Olivia Benson, Alex Cabot and all other characters from Law & Order: Special Victims Unit are owned by Dick Wolf and NBC/Universal.

The character of Batman was created by Bob Kane and Bill Finger. Batman/Bruce Wayne, Batgirl/Barbra Gordon, Robin/Dick Grayson, and all over Batman characters are owned by DC Comics.

Superman, Supergirl, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Hawkman and Hawkgirl, as well as the Justice League, are all owned by DC Comics.

I'm not making any money off of this story. It's just a fanfic written for kicks and giggles.

Note: In this story, Olivia and Alex are lovers. If you have a problem with that sort of thing, then consider yourself warned. Also, be warned that this story gets very dark.

Batman & Benson 4

Chapter One

He still remembered the days of light and warmth, back before the accident, back when he was still human.

He recalled a bright summer's day, from what now felt like a thousand years ago, when he and his beloved wife both played hooky from their respective jobs. They had a picnic in the park, and he watched her lounge flat on her back, her blond hair spread out in a fan tail against the blanket; she lazily gazed up at him with pure love in her eyes as he very gently massaged her face with the tips of his fingers.

The sight of her as she lay on the blanket, smiling serenely with her eyes closed, as he delicately traced the outline of her face with his fingers, still haunted him. Just when it looked as if she had fallen asleep, he leaned over and kissed her gently--and her faint smile became a broad grin as she opened her eyes and tightly embraced him in return. They had kissed passionately.

This was the image that kept him going through the dark days after the accident. He had wandered the city, confused, dazed--not even knowing who he was, at first. But he remembered her. And her memory was what brought him back from the edge of madness. Despite what happened to him, in spite of the inhuman monster that he had become, her loving memory had kept him sane. Just the knowledge that there was a kind, caring woman out there who loved and cherished him was enough to keep him from committing the blackest, most vile thoughts that ran through his mind.

Once his memories of his wife had fully returned, once he truly remembered who she was and how much she had meant to him, he sought her out. Where they used to live was still somewhat fuzzy to him--but he recalled seeing her in a specific building every single day, and so he figured that this must have been the place they called home.

But once he arrived at the very building that he recognized so well from his memories, he was stunned to see that it was a hospital. He climbed the outer walls--he could do things like this now--until he reached the window of the room where he had so often visited his wife.

And he saw her.

She now lay so still and lifeless in the hospital bed, that she might as well be dead. The sight of her like this brought back more memories for him--bad memories of how her young, vital life had been unjustly cut short by a dreadful disease.

He now remembered how he had tried to save her. He was working on a way to keep her disease-ridded body preserved until a cure could be found. Yet, because of the very same accident that had changed him into this shambling thing, whatever hope of saving his wife had died right along with his humanity.

Wracked with grief and remorse, he began to cry, right there on the windowsill. When he heard a faint clinking sound, he glanced down and saw that his tears had turned into little ice droplets that fell on the concrete.

There was a shrill scream from below. He turned to see several people in the parking lot, all staring fearfully up at him. Their presence enraged him. Because of them, he was being denied what little time he had left with his beloved.

A pair of security guards ran out with their guns drawn. "Oh, good God!" one of them cried in horror. "What the hell is that thing?!"

The other guard took careful aim and fired his gun.

He felt a slight sting as the bullet entered his left shoulder, which caused him to roar in anger as his hand clenched into a fist. It was hard for him to speak, now--his mouth no longer worked like it used to. When he unclenched his hand, a razor-sharp icicle now lay in his palm. He threw it at the guard, who took a step back as the icicle impaled the asphalt ground in front of him like a spear through soft earth.

He then climbed up to the roof and ran across to the other side of the building. Once at the ledge, he jumped over to the roof of the other building. He continued this process until he was several blocks away, on top of an abandoned building. He was surprised at how he wasn't even out of breath--which was amazing, considered how he'd just been shot.

Another memory emerged from the dimness of his long-gone past; it was an emotion more than anything else: pure hatred. There were a trio of names attached to this hatred: Walter Larson, Donald Watts and Peter Greene, the chief administrator, head of security and lead researcher at the Gotham City division of Star Labs, respectively. They had tried to stop his research to preserve his beloved--to the point where he had to go into the lab after hours, just like that night when he had…the…accident.

But his accident…was no accident, was it? Larson, Watts and Greene had sought to stop him by sabotaging his experiment. As the memories of his previous life returned, as everything that had occurred became crystal clear, his rage only intensified.

He glanced at his wounded shoulder, and could actually see the bullet through the opaque skin. It looked as if it was getting bigger--wait, no; not bigger…the bullet was being pushed up out of the skin. He watched, fascinated, as the bullet broke through the surface of his icy skin and harmlessly fell to the ground.

The skin on his shoulder then instantly healed, as good as new. He flexed his arm, and there was even no pain--it was as if he had never been shot. He may have lost his humanity, but he gained something else: superpowers. And he realized that with these newfound powers, if he had to helplessly watch his wife die, and then live out the remainder of his own life as this hideous, misbegotten creature, he could at least make sure that certain people paid dearly for their part in this tragedy.

What was that old saying again? Ah, yes, he remembered now: Revenge is a dish that was best served cold.

Chunks of ice cracked and fell from his face as he smiled viciously.

