Chapter One: Ice to Meet You.
He jumped as the door slammed open, squinting in the darkness beyond the edge of the bright light hanging over his head. "Hello?" He called, barely making out the outline of a shadow.
"Name," a deep voice replied, making him jump slightly.
"I'm uh, Shouta, Shouta Corvinoff," he answered, licking his lips.
"Details," the voice demanded.
Shouta coughed into his hand. "Um…I'm sixteen years old, go to Central City High, live with my parents, Yuriko and Ken Corvinoff. I'm their only child…is there a point to this? Shouldn't you already know that?"
He heard the rustle of cloth as the figure circled the table. "We do," they replied shortly, "But what we don't know: why? What reason does someone like you have for becoming a criminal?"
The teen sighed and slumped in his chair, leaning into his hands. "You should know all this as well…did you guys not read my notebook?" He muttered.
"Files can be altered, details omitted for sympathy," the figure answered, "Harder to do in person, eye-to-eye."
Shouta scrubbed his face with his palm. "Alright, but I'll warn you, it's a long story…"
…
Looking back, we all say we would've done things differently. Helped that old lady across the street, not eaten the last slice of pizza, stepped in the middle of a robbery to face down the bad guys like we're a poor version of Batman.
But in reality, we'd do the same thing we always do. Duck our heads and try not to get the attention. It's only afterwards that 'would have, could have, should have' comes into play.
In my case, though, I don't think I would change anything that I did.
Even if what I did the first time someone shoved a gun in my face was to feel my blood turn to ice and piss myself.
…
"Put the money in the bag, now!" One masked crook demanded, pointing a handgun in the teller's face.
"Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt!" Another barked, waving his gun at a group of people. Five people, an old couple, a pimply-faced security guard, a middle-aged woman and a teenager, ducked fearfully.
Five minutes earlier, things had been quiet, dull. A sleepy afternoon by most accounts, in a small corner bank no one was usually bothered to rob.
"Come on, hurry up!" The first criminal shouted, checking his watch. "Hey, grab their valuables!"
"Wallets, watches, phones and jewelry!" The second demanded, thrusting a bag at the hostages, "Don't be greedy now!"
The middle-aged woman hurriedly dumped her phone, purse and a pair of earrings, then the old couple added their wallet and purse, but tearfully refused to remove their rings. "Please, these rings aren't worth much!" The old man pleaded, "Just symbols of our love! We've been married fifty years-!"
"Don't care! Rings, now!" The crook demanded.
"Leave them alone, you bas-!" The pimply-faced security guard tried to interject.
The crook clocked him on the side of the head with his gun. "Next person who tries to play hero gets a bullet!" He shouted as the guard collapsed, clutching his skull. A brief flash from the corner of his eye made him spin around, his eyes going wide. "Shit! Police are almost here!"
"Damn! We need more time!" The first growled, looking over the huddled group, "Grab the kid, we can use him!"
The second crook pointed his gun at the teenager, who had gone white as the barrel was aimed directly at his head. "You, on your feet!" The teen mouthed something through trembling lips but didn't move. The crook bent down and grabbed him by the front of his hoodie, shaking the teen and pulling him to his feet. He grimaced, seeing the spreading stain down the teen's legs and shoved him towards the back of the bank. "Move!"
The first crook snatched the bag full of money from the teller before slamming the butt of his gun into the woman's nose, sending her to the floor. "Anybody follows us, and the kid gets it!" He shouted, firing a shot into the ceiling for emphasis as the victims screamed and ducked.
The two crooks and their hostage burst out of the back of the bank, into an alley littered with garbage cans and dumpsters and took off. "Damn this kid is slow!" The second grumbled, literally pulling the teen along by his hood.
"We're far enough, we can dump him here," the first replied, checking his watch, the second pulling the teen around before shoving him to the ground. "Shoot him."
The second crook gave the first an incredulous look. "What?! I'm no kid-killer, man!"
