Cold Rage

“I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!” Frozone yelled. “You are going to put an end to this right here and right now.”

The lawyer caught a glimpse of his closest seated employees hurrying away from their desks. Then frost coated the glass walls of his office, and they were just dark shapes that quickly disappeared. Waves of chilled air floated off the enraged super. Ice formed on the Persian rug he’d bought in Marakesh and the leather chairs he’d gotten from London were entombed in a thick covering of snow. The lawyer made a mental note to send the receipts to accounting so they could properly bill the government.

“Mr. Zone, please sit down,” the lawyer said. He stepped around his desk and swept the two chairs free of their snowy covering, noting that the cushions were already cracking. He sat down, gesturing to the other chair, genially.

“It’s FROZONE!” the Super bellowed. “Not MISTER ZONE. And I don’t want your platitudes or your phony smiles. I want this situation shut down. NOW!”

“You signed a contact,” the lawyer said. He dropped all pretense of good nature. If the Super wanted to play tough, then so be it. “My client has both your signature on a binding legal agreement and a literal brigade of legal representation willing to make your life very unpleasant should you fight them on this.”

“I signed up for a movie about my life,” Frozone asserted. “And I didn’t sign with them. I signed with the guys that did Bob’s movie. That was classy. This is just a marketing scheme to sell dolls to little girls.”

“And those little girls are going to see the movie in droves,” the lawyer said. “They’re going to bring their parents and their siblings and their best friends.” He pointed at the papers on his desk, a black, mouse-eared logo prominent. “The fact of the matter is that the company that made your friend’s movie – the one you signed with – is now owned by them. They made the movie you contractually agreed to. And they made it into something that’s going to earn billions.”

“THEY TURNED MY BROTHER AND ME INTO PRINCESSES!” Frozone screamed.

“They made some artistic choices for the betterment of the story in whole. Siblings. Ice powers. Those are both still there. The director just chose to change gender.”

The lawyer recognized the multiple shadows growing from behind the iced-over glass as security preparing to break in. He exhaled with relief. “Frankly Mr. Frozone, if you wanted script approval, you should have had it written into the contract. But since you did not, I suggest you follow the advice from your movie and let it go.”

“Oh you did NOT just tell me to let it go,” Frozone growled as ice shards formed around his clenched fists.

Shopping For Transport

The woman was, frankly, gorgeous. Tall, dark hair, incredible body. And not afraid to show it, considering the bodice and tight leggings. Definitely athletic. Probably softball player in college. No… volleyball player. No… BEACH volleyball. Chin, lips, nose… classically beautiful like one of those Greek statues, so totally into looking perfect. And wearing a tiara… MONEY!!

Jonah looked to the other sales guys and wiggled the knot of his tie. Javier and Mikey were with other customers and acknowledged his dibs with quick left hands to chins. Robby and Chad had their hands on their ties trying to assert their claims. They each tapped a hand against a thigh three times. Two fists versus a palm flat against the leg. Jonah nodded to the guys with satisfaction in his raised eyebrow and strolled toward the woman.

“Hello,” he said with as much airy lightness as he could muster. Jonah didn’t want to spook her. Lots of women were intimidated coming into the showroom. “I say this in a totally non-harassment manner,” he paused, gave his friendliest smile and waved to the surrounding vehicles, “do you see anything you like?”

She laughed, her mouth forming into a warm smile. “Not really, no. I’m in need of something a bit more custom.”

That got a laugh – a lilting, beautiful laugh like harp strings strummed. Pretty and a sense of humor. Keep it light and moving and I’ll have the down payment on the beach house, baby.

“My name is Jonah and let me tell you, we can do custom.” He pointed to a dark, fast-looking sports car. “That Camaro doesn’t just come in black. You can get it in red or blue.” He gestured to the woman’s side. “We can even do gold to match your rope and bracelets. AND you can get it as a convertible.” Jonah looked toward the showroom’s windows. “Man… driving down to the beach, wind whipping your hair around, sun shining down on you and your -” he hesitated – “bestie. And there’s plenty of room in the trunk for volleyball gear or picnic stuff for you and your significant other.”

The woman smiled some more. “It’s good to meet you, Jonah,” she said. “You can call me Diana. And while convertible muscle cars are nice, I’m actually looking for something flight capable. My commute’s more difficult than most.” She produced a small rectangular piece of plastic with three letters embossed on one side. “The league sent me.”

Jonah took the card, flipping it and looking at the back casually. “My apologies,” he said lightly, his hand shaking a bit as he returned it. “Um… why don’t you come with me to my desk and I can show you the special request menu.” Jonah led Diana to a glass-walled room off to the side, held open the door while she went inside and sat down. He followed, closing the door after him. Making sure to pull the curtains shut, Jonah settled behind the desk checked to make sure Diana was settled, then pressed the power button on his lamp six times. Both their chairs and the desk immediately began sinking into the floor.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god! A league sale! They’ve got Donald Trump, Lex Luther, Bruce Wayne and King of Saudi Arabia money combined. CHA-CHING!!! I’m buying TWO beach houses. And a condo on the mountain!

They came to a stop in a cavernous sub-basement. Vehicles of all types sat on the white tiled floor. “I know you said you’re looking for a flyer, but I wouldn’t be doing you – ha ha – Justice – if I didn’t point out the Tumbler 3.” Jonah pointed to a giant triangular shaped machine with tractor treads instead of wheels and a jet exhaust port at the back end. “The roof panels extend outward to form wings that, combined with the thrust from the mini-Krypto/Phantom Drive, allow gliding for distances of up to two miles. AND we can custom paint it to match any uniform. We’ve got an order yesterday for TWO in midnight black for The Bat-”

“Please, no. I really am only interested in aircraft.” Diana crossed her legs, took a deep breath and sighed. “And color schemes don’t factor in my needs. Frankly, I’m looking for non-descript. The more invisible the better.”

“I get it,” Jonah said, snapping his fingers. “You’re looking to transport league members covertly. So you’re like their executive assistant? Congratulations. I’m sure we can find you a great plane to fit your needs.”

Jonah pulled brochures from his desk including a card of color samples. Diana looked at him and shook her head in silence.

Better make sure to get show her reds and blues. And got to get the league on the phone. No sense getting all the way into the sale without getting the Super guy to okay the credit card.