It was about to get very cold in Gotham City….

B&B

Inspector Olivia Benson of the Gotham City Special Victim's Unit sat in the passenger seat of the squad car with a small smile on her face. Any time she busted the chops of a scumbag was very pleasurable for her, and this moment was the calm before the fun began, so to speak. Linda Preston, Olivia's assistant and much-valued Girl Friday, sat in the driver's seat. Both women wore bulletproof vests with the letters GCPD written on the chest and back. They were parked about half a block away from Penguin's Retreat, a new nightclub that had recently opened--and which was the focus of tonight's raid.

Olivia glanced up and down the rain-soaked street as Linda consulted her police dispatch radio. The wet asphalt shined under the street lights. Olivia realized that the rain might thin the crowds tonight--but then again, the crowds weren't whom they were actually targeting with this raid.

Linda turned to Olivia and said, "Everybody's ready, boss."

Olivia gave her a broad smile as she gestured at the night club and said, "Knock, knock, Linda."

Linda keyed her dispatch radio. "All units, move in. I say again: everybody move in now."

Olivia watched with satisfaction at the small army of police officers--half of whom were clad in the intimidating black armor of the tactical response team--as they emerged from several nondescript vans and trucks and raced across the street to the Penguin's Retreat nightclub.

As she and Linda got out of the car, Olivia grinned broadly at the sight of several large, bull-like men who looked like mobsters, as well as their molls, who frantically ran for their lives--only to still be caught by the swarming uniformed police. The tactical boys ignored the action on the street and charged straight into the nightclub in full force. And that was where Olivia wanted to be.

When she entered the nightclub, Olivia saw pandemonium as both patrons and waitresses were rounded up by the tactical team. The waitresses were clad in scant tuxedo costumes with fishnet stockings and heels. One of them glared angrily at Olivia.

"Hey, what's going on?!" she said. Judging by her heavy accent, she sounded like she was fresh off the rough and tumble streets of the Southside of Gotham City. "I ain't done nothing wrong, here, toots!"

"If you ain't done nothing wrong," Olivia said, mimicking her accent. "Then you ain't got nothing to worry about, then. Right, toots?"

"Youse making fun of me?" the waitress said, as she took a step towards Olivia. "Why, I oughta…."

Olivia turned to face the woman. "You oughta…what?"

The waitress--seeing that Olivia had not backed down--instantly lost her luster for battle right there and then. "Um, nothing…."

"That was the smartest thing you did all night," Linda told her.

"Get over to the wall with the others," Olivia ordered the waitress, who sullenly did what she was told. "And keep your mouth shut."

"Inspector Benson!"

"Yeah," Olivia called, as she walked over to Mike Reynolds and Andrea Rowan, two of her best detectives in the Gotham City SVU. They stood by a table with a man whom they had placed in handcuffs. "What's up?"

"Meet George Martina," Andrea said with a smile. "He's wanted on several charges of child molestation and attempted kidnapping in Metropolis."

"Why, hello George," Olivia cheerily said to the red-faced man. "Nice to meet you!"

"This is a huge misunderstanding," he cried. "I'm not the guy you think I am!"

"You can explain that to the Metropolis police," Mike said. "They'll also be very happy to see you, I'm sure."

"Andrea, Mike--great catch," Olivia complimented them, as they led Martina away.

Although pleased to have caught one scumbag, Olivia still scanned the crowds, looking for one face in particular--whom she was annoyed to see was not there. "Don't tell me he's not even in tonight…."

Bob Kale, the commander of the tactical squad, appeared on the balcony directly above them. "Inspector Benson," he called. "We've found Big Bird in his nest up here."

"Good." Olivia nodded, happy. She turned to Linda and added, "Let's go pay the little bastard a visit, shall we?"

They walked up a grand, sweeping staircase and entered a large office--Olivia noted with disgust that it was bigger than her entire apartment--and found their quarry seated in a huge recliner chair behind a majestic desk.

Oswald Cobblepott, a.k.a. The Penguin, didn't show any outward sign of annoyance at their presence; instead he calmly sat back with a broad smile that made the cigarette holder in his mouth flip upwards. He regarded Olivia with one eye behind a monocle, and was clad in a black tuxedo. This outfit--along with his thin, pointy nose, pale skin, and short, squat body--actually helped to make him look like the very artic bird that he was named after.

"Waugh! Waugh! Waugh!" The Penguin barked out that mystifying laughter of his, as he slapped his knee. "Well, well, if it isn't Inspector Olivia Benson, commander of the prestigious Special Victims Unit. And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, my dear?"

As Olivia glared back at this loathsome little man, the horrifying memory of Alex--her Alex--locked up in a cage like an animal, came back to her. The Penguin was the one who had kept Alex, along with a host of other poor women, caged up to be sold the world over as sex slaves. It was a horrendous crime that the Penguin managed to walk on--thanks to a stupid technicality. And it took everything Olivia had right now to keep from grabbing the little rotten bastard's head and bash it repeatedly against the nice, shiny surface of his mahogany desk.

But Olivia knew far better then to do something like that. Instead, she just smiled sweetly. "We got a complaint that you've been selling alcohol to minors here, Penguin. We're just checking it out."