"I didn't say 'kill him,' did I?" The first shot back, "Shoot him somewhere like the leg or the shoulder. If the cops are busy trying to help the injured kid, we got more time to run away," he added, as if explaining basic math to a child.
The second shrugged and took aim at the teen's shoulder. "Yeah alright."
The teen scrabbled back, panic burning in his wide blue eyes. "Wait, wait wait-!" He saw the finger closing on the trigger, and threw his hands up reflexively just as the crack of gunfire rang through the alley.
Something crackled, his blood feeling like ice water, but there was surprisingly no pain. Cracking an eye open, the teen felt his jaw drop. Before his hands was a thin sheet of ice, almost transparent, with a bullet lodged halfway through it. Gulping, the teen looked at his hands incredulously, noticing something like steam wafting away from his palms. The sheet of ice fell from where it hovered, shattering on the concrete.
"...A Meta," the first crook realized, his eyes darting as he thought. "You grabbed his wallet, right?" He asked the second.
The second dug into the bag he carried, withdrawing a thin black wallet. "Yeah, why-?"
Gunfire rang out as the first crook shot the second twice in the chest before taking the wallet from his hands and sprinting away.
Stunned, Shouta could only sit as the remaining ice melted into a puddle that soaked through the seat of his jeans, watching as the second crook gasped for life, feebly clutching his chest as a pool of red blood spread beneath him. The crook turned his head and their eyes met. He could see the agony, the desperation in the man's eyes as his struggles slowed and he finally slumped, dead.
Shouta stared at the body, his limbs feeling like lead as he sat on the concrete. And even when the cops came barreling into the alley, followed by paramedics, all he could do was stare at the corpse until he was bundled into an ambulance.
…
Everything was a blur. He could hear people asking questions, feel their hands checking him, heard his own voice replying faintly, but all he could see was the light leaving that man's eyes as he died.
It was only the sight of his father's eyes, blue like his, the warmth of his arms and the smell of dad that Shouta finally snapped out of his shock. "Son," his old man rumbled like a car engine, hand on his shoulder, "You're alright, right?"
Shouta blinked twice, then threw his arms around his dad and cried.
Eventually, after he'd cried himself dry, his dad drove them home to their apartment, the old sedan a comfort after his experience. Inside, his mother hugged him fiercely, and despite being a head taller than her, Shouta felt like a kid again.
"Oh my baby, I'm so glad you're alright," she murmured, arms tightly wrapped around him, "Don't worry about school tomorrow, we called you out for a while."
"I'm sorry, Sho," Ken sighed, hugging his wife and son, "If I'd known this was gonna happen, I never would've sent you to the bank."
Yuriko slapped her husband's arm and scoffed. "If you'd been there, you would've tried to play the hero and gotten…" She sniffled and hugged her boys tighter, "I'm glad you're safe, Shouta."
"Yeah," he mumbled hoarsely, feeling incredibly tired but oddly tense, his hands shaking slightly. "I think…I should take a shower…"
After one last squeeze, his parents backed away. "Take your time," Ken said gruffly, wiping his suspiciously damp eyes, "After that, we'll have dinner…and then we can talk."
Shouta nodded and walked to his room, gathering an armful of fresh clothes and taking them into the bathroom. He paused looking at himself in the mirror, noting the bland, stiff sweats and shirt the hospital had given him, and just how pale they made him seem. Looking into his own eyes, Shouta couldn't help but snort and shake his head. "…Can't believe I pissed myself," he muttered, running a hand through his hair and pausing.
He turned his palms upward, staring at the lines on his flesh as he licked his lips. "I…froze that bullet," he mumbled, rubbing his fingers together, "...how the hell did I do that?" Breathing deep, he tried to recall how he'd felt before it had appeared. Desperate, scared, almost begging for his life…like his blood had turned to ice. Shouta tried to remember that feeling, his fingers trembling as he imagined the barrel of a gun pointed at his face.
