Disclaimer: I have written this story for the purpose to entertain. The characters are from the Disney film, Frozen, I do not own any of them.

Author's Note: Hello everyone, this is my first story to be published so I hope you enjoy it. I got the idea for this story from the song Baby Doll Gone Wrong by Skye Sweetnam and got an idea for a violent, doll themed crime fighter.

A squad car screeched to a stop in front of the Arendelle Museum of Natural History. The beautiful white building had long, flowing banners hanging in front of some of the windows. Above the entrance was a drooping banner announcing the museum's new exhibit; The Hidden Culture of Living Rock. For the next month, the museum would be displaying artifacts of a newly discovered civilization that resided in an area not too far from the city.

A large blonde man stepped out of the car and walked toward the entrance. A short but rather stout woman blocked his access when he was about to enter the building. " I'm sorry sir," she said. "But the museum is closed." The man flashed his badge at the woman's face. It was the thing that would clarify him as a cop as his button-down shirt and slacks weren't a part of police protocol. "Detective Kristoff Bjorgman, ma'am," he stated in the calmest voice he could muster. "The curator called me here."

The woman moved away from the entrance and let him by, although Kristoff couldn't tell if it was from respect for authority or fear of his large size. Probably the latter, he thought. Since junior high, Kristoff had always been used to being perceived as intimidating because of his height and extra muscle.

It did take long for him to find the museum curator. He wore a sweater with so much orange, green and yellow that it hurt his eyes and, however it was possible, he was even taller and more muscular than Kristoff. "Ah, Detective Bjorgman," he chimed in a way that seemed a little too happy. "I'm so glad you could make it," shaking Kristoff's hand with enough strength that would crush it if he was normal sized.

That showed something was wrong.

"Yes, Oaken," Kristoff replied, releasing himself from the curator's grip. "You called the station saying you were informed of an impending robbery, right?" Normally, Kristoff was not really a "by-the-book" kind of cop but the chief was getting so tired of his "lone ranger bull-crap" that she threatened to suspend him from the force. As much as this job was a pain in the ass, Kristoff wouldn't want it any other way.

Oaken nodded violently. "Yah, this exhibit has a large amount of historical value. Such a thing could lead to the museum closing forever." He wasn't exaggerating about that. Kristoff knew that the museum had been losing visitors for the last year and the recently discovered artifacts of this exhibit were going to get it back on its feet.

Before anything else could be said, screaming began to fill the halls. Instincts taking over, Kristoff rushed to the source while Oaken attempted to follow.

Kristoff reached the end of the hall, his expression to what he saw was a mixture of rage and terror. Two men, both tall, muscular and dark-haired, stood several feet away from him. One with sideburns grabbed anything he could lift; ancient weapons, writings, masks and so on, and stuffed them into a sack. The other, who was sporting a mustache, had his hand covering a young woman's mouth and pinned her against his chest. By her muffled screams and kicking, Kristoff deduced she was a hostage.

Kristoff pulled out his gun but the other man was just as fast with his draw. "Not so fast!" he said his voice rough and raspy. "One wrong move," turning his gun to the poor woman's head. "And she gets a slug in the skull." Kristoff's face twisted with anger, he didn't always follow procedure but that didn't make him a bad cop. And like any decent officer, he wouldn't stand having any casualties on his shift.

As Kristoff began to lower his gun to the floor, the hostage released an arm from her captive's grasp and thrusted her elbow into his sternum. The man dropped his gun as he held his lower chest in pain. Seeming satisfied with her work, the woman stood over her former captor with a smug, toothy smile on her face while neglecting the second robber. He could have easily overpowered, maybe even kill her but luckily, Kristoff had the reflexes of a wild wolf. He tackled the robber and pinned him to the floor. Kristoff then cuffed the perp to himself, making sure the sneak wouldn't try to get away.

"Nice work," he heard someone say. He turned to the woman that by now the crook probably wished they didn't hold at gunpoint. "But I could've taken care of it," she stated in a rather proud manner. They both heard a grunt and turned to the mustached man on the ground. He was crawling toward his discarded weapon. Apparently still irritated by being a hostage, the woman stomped on the man's hand with her small yet thick and heavy boots.

Sure, lady, Kristoff thought but didn't say aloud. He'd admit that she did have quite the hidden muscle as well as spunk. However, if he hadn't been in the room at the time she could have gotten herself killed. This woman needed to keep her pride in check and Kristoff knew what that was like.

Oaken had finally caught up to Kristoff as the other robber was handcuffed. "Ah," he chimed in his normally happy voice. "Detective Bjorgman, I see you have met Dr. Delle, the archaeologist responsible for this exhibit."

Kristoff gave the woman a second glance and honestly wasn't too surprised by her occupation. Her strawberry blonde locks were braided into a single bun, convenient for keeping her hair out of her work. The white button-down shirt she wore was covered in dust and mud stains and so was her khaki shorts. Give her a whip and she could be Indiana Jones.

She held out her hand, "You may call me Anna," she said, expecting a handshake. Kristoff's expression remained neutral and told her, "Sorry, but there's no time formalities. I still have work to do." He then lifted the second perp off the ground and cuffed him. Anna lowered her hand and gave a rather disappointed look. "Oh," she said. "Well, I hope to see you again Detective," and she waved him goodbye as he left the building.

