by Hydrargentium

The heavy wooden doors exploded into the room, shattered by the blast of cold. The splinters tinkled as they scattered across the marble floor.

OverChill spread his arms, embracing the room as he entered.

“LAAAA-DIEES AND GENTLEMENNNNN! ALLOW ME TO INTROD-”

BANG!

To his right, one of the gunmen had chosen to shoot first and ask questions later, interrupting OverChill’s grand entrance. The gunshot rang loudly from the panelled walls, and more than a few of the hostages screamed at the sound. Barely audible, in comparison, was the thud of the bullet embedding itself in the heavy shield of ice that had sprung up to protect him.

Casually, OverChill snapped his fingers. The gunman gave out a yelp, as both gun and hand were suddenly encased in a lump of ice. The other three tuxedo-clad hostage-takers raised their weapons in response. All three barrels were pointed at OverChill, although none of the wielders seemed quite ready to try their own shot.

OverChill mentally wiped his brow, thankful the bullet hadn’t ricocheted. He cocked his head to one side.

“Ah, yes. I guess you three could be a problem too.”

Before any of them could react to his words, they found their hands similarly encased. When one of them tried to turn and run, he fell over, his feet frozen to the floor.

Women in fine gowns, hair piled in expensive up-dos, stared at their unexpected rescuer. Men in tuxedos, clearly comfortable in bow tie and cummerbund, looked glanced at each other, and at OverChill, unsure how to react.

OverChill cleared his throat.

“Let’s just go from where we left off, huh?”

He spread his arms wide again.

“INTRODUCING, YOUR SAVIOUR AND BENEFACTOR, THE ONE AND ONLY… OVERCHILL!!!”

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