Then he cracked open his eyes and gasped. Mist spilled from his palms, drifting down to the floor like the ghost of a waterfall. "…Holy shit," he murmured, before frowning. "Wait, I made ice…" Concentrating, he pictured a square of ice like a pane of glass trying to push on the cold running through him…somehow.
"Ice!" He whispered, wiggling his fingers. Nothing happened. "Okay, so maybe it's more esoteric than that," narrowing his eyes, he recalled the feeling of seeing a finger curling around the trigger, knowing that in an instant, a bullet would tear through him, and the pure desperation of I don't want to die! And then he pushed.
With a subtle crackle, a pane of ice about four inches across formed in the air above his hand, hovering in place as it gave the cold shoulder to physics.
Unable to restrain an incredulous giggle, Shouta slowly moved his hand back and forth, the sheet of ice following his hand. "Holy shit," he murmured, reaching out with his free hand to touch the ice. As his finger made contact, it stopped hovering and dropped. Lurching forward, he tried to catch it, instead knocking his head against the mirror and dropping the ice into the sink where it shattered.
Rubbing his forehead, he felt the cold emanating from his hand did a nice job of relieving the slight pain. "Shouta, honey?" His mom's voice came through the door, followed by a soft knock, "Are you okay? Did you…punch the mirror or something?"
"What? No, I just…slipped and hit my head," he answered sheepishly.
"Okay…that's not much better, honey," the doorknob began to turn, "Do you want me to look at it?"
Stepping over, Shouta pulled the door open to face his mother, pointing at his forehead. "I'm fine mom, see? I just slipped. Not even a bump." He bent down obligingly as she quickly inspected his head.
"Alright, just be more careful," she sighed, before gently kissing his forehead. "Shock is no joke, Shouta. Don't rush, please."
"I won't, mom," he nodded, stepping back and closing the door. Shaking his head, he turned the shower on and stripped as the water heated up before stepping in, almost immediately hopping back out. "Jesus, why is it so hot?" He muttered, reaching in to turn down the heat before stepping in.
The warmth of the water felt like a godsend, the flowing liquid washing away the stress of the day, at least on the surface. Quickly scrubbing himself down, Shouta summoned the cold to his hands, watching the droplets of water punch through the mist. "I can make ice," he mumbled, holding his hand under the spray, eyebrows arching as the water impacted his hand before drifting down as snow before melting mid-air. "That should mean I can freeze things, right?"
Casting his eyes about the shower, he dismissed the bar of soap, the various body washes and shampoos, fixing on the loofa he'd been scrubbing himself with. Feeling his blood run cold, he concentrated on the loofa and squeezed gently. Over the pattering of falling water, he felt more than heard a deep, creeping crunch, like stepping on fresh snow…but in his soul somehow. His eyes widened as frost creeped up and through the loofa, the bundle of porous cloth growing heavy in his hands.
The loofa was completely frozen and stiff in his hand. With a slight squeeze, it crumbled into pink snow that spilled from his palm and was swiftly swept down the drain. "…What?" He said faintly, "I…froze it…but I didn't cover it with ice, I…froze it." He licked his lips and clenched his fist, coming to a decision. "I need to tell mom and dad."
Nodding, Shouta rinsed himself off, dried and dressed before stepping out of the bathroom, anxiously flexing his fingers as he walked down the hall and into the dining room. "Mom, dad, I gotta…" He slowed to a stop as he saw his parents sitting at the table, a pot of soup in the center with three bowls set out for them. "Tell you…something…"
There was also a fourth bowl. The stranger sitting at the table slurped soup with a spoon held in one hand, while his other lay casually on a gun sitting on the wood. His parents sat stiffly on either side, and the bulky, quietly beeping collars around their necks were the reason. "Shouta, right?" The stranger said, and Shouta felt his heart stutter in his chest as he recognized the voice. The man was plain, the kind of guy who would disappear in a crowd without trying, a 'friendly' smile on his face. "Sit down," he motioned to the free chair with his gun, the gun he'd shot his partner with hours earlier, "We need to have a family conversation."
