Welcome to Untouchable.
A few notes before we begin: First, I'm going to be a radical sort of writer and request that you not send me a review unless you have something vitally important to say, like you spotted a mistake, or I've fallen into a bad writing habit, or something weird happened with the formatting. I have school and family obligations outside of this story, so I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time to devote to reviews. Instead, if you like this story, please recommend it to others, or even favorite it. If Untouchable gets a lot of hits, I'll assume I'm doing well.
Second, I intend to remain faithful to the spirit of the Disney canon, if not always to the letter. I see no point in retelling the same exact story with capes and masks tacked on – that's just boring! The basic events of the films will still happen, but they may be reordered, expanded, or slightly tweaked, and some minor details may be cut entirely if I feel they don't contribute anything to the story. I will also be creating several original adventures for Untouchable, because these characters do have lives outside of a couple ninety-minute movies. Therefore, I hope you will understand when I say that Anna will be only a minor character for the first several arcs, and Kristoff likely won't appear at all for a while. Never fear, they will be promoted to regulars eventually, but for now, this fic takes place during Elsa and Anna's estrangement.
Special thanks to my sister, who repeatedly read and critiqued this chapter, and miraculously did not murder me just to regain a little peace and quiet.
Disclaimer: I would have thought it quite obvious that I do not own Disney, Tangled, Frozen, or any other subsidiaries or intellectual properties thereof. If I did, I wouldn't be skulking in the dark, seamy back alleys of the Internet, hiding behind a pseudonym and a rather flimsy disclaimer. I am merely an incurable geek at the mercy of a particularly vicious plot bunny (seriously – I think it's related to the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog).
Rated T for language, people beating each other up while dressed in "special outfits," and Flynn Rider being a perv.
Arc 1 – All That Glitters
Chapter 1
The Epic and Legendary Battle of… the Man-Bag?
It all started with a fight over a man-bag.
Just before eight o'clock on the morning of June 20th, said bag was accompanying its rather unsavory owner and two even more unsavory others across the roof of a grand mansion. The latter were a pair of hulking ginger twins by the name of Stabbington (a surname destined for criminality if there ever was one) who barreled along the dips and peaks of the rooftop with more urgency than grace; the former was the semi-gentlemanly thief known as Flynn Rider, who was gliding and leaping with easy agility well ahead of his associates, all the while humming "With Catlike Tread."
"Will you knock that off?" growled the Stabbington with two eyes and two sideburns. "Someone's gonna hear."
"What, not a fan of The Pirates of Penzance?" Flynn replied with excessive innocence.
"Never heard of 'em," was the curt response. "Now shut up."
Flynn smirked to himself. That was the nice thing about working with the Stabbington brothers – they never failed to make him feel superior. Not only were they completely oblivious to his little dig at their stealth abilities, they were taking long enough to catch up to him that, upon reaching the easternmost end of the roof, he was able to steal a few seconds to enjoy the spectacular ocean vista. "Wow," he mused aloud. "I could get used to a view like this."
"Rider –"
"No no, hold on a second… Yep, I'm used to it."
"Rider –"
"That does it, guys: I officially want my own big fat playboy mansion by the sea."
Both Stabbingtons were beginning to fantasize about giving Rider a better look at his precious view by throwing him off the roof. "If you quit %#!&ing around for five seconds and do your damn job," the twin with facial fur said through gritted teeth as he and his brother uncoiled a length of nylon rope, "you can buy ten mansions!"
Flynn finally deigned to tear his eyes away from the horizon and glance over his shoulder at the Stabbingtons. "What's got your panties in a bunch? Hot date later?"
"The longer we're up here waiting for you to quit dancing around and smelling the roses, the more likely someone's gonna look up and spot us!" snapped the hairier Stabbington. The other brother merely directed his patented one-eyed glare at the third man; for reasons Flynn really did not care to inquire about, the clean-shaven twin with the eye-patch never said a word – hence he had started privately referring to them as Speaking Stabbington and Silent Stabbington.
"Relax, guys – I am a consummate professional," Flynn reassured them. "If I wasn't, then we wouldn't be hitting this place up during a shift change on a day they've only got partial security." He gestured to the mansion grounds below, where a handful of security guards meandered blearily through a crowd of other personnel, exchanging news, coffee, and donuts.
"But who steals a priceless heirloom in broad daylight, genius?" sneered Speaking Stabbington.
"Exactly," Flynn grinned. "They won't know what hit 'em. Besides, early morning is the best time to catch the resident mask-and-spandex crowd with their tights down. Or would you rather try this at night, when they're swooping all over Kingston like Crayola-colored bats?"
Speaking Stabbington grunted dismissively, but couldn't really find a hole in that argument. Instead, he turned a skeptical scowl on the attached solarium directly below. "And you're sure the necklace is in there?"
"Oh, it's in there – I have it from a very reliable source."
...
A few nights earlier –
A pretty brunette dressed for a night on the town slammed her shot glass down on the bar and gasped as her drink burned its way down her esophagus.
"Look at you go!" laughed the guy she'd allowed to buy her the last couple rounds. There was just enough ambient light in the club for her to tell that he was really cute… but not enough for her to match him to any police bulletins floating around.
The brunette smiled sheepishly. "I'm not usually such a hard drinker –"
"Oh no, I admire a woman who can handle her liquor." Had she been a little less stressed and tipsy on top of it, the girl might have realized the guy's smile was just a bit too toothy to be sincere.
"I just really need to blow off some steam," continued the unwitting mark. "My boss has been busy with coordinating this really big event – actually, you probably know it – it's that big benefit that the Florian family throws every year down at Corona Beach?"
Cute Guy's eyes widened. "The one where the Boardwalk's open all night? With the big fireworks show? You're working on that?"
The brunette couldn't help but preen a bit at the admiring tone. "Well, the businesses on the Boardwalk actually pretty much take care of themselves. They have a planning board –"
"The Boardwalk has a board? You don't say!"
She giggled (hey, she was tipsy, remember?). "Anyway, the part we have to coordinate is the private gala that the Florians hold at their estate."
"Sounds pretty fancy." The brunette would never know how hard it was for Flynn to keep all (well, almost all) traces of derision out of that comment.
"Oh yeah! There's a formal dinner, some dancing, and a philanthropic auction – y'know, pretty standard for that crowd. There's a lot of pressure to make everything go perfectly, though, so my boss has been running us absolutely ragged."