However, Kristoff greatly hoped for the opposite. He was never really "people person" to begin with, but right now Kristoff wanted as little interaction with humans as possible. A voice snapped him out of his trance, "How positively darling." The words that would normally be sweet sounded vile and sour from the harsh tone. Kristoff was just outside his squad car, with half of the culprits in the backseat. He gazed at the perp with a boot print imprinted on his hand. "Excuse me?" Kristoff questioned, more than a little irritated. The man smiled, "You and the little red-headed Tomb Raider. I can tell you two would have a lot of fun together." He laughed hard and loud with his accomplice chuckling in the car.

Kristoff put an end to the whole ordeal by "slightly" shoving the man into the backseat and locking the doors. He couldn't believe such nonsense. Anna and Kristoff had only met less than ten minutes ago and he was simply just doing his job. There was nothing between them.

He started the car and turned to his "passengers" with a rather cocky smile, "Hope you've enjoyed your morning," he said with fake happy tone. "Cause after this, the next few days are going to be a full-on nightmare."

Kristoff was outside the police station's interrogation room with his latest catches inside being questioned. It turned out those two weren't standard, run-of-the-mill crooks. According to police sources, their names were Erik and Francis Weston and they were top two henchmen of the crime lord called The Duke. The police had been trying to catch that guy for years. Unfortunately, those two were tough eggs to crack. No cop in the precinct, not even the best ones, could get a word out of them. After twenty-five minutes, the two had broken their thirteenth officer, Katrina Wilcox. She approached Kristoff with her teeth clenched and fists balled up. She cursed, "Nothing! I got nothing!" She stomped out the room and wished Kristoff good luck. "You'll need it."

Before he could even enter the interrogation room, Kristoff felt a small hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Gerda, the police chief. "Yes, chief?" Kristoff questioned in a way that sounded respectful as well as cautious. When the chief wanted you, it most likely meant something bad. Gerda's expression remained neutral, "Detective, I need to discuss something with you in private." She shifted slightly to Kristoff's left in order to get a proper view of the Westons. They were simply sitting at an empty table, waiting for the next officer to refuse answers to. "I'll have Doctor Chase talk with those two." Gerda finally said after two minutes that felt stretched to hours. "If anybody can anything from those two it would be a psychologist."

As Gerda left for her office, Kristoff slowly followed her. His stomach began to tie itself into knots as they got closer. Kristoff knew it was silly to be afraid of Gerda. She was not much older than his own mother, with all her hair a dark gray, and much skinnier but she still had the power to fire him if she deemed him incompetent or worse. Put him on meter duty till he retired.

They entered Gerda's office, a spacious room with only her desk, computer and two chairs inside. Kristoff took a seat across from Gerda when he finally spoke again. "Chief, did I do something wrong?" His voice lacked his normally confident demeanor. Gerda smiled slightly, " Of course not, Kristoff," she answered. "Over the last few weeks, you have successfully conducted protocol, captured two henchmen of a notorious crime boss and Doctor Winters has also informed me that your sessions are going well. Especially with your personal..." She stopped, trying to find the right word. "Experiences." Kristoff appreciated that from Gerda. As far as he was concerned, his life as Detective Bjorgman and his life as Kristoff should be as far apart as possible.

Kristoff coughed into his fist, "So, what did you want to see me about?" Gerda handed him a thick file folder. It contained financial papers, employment records and pictures of various adult men. They all had fiery red hair, with an exception of one blonde. "You're aware of the Westergaards, correct?" Gerda asked. Kristoff smiled and nodded yes. A single Westergaard could make the Sopranos look like the cast of My Little Pony. "Those bastards are good at covering their tracks. We can't even file them with tax evasion thanks to their stupid club."

"I believe you mean The Palace," Gerda joined in. The Palace was a nightclub downtown, or at least that's what people say it was. The Arendelle Police Department believed that the club was actually a brothel in disguise and was using the nightclub facade as a source of income for legal leverage. "As you know, the Department has been investigating The Palace and the Westergaards for years and found nothing incriminating," Gerda said with Kristoff nodding. He then spoke up, "And what does that have to do with me?" Gerda handed him a photo of The Palace, a beautiful, black building covered in flashing lights. "I need an inside man to get into the Westergaards' ranks. Since the Westergaards have never seen you and with your track record, you seem to be the ideal candidate."

Kristoff sat up and saluted, "On it, Chief." Gerda handed him a packet of papers, "We've constructed a resume to get you a job at the club. An interview is scheduled for 7:45 tomorrow morning." she saluted back. "I wish you luck."

As night began to fall, Kristoff neared his apartment building The Snowy Cloak Towers. The name was somewhat of a misnomer as it only had five floors including the lobby. He parked his pickup truck as close to the entrance as possible and took a moment to stare at the building. Large chunks of white paint were peeling off and a few lights were shorted out. The sign displaying the apartments' name was missing several letters, with only gibberish remaining.

It was falling apart but it was the only place Kristoff could afford. He would never call the place home though, that title was already reserved.