…
…
Shouta coughed into his hand as his throat tickled, before continuing his story. "After I sat down, the guy, Matthew Doun, he…offered me a deal. I would use my ability to freeze things to commit crimes, nothing serious like taking the mayor hostage or anything," he shrugged, "But small ones. Petty crimes. And then I would give him all the money or valuables I stole…in return, he wouldn't pop my parents heads like a pair of confetti cannons."
"Hm," the figure grunted, still circling the table, "And why didn't you go to the police?"
"He put something in my phone that would monitor everything I said, and it could be remotely activated. If he heard even the slightest whisper of me trying to get him busted, well…pop." He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I had no choice but to go along with it, alright? He held their lives in his hands…and it was my fault."
"How so?" The figure asked from behind him.
"If I hadn't used my powers then, he would've had no reason to think he could use me as a super-powered minion," Shouta replied, looking downtrodden, "Sure, I would've had a bullet put in me, but…they're my parents, you know? I'd do anything to keep them safe."
"Hm," the figure hummed. "Continue."
"Sure, but before that…" Shouta held up a hand, "Can I have something to drink, water or whatever? It's been a long day and my throat is dry."
There was a rustle of cloth, the door to the interrogation opening and a hushed conversation, then an odd crackle and rush of air before the figure walked up to the table and offered him a bottle of water. Shouta looked down at the hand intruding into his circle of light, a hand he recognized.
It was large, covered by an armored black gauntlet that extended up almost to their elbow with curved black scallops along the forearm, then gray, padded armor up the arm leading to black cape and cowl that revealed only their mouth and chin, the eyes covered by lenses that blanked them out, finally rising into two points like bat ears.
"…Batman," Shouta breathed, absently taking the bottle and cracking it open.
Batman sat down across from him. "Now, continue."
"Right, so," Shouta cleared his throat, "Matt, the guy who collared my parents, had them withdraw me from school on the basis of being traumatized. I was doing work from home on the computer, that kinda thing. He gave me a week to get him a thousand dollars, so I spent a good couple of days trying to figure out what kinda crime I could stomach committing." He sighed and rubbed his face, "Thinking of holding up a store or…mugging someone made me sick, I couldn't do that. I spent a good amount of time at the library, doing homework and trying to figure the closest thing to a victimless crime…and then when that got too much, I hit up the local gym to try and sweat it out."
"No such thing as a 'victimless crime,'" Batman pointed out bluntly, "Have you gone to therapy, to address the trauma of the robbery?"
Shouta gave the vigilante a flat look. "No," he said. "But I finally figured something that wouldn't involve me sticking up a place or mugging someone: breaking into ATMs. I'm not a hacker, so I wouldn't be stealing anyone's money, just the company that owned the machine, and they tend to carry a decent amount of cash. So, I picked out a couple of spots with not a lot of cameras around, then…well, I went out and bought my 'crime' outfit." He shrugged and took a swallow of water, "There are like, three Goodwills in eight blocks around home, so I walked to one and bought a hoodie, walked to another one, bought some cargo pants, went to the other and bought some shoes. Then, I went to a ski store to buy some goggles and a beanie, which I cut a couple of holes into."
Batman slipped a photo from the file he carried and flipped it around. It was a grainy picture of an above-average sized guy wearing a hoodie, pants, shoes and gloves, with a balaclava pulled over his mouth and blue ski goggles covering his eyes. It looked exactly like some middle-class schlub on a ski trip, which was the point. The exception being, of course, the large futuristic gun with glowing blue lines that he was holding. "And what about the weapon?"