"Poor thing," Flynn replied sympathetically. "Tell you what, how 'bout I order us another round –" he gestured to the bartender before turning back to the brunette, "and you can tell me all about it."
...
"Like I told you before, they're keeping all the stuff in – whatever that glass room down there's supposed to be – before bringing it out for the auction tomorrow night," Flynn explained to the Stabbingtons. "Well, all except the yacht."
The twin thugs gaped at him. "There's a yacht?"
Flynn rolled his eyes. "It's a bunch of one-percenters getting together to show off how much money they have to burn. Of course there's a yacht."
"All that expensive stuff… And the necklace is worth as much as the rest put together," Speaking Stabbington said slowly. Had his mental calculator been a physical object, it would have been smoking and threatening to explode.
"Told ya – the take of a lifetime." Flynn's smile took on a distinctly predatory – and vastly less charming – cast.
Speaking Stabbington seized Flynn by his vest. "Which brings us back to why the hell are we still standing around?"
...
Not a minute later, Flynn was descending soundlessly towards the solarium like a spider on a nylon thread. The Stabbingtons, under the twin influences of greed and nerves, were feeding him slack a little too fast to be strictly safe, but Flynn Rider, Master Thief and Ladies' Man Extraordinaire, was nothing if not a risk-taker. He landed on the glass roof spread-eagled, distributing his weight so as to make as little noise as possible. After peering through the glass to make sure there was no one within that might notice him and raise the alarm, he crawled towards a pane that had been propped open for air circulation. He eased himself feet-first under the pane and around the rod supporting it without touching either (a feat, he noted smugly, that the brutish Stabbingtons could never have accomplished), and descended at last into a thief's paradise.
It was a veritable treasure trove – paintings, sculptures, expensive vases, complete sets of fine silver and china and crystal glassware, even a handsome antique mirror, all suffused in a golden glow from the morning sun shining through the solarium walls. Flynn couldn't help but gape in awe as he unclipped himself from the rope; he hadn't seen this many beautiful, valuable things collected in a single room since he'd broken into the gemology exhibit at the Kingston Museum to steal the Devil's Eye Diamond. If it hadn't been for that one alarm system he hadn't noticed in time, and a Heroes United squad that just so happened to be in the neighborhood, Flynn would have made off with more than one shiny tucked away in his satchel. Here in the Florians' solarium, however, there was only one item that could be conveniently and discreetly carried – and that was currently resting on a podium in the center of the collection, draped around a porcelain stand shaped like a woman's neck.
"Hell-o, beautiful," Flynn breathed. And beautiful it was – the necklace was many generations old, and positively dripped with expertly cut rubies and emeralds and diamonds, all set into 22-carat gold. Flynn strode to the podium, and very carefully lifted the necklace off its stand. "What do you say you and I blow this joint and go have some fun?"
He suddenly became aware of a presence off to his right, and whirled around.
"Ack!" he yelped as he was confronted by a creature with an angry orange kraken for a head. As the initial shock abated and his heartbeat settled, he realized it was actually the most ferocious case of bed-head he'd ever seen, attached to a gangly teenage girl in duck pajamas who could barely keep her eyes open.
"Coffeeee…" groaned the intruder.
"Uh, that would be in the kitchen," Flynn told her helpfully. When the girl just stood there unresponsively, he pointed back towards the main house. "That way."
The coffee-zombie grunted, then turned and shuffled off.
"Somebody is not a morning person," Flynn snickered. Energized by the knowledge that he had been caught in the act and was still going to get away clean, he put the necklace in his satchel and hurried back to the rope still dangling from the ceiling.
He was in the process of attaching the first clip when fortune turned fickle on him. There was a thump from the general direction the girl had shambled away in, then a resounding chorus of crashes and a startled shriek. Flynn decided to forego the clips entirely and shimmied up the rope the old-fashioned way. As he neared the open pane, he heard the sound of running footsteps and glanced down just in time to see a now-very-awake redhead come skidding back to the podium. She looked from the empty stand to the rope, then followed that up to level an accusing glare at Flynn. "Hey!"
"Bye!" Flynn shot her a very unapologetic smile and heaved himself through the opening, no longer caring about the racket made by the pane and the rod as both were shouldered aside. "Oh, and by the way – nice hair!"
The girl blinked at the thief as he raced back across the solarium roof. Then she took a look at herself in the antique mirror.
"Ack!"
...
"What the hell happened?!" Speaking Stabbington bellowed, as calls for security chased the three thieves across the length of the manor.
"Some kid wandered in and saw me," Flynn replied dismissively. "I was on my way out anyway, so all it means is our getaway's gonna be a little more exciting than we planned."
"I don't want an exciting getaway, I want a clean one!" snarled Speaking Stabbington. "Why didn't you gag the little snot and stuff him in a cupboard, or knock him on the head, or something?"
Flynn threw a scowl over his shoulder. "I told you – I was already on my way out."
Silent Stabbington abruptly hit his brother on the arm and indicated one particular dip in the roofline with his thumb.
"Hey, wait a minute –" the two-eyed twin realized, "we passed the spot where we came up!"
"Too slow – we can get down faster at the front entrance," Flynn called back, not bothering to check if the Stabbingtons were even still following.
"Are you crazy? It's too exposed! We'll be –"
"They've already seen us! At this point, all we can do is outrun them!" And with that, Flynn leaped right off the edge of the roof.
He managed to land on the balcony below without breaking anything; that was the easy part. The complicated bit was getting over the railing and onto the portico roof below, then sliding down and off the roof and trying to aim for a relatively non-prickly bush. Flynn, expert cat burglar that he was, accomplished this with aplomb, and Silent Stabbington managed it without the aplomb, but Speaking Stabbington hit a rosebush buttocks-first. Flynn was fairly certain the Canadians could hear his bellowing.
Speaking Stabbington fought free of the fearsome man-eating rosebush, and all three men raced flat-out for a certain tree that had been allowed to grow too close to the estate walls. Over relatively flat, open ground, the Stabbingtons proved better able to keep up with Flynn; the rather doughy security guards, on the other hand, didn't have a prayer. As they watched the thieves get farther and farther ahead, and closer and closer to the tree, several of the guards decided there was nothing for it but to use their guns – only to be rudely reminded that hand pistols did not have a very long range. If anything, the bullets hitting the dirt just shy of their heels only motivated Flynn and the Stabbingtons to put on an extra burst of speed; they reached the tree and swarmed up and over the wall in what seemed like a matter of seconds.