"Oh, heavens, no!" he cried, looking outraged. "My establishment would never do any such thing. As it stands, the bouncers at the door prevent any misguided little underage darlings who might try and gain access."

"Yeah, well, we still have to check out any reports," Olivia said with a shrug.

"With a full complement of tactical police?" the Penguin asked. "Isn't that overkill, Inspector--even for you? Oh, but then, the Gotham City Police Force has been rather overzealous of late. Why, just last week, I was closed down for several days because my liquor license had come under question. And the week before that, I was shut down because they thought I had violated fire safety regulations."

"Uh, the fire code thing--that wasn't us," Olivia said with a shake of her head. "That was the fire department."

"Yes, but with all of this constant interference, I might start thinking that the powers that be here in Gotham City had it in for me," he said, with a broad grin. "If I suffered from a persecution complex, that is."

Olivia merely smiled back at him as she and Linda went over to speak with Mike, who stood in the doorway to the Penguin's office. Olivia knew full well that the Penguin was actually right; all of this was indeed a concentrated harassment campaign against him that had been launched by the Mayor and Commissioner Gordon. With the recent murder of mob boss Rupert Thorne by Two-Face, there was presently a power vacuum in the underworld within Gotham City, and Gordon and the Mayor very much wanted to keep it that way.

But once the Penguin was released from jail with all charges dropped, everyone feared that he might seize control of what was once Thorne's domain. Nobody believed the Penguin was really on the up and up, even after the little slug had seemingly set himself up as a legitimate businessman as the owner of this nightclub. And so began what Harvey Bullock jokingly called "operation ball buster," where the combined efforts of the city's agencies set out to harass the Penguin into either slipping up and getting himself sent back to jail--or have him get so annoyed that he would just leave the city altogether.

But if he had any illegal operations running, he kept them well-hidden. And even Olivia grudgingly admitted that the Penguin was a hard man to intimidate; so far--much to everyone's consternation--he was staying put within Gotham City, despite their constant harassment.

"What do you have, Mike?" Olivia asked hopefully.

He shook his head. "Other than finding Martina here, absolutely nothing. All of the patrons present tonight are well over the legal age. Maybe you can hang Martina over his head? Try and shake him with that?"

"No," Olivia said miserably. "He'll just claim that Martina was just another patron--which he no doubt actually was."

"So it's a bust, then," Linda said with a sigh.

"As far as I'm concerned, catching Martina made this whole thing worth it," Olivia told her. "And, besides, while the Penguin's not showing it, I know that all of this has got to be ruffling his feathers, big time."

They walked back into the office, where Olivia told Bob Kale to order his people to pack it in. She then turned to a grinning Penguin and formally announced they were leaving.

"I must say, Inspector Benson, you are looking very tanned and rested," he said, with that broad grin still on his face. "Have you recently come back from vacation?"

"From the Caribbean," she said curtly--wanting nothing more now than to leave.

"I'll admit, Inspector, that the sight of you in a bikini would be quite lovely to behold," he said in a leering tone. "Perhaps you would be so kind to wear one the next time you come to harass me. Waugh! Waugh! Waugh!"

Linda let out a short gasp of shock, while Mike shot him a dangerous look. But Olivia refused to let Penguin get her goat that easily. As she continued to walk out of his office with Linda and Mike, Olivia said over her shoulder: "In your dreams, Bird-Boy!"

"Ah, but you've no doubt went to the Caribbean with your dear love, Alexandra Cabot," Penguin called after her. "Now she must be quite a sight in a bikini! Especially seeing how she's so…lick-able. As well as I should know."

Olivia, enraged, stopped short and whirled around. She charged at the Penguin--just as both Mike and Bob Kale firmly grabbed her arms on either side. Linda jumped in front of her and tried to get Olivia to look her in the eye--but Olivia ignored her and glared at the hateful little troll behind the desk.

"Oh, dear me! I appeared to have struck a raw nerve," the Penguin said, still grinning fiendishly. "Waugh! Waugh! Waugh!"

Olivia shook her head at the Penguin, trying to attack him, but the men held her back. "You stinking mother--"

"Don't do this, Liv," Linda firmly whispered. "Don't let this bastard get to you like this."

She took a deep breath just then and nodded in agreement. "You're right, Linda. He's not worth it." Olivia glanced over at Mike, and then Bob Hale with a slight smile. "You guys wanna let me go, now? I promise to behave myself."

"Sorry, Inspector," Mike said, as he and Hale immediately released her. "We were only--"

"I understand. No apologies needed," Olivia told them. With a final, disgusted glance at the Penguin, she added, "C'mon, let's get out of here. The air in this place is beginning to stink…."

As Olivia strode out of the office with the others, the Penguin's jeering laughter followed them all the way down the steps. "Waugh! Waugh! Waugh! Waugh! Waugh! Waugh!!!"

'We'll get him,' Olivia somberly thought. 'One way, or another, we're gonna take down this miserable little son of a bitch once and for all….'

B&B

'Why'd we always get the weird cases?' Detective Harvey Bullock wearily wondered.

They had been called to an intruder alarm at Mercy General, the local hospital--which was a call that Harvey initially thought was normal sounding enough. But then they arrived and started talking to the witnesses. And from what Harvey gathered from everyone at the scene, the descriptions of the perp were…well, pretty freaky, to say the least.