He snorted in quiet amusement. "Well, some guy goes running around shooting ice out of his hands, that's gonna draw attention no matter how petty the crime…but some jackass with a Cold Gun? Maybe a second look." Shouta rubbed his mouth, trying to hide a smile, "Every couple of weeks or so, some idiot lucks out and finds one of Captain Cold's old models on the black market or some jury-rigged deal that'll break after a couple of uses, then goes around calling themselves 'Corporal Cold' or 'Admiral Iceberg' or whatever. This?" He tapped the gun in the photo, "I went to a dollar store, bought a squirt gun, tape and a bundle of glow sticks. Cost me maybe six bucks."
Batman hummed. "Given later events, it's obvious you trained with your ability. Where?"
Shouta leaned back in his chair. "When I wasn't at the library or the gym, I'd take a bus out into the sticks and slip into the forest, where no one could watch me shooting ice from my hands. Once I got over how cool shooting stuff out of my hands was, I…tried to figure out what all I could do," he shrugged helplessly, "I usually didn't have the time to really get into it. What I did figure out, though, was that when I shoot the cold out of my hands, whatever it hits gets encased in ice and stops moving. When I touch things, though…"
…
…
Shouta looked over his shoulder as he tugged his goggles into place, licking his dry lips as he hefted his squirt gun with blue glow sticks taped to it and stepped out from the alley. With careful aim, he 'fired' his gun at the cameras, one on the wall overlooking the ATM nook, and the other above the ATM screen itself. Shoving the gun into the front pocket of his hoodie, he hurried over to the machine and knelt down, pressing his fingers against the door that held the money. He watched as the metal crinkled and distorted, wisps of mist flowing down from his hands as he dragged his fingers around the edges.
Having created a distorted square, Shouta stepped back and kicked the ATM. The brittle metal burst into powder, and the newly-made window was revealed. Kneeling again, he pulled the square of metal free to find the system that held and dispensed the money. Working his nails into the seams of the plastic, he wrenched down and popped the container open, nearly spilling several bills onto the ground.
Breathing hard, he pulled his backpack around and began shoveling money into it, not even bothering to count how much he was taking, but hoping it would be enough. Once the machine was entirely cleared out, he zipped his backpack up and hurried away down an alley, quickly pulling down his hood and pushing up his beanie and goggles.
With a sigh of relief that did nothing to soothe his churning stomach, Shouta stepped out of the alley and headed down the street towards home, trying to ignore the squirt gun bouncing against his abdomen as he walked.
In front of him, the door to the cornerstore burst open and a man came sprinting out, a pistol in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. Shouta reached up with one hand to pull down his beanie and goggles while the other dove into his pocket to grab his gun as the other criminal ran towards him, shouting something over his shoulder.
The other criminal turned around just in time to see Shouta, beanie mostly covering his face, goggles haphazardly covering his eyes, bringing his gun up.
A beam of white energy lanced out and struck the man's pistol, covering it and his hand in a glove of ice. The criminal howled in surprise and shock, turning to run from this new threat, only for two more beams to hit his feet, freezing him in place. Then came a longer beam, encasing most of his body in ice, except for his head. And finally, a short beam hit him in the mouth, covering his lips in ice.
Shouta, breathing hard and hands trembling, bent down to grab the grocery bag the other criminal had dropped in his surprise, pulling it open to reveal a messy pile of crumpled bills. Realizing he'd just run into a robber, the cryomantic teen stared at the stolen money in the bag. There was a couple hundred bucks, maybe, which might've been enough to cover any shortage from his own thievery.
Shouta grimaced, closed his eyes, and dropped the bag at the frozen robber's feet, turning and scurrying away before he changed his mind.
…
…
"-Turned out, I didn't need to take the money," Shouta continued, taking a sip of water, "What I got from the ATM was about two thousand dollars, more than enough to cover what Matt was asking for…which wasn't actually a good thing, because it meant he expected more money onwards. Three thousand, next time, with two weeks to get it. Then he peeled off about three hundred dollars and gave them to me, saying 'see, working for me has benefits, yeah?'"
Batman made a note on a pad. "What then?"