"Dammit," wheezed the lead security guard, hands on his knees. "All right – call the police, and Heroes United. I gotta figure out how to explain this to the Florians…"
The red-haired girl Flynn had encountered in the solarium rushed up to the cluster of security personnel, still in her ducky pajamas and still in dire need of an industrial-grade hairbrush. "Did you catch them?"
The lead guard sighed and turned to face her. "I'm sorry, Miss Valen, but – ack!"
...
Ancient Rome had its circuses and gladiators; Kingston had superheroes. Thus it was that the police were only able to locate Flynn Rider and the Stabbington brothers because several media helicopters had already latched onto the trio, hoping for a show. The only thing thicker in the air than the choppers was all the hype flying back and forth:
"– notorious criminals Flynn Rider and the Stabbington brothers have taken to the rooftops –"
"– police in hot pursuit –"
"– a necklace that has been passed down from mother to daughter for years. Its estimated value is over –"
"– rumored to be offering a substantial reward –"
"– niece, Anna Valen, courageously raised the alarm after a harrowing encounter –"
"– still no sign of Heroes United –"
"– on them any minute now –"
"And you're waving at them," Speaking Stabbington said, voice dripping with disgust. "Unbelievable. What next? You gonna blow kisses?"
"Depends," replied Flynn, injecting a little something fancy into his vault over some rooftop piping for the benefit of the news cameras. "Can you see which ones have hot anchorwomen in them?"
On the streets several stories below, the chatter on the police frequencies was just as intense – if significantly less chaotic – as that flowing to various news feeds above.
"This is Lieutenant Oberlipp calling Chopper One – do you have visual?"
"Barely, Lieutenant – it's a freaking circus up here! Damn mask-chasing vultures won't get out of the way!"
"Do the perps look like they'll be running out of steam anytime soon?"
"The Stabbingtons look like they got some mileage left in 'em. Rider's eating this up."
"Of course he is. Can you see where they're headed?"
"Still northerly, not that they have much of a choice on this street if they want to keep to high ground. They'll run out of roofs eventually."
"That won't slow 'em down too bad, especially if Heroes United doesn't bother to drag their asses out of bed. There's too many ways for these scumbags to disappear on the north side… Attention, all units: I want everyone to keep herding these three towards downtown – they'll have to go down to street-level there, and we can box them in. Chopper One, let me know the second Rider and the Stabbingtons try to change course!"
"Copy, I'll – whoa!"
"Chopper One, what happened?"
"Sorry, sir – a red-blue-and-yellow blur went zooming by, caught me by surprise. Looks like they got out of bed after all..."
Back on the rooftops, Flynn detected a sound he'd been expecting since he and the brothers had escaped the Florian estate: the fwoosh of roughly a hundred and thirty pounds of human flesh hurtling unaided through the air at a good forty miles per hour. The source of this sound streaked past the thieves and came in for a landing a little way in front of them, revealing itself to be a petite, curvy woman wearing primary colors and a thick layer of white face paint.
"Oh great – Snow White," huffed Speaking Stabbington.
The superheroine thrust her palm out towards the three men charging in her direction and cried, "Halt, villains!"
Flynn knew well enough to skid to a stop and start looking around for alternate exit strategies, as well as any other supers waiting to pop out at him (nobody from Heroes United ever worked alone), but the Stabbington brothers attempted to rush Snow White, because apparently their answer to everything was "beat it to death." This strategy didn't work very well with flying heroes, however, as the twins were reminded when their target leaped daintily back into the air, leaving the Stabbingtons frantically windmilling their arms at the edge of the roof.
"You know resisting arrest just makes things worse for you," Snow White chirped at them.
Speaking Stabbington's response would have been deemed too filthy even for a truck stop.
"Well, that was rude! What would your mother say?" said the highly offended superheroine.
Flynn decided to try and get some useful information before the situation devolved further; in his considerable experience, it never hurt to butter a woman up. "Good morning, dollface – don't you look pretty today!"
Snow White beamed. "Why thank you! Nice to know one of you has some manners." She aimed a significant look at the Stabbingtons, who had redirected their ire towards Flynn once more.
"Do you have to make a pass at everything that moves?" Speaking Stabbington cried.
"Of course not – if I did, that would make our little partnership kind of awkward," Flynn retorted.
"They have a point, actually," Snow White said, as the twins suddenly became preoccupied with turning green around the gills. "You really shouldn't flirt with every girl you see, and especially not with superheroines. Criminals aren't our type, and it makes our menfolk mad."
"Oh yeah?" Flynn smirked. "Is your husband going to jump out and challenge me to a duel, then?"
"Lucky for you, no," Snow White blithely replied. "It's just Crystal, Dreamgirl, and I this morning."
Flynn raised his eyebrows. "Really? Just three against three? I don't know whether to laugh or feel insulted."
Snow White wagged a finger in Flynn's general direction. "Don't get too cocky, Mr. Rider. We should have you boys in custody and the necklace returned to its rightful owners in time for breakfast!"
The criminal trio and their costumed opponent all looked up as a familiar sound, like someone running a finger around the rim of the world's biggest crystal wineglass, made itself heard through the cacophony of police sirens and circling choppers. Yet another helicopter, this one silvery and more delicate than its fellows, appeared in the sky and made a beeline for the rooftop standoff.
"Here come the others now!" chirped Snow White. "Looks like you guys are toast!"
"That's the lamest thing I've heard since… Rider's last pick-up line, actually," deadpanned Speaking Stabbington.
"Now boys, just 'cause I have game while you two couldn't pick up a blind hooker is no reason to be jealous," Flynn replied loftily. "And by the way, dollface, the wind's blowing your skirt up."
"Eep!" In a paroxysm of modesty, Snow White crossed her ankles and fisted the hem of her yellow mini against her thighs, while Flynn hissed "Go!" at the Stabbington twins and bolted for the closest neighboring rooftop.
As the three thieves raced off, the silvery helicopter drew level with the still-dithering Snow White, and a female voice came on over a loudspeaker. "Snow White, what are you doing? They're getting away!"
"My skirt's flying up!" the primary-colored heroine shouted back. "I don't want to flash everyone!"
"Oh, not again…" sighed the voice.
