glancing behind him at the bags of money and then back to that stupid expression on his face. "Uh, no, sorry. You can't be robbing this bank because I'm robbing this bank." She strode forward towards the man, entering the vault and getting rather close to him. He was a great deal taller than she, but with her eyes beginning to burn brightly and the stance in which she was holding herself, they were about even on the intimidation scale.

"Well, I hate to use logic on you ma'am, but it appears as though I am robbing this bank." Frostbite had a bit of a snooty tone to his voice as he threw the bags over his shoulder. He blasted the ground underneath him with ice and created a path to glide upon as he took his stolen money back into the main bank area.
"Let's go. We're done here," He snapped at his men. They obediently obeyed and grabbed the bags to toss into the back of the get away truck.

Losing whatever patience she had very quickly, Hellfire watched the man with critical eyes. She watched his hand turn to the floor and the slickness grow on it. He got on and took it back to the lobby. After a quick glance into the vault-which was empty, she growled to herself. He wasn't getting away with taking what was hers. Turning on her heel and making her way back into the lobby before he had finished talking to his men, she focused in on the bags of money the man's henchmen were reaching towards. With a quick snap to ignite and a spread of her palm to raise it, the bags lit on fire. Within a second the flames rose from a small patch to a blaze covering each bag. She watched the henchmen state at the bags and then look at their boss, expecting him to have a solution. But all they'd need to do was wait a minute or two and the money would be nothing but ashes on the ground. She glanced back to the man too, waiting for his next move. He'd probably put them out, if he could do more than just slick floors.

Sure enough, Frostbite turned and put the fires out. "Well that's just a dandy idea. Burn it, and then nobody wins. Females, I swear to god." He turned to his men and motioned to them to carry on. He would take care of this perky woman.
"If you want a fight, then you will have one." By now, most of the people within the bank had scurried away while both villains were distracted. This gave Frostbite more room to move. He stalked around the woman like a cat eyeing it's prey before he struck. The man lashed his arm out, sending several razor shape ice sickles at the woman.

She watched the bags douse themselves. So he had what? A water or ice power? Something opposite hers. She was unfazed by his comment; she'd rather the money burn than be taken by another villain. If it burned it burned, she would just go rob another bank.

He strode back in, and she could see irritationg beginning in him. Good, she thought, her body heating as he strode around her in the lobby. With a sudden movement he threw out his arm and icicles shot towards her. Her eyes brightening a little and a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth where the only changes in her demeanor as she swept her arm across the air before her. A short burst of fire shot out to reach the icicles, only a yard away, and moments later they splashed to the ground beside her as mere puddles. Twitching her hands to evaporate them, she raised an eyebrow at the ice-boy. "Is that all?"

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His face was getting closer. His shaggy hair had fallen forward and was casting weird shadows on his face. His eyes, though, were shining in light, their usual blandness turned to brilliance. His lips were illuminated too, soft and pink and small. One edge of his lips had quirked up in a smirk, but now they were straightening out, parting just the slightest bit. His eyes were growing more serious, glancing between my own eyes and lips. My stomach was turning flips. I could feel his hand sliding up my neck, fingers threading into my hair and making me shiver. My stomach turned frantic, and just as I thought I might vomit from nerves, he

Per jumped awake. The alarm on the bedside table shouted angrily at her--but she suspected that wasn't why her heart was about to leap out of her chest. Glancing around herself and then smashing the top of the blaring clock, she sat up and ran her hands through her messy bed-head. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself and the intense disappointment and loneliness that had suddenly overflowed her body and replaced the nervous ecstasy from her dream.

But that's all it had been, a dream. That's all they ever were. Every time she slept it was the same batch if dreams--all about Ore, all beyond wonderful. And after every dream she woke up and rolled over hopefully--only to find, as always, the bed besides her was cold and empty and she was completely alone.

With her heart in the pit of her stomach, Per pulled herself out of bed and brushed her hair and her teeth and got dressed from her napping PJs and headed out if her room and into the living room. If it was ever possible her heart sank further down when she saw Orren was not there. He could've been hiding in his bedroom or out shopping or hanging around or whatever he wanted to do. If he had left he hadn't written her a note in case she had woken up from her nap to find he wasn't there--as she had just done. But why would he leave a note? She wasn't responsible for him and he wasn't responsible for her. He had no reason beyond courtesy to leave her anything, and Ore was, unfortunately, not big on courtesy where Persephone was concerned. He probably figured they'd known each other long enough it didn't matter. But she, out of courtesy and misplaced hope he cared where she went when she wasn't by his side, always left a note. Sighing and hoping to fill the emptiness hanging around her stomach, Per pulled a carton of ice cream from the freezer, grabbed a spoon, curled up on the couch, and turned on the tv.

Orren was, indeed, in his room. He was flopped across his bed, reading the final pages of The Notebook. It was a miraculous wonder that Orren wasn't flamboyantly gay. He loved romantic comedies, he always neat and organized, and he lived with a female and never once tried to get her in his bed. However, he was as straight as an arrow. He had never had much of a sex drive, funny enough. One may suspect that he was low on testosterone, but he appeared fairly healthy. His temper was the only thing ugly about him. Orren had a tongue of knives, and he wasn't afraid to use it on any given person he met. The only person he didn't blow up on frequently was Per, his best friend. Even so, he still bitched and griped at her, but it was in a more concerned and affectionate way. If one could call Orren affectionate.

Just as he finished the last page of his book, the TV that he had on for background noise announced that a bank robbery was in progress. The police were hesitant to get involved due to the fact that the robbers, two supervillains, were going at it like cats and dogs. Half of the building was already scorched, the other half encased in ice. Orren looked up and grumbled a string of curse words. He got up, closed his book, and went in search of Per. As he walked out of his room, he quickly found her on the couch.

"Don't eat all that. Shit's back for you," He said in acknowledgement of her ice cream. "There's some super powered assholes robbing a bank. I think we should probably go stop them before they fuck more shit up."