"After that, I figured instead of, you know, directly stealing stuff, I could ambush criminals and steal their ill-gotten gains," he held up his hands like scales, "You know, stop criminals while also keeping Matt's finger off the button," Shouta dropped his hands and shook his head, "But, well…I don't know where all the crimes happen, and prowling around dangerous places looking shady with a gun would be more likely for me to get shot, so I stuck to ATMs and the occasional thief, which worked for a while."
"And what were your parents doing?" The vigilante asked.
"My mom does part-time data entry, while my dad works at a machine shop. In his case, he told them he wanted to look after me because of the robbery, so he was doing clerical work online…" The teen but his lip, eyes lowered in shame, "I didn't spend much time at home. Seeing them with those collars around their necks…it was hard. Usually, I'd wake up, eat, then hit the library for homework and research, head to the gym to avoid thinking about my problems, wait for night to fall, then go searching for places and criminals to steal from."
"And then?" Batman prodded.
Shouta sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, the water bottle squealing slightly as he squeezed it. "Matt's demands got worse; more money and faster. I knew I needed to get him off of my back for a long time, and for that I needed a lot of money. I'd hit up quite a few ATMs so that well was running dry and my first thought was maybe to try to rob an Armored Truck, but again, doing that to other people made me feel sick. Subtlety and anonymity had been my weapons, but I needed another…Audacity." He shrugged, "I did some research and eventually, I found the right target. A bank called-"
…
…
"-Grand Central Banking Services," Shouta muttered to himself, scrolling through the bank's webpage as he sat in a cubicle at the library, "Provides secure money transport throughout the city, servicing over a thousand ATMs and businesses, beautiful central location with marble floors and mahogany furniture, blah blah blah…never been robbed?" He opened another tab and typed in a query, searching through the results. "Never been targeted by robbers or supervillains, huh? Winner of the Banking Guild of America's 'Best Ethics' award ten years running? Hm…"
"Shouta? Is that you?"
A feminine voice calling his name had the cryomancer perking up and looking around, spotting a somewhat familiar form approaching him. "Jesse?" he asked, subtly ALT+F4ing the pages as a lithe teen with long blonde hair walked up to his cubicle.
"Hey, it's been awhile!" she greeted with an easy smile that faded to a sympathetic look, "I know it was a while ago, but I'm sorry about what happened. Getting caught up in that kinda situation sucks, I know. How are you doing?"
He shrugged. "Just…doing, I guess. Not terrible but not amazing. How about you?"
Jesse shrugged in reply, idly brushing her hair behind her ear. "Alright, the usual high school stuff. I'm a little jealous you get to do all your class work from home…" She looked around, "Or, well, not in class, anyway. I gotta say, I think it's working out for you, you know?" She bit her lip, letting her eyes roam over his bare arms, plain to see from the tank top he was wearing. "You know I'm the TA for Miss Johnson, right? She's been impressed with your grades."
Shouta perked up slightly, chuckling softly as he rubbed his neck. "Yeah, well, turns out it's a lot easier for me to concentrate by myself. I kinda miss Gym class, though."
"Not missing it too much, I notice," Jesse replied, playfully poking his bicep, a hint of pink in her cheeks, "You look good, Shouta. Not working on just the arms though, right?"
"Yeah, I work out the whole deal," he nodded, gesturing to himself, "It helps…clear my mind."
She bobbed her head agreeably. "So, you're definitely coming back to school sometime soon, right? Maybe we could be TAs together? You've got the brains for it."
"I'm not sure about that, but yeah I'll have to come back sometime soon," Shouta frowned for a second, checking the clock on the computer, "Hold on, the school day doesn't end for another three hours; what are you doing here, Jesse?"
Jesse shook her head, blonde tresses waving. "It was a partial day and my aunt works here. I was stopping by to say hi, then I was gonna go to that coffee shop down the block and hit the books for finals," she tapped her fingernails on the cover of the book she was holding. "Never too early to lock that kinda knowledge down, you know?"