A second woman spoke up. "Sweetie, you have built-in shorts underneath, remember?"
Snow White slapped herself on the forehead. "Oh, right!"
Meanwhile, Flynn and the Stabbingtons were actually sharing a laugh for once. "She falls for it every time!" Flynn guffawed.
"Ha! That's Super-Ditz for you!" Speaking Stabbington replied. "I love seeing those do-gooders get taken down a peg."
"Yep, the egg's on her face this time!"
"No more breakfast puns!"
Flynn was leading the other two on a new, more convoluted path across the rooftops, using any and every possible object in the vicinity to try and break the line of sight between pursuers and pursued. Given that said pursuers were airborne, this strategy wasn't helping the thieves any more than zigzagging helps a rabbit to escape a hawk.
"Run, run, run, as fast as you can…" murmured the shining helicopter's curvaceous, blue-and-silver-clad pilot. "Did Rider just blow a kiss at us?"
Her willowy blonde passenger, Dreamgirl, smiled a little. "'Cheeky,' as my old headmistress would say."
"That's Flynn Rider in a nutshell, isn't it?" Crystal laughed. "Can't take your eyes off that man for a second, or he…" She trailed off, squinting in the direction her targets had been heading. "…should have come out on the other side of that stairwell access by now, shouldn't he?"
Dreamgirl leaned forward. "Did they go inside?"
"I don't see why they would," Crystal replied, swinging the helicopter around for a better look. "Going through a building's not their best option for escape. They might be hiding on the other side, hoping we'll pass them –"
"They're down in the alleys!" Dreamgirl interrupted.
"You see them?"
"Not me – Snow White." The blonde pointed out the window at their teammate, who was frantically waving at the helicopter while jabbing her pointer finger at a spot down between the buildings.
...
"Chopper One to Lieutenant, I have lost visual on the perps – repeat, I have lost visual."
Lieutenant Oberlipp cursed and hit his steering wheel. "Please tell me you have a general idea of where we can pick them up again."
"Well, they were doing a lot of zigzagging, but they were still headed north."
"My morning just keeps getting better," Oberlipp grumbled. "All units, be advised: this is now a manhunt, not a pursuit. Repeat: the pursuit is now a manhunt. HQ, get a BOLO out for Flynn Rider and the Stabbington brothers, put in a note that they're likely headed for the airport or –" The Lieutenant nearly jumped out of his own skin as none other than Flynn Rider suddenly leaped onto the hood of his patrol car.
In his shock, Oberlipp nearly swerved into the next lane; Flynn used the momentum to slingshot himself onto the next car over, then continued to car-hop right across the busy road. The Lieutenant could see the Stabbingtons following suit in the rearview mirror, leaving many dings and dents in their wake.
"Never mind," Oberlipp growled into the radio.
On the other side of the street, Flynn landed on the sidewalk and turned to check who was still following. The Stabbingtons were still a couple cars behind, Snow White and her friends in the fancy helicopter were coming out of the alley he'd just exited, and the patrol car containing the cartoonishly-mustachioed Lieutenant was attempting to bully its way through the multiple-car pileup that a certain pair of ginger man-beasts had managed to cause. Flynn yelled "This way!" and took off towards another side alley just as the Stabbingtons' enormous boots hit the pavement.
Flynn always bragged that he knew the streets of Kingston better than anyone, and he was in his element in the tangle of little-used back alleys that he'd chosen to get lost in. He shot down corridor after corridor and whipped around random corners so quickly that he nearly shook off his partners as well as his pursuers.
"Slow down!" Speaking Stabbington panted. "You're gonna run us right back to the super-hos, or into a dead end!"
"I know exactly where I'm going!" Flynn called back as he raced down one particularly long and twisty alley. "When are you gonna learn to trust my judgment? I mean, have I ever steered you wrong before?"
It was at that exact moment, of course, that the laws of the universe conspired to end the alley in a solid brick wall, forcing all three men to skid to a halt.
"Huh," was all Flynn could come up with.
"We're gonna kill you, Rider," Stabbington Numero Uno told him in a matter-of-fact tone. "After we double back and get the hell out of this cluster%#!&," he amended as the musical, ringing sound of the Heroes United helicopter sang out somewhere nearby.
"Oh yeah, sure, no problem," Flynn said in a distracted sort of way. "Quick question – by any chance, do you remember whether that second-to-last turn was a right or a left? Hey, calm down," he added hastily as the twins' expressions turned murderous. "There's other ways out of this."
"You better come up with one fast," Speaking Stabbington threatened.
Flynn looked up at the walls surrounding them. "Okay, here's the plan – you guys give me a boost up to that fire escape, and I'll lower the ladder for you, and we'll get back up to the rooftops."
The Stabbingtons exchanged a look, and Flynn found himself nervously reconsidering every urban legend about twin telepathy he'd ever heard. After a long, tense moment, three suspicious eyes turned back to Flynn. "Give us the satchel first," Speaking Stabbington demanded.
Flynn reared back and put one hand on his chest – and over the strap of his satchel. "What? I don't believe this… After all we've been through together, you don't trust me?"
All he got in response were two identically stony glares, and what he could swear was the sound of crickets chirping.
"Ouch," Flynn deadpanned. Nevertheless, he slid the satchel off his shoulders and dropped it into Speaking Stabbington's outstretched hand.
One tense and severely awkward minute later, the ringing of the Heroes United helicopter was growing noticeably louder, and Flynn was clambering unsteadily up a stack of Stabbingtons. He made it up Silent Stabbington without too much trouble, but nearly slipped off completely when he tried to climb on top of Speaking Stabbington's shoulders. He managed to catch himself, however, and on the second try, Flynn successfully maneuvered himself into a standing position atop the two-eyed brother's shoulders.
"Okay," he panted, stretching one arm upwards. "I think if I just…" Speaking Stabbington emitted an affronted sort of grunt as Flynn used his head as a springboard and just barely managed to grab hold of the fire escape's bottom edge. Flynn curled his entire body upwards, hooked his boots through the railing, then finally hauled himself onto the fire escape.
"Okay, now lower the ladder, pretty boy," Speaking Stabbington growled. "That damn helicopter's gonna be right on top of us any second!"
Flynn looked down at the twins. "Sorry, guys…" A big fat crocodilian smile spread over the thief's face as he held a suspiciously familiar-looking satchel aloft. "My hands are full!" And with that parting shot, Flynn Rider ducked through an open window and left his partners stranded below.