Harvey spoke to two security guards who encountered the intruder, who was--by their description--a big ice man that hung off the side of the building. One of the guards said he shot at it, but said that the bullet had no effect. The ice man then got angry (which Harvey supposed was only natural, since nobody likes being shot at) and threw an icicle at them.

Apparently sensing that Harvey was having some trouble accepting this story, the security guards brought him over to a section of the parking lot, which had a hole in the asphalt.

"What's this?" Harvey asked them.

"That's where the icicle landed," one of the security guards replied. "It made that hole."

"Where is the icicle?"

"Oh, it melted," the other guard answered with a smile. He glanced at some of the reporters who roamed around the crime scene. "Say, is Nancy Werner gonna cover this? I always love her 'What's Weird in Gotham' news stories!"

Harvey muttered a curse under his breath as he stared up at the night sky in disbelief. "Where did the ice man go? Did he melt, too?"

"No, he crawled up onto the roof," the other guard said. He pointed at a gorgeous woman reporter speaking to a TV camera. "Hey, is that Nancy Werner? You think she'd interview us?"

"How the hell should I know?" Harvey exploded. "What do I look like, her manager?!"

"C'mon, Bill," one of the guards said, with a glare at Harvey. "Let's go talk to Nancy…."

"Yeah, great idea," Harvey muttered, as he walked into the hospital lobby. "Nancy should talk to you two--God knows yer weird enough for her!"

Upon entering the lobby, Harvey was relieved to see the only other sane person in the building: his partner, Detective Renee Montoya.

"Yo, Montoya," he said. "You getting better luck than me at making any sense of this freaking situation?"

The young Spanish woman gave him a wide-eyed look of incredulity as she shook her head. "¡Ellos son todos locos!"

For the first time that night, Harvey burst into a smile. "Yeah, you said it: they are all crazy. According to my witnesses, the hospital's been attacked by an icicle-throwing abominable snowman."

"According to my witnesses, he looked more like Frosty The Snowman," Montoya said, as she regarded her notepad with a look of disapproval. "Complete with scarf, pipe and black hat…."

"I swear, is everybody going nuts tonight?" Harvey asked irritably. "Or is there a full moon that we don't know about?"

"Or maybe we've got a new super villain on the loose?" Montoya suggested.

"In which case, I wouldn't mind, because then it wouldn't be our problem, but the Bat's. He can handle all the weirdos, being a weirdo himself." He paused when Montoya abruptly looked depressed. "What's wrong, Renee?"

"I just got this mental image of Batman fighting Frosty The Snowman," she said, shaking her head. "That just ain't right, Harvey. I loved Frosty The Snowman when I was a kid. That was my favorite cartoon."

Shaking his head, Harvey grabbed her arm. "Come on."

"What? Wait, what are you doing?" Montoya asked. She fought to get free of his grip as he pulled her down the hallway.

"Getting you the hell out of here," he growled. "Because it's clear that whatever's in the air here that's making all these people crazy is now affecting you!"

She burst into giggles just then. "All right, Harvey, very funny. Now quit kidding and knock it off. Please! People are looking at us."

"Who's kidding?" Harvey said, as he released her with a smile. "The both of us are gonna start seeing imaginary snowmen if we stay here much longer."

"I'm still waiting on word on the surveillance footage from the parking lot," she told him. Then Montoya abruptly glanced over and shyly said, "Oh, hi…."

Harvey saw a cute young nurse dressed in blue scrubs who had been watching them--actually, Harvey noted that the young woman, whose blond hair was pulled into a bun behind her head, stared very intently at Montoya.

Harvey, who thought this chick was behaving a little too creepy, angrily said, "Why don't cha take a picture, darling. It'll last longer…."

"Um, they got the security footage set up from when the ice guy was here," the nurse told them. She looked embarrassed at having been caught staring at Montoya. Harvey didn't know what her problem was, but at least she stopped staring at his partner.

She led them into the security office, where Harvey grimaced once he saw that all the angles on the cameras were facing down at the parking lot. There were plenty of shots of stunned people staring upwards in amazement. But since the perp was reportedly hanging off the side of the building, none of the cameras caught sight of him. There wasn't even any footage of the icicle that Frosty threw at the security guards.

The security guard who was seated at the console had the dazed, unfocused look of having just woken up from a nap, so Harvey directed his question at the little nurse. "You know what room the intruder was outside of?"

"It's a private room that belongs to Nora Fries," she replied.

"I don't suppose she saw anything?" Harvey asked.

The nurse grimly shook her head. "Mrs. Fries is in the advanced stages of a rare genetic disease called McGregor Syndrome. She's been in a coma for the last few weeks, now. I'm afraid she wouldn't have seen or heard anything."

"Well, looks like we've done everything we could here," Harvey said. When he turned back to speak with Montoya, he was startled to see the little nurse was whispering something in her ear. "Montoya?!"

Both Montoya and the little nurse jumped back with guilty looks--as if they were a pair of schoolgirls who were caught doing something illicit. "Yeah, you're right; there's nothing more we can do here, Harvey," Montoya quickly said. She turned to the nurse and shook her hand. "Thank you for all your help."

"Anytime," the nurse replied. And a wide-eyed Harvey saw that her thumb slowly brushed across Montoya's hand as they shook.