"Oh, okay," he nodded, giving her a friendly smile, "I won't take up any more of your time. It was good to see again, Jesse."
"Yeah…good to see you too…" She mumbled, frowning as he turned his attention back to the screen, leaning in slightly.
Shouta turned back to her, blinking. "...Yyyyyeesss?" He said awkwardly. "Did you…want to use the computer?"
Jesse huffed quietly, flicking her hair over her shoulder and giving him a somewhat flat smile. "No, no, I'll just…try again later."
He arched an eyebrow and glanced around. "Try what again?" He muttered, turning back to see Jesse quickly walking away. He leaned out of the cubicle to watch her butt clad in tight jeans as she strode away, clicking his tongue. "Jesse Chambers, man…if only I knew how to get a girl interested in me," Shouta shook his head, turning back to the computer, "...And if there wasn't some psycho blackmailing me into crime with the threat of my parent's death…maybe dating's a bad idea right now…"
Clearing his throat, he opened the page about the bank again, eyeing the Careers section with an idea percolating in his brain. "I know what I gotta…"
…
…
"…What?" Batman asked impatiently, glaring at Shouta over his notepad. "Why did you stop?"
The teenager blinked hard. "Jesse…back then, in the library…was she…flirting with me?"
The vigilante scowled. "That's not important."
"It's important to me…not right now maybe," Shouta replied, scratching his head in confusion. "Er, anyways…" He trailed off again.
"What is it?" Batman growled.
The cryomancer smiled sheepishly, the handcuffs secured to the table clinking. "I just realized…I really need to pee."
Batman slowly arched an eyebrow.
"What?" Shouta said defensively, "It's been a long night and I haven't exactly had the time to go to the bathroom." He pouted at the vigilante, holding up his shackled wrists. "...Please?"
The vigilante sighed and pinched his nose, reaching over to unlock the latch keeping the teen's cuffs to the table. "Quickly," he grunted, reaching the door and pulling it open. As Shouta walked by, he added, "And yes, she was flirting with you."
"...Son of a bitch, I knew it!"
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A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my newest story! The title is a bit of a mouthful, I know, but it's both fitting and slightly pretentious, so it works. It's been literally years in making, with several arcs and chapters planned out already, and this is just the first.
Kenchi's 'Less Than Zero' was a big inspiration, although less the plot and more just being a really fucking good story. Plus I've long wanted to write a teen super in DC, and he's a cryomancer, too. There don't seem to be a lot of those.
Before anyone asks, I'm not using anything from the Arrowverse; the first couple of seasons of Arrow and the Flash were alright bordering on good, but every recent thing has been total ass, so no. This is based on the Animated Justice League and Teen Titans, some of my favorite shows to watch when I was a kid, along with Static Shock. That shit was my childhood, along with Bionicle. And of course, my original takes on certain parts.
This is also the first of my new style, that is to say, chapters that are 5-6k words long. I have decided that quality, typically, isn't the problem, it's quantity. The idea is, shorter chapters, delivered faster, of the same quality you've come to expect from my turtle ass. Arc-ending chapters will be longer, naturally.
I even have a schedule set up. First is this, then TFP, then a new story, then DxM, then another new story, and onwards from there. Of course, I post all of these first on P Atreon/Subscribe Star, then my discord, then publicly. If you want to be the first to read, with exclusive goodies to go with, you can find me there. It's not necessary, but it is appreciated. And chapter 2 is already up on P Atreon!
Discord Link:
Big thanks to NSG for being a general gentleman and soundboard. I hear he's working on some new things, why not check him out and tell him I sent you?
And thanks, of course, to you for reading, liking and reviewing.
Stay Awesome.
~Soleneus
P.S.: Yeah I got a lot of excuses for taking so long to write, like my computer being fucky and having Writer's Deadlock and getting stuck into Warframe again and having more hours at work, but those are excuses. There's really no other feeling like finishing a chapter.