He found himself inside a musty, overstuffed living room, complete with an old television set and an even older couple sitting on the couch and staring at him.
"Hi," Flynn said casually.
"RIIIDEEERRRR!" Speaking Stabbington's vengeful scream rattled the window.
"Bye," said Flynn, striding to the apartment door and letting himself out.
The female half of the elderly couple shook her head and clucked her tongue. "Young people these days! If he's going to climb in our window uninvited, he could at least stay for breakfast like a civilized human being."
The window's somewhat dusty curtains suddenly billowed as a brisk wind and a high, crystalline sound invaded the apartment. The old man twisted a knobby finger in his ear. "There goes my hearing again – my ears are ringing!"
"Stay right where you are and put your hands where we can see them!" boomed a female voice from the alley outside.
The old woman sniffed. "No, dear, that's just the sound of the neighborhood going bad."
...
Meanwhile, Flynn was on the hunt for an unoccupied apartment on the other side of the building. He found one with several days' worth of mail piled in front of the door two floors above the elderly couple. He was a little disappointed to discover that he didn't even need to break out his lock-picking tools to get inside – there was a spare key under the welcome mat. Mere seconds later, he was leaning out the apartment window, assessing his options for escape. The fire escape on this side of the building was several windows down and out of his reach, but this particular alley was festooned with clotheslines, and the building opposite had a drainpipe almost directly across from him.
Flynn leaped from the windowsill to the nearest clothesline; he hooked his ankles up around it, and pulled himself across the alley upside-down. Upon reaching the other side, he had to swing a bit to get one hand and foot on the drainpipe, but once he had it, ascending back to roof-level was as easy as taking a satchel off a Stabbington. As he neared the top of the pipe, Flynn turned to look for the Heroes United squad. He could just see the silvery helicopter parked on the roof of the building he'd just come through; and if he listened closely, he could detect the sound of a raging brawl going on somewhere in the alleys below. Flynn grinned, and pulled himself onto the roof.
"Alone at last!" he said, patting his satchel affectionately as he strode off across the roof. "Now you and me are gonna catch a plane and fly off into the sunset together."
Flynn froze mid-stride as an enormous cluster of icicles suddenly blossomed into existence right in front of him. After a second spent trying to mentally process what the hell had just happened, he took a careful step back from the razor-sharp spike of ice that had been trying to get into very intimate contact with his nostrils, and turned to see who was making his life difficult now. The culprit turned out to be a young woman with a thick, white-blonde braid and a mask that covered everything below her eyes, which were currently glaring daggers at Flynn.
"I gotta admit," Flynn said conversationally, "out of all the supers in this town, I was not expecting you."
"Bad luck for you, then," the woman replied flatly.
"Snow Queen, right?" Flynn asked.
The masked woman's shoulders jerked in a stiff shrug. "So they call me."
"Well then," Flynn pasted on his signature panty-dropping grin (patent pending). "How may I be of service?"
"Don't. Even. Start." The Snow Queen pointed her finger at him, emitting a small warning burst of ice crystals.
Flynn raised his hands and laughed. "Easy! What's got you in such a bad mood this time? And please don't say it's lady problems, I don't need to hear about it."
"I'm in a bad mood," the Snow Queen snapped, "because somebody broke into a family's home, stole an item meant for charity, and threatened a teenage girl!"
Flynn blinked. "Wow. So who pissed you off so much that you had to bury the whole city in a random blizzard last month?"
"None of your business," the Snow Queen replied shortly. "Now hand over the man-bag."
"Man-bag?! Excuse me, this is a satchel!" squawked Flynn.
"Oh please, you're basically walking around with a purse."
"It is not a purse!"
"So you're not carrying jewelry in it right now?" the Snow Queen deadpanned.
Flynn scowled. "For the last time," he said through gritted teeth, "it is a satchel. And who are you to talk anyway, Madam Hooker Boots?"
"Hooker -!" the Snow Queen bit off her reply, and took a deep, calming breath. "No, this is stupid – I don't care what you call it, just hand it over!"
"Hmm…" Flynn stroked his goatee. "Nah." And he was off once again, with the Snow Queen in not-so-hot pursuit.
Flynn took a flying leap onto the next rooftop over. He glanced back over his shoulder to see if and how the Snow Queen would follow him across that gap; to his irritation, an ice bridge formed under her feet as she ran after him. The good news was that he was already gaining some distance on her – maybe it was her newbie status, or the heels on those thigh-high boots, but the Snow Queen wasn't nearly as fast as Flynn.
As it turned out, however, she didn't need to be. All she had to do was continually cut him off and slow him down by throwing gigantic clusters of bristling icicles in his path. In order to avoid getting impaled or turned into an ice sculpture himself, Flynn had to concentrate twice as hard on evasion as usual, which was both annoying and a little embarrassing. He was supposed to be halfway to the airfield by now, not messing around with Kingston's latest super-wannabe. He was finally forced to admit that it was time to change tactics when the Snow Queen hit upon the idea of covering an entire rooftop in a slick layer of ice, effectively transforming it into a high-rise skating rink and causing Flynn to fall flat on his face in a spectacularly undignified fashion.
He lay still, taking the opportunity to catch his breath a little as he listened to the Snow Queen's heels click closer. How she was managing to remain in an upright position, he couldn't imagine. Her footsteps slowed as she drew nearer to his prone form, holding her hands cautiously out in front of her.
"Ready to surrender yet?" she asked.
Just a little closer, Frosty, Flynn mentally coaxed her. Out loud, all he said was, "Not too bad… for a newbie."
"Oh, you don't know the half of what I can do," the Snow Queen replied darkly. "Believe me, I'm going easy on you." She was almost on top of him…
"In that case – allow me to express my gratitude!" Flynn planted his palms firmly underneath him and swept his legs into the Snow Queen's ankles. She crashed onto her back, cracking her head against her own ice and getting the wind knocked right out of her. Flynn scrambled to his feet and began slip-sliding his way towards the stairwell access; his only opportunity to get away would be while she was still dazed.