"Ok, Harvey, let's go," Montoya said, as she practically raced outside the security office.

When Harvey caught up with her in the hallway, he said, "Wait a minute, what was she whispering to you in there?"

Montoya rolled her eyes in exasperation. "She said she thought I had a nice giggle. Can you believe that?"

Harvey blinked at her in disbelief as they resumed walking down the hallway. "That little twit was coming onto you?! I guess she was disappointed to find out that you don't swing that way, huh? Man, imagine the nerve!"

"Um…yeah," Montoya said, preoccupied, as she discreetly tucked a folded, hand-written note into her jacket pocket. "What nerve…."

B&B

'It sure is beautiful,' Robin thought, as they hovered above the city.

Seen at night, the lights of Gotham City looked like tiny sparkling emeralds amidst lines of white and red lights--which was the traffic in the streets below. Robin thought it was cool that, even from this height, mundane traffic looked magical.

As he sat and admired his adopted city in the rear seat of the Batwing, Robin blissfully thought that--from this viewpoint--it appeared as if nothing ever went wrong in Gotham City.

And that certainly appeared to be the case tonight. With only a few hours of darkness left, they barely had anything to do but glide over the city on patrol, listening to the police band radio as it chattered away about small time stuff, like jaywalkers and the hunt for a stray cat. Even the police dispatchers sounded bored.

"You know, if this keeps up," Robin said to the pilot in the front seat, "we may very well have to call it an early night."

"All units, all units," the police dispatcher urgently called. "Silent alarm tripped at Western View Gallery. Hostages taken."

The pilot tipped his head to the side, revealing a pair of pointy bat ears on top. "You were saying?"

"Yeah, I know, Batman," Robin said with a sigh. "Me and my big mouth…."

"There's a charity benefit being held there tonight, in the main ballroom," Batman informed him. "Hang on."

As the Batwing veered sharply to the right, dropping further down into the city, Robin listened as the police dispatcher--who was a woman with a nice voice--continued her rapid-fire description of the crime scene. "All units, be advised: perpetrators are reported to be armed with snow-making weaponry. Repeat: perpetrators have snow-making weaponry."

"You hear that?" Robin said with a frown. "They're armed with a snow-making machine? What are we up against, a bunch of disgruntled skiers?"

"We'll know soon enough," Batman said. "We're here."

After Batman commanded the Batwing to hover, they got out and jumped onto the patio section on the roof of the Western View Gallery. The patio surrounded the ballroom, which was constructed from an old penthouse. They snuck up to either side of a pair of French doors and peered inside.

Robin saw several dozen well-dressed people on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Their captors strode around, armed with assorted machine guns. Robin saw they were all clad in blue and white trimmed parkas, complete with hoods that were lined with white fur. They also wore blue colored visors.

He glanced over at Batman, who was nothing more than a shadowy figure on the other side of the doorway, and said, "Disgruntled Eskimos?"

"I know them," Batman whispered back. "At least, I recognize the design of their clothing. They're with Captain Cold."

"I thought he was The Flash's problem. What's he doing here?"

"Perhaps he came for a sample of the vaunted Gotham City night life," Batman replied dryly. After a pause, he asked, "Do you notice anything unusual?"

Robin glanced back and saw about four of Cold's armed minions as they stood around, waving their guns about, and barking orders. "If they're here to rob these people, they're not doing much of that…they're just standing around. I don't get it…if they already got the loot, what are they waiting around, for?"

"There's something else," Batman said. "See any sign of their boss?"

A quick glance at the scene inside confirmed that only Cold's minions were present. "Wait, where's Captain Cold?"

"Good question; one I intend to find the answer to," Batman said. "Think you can handle this bunch on your own?"

A chill of excitement ran up Robin's spine. Until now, Robin had stayed in the background and learned and trained like a good apprentice, while he simply watched the Batman in action. Batman had allowed him to fight in one on one engagements here and there in the past, but this would be his first large scale combat scenario.

"Yes," Robin readily replied.

"Remember your training, and maintain your focus," Batman told him, repeating two well-worn adages that had been grinded into Robin during his many months of training.

"I will," Robin said, as he glanced inside and sized up the overall force of his opponents. He turned back to Batman and added, "And, hey, thanks very much for--"

But Robin found himself speaking to empty space. His mentor was already gone.

"Right," Robin muttered, as he pulled out his grappling gun. "He's really got to teach me that little trick sometime…."

He climbed to the roof and gained entrance to the ballroom by cutting his way through the insect screen on a skylight that had been left open. Robin paused and mentally placed each and every one of Captain Cold's men within his mind. There were four of them. One stood directly beneath him, leaning up against a column.

Robin smiled. 'Piece of cake….'

Using the grappling gun, he slowly lowered himself into the ballroom, head first. Then, once he hovered directly behind the man, Robin put his skills as a former trapeze artist to good use. Still hanging from the grapple wire, Robin swung his body around until his boot bashed into the back of the man's head. The blow knocked him straight into the column, and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

One of the female hostages let out a frightened whimper, until Robin--who expertly disengaged himself from the grapple wire--placed a gloved finger up to his mouth, indicating for her to be quiet. He quickly hid behind the column and waited for one of the other thugs to notice their comrade was down.