Kristoff grabbed several overflowing shopping bags from the backseat and went inside. As he entered the lobby, he spotted a sign on the elevator.

OUT OF ORDER.

Great, he thought to himself. It was just the perfect way to end an otherwise mediocre day, with him stomping up the stairs.

He should have been out of breath when he finally reached the top floor. However, Kristoff was often told he was a different case when it came to human limits. His irritation was waning so his footsteps became lighter as he walked down the hall to his apartment.

At the very end of the hall, Kristoff saw a figure fidgeting with the door next to his apartment. They were in some bulky sweatshirt and sweatpants with a scarf wrapped around their head, but from the figure's small size, curves and a few strands of light red hair peeking out it was clear that they were a woman. Kristoff left his bags by his door and went to the next door. He then slammed his fist against it three times, nearly scaring the poor woman out of her skin. Kristoff turned the knob and the door opened wide with ease, revealing nothing more than a room filled with cardboard boxes.

"The locks in this place jam sometimes. When they do, they need a little force," he advised.

"It's you again,"

Kristoff turned to see a familiar face he had seen not too long ago. One that had a round shape and was dusted with freckles.

"Ms. Delle?!" he exclaimed, sounding a little more flustered than he would have liked. "You live here?! Why are you wearing a scarf? It's the middle of August." Anna removed her scarf from her head, "Till a couple weeks ago, most my work was down south. Guess I haven't gotten used to the lower temperatures yet." Her face flashed with the look of sudden realization. " Why did help me unlock the door?! For all you knew I could have been a burglar!"

Kristoff simply smiled. "You're not. A burglar wouldn't wear anything that could be easily spotted. Or use the front door." Anna looked down at her magenta sweats and fluorescent green scarf and blushed. She got a slight peek behind the mountain of a man standing before her. " What's in the bags?" Anna asked, genuinely curious. Kristoff grabbed the bags off the floor. He didn't want her to get too close and see want was inside. It was all for his "job" tomorrow.

"Just some groceries," he said and turned to his own apartment. "Wait," he heard. He turned to Anna again. "I just realized I don't know your first name." Kristoff left his face without any sign of emotion.

"It's Kristoff."

"Christopher?"

"Kristoff!" he repeated and walked into his apartment, slamming the door shut. With her as a neighbor, he was going to have a slow, long, hard rest of his life.

By midnight, the residents of Arendelle were all fast asleep. Or at least they should have been.

"Hurry up, you idiots!" a large, hooded man called to two others, who were much smaller, carrying a large heavy box from a warehouse by the docks. When they finally made it to the van, the thugs were completely out of breath. "What's. In this. Stupid thing anyway?"

"Who cares? Westergaard told us to rob the place, we rob the place."

Their argument was interrupted by the sound of paint cans clattering against the pavement. Each of them pulled out a pistol and pointed them in any direction.

"What was that?!" One said, shaking his weapon in fear.

A small white kitten jumped in front of them, meowing and licking its other two took a calming breath and placed their guns back into the bands of their pants. "It's just a cat." The leader said "Now let's hurry up and get this job d-" his words were cut off by the force of being kicked in the face.

The man's heavy body thudded against the pavement. He lifted himself up very slightly, wincing in pain.

"The fu..?!"

Standing before them was a shadowy figure. They were not particularly tall and rather skinny but the way their body was menacing, like a wildcat with its latest catch dangling from its jaws. The man on the ground reached for his gun but was surprised when the figure pinned his hand down and wrapped their long, thin fingers around his throat. They slipped his gun out of his waistband, removed the magazine and smashed it against the pavement until it was nothing but scrap.

Now without a weapon, the thug threw a punch at his assailant's head. Unfortunately for him, their reflexes remained lightning fast. His heartbeat raced as their fingers tightened around his wrist.

Without warning, the figure pulled the man up and pulled his arm back until they heard a loud crack. He fell to the ground and howled in pain.

The others dropped their guns and held their hands up high above their heads. With what they just saw, a gun would be of no use.

The figure walked toward them, out of the shadows. In the light of the dock's lamps, their feminine stature and clothing could now be seen. "A girl?!" screamed the man cradling his dislocated shoulder. "I got the shit beaten out of me by a girl!" The woman immediately responded with a forceful kick in his face and him losing a couple teeth.

As she came closer, the other two began to shake violently. This woman had beaten a full-grown man with her bare hands but that wasn't the only intimidating thing about her. It was her mask. It resembled the face of a porcelain doll; glossy white with rosy cheeks, but it was covered in long jagged cracks that made the angry expression in her eyes all the more terrifying.

Even as this woman stood directly in front of them, they dared not move out of fear. She took a hold of their hoods and gently pulled them back, revealing the faces of boys no older than fifteen.

The woman's eyes softened, if only slightly. She took out an unevenly folded piece of paper and handed it to the two boys. "Give this to your boss," she ordered, her voice sweet and rough at the same time. "Deliver it anonymously. I'd get out if I were you," and disappeared as quickly as she came. Curious, the boys unfolded the note. Their blood curdled as the read the message over and over in their heads.

I'm coming for you.