The Snow Queen finally succeeded in sucking air back into her lungs just as she heard a door crash open. She struggled her way upright, ignoring the dizziness caused by her fall, and staggered towards the stairwell door, still open and swinging in the breeze. Inside, she leaned over the railing, only to see very brief flashes of Flynn moving side-to-side and steadily downwards. It took her a second to realize that he was forgoing the usual way of traversing stairs, and was instead vaulting directly from flight to flight. The Snow Queen raised her right hand, but in the narrow stairwell, each flight blocked the one below it – she had no way to block her quarry, unless she were to try hitting him directly in the brief half-second that he appeared between levels, and that she was not willing to do, not even to a scumbag like Flynn Rider. She growled in frustration, then took off down the steps two at a time.
Several stories below, Flynn spotted a "1st Floor" sign on the wall and leaped the last few steps to the landing. He rushed through the door and found himself traveling through the rather dingy lobby of an apartment building. Ignoring the raised eyebrows of the surly guy manning the counter, he passed through the front doors into a slightly wider and cleaner alleyway than the ones he'd led the Stabbington brothers into. To his left, the alley branched off and became part of the maze again; to his right, it opened onto a busy street a few blocks down. Flynn hesitated; he could easily disappear into the labyrinth of alleyways again, but the Snow Queen would surely expect him to go that way, and if she managed to find him again in those narrow corridors, a few well-placed walls of ice would be more than sufficient to trap him. There was also a small chance that he might run back into the ladies from Heroes United in there, or possibly even the police, but the way his luck was going today, he had a nasty feeling that those odds would betray him. On the other hand, the street was more exposed than he'd like, but he could get lost in the crowd…
Not even a second after Flynn made his decision and passed out of view of the lobby, the Snow Queen burst through the stair doors, breathing hard. The doorman's eyes threatened to pop right out of his orbital sockets as the masked woman marched up to the counter, pinned him with an icy blue glare, and demanded, "Which way did he go?"
...
Flynn cursed silently as he weaved his way through the swarm of pedestrians; thanks to Madam Hooker Boots, he'd been chased all the way back to the same street that he'd originally entered the alleyways from, and he was even a few blocks further south. So much lost ground – and wasted energy! A few people did a double-take as he passed them, but he moved on too fast for them to definitively identify him (or so he hoped). Flynn maneuvered toward the edge of the sidewalk, casually glancing inside the parked cars lined up there on the off chance that one might have been left carelessly unlocked. A busy road was not the ideal location for grand theft auto, but at this point, traveling by car was quickly becoming Flynn's best option – he'd be able to move through the city faster, and he'd be mostly shielded from both prying eyes and the attacks of meddling supers.
Someone behind him shrieked. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he turned to see people about a block behind him hastily making way for a very familiar head of white-blonde hair. Flynn swore out loud and doubled his pace. He didn't even slow down at the next crosswalk, though it was occupied by moving traffic at that particular moment – he simply ran out between the cars, hood-sliding across one that hadn't been able to stop quickly enough. Leaving a discordant chorus of honks behind him, Flynn continued down the next block… and came to a dead stop as he spotted an entire pack of patrol cars parked up ahead.
Heart hammering, Flynn was just about to try car-surfing his way across the street again, when he realized that the police cruisers were gathered haphazardly in front of the very alley that he and the Stabbingtons had escaped down, lights still flashing and doors left hanging open from when the boys in blue had rushed out of them to pursue three suspects into the alleyways. Empty! Flynn grinned, hardly daring to believe his luck; what better way to escape both police and vigilantes than with an official law enforcement vehicle? This was going to be nothing short of legendary.
As traffic back at the intersection screeched to a halt once again to let the Snow Queen pass (they didn't dare honk at her), Flynn squeezed his way through the small crowd that had congregated curiously around the patrol cars and made a beeline for the one with his own boot-prints on the hood. He flashed a smirk at the flabbergasted onlookers as he slid nonchalantly into the driver's seat of Lieutenant Oberlipp's own vehicle and closed the door behind him.
The effect of such audacity was thoroughly ruined when a loud snarling noise erupted right behind Flynn's right ear, causing him to let out a somewhat-less-than-manly scream and literally hit the ceiling of the car. He whipped around, was greeted by the sight of exceedingly long sharp teeth, screamed again, and instinctively reared back, wedging himself between the door and the steering wheel.
Why the %#!& does the Lieutenant have a rabid dog in his car?! Flynn thought wildly. Then he saw that the white shepherd was wearing a K-9 jacket, and realized it was supposed to be that vicious. He also solved the mystery of how his head was still safely attached to his shoulders; there was a metal grille between the front and back seats of the vehicle, which the beast was trying its damnedest to claw and bite its way through, all the while snarling ferociously.
"Seriously?! I can't catch a break today!" Flynn shouted. Through the passenger-side window, he caught sight of the crowd parting, revealing the Snow Queen. Her eyes bugged out as she caught sight of where he was sitting, and Flynn would have bet good money that her jaw had dropped under that mask.
"Looks like you're coming with, fleabag," Flynn said, swinging back into the driver's seat. As he turned the keys in the ignition, the Snow Queen unfroze and raced towards the car. He threw the cruiser into reverse and shot backwards without even bothering to look behind him; the back bumper hit another car on the front passenger side, and the dog was knocked off the grille and to the floor. Flynn hauled the gear shift into drive, flattened the gas pedal, and screeched away, leaving the Snow Queen coughing and gagging in the cloud of smoke and exhaust he left behind.
As he wove between the other cars, Flynn started hitting every button he could find on the dashboard. "Where is…? There we go!" he said as he finally got the siren going. Not realizing that he was not on legitimate police business, traffic parted like the Red Sea before Moses, and Flynn started pushing the cruiser faster and faster.
"Heh, this is actually a lot of fun," he mused aloud. "No wonder the boys in blue are always screaming around town in these things."
He glanced in the rearview mirror as the snarling started up behind his head again. "Yeesh, what are you – part direwolf?"
"Arr-nyarr-nyarr!" replied the dog, trying to gnaw through the grille again. Behind its pointy-eared head, through the rear window, Flynn could see something flashing.
"What…?" He squinted at the mirror. After a few seconds, his eyes widened as he figured out what was causing the flash. "Oh, hell no!"
A few blocks behind the commandeered police car, and about as many stories up, the Snow Queen was creating an ice bridge across the sides of the buildings with one hand, and propelling herself along by shooting icy blasts of wind out of the other. The speed at which she was traveling was actually making her incredibly nervous, but she didn't see that she had much of a choice if she was going to catch Flynn Rider.
