AN: Before reading this story, please read my first three Oblivion episodes first ("The New Kid," "Both Sides of the Story," and "Everybody Hates Windmills"), if only so you won't be completely and hopelessly confused about what is going on in this latest episode.

Episode 4 - "Frozen Pride"

Chapter 1

-October 19-

Friday night, 10pm. Wind and rain battered Tim and Axel's bedroom window relentlessly. Wow, after wind only in the morning, now the wind is coming at night, and with a full-force storm too, thought Tim, as he examined the black fleece jacket Mom had just bought for him. Axel had received an identical one, as did Rocky. If not for the fact that it had apparently been in the weather forecast for four days now, Tim would have thought that his mother had some kind of prescient powers. Wouldn't surprise me, he thought, remembering how he had been able to make a copy of himself in the water. At least now it's gonna be too cold for me to use this power, thought Tim. But maybe Axel could keep us all warm with his fire hands. He took one last look out the wet window before lying back on his mattress and going to sleep.

-October 20-

Saturday morning, 7am. Tim was woken up by the buzz of his cell phone in his pocket - he'd not bothered removing his clothes when he went to bed the night before, because it was just too cold. It was so cold, in fact, that the rain had turned to sleet overnight. Thumbing it open, he saw that he'd just gotten a text from Ashley. It read: "Cold day, huh? i thought i'd take u 2 the ice rink 2day. u know how 2 ice skate? i hope so. if not, it'll be fun to see u try! come meet me there, 34366 Carver, 10:00."

Axel yawned and wriggled out from under his sheets. Like Tim, he'd fallen asleep in his regular clothes because of the intense cold. He glanced over at his twin and asked, "Who're you texting?"

Tim nearly fumbled the phone due to the combination of surprise that his brother was awake, and the cold interfering with his grip. "Uh, nobody."

"Really? Trying to hide it from me now, are we?"

"I'm texting Martine Pinay, if you must know," remarked Tim sarcastically. "Now leave me alone."

"Sure you are. Give me that," said Axel, reaching over and grabbing the phone from Tim's hands. His free hand leaped over his mouth in a hopeless attempt to muffle his laughter. "Ice skating? Really? I was right, you are turning into a girl. Remind me to buy you a douche bag for Christmas."

"I certainly will, douchebag," said Tim.

Axel laughed again as he threw Tim's phone back to him. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you, but...you are going to seriously make a fool of yourself. Even more so than usual, if that's possible."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Axel raised his eyebrow. "I don't know how you did it, but you really got away with a lot of shit yesterday. I don't know whose salad you're tossing to do that, but it ain't fooling me. You should at least have gotten detention there, if not suspended. Not that Dad would allow any punishment on you to stand. Hey, even if it was me involved in this, he might have defended me. Any sane person would, right?"

Depends on how you define "sane," thought Tim. He didn't really consider his father to be one of the sanest men in the world. Then again, most CEO's were a little skewed off from what was considered "normal." And really, what is normal anyway? Tim added in his head.

"By the way," Axel paused, looking a bit embarrassed, "you guys did great performances yesterday. Way to stick it to the man there. You also got a really great band name too. Lethal Tomatoes, ha! Very creative one." He left the room.

Tim looked out the window again. Okay, no matter how you define normal, that was most definitely not normal under any meaning or interpretation of the word.


Down in the lab, Vexen waved her hands in a circular motion around her head. By doing this regularly every hour or so, she was able to keep the ice storm in constant motion, and the chill in the air remained. Braig was watching the morning news, which was going on and on about the "completely unprecedented" cold snap and snowstorm currently bearing down. Snowstorms on the California coast were extraordinarily rare, and it was the meteorologist's opinion that there would never be such an occurrence again during anybody's lifetime, even if "anybody" were a one-minute-old infant being born right at this moment.

Vexen turned to Ansem, who was sipping hot chocolate while watching the news alongside Braig. "Should I be intensifying the storm yet, dear?"

"Not quite yet," said Ansem. "Let their precious morning news go by first, because nobody's going to miss whatever comes on TV afterwards."

"Like yourself?" asked Vexen, pointing to the TV.

Ansem frowned at her. "I'm only watching because it's fun to see these poor saps trying and failing to make any sense of this. You don't think it's fun, Vexen?"

Vexen sighed, then walked to the elevator so she could get back into the house and get some breakfast. Real breakfast, not the increasingly stale doughnuts and other pastries Ansem kept providing for Braig down in the break room.