It didn't take long; a few seconds later, one of the other men came over, calling the downed man's name. As Robin heard him come around the opposite side of the column, he braced himself for the attack that was to come.

Once the thug cleared the column, Robin jumped out and slammed his cupped hand right into the man's throat--just like how Batman had taught him.

"Arggh!" was all the thug had to say, as he reeled back in both shock and pain.

Robin grabbed the stunned thug and turned him around, with his back facing Robin, just as the other two thugs came up to them, with their guns drawn. Robin placed his boot at the small of the man's back and kicked him right into one of his accomplices.

The last man, staring at Robin in shock, went for a radio.

Robin dove straight at him.

"Captain Cold," the man said into the radio, "we've got a--"

He never finished, because Robin tackled him to the floor and slugged him hard across the face. The radio fell from the thug's hand with a burst of static.

Now that all the thugs were down, the hostages all began to get up from the floor as a panic swept the room.

"Just like I said," Robin muttered, "piece of cake."

Robin stood and held up his hands in a calming gesture. He smiled slightly when he saw a major babe in a low cut strapless gown staring at him with great interest.

'Oh yeah, this is where the superhero bit really gets fun,' Robin thought, as he flashed the young woman his best grin. "It's ok, miss," he told her in a reassuring tone. "Everything's under control, now."

"What about him?" she asked, with a nervous glance over Robin's shoulder.

Robin turned just in time to see a fifth parka-clad thug come charging right at him. He threw a punch, which Robin blocked--only to throw an expert karate kick that knocked Robin to the floor.

'Maintain focus,' Robin thought, as he reminded himself of one of Batman's golden rules of combat--which he ignored just now by drooling over the babe. As he lay on the floor, Robin glanced up and saw his assailant now loomed over him. And he was instantly reminded of another of Batman's golden rules of combat right there and then.

"Never be afraid to fight dirty," Robin muttered, as he abruptly brought his boot up and kicked the thug right in the crotch.

As the thug doubled over in agony, Robin finished him off with a another kick to the face. Once he got to his feet, he saw that the crowds had already evacuated through the fire exits. The girl who caught his eye earlier was also long gone.

Robin walked over to one of the other thugs in the middle of the ballroom, who was reaching for a gun while still sprawled out on the floor. He stopped and glanced up at Robin, who shook his head at him.

"If your boss is Captain Cold, then does that make you guys privates?" Robin asked. "Or do each of you goons have a rank?"

"Huh?" the thug asked, as he stared at Robin as though he were crazy.

"Never mind," Robin said, as he slugged the man into unconsciousness, "it was strictly a rhetorical question…."

B&B

"Captain Cold," the voice on the radio said, "we've got a--"

"What?" Cold demanded into the radio. "Speak up!"

When he was met with only silence, Cold glanced at one of his henchmen with a smile and said, "It would appear we have company, Chet."

"It's him, ain't it, boss?" Chet anxiously asked. "It's the Bat!"

"He'll be a frozen Bat when I'm done with him," Cold replied. He stormed over to where his other henchmen were located, and smiled when he saw they had emptied the vault of all of its precious stones, which had been placed in a series of briefcases "It doesn't matter, anyway. We're done!"

"Yes, I couldn't agree more," a demonic voice whispered from the shadows around them. "You're quite finished."

"Oh, God," Chet cried with a terrified look. "I knew we shouldn't have come to Gotham City! This place is cursed!"

"Silence! Or you'll be wearing an ice gag," Captain Cold threatened him. He pulled out his pair of cold guns and aimed them into the darkness just beyond the support columns. "We don't want any trouble, Batman. But, if you push me, then I'll just have to give you the cold shoulder!"

He pulled the trigger on both of his cold guns and created a wall of ice in-between the columns. This provided instant cover against the Dark Knight so Captain Cold and his boys could carry their loot out of the vault area and back upstairs.

"Let's go, boys!" Captain Cold ordered. "The stolen ice won't slide up the steps by themselves."

His men picked up the briefcases of precious stones and proceeded to carry them over to the staircase--yet they stopped when one of the ice walls in-between the columns abruptly exploded.

"He's still coming through!" Chet screamed in horror.

'There's always a whiner in every gang,' Cold thought with annoyance. He aimed one of his freeze guns at the open space and sealed it shut once more with another blast of ice. He then pointed the other cold gun right at Chet's face and said, "You forget that I've fought the Flash to a stand-still! And so what chance does a psycho dressed in a bat costume have against--"

Captain Cold was startled when a great shadowy shape suddenly lunged itself right at his boys, knocking them all down like pins in a bowling alley. The shadowy figure turned towards him as it arose, its cape sweeping behind it like bat's wings.

Cold didn't know how he managed to get on this side of his wall of ice--he as sure as hell didn't see the Bat get by--but Batman would live to regret it. He aimed both of his cold guns right at the Dark Knight and fired. He smiled as he saw the grimance on Batman's face. "It's an early frost this year, Batman!"

B&B

Batman grunted when he was struck full-on by both of Captain Cold's guns. He quickly knelt down and brought his cape around to cover himself--and it worked. The cape protected him. But the cape was also becoming completely covered with ice, which encased him in a freezing prison. The weight from the ice was heavy enough that he could barely stand up. Captain Cold ceased shooting, satisfied that Batman was down for the count. "See, Chet? Even frozen bats become grounded once their wings have been kissed by ice."