"You think you're so clever, don't you, using other people as human shields?" she muttered. "Is there anything you won't stoop to? You'll slip eventually – all I need one opening, and you're mine!"
Down in the patrol car, Flynn flattened the gas pedal against the floor. "Okay, Queenie – let's see exactly how fast you can travel that way!"
...
A good ten minutes later, somewhere in northeast Kingston –
"What do I have to do to get rid of this woman?" Flynn cried.
The police dog growled at him from the back seat. It had given up on forcing its way through the grille after it had ripped a couple claws off and its gums started bleeding, and now it seemed to have settled for trying to strike Flynn dead with the power of its glare alone.
"Of course, it might help if this stupid city didn't have such god-awful traffic," Flynn grumbled. "I have a freakin' siren, people – get out of my way!"
Up on her ice ramp, the Snow Queen's face was splattered with bug guts, her hair was coming half out of its braid, and her arms were trembling. "Where's the traffic jam in this stupid city when you need one?" she groaned. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up… God, I can't catch one lousy criminal, but I can cover an entire city in four feet of snow –" Her eyes widened. "Right. New plan." She coasted to a stop, and raised her aching arms.
The temperature plummeted, and a veritable tidal wave of snow swept over the street below. Both Flynn and the dog yelped as the cruiser spun out of control – it ricocheted off another unfortunate vehicle and ploughed into a drift, throwing both occupants around like rag dolls before finally slamming to a halt. Flynn groaned, gingerly feeling for any bumps on his forehead that the steering wheel might have left behind. "Goddamn ice witch…" The dog, now looking rather cross-eyed, groaned back at him.
Flynn shook his head and blinked rapidly, trying to re-focus his sudden case of double-vision. A pair of dark shapes outside the driver's-side window slowly merged, and resolved themselves into the Snow Queen striding toward the car. Flynn was dazed and temporarily out of ideas; he could only watch as she walked up to his door, reached for the handle, and –
Ka-chunk.
The thief and the ice witch blinked at each other, then looked down at the door. It was locked; and despite the disbelieving Snow Queen yanking on the handle a few more times, it stayed locked. Flynn burst out laughing – of all the things to finally trip her up! The Snow Queen scowled at him through the window and jabbed a finger insistently at the lock. He responded by showing her his finger. She let out a yell of frustration and swung her arms over her head and back down at the ground, rows of icicles springing up around her; Flynn only laughed harder. Running her hands over her hair, the Snow Queen paced a short distance away, then turned back to stare thoughtfully at the car with her arms akimbo while Flynn made a show of leaning back in his seat with his arms folded behind his head and his feet up on the dashboard.
The Snow Queen's gaze dropped to the icicles she'd left by the cruiser. She narrowed her eyes and raised her hand, and that insufferably smug grin dropped right off Flynn's face as a new set of icicles pierced the door seam and started wedging it open. The dog pinned its ears back, snarling and barking wildly at the door as it buckled and squealed in protest.
"You're on your own, mutt!" Flynn said, sliding over to the passenger side and letting himself out the other door. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, he took off running, and the Snow Queen followed.
He made for an alleyway, with no other strategy in mind than to get good old asphalt under his feet again. As he entered, his eyes fell on an old-school metal trash can; he snatched up the lid, then whipped around and flung it Frisbee-style at the Snow Queen. She barely got a shield up in time, but wasn't able to check her own momentum, and both she and the trash can lid bounced off the ice almost simultaneously. She scrambled back to her feet, cursing as she saw that Rider had wasted no time in gaining precious ground – he had already reached the street at the other end of the alley.
Flynn exploded onto the road, heedless of all pedestrians and vehicles that only just avoided colliding with him. Upon reaching the other side, he turned to run along the sidewalk, turning his head slightly to check that the Snow Queen was still following; he glimpsed her now rather crazy-looking towhead coming out of the alleyway and diving into traffic after him. He set his jaw and kept to his course. He now knew what he had to do to get the Snow Queen off his tail – he couldn't evade her, and he couldn't outrun her, which meant the only option left was to take her out. All he had to do was maneuver her into a position where he could get the jump on her.
As he raced up one street after another, making sharp turns at random and weaving between both cars and people, Flynn searched for a good spot to make his move. An alleyway corner or dumpster, perhaps? Too easy for her to trap him before he could even get that far – there was a reason he was sticking to the more open and populated streets. Could he pop out at her from behind a car? Too exposed for his liking, and too many variables with so many people around; same problem with luring her inside a building. He'd have only one shot at knocking out the Snow Queen, so the location he picked had to be as close to foolproof as he could get. He needed to find something soon, too, before she dumped six feet of snow on him again. So far, the only thing that had served to shield him and slow the ice witch down any appreciable amount had been that stairwell… of course! The access on the roof! Flynn scanned the street signs as he reached another intersection; if he remembered correctly, there was a tenement building a few blocks south on the next street over.
He launched into a full-out run – at this point, the more space he could put between himself and the Snow Queen, the better. As Flynn threaded through the crowds, he kicked up and off cars and walls and all sorts of other objects, bypassing all obstacles in his path without once having to slow down. At long last, he skidded to a halt at the tenement's front door. Here, he paused briefly to check on the Snow Queen one last time; she was nearly a full block behind him.
Flynn let himself into the building, leaving the door open for good measure, and bolted across the lobby into the stairwell. Once again, he didn't bother with the actual steps – he just clambered straight up the railings. Flynn managed to travel up several floors this way before he heard the ground floor door crash open, taking that as his cue to get off the rails and switch to traversing the stairs three at a time and vaulting the corners.
As Flynn Rider barreled ever higher towards the roof, the Snow Queen was fervently wishing that whoever had invented stairs had gone to Hell after they died. Her face was bright red underneath all the bug guts, her lungs and throat were on fire, and she hurt all over – she wanted nothing more than to just lay down and die in peace, but she was determined to catch that thief if it was the last thing she did (and at this rate, it would be!). The Snow Queen lunged up the steps two at a time, leaving patches of ice behind wherever she pulled on the metal railing. She looked up at the never-ending spiral of flights despairingly; could she turn the stairs into a ramp and slide her way up? It would certainly be easier, but she wasn't certain how fast she could take all those tight corners without breaking her neck – or throwing up. Far above her head, the Snow Queen heard the echoes of a door opening and closing, and realized that she didn't have a choice.
