Vixen Vigilante

Part II: Frostbite

Vixen scrutinized the vehicle closely, her lilac eyes shining in the moonlight.

The night sky was clear and crisp; the night was young.

She stood on the top of a building, feeling the night breeze kiss her exposed skin; pulling gently at her hair and cape that billowed behind her. Goosebumps rose on her arms, a testament to the frigid air that only seemed to get colder as the seconds ticked by.

Her suit and cape were midnight black. The purple mask that adorned her face was like a beacon, shining in the dark upon her otherwise hidden body. Her muscles were tensed, poised for action as she scanned the area.

Her night vision goggles recognized two heat signatures of the people in the truck. The infrared image was bright, shining behind her eyes even when she blinked.

Time to move out.

Vixen leaped from the building, feeling the gust of wind attack her senses from every angle. She began levitating before she reached the ground, slowing her fall before she softly landed on the concrete without a sound.

The frigid air worsened, seeming to encompass her body entirely as she faltered. The cold bit at her skin harshly, making her body feel numb.

"Frostbite," Vixen called to the open air.

She received no reply.

Suddenly, a figure appeared before her; Frostbite seemed to materialize from thin air.

His thin, blue lips widened in an insanely large grin. Unhealthily pale skin that was almost translucent shined in the moonlight. His crazed eyes swam with mirth and delight. He was in his late twenties, but his large, glassy eyes and small frame made him look like an abused child.

He wore a black collared shirt and a shockingly white lab coat that looked too large on his skinny frame. His face was void of a mask, revealing his twisted facial expressions as he regarded her as if she were last week's leftovers. His platinum blond hair was short and messy, a faded yellow that resembled dead wheat.

On the surface, he appeared fragile, but his eyes held dangerous promises that were anything but frail.

Other than his cloaking ability and weather manipulation, he was nothing but a petty thief that only stole for the adrenaline rush.

He had been a passionate scientist for many years. He had studied the mutations of a Super individual's cells, trying to figure out how and why the person was gifted with seemingly otherworldly powers, a mystery even the brightest minds had yet to fathom.

He planned to create medicinal products based on his findings, until he was diagnosed with anemia and his funds were cut.

Distressed and bitter, he left behind science and sought other ways to fuel his thirst for excitement.

It was only a few days later that his powers had awoke, and he turned to a life of crime.

The media had immediately taken to calling him Frostbite, since his Supervillain debut consisted of him holding a former coworker at gunpoint and freezing the roads to watch the cop cars crash and swerve from lack of control. He had given his hostage a severe case of frostbite before fleeing the scene.

"Hello, Mr. Porter. I'm going to stop you now," Vixen greeted warily.

If she were a normal person, she would already be suffering a mild case of his namesake.

His eye twitched, fingers curling into fists. The manic grin that stretched across his features turned sour for a moment before he grinned again.

"Hello, Vixen. I'm going to kill you now," he greeted pleasantly, as if the two were exchanging pie recipes instead of death threats.