'We'll see about that,' Batman thought. He flicked his hands, which sent the signal for his cape to solidify into a pair of glider wings. Batman wasn't sure if there was enough juice in the system for the wings to form under this much ice.

But thankfully, there was.

There was a thunderous cracking sound as the ice shattered, once his cape solidified into the glider wings. Not only did it free Batman from the ice, but it also had a very nice side effect of psyching Cold and his men out--they watched, terrified, as Batman's cape flicked off the ice and spread out into its full expanse, looking like a pair of bat wings. This sight terrified the men working with Cold so much that they began running up the steps in a mass panic, as they left the stolen jewels behind. Cold angrily yelled after them, but his men were already long gone.

Batman smiled ever so slightly. He still had his flair for theatrics. Ra's Al Ghul, wherever he was, would approve.

Batman flicked his hands once more, dissolving the glider wings back into a cape as he reached for a Batdart. When Captain Cold aimed one of his cold guns at him again, Batman flung the Batdart.

The Batdart struck home, embedding itself in Captain Cold's hand and causing him to drop the gun as he recoiled in pain. Batman launched himself into another attack, just as Captain Cold fired with his remaining gun. Cold aimed at the floor, turning it into an ice skating rink within the blink of an eye.

'Damn it!' Batman furiously thought, as he slid across the floor and slammed into the wall. He quickly recovered and got to his feet, but not before Cold and his men made their getaway up the stairs. And Cold had managed to block over the doorway with another wall of ice. Batman glanced around and was pleased to see that at least Captain Cold and his boys had left the diamonds behind.

As Batman quickly placed explosive pellets on the ice, he tapped the side of his cowl, just over his ear, and made a call. "Robin, Cold and his men are headed up your way."

"Correction," Robin said despairingly, "they're already gone…."

"What happened?"

"Cold created a wall of ice, blocking me off from them."

"Hold on," Batman said, as he took cover from the exploding ice. Once the doorway was clear, Batman went up the stairs. He entered the ballroom just in time to see Robin using his own explosive pellets to blast his way through the shield of ice that Captain Cold had momentarily imprisoned him behind.

Batman was pleased to see the pile of unconscious thugs in the center of the empty ballroom. "Any trouble?"

"None," Robin said with a shake of his head. "Well, one of these guys managed to give me a scare, but I scared him right back."

"Come on, let's see if we can't find out where Cold has gone," Batman said, as he and Robin ran out to the balcony. "And you can call her."

"Really?" Robin said with a broad grin. He placed the back of his gloved hand up to his face and uttered the two words that he had been dying to say for ages: "Come here."

When the Batwing rose up from the blackness to greet them, it was all Robin could do to keep from letting out an excited whoop. But although he maintained his professionalism, Robin still had an ear to ear grin on his face as he got in the Batwing with Batman.

Batman took the controls and made the Batwing fly in several large sweeping patterns over the city. The police band was also chattering away, telling them that the police had arrived at the ballroom and vault. All of the hostages were present and accounted for--and, just as importantly, they were all safe.

But Captain Cold and the remnants of his men appeared to have disappeared for now.

"This really sucks," Robin muttered dejectedly.

"Look at it this way, you saved the hostages, and I stopped Cold from stealing the diamonds," Batman told him. "All in all, it was a pretty good night. You've got to take your victories where you can get them in this business."

"Yeah but we didn't catch Cold." Robin abruptly burst into a grin. "Hey, I made a nifty little joke there, Batman. Get it, catch Cold?"

"Yeah, I got it," Batman grumbled, with a shake of his head. "And if you keep making corny jokes like that, you'll be walking back to Wayne Manor."

"Uh, yes, sir," Robin quickly said. "Point taken."

B&B

He was grateful to have found this abandoned building. It offered the perfect sanctuary for him, a place where he could rest for the time being. And while he rested, he dreamt of her.

His beloved.

He danced with her on a grassy meadow. It was a playful dance of a pair of lovers with all the time in the world. He held her in his arms as she swept her head back in a graceful ballet move. Then she brought her head back up, and they began to hold each other closer, as their mouths slowly sought each other for a passionate kiss.

Yet that kiss would never come, for he was rudely awakened by a noise. It was actually a jumble of noises; of voices arguing back and forth, and casting accusations.

Who were these people, and how dare they intrude on his sanctuary? What kind of a world was this becoming when one could not seek refuge in an abandoned building?

The ice on his joints cracked and popped as he got up from the corner and strode over to the source of the noise. It was a group of men in the next room, he saw them through a massive hole in the wall. They were all clad in the same style parkas, with visors over their eyes. One of the men had a gun in his hand, and sought to control the others--yet they were all frightened and angry and continued to speak over each other as they argued.

One man stood off to the side, and he said, over and over: "We shouldn't have come to Gotham City. This place is cursed! We should never have come to Gotham--"

It was this man who saw him first, and the look of terror in his eyes was somehow comforting to him. If nothing else, if they won't respect you, then you might as well make them fear you.

More ice cracked and fell from his face as he broke into a smile.

B&B

"COLD!"