Flynn pressed his back against the stairway door as he performed a quick scan of the rooftop. There was the roof of the stairwell access itself, a large air duct to his left… He heard a soft noise off to his right, but it only turned out to be some kind of reptile perched on a cluster of piping. "Okay," Flynn said with a slightly breathless chuckle, "the old "drop on her head puma-style" trick it is." He took one step off the door –
And was promptly flattened beneath it as the Snow Queen burst through in a flurry of snow and icicles. She looked wildly around the seemingly-empty rooftop. "No! Where are you?" She heard a groan, and glanced down to see one of Flynn Rider's hands sticking out from underneath the door that she was currently standing on. "Oh!" she cried in surprise. Then – "Oh!" She'd done it – she'd actually caught him! A small, breathless laugh escaped her, but then she collected herself and put her hands on her hips. "All right, Rider – slide that man-bag out, nice and slow."
The door shifted beneath her feet, causing her to wobble a bit, and Flynn's hand was dragged out of sight. "Okay… that's it," came a muffled grunt. "I've had it."
The Snow Queen's blue eyes gleamed with triumph. One split second later, both she and the door were suddenly flung aside. Lying slightly stunned on the asphalt, she looked up to see Flynn Rider coming at her – face scraped, nose bleeding, eyes blazing with pure hatred. "Now I'm pissed," he growled. He cocked a fist, and swung it straight at her face.
The Snow Queen reflexively threw up her hands; to her surprise as much as Flynn's, a sheet of ice formed over her palms, and the thief's knuckles collided against it with a cringe-inducing crack.
"Gah!" Flynn yelped, leaping away and shaking his hand. "Mother of –!"
The Snow Queen scrambled to her feet, skittering away from Flynn, who was still hopping around in the throes of agony, and holding her new shield in front of her nose. "Rider," she addressed him, trying not to sound as shaken as she actually felt, "Don't be stupid. You don't want to fight me – it won't end well."
An ugly laugh came out of the still-writhing Flynn. "Do you really think I'm just going to roll over and give myself up, Queenie? Just because of a little ice?"
"This is suicidal – I told you I've been going easy on you! If you just hand over the man-bag –"
"Let's get our definitions straight here," Flynn interrupted, shaking his hand out one last time and rounding on the Snow Queen once again. "This –" he laid a hand on the leather bag swinging by his hip, "– is a satchel. I am the guy who's leaving town with it, and you," he pointed at her, "are dead meat."
"I'm serious, Rider!" The Snow Queen was all but shouting at this point. "Don't make me hurt you!"
Flynn didn't listen. The Snow Queen lifted her shield again as he charged at her, but he grabbed it and used it to throw her back to the ground. She rolled, barely avoiding the axe kick directed at her head. The Snow Queen threw up a barrier of icicles as Flynn came after her, giving him pause just long enough for her to get back to her feet. She raised her hands, and her opponent glared at her warily. The two combatants circled slowly, each carefully considering their next move. The Snow Queen raised two slabs of ice and tried to sandwich Flynn between them, but he wriggled away. He zigzagged back towards her – every time she tried to place an obstacle in his path, she found that he was already somewhere else. Her heart leaped into her throat as he materialized directly in front of her, and she flinched back, lifting her hands to block her face again; this time, however, Flynn was aiming at her stomach. Since the Snow Queen was already moving backwards, it wasn't as debilitating a blow as he had intended, but she still got the breath knocked out of her a little. Choosing to ignore the fact that the Snow Queen's forced exhalation had covered the front of his vest with a light dusting of frost, Flynn swept her legs out from under her. She instinctively grabbed for the nearest object as she fell, and Flynn only just caught the strap of his satchel as she dragged it off his shoulder.
He exchanged a surprised look with the Snow Queen, whom he had inadvertently prevented from falling all the way to the asphalt when he grabbed his satchel. Flynn tried to yank it away, but she held on, and serendipitously found herself pulled back to her feet. The Snow Queen planted one boot in Flynn's abdomen and pulled back on the satchel with all her might, and thus the epic battle devolved into a petty game of tug-o'-war.
"Let go!" The Snow Queen grunted at Flynn.
"You let go!" Flynn retorted, hauling on the beleaguered satchel. "I stole that necklace fair and square!"
"You have no right to it!"
"Possession is nine-tenths of the law!"
"That doesn't apply to depraved thieves with man-purses!"
"For the last time, it is a –"
Klong!
Flynn slumped insensate to the ground, and the Snow Queen tumbled backwards, now in sole possession of the ambiguously-termed bag. She had no time to savor the victory, however, as something swooped down on her, and everything went black.
Ack! Look at that – Anna made an appearance in the very first chapter! I'll be honest, I wasn't planning on that; I was originally going to have Flynn screw up the clean getaway by sassing a security guard, like he did in the movie, but then that whole scene with Anna and her scary morning hair and her inability to mentally process things before she's fully awake just popped into my brain, and I knew I had to use it.
My sister was reading the flashback, and came up with a funny little what-if: It turns out that the nameless brunette was just making stuff up to try and seem more impressive, so the necklace is not in the solarium, and the Stabbingtons are NOT PLEASED, to put it mildly ("A very reliable source, huh?!"). How embarrassing (:} Luckily for Flynn, I am the one writing this instead of my sister, so instead of getting duped, caught, and thrown in jail in short order, he just gets traumatized by Anna's hair, chased all over town by irritated women, then clobbered with a door and a frying pan. Am I not merciful? He deserves worse, frankly – I feel like I spent half this chapter demonstrating just how overinflated his ego is.
Just in case you were wondering, Elsa did not throw on thigh-high boots specifically to go confront a thief; in fact, she threw on a mask and jacket and kind of forgot about her footwear entirely. Otherwise, she probably would've slipped into something more practical. Why would she be wearing thigh-highs casually around the house? Don't ask me – I'm still trying to figure out why the movie showed her wearing a sparkly, off-the-shoulder dress slit up to her hip while living alone in a remote ice castle! Who was the beneficiary of that supposed to be – her own reflection? An imaginary boyfriend? Lost hikers?! She must have been very repressed during all those years locked in her bedroom…
Last but not least, my apologies to any Snow White fans reading this, but she really is kind of a ditz. Sweet and cheerful as can be, but still a ditz. Did you know that in the original Grimm version of the tale, the queen made three attempts to kill Snow White while she was living with the dwarves, and she still kept taking gifts from strangers?