Captain Cold shook his head in disgust. He glanced over at Chet and seriously thought about just blasting him with the cold gun. As if it wasn't bad enough that they all ran away from the Batman like a bunch of frightened kids, without taking the diamonds, Cold suffered a bad hand injury, thanks to that bat freak. And now Chet's whining again.

"COLD!" Chet said again, with more hysterics.

"WHAT?!" Cold replied.

Chet stabbed a finger out to point at something--

--and his entire arm instantly froze solid.

As Chet let out a scream of pain, Captain Cold glanced down at his guns, thinking they might had accidentally gone off. But the guns were switched off, sitting quietly in their holsters.

"Hey, get a load of this guy!" one of his men shouted.

"Looks like this place wasn't as abandoned as we thought," another said.

Cold found himself staring at a tall, bulky figure whose skin color was a strange mixture of bluish-white. Its eyes were jet black holes set within a face that appeared to be covered over with ice. The man--if one could call him that--stood on the other side of a large hole in the wall. Captain Cold didn't know who--or what--he was supposed to be, but this creature caused him great unease.

"Make it clear to him that this is our abandoned building, boys," Cold said.

His men opened up on the stranger with every one of their weapons. And every one of the bullets struck their target.

And yet he still stood there, staring at them. Until he abruptly raised his hands at them.

"You wish to give up?" Cold said, smiling. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I--"

The stranger spread open his hands, and then there was a blizzard. Cold's men yelled and screamed as the temperature in the room inexplicably lowered to just below freezing. They were all viciously pelted by ice shards, and as Captain Cold struggled his way through the barrage, he realized something.

He could no longer hear his men shouting.

The answer came when he tripped over the frozen body of one of his men who lay sprawled on the floor--his frigid form was contorted in pain, which reminded Cold of one of the victims of the volcano they found in Pompeii. Only instead of ash, this man was covered in ice.

Captain Cold always felt that one of his best qualities was knowing when to call it quits. And that time was now.

He ran out the door and onto the street. But then something that felt like a sledgehammer struck his legs, knocking him to the ground. Cold glanced down and saw that his legs had been instantly bonded together by a single band of ice that ran from his ankles to his knees.

When the creature loomed over him, Captain Cold instinctively raised his guns and fired directly at it.

The creature glanced down at the ice that was shot onto its chest, then let out a bellow of laughter.

'Snart, you idiot,' Cold thought, as he cursed his stupidity. He realized that shooting his cold guns at this thing was about as effective as using a flame thrower on a volcano. In this case, it was ice against ice.

The creature grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up. Cold was stunned to see that its face, as well as its entire body, appeared to be covered within a layer of ice that shifted and cracked as it moved.

"What the hell are you?" he asked.

The thing opened its mouth, and the layer of ice in front of its lips snapped and broke opened as it replied to him in a ghostly whisper. "Freeze…."

"Freeze?" Captain Cold said, not understanding.

"Mr. Freeze," the thing replied. And then it opened its mouth as wide as it could, and exhaled a lung-full of air right into Captain Cold's face. Its very breath was as frigid as a howling winter wind in the artic.

And that was the last thing Captain Cold knew.

B&B

"Is he still looking at me?" Barbra Gordon asked.

"Kinda," Alice replied.

"What does that mean?" Barbra said, annoyed.

Alice peeked over Barbra's shoulder. They sat facing each other over a table at the outdoor café section of the local Burger Buds, where they had stopped off for a soda after studying at the library. Halfway through their conversation, Alice told Barbra that Darren Reyes, the new hot-looking boy in school, had sat down at the table directly behind them. And, as if this wasn't enough, Alice told Barbra that Darren hadn't taken his eyes off of Barbra the whole time.

"Sort of," Alice now reported. "He's sort of looking at you."

Barbra frowned. "What the hell are you talking about, Alice?"

"Darren's kinda, sort of looking at you," she replied with a shrug.

"Oh, for…." Barbra muttered, with a shake of her head. She deliberately dropped her napkin so she would have an excuse to glance behind her when she retrieved it. She saw that Darren was staring at her--but not quite.

He actually stared off at something just to Barbra's left, and whatever he saw, it unnerved him badly.

'Something's gotta be pretty weird to creep out the new quarterback of the football team,' Barbra thought, as she glanced over at what had spooked Darren so badly.

Then Barbra let out a gasp when she saw what it was.

A man dressed in a blue parka stumbled over to the outdoor eating area, knocking over a table as he collapsed to the ground. Barbara and Alice got up and went over to him, while still being careful to keep their distance. Barbra saw with shock that the man's entire right arm appeared to be frozen solid.

"Alice, call 911," Barbra said.

"Wha--?" Alice muttered, spellbound at the sight before her.

"Alice, dial 911, now!" Barbra said urgently. "This guy looks like he needs help!"

"Oh, yeah," Alice replied, as she quickly got her cell phone.

As Alice called for help, Barbra noticed that the stricken man was saying something, over and over, under his breath.

"Excuse me, sir?" Barbra warily asked him. "What is it?"

"Never should have come to Gotham City," he muttered. "Never should have come to Gotham City…I-I tried to tell warn them, but no…they wouldn't listen to me. We never should have come to Gotham City…because here, all of the monsters are real…."

To Be Continued....