Frost Detective Agency

May Frost was New York City’s most renowned Private Detective. Specializing in the inconceivably impossible, May liked to say she hadn’t chosen the detective life – the detective had chosen her.

Night had fallen, and a white, velvety blanket attempted to pacify the city that never sleeps.  Crisp December air billowed throughout its streets as the daytime hubbub of avenues and alleyways subsided.  Zig-zagging to and fro, stumbling partygoers were the only souls left outside, trying and failing to remain upright on the icy sidewalks.  In stark contrast to the drunken partygoers appeared a woman, wrapped in a leather duster and sporting a tilted, black trilby. 

            Short in stature, but chockful of spunk, May Frost was New York City’s most renowned Private Detective.  Specializing in the downright absurd and inconceivably impossible, May was a natural to the business who’d never left a case unsolved.  She liked to say she hadn’t chosen the detective life " the detective life had chosen her.  That’s right " she solved cases the way a family of five finished off a Thanksgiving turkey.  But it wasn’t turkey time now.  No, it was the first few hours of December twenty-fourth, and May had just under a day to keep her flawless sleuthing record untarnished.

            It had all started three days ago…

            The Solstice was in full swing, sparse clouds cluttered the early, sherbet-colored sunset, and spirits were jollier than a kid in a candy shop.  May had just moved into her newly purchased office on the north side of Cathedral Parkway, between Broadway and Amsterdam, and, Holy Spirit, had she lucked out.  Not only was her office snugged right into a four-story brick building equidistant from the Hudson and numerous parks, but it was just a hair’s breadth from Columbia University.  With all the antics that took place on most college campuses and in most city parks, May was bound to have a steady influx of clients.  Plus, at twenty-seven, May found the prospect of thousands of fine, handsome, male graduate students only a block away quite enticing

The detective was jolted from her arousing reverie by a knock at the door.  Disgruntled by the flight of an enthusiastic study session she’d been happily imagining, Frost frostily rose from her chair and went to answer the door. Her icy look soon melted into a smile as she looked up at the grinning face of her younger sister.

            Now, May had never really considered herself an intimidating figure.  Her sister, on the other hand, was a completely different story.  Standing a solid six inches taller than May, Arizona had the body of a swimmer and the attitude of an MMA badass.  In her free time, Arizona competed in triathlons and trained in the military art of Krav Maga.  On more than one occasion, May had watched unlucky muggers bite off a bit more than they could chew with the formidable blonde " leaving empty-handed and broken-boned.  Naturally, she was an elementary school teacher.

            “What’s up sis?” asked Arizona as she sauntered into the room, looking around the newly furbished office.  “I like what you’ve done with the place.  But, honestly " Frost Detective Agency?  Really?  These business cards can’t be legal.”

            May’s office was rather spacious, given the price she’d paid.  Roughly fifteen feet by fifteen feet, the square room occupied more space than it let on.  A wall to wall bookshelf spanned the back wall, opposite the door, with a regal looking mahogany desk situated in front of it.  The bookshelf itself wasn’t full by any means " occasionally occupied by the latest mystery novel or nameless potted plants May had purchased in efforts to ‘culture herself’ " but the desk was piled with paperwork.  Folders thrown haphazardly in a jumbled mess stacked at least two feet high and the only organizational effort given was the centered nameplate signifying that it was, in fact, May’s office.  A leathery executive’s chair was comfortably positioned central to the desk, providing ample swivel room, and was where May often found herself contemplating, and eventually solving, numerous cases. 

To the left of the door were two folded chairs, neatly propped against the dull-green walls, and to the right was a filing cabinet so large and wide it was often mistaken for a wardrobe.  Flush to the wardrobe was a sturdy coat hanger/floor lamp combination that provided most of the room’s light, shining upon the numerous awards and letters given to her clients after successfully solving a case.

There were dozens of framed, handwritten notes from thankful families she’d reunited with lost members, the front page article, signed by members of congress, the day after she’d broken open the Anthony Weiner scandal " an utter fallacy if you asked her, and, of course, her most remembered case " the out of town Spygate scandal she’d personally investigated and solved in the midst of the 2007 NFL season.  From minor political miscues to sports scandals to missing persons " May had truly done it all.

            “Hey, it’s not my fault if the FDA has a cow.  Personally, I think it’s a brilliant marketing strategy,” the dark-haired detective responded airily, waving her hands as if her witty brilliance was obvious.  “Besides, what’s life without a little humor in it?”

“You’re ridiculous,” shot back the younger of the two, rolling her electric-blue eyes.  Even in her navy jogging suit, Arizona still looked formidable.  Her hair had been tied back in a ponytail and she looked a little winded, as if she had just finished a run " which she probably had " but she still looked like someone you did not want to mess with.

            “Mmm, nah.  I believe the word you’re looking for is, ‘Hilarious.’”

            “Eh, that’s debatable.”

            “Have I ever told you, you’re my least favorite sister?” May drawled as she plopped herself back down on the swivel chair behind her desk and threw her feet onto the rich mahogany.  “Always bringin’ me down.”

            “Oh please, I’m your only sister,” the blonde deadpanned.  “Deal with it.  Anyway, I didn’t come her to chat.  Have you seen the paper?”

            Eyebrows raised, May slowly responded, “No " hadn’t gotten the chance.  I’ve been moving in all day.  Why? What’s up?”

            Arizona tossed a newspaper onto the desk, “Read it.”

            Plastered on the front page, in big, black, bold lettering was the headline:  “MANN HUNT IN CENTRAL PARK”

            May immediately sat up straight.  Fraus Mann.  The white whale…

At approximately 9:45 last night, the annual Central Park Christmastime Parade was interrupted as it ended its march around Columbus Circle.  A man, described by eye-witnesses and enforcement officials as standing roughly 6’9” and 250 pounds, barreled over half a dozen members of the drumline before fleeing out of the park onto West 59^th " the Central Park Rangers in hot pursuit. Attempting to shake the rangers, the behemoth recklessly threw himself into oncoming traffic, slammed into a red GT Mustang, then limped away down a side alley, clutching his knee.  A pile-up quickly developed as startled drivers swerved to avoid the fugitive.  Although no one was killed, there have been twenty-four confirmed hospitalizations and damages to the cars and buildings involved have risen into the millions.

The man’s identity is still unknown, but the NYPD have released an official statement about their number-one suspect, indicating that the man May be the infamous mass-murderer, Fraus Mann.  Onlookers’ descriptions of the man’s height, weight, and ‘coal-black eyes’ confirm this theory and police officials have issued warnings to the inhabitants of Hell’s Kitchen and Manhattan to be on the lookout for Mann.       

Mann was last spotted ten months ago, in Chicago, after a body was found floating ashore on the city’s Navy Pier.  Despite being the case’s number one suspect and all authorities notified to be on high alert for the fugitive, Mann was once again able to elude capture " orchestrating yet another improbable escape…  SEE PAGE 4.

A blurry picture of Mann sneered back at May from the bottom half of the front page as she peered into the cold, merciless, coal-black eyes of the killer.  Mann’s clothing was clearly anachronistic.  Donning the look of a 1920s gangster in his pinstripe suit and silky gambler’s top hat, Mann was a modern-day Al Capone " the primary differences being his pudgy button nose and his preference for old-fashioned corn-cob pipes rather than the stereotypical cigar. 

Mann was the lowest of the low.  Ex-Swedish military, he’d graduated at the top of his class in the late-nineties before going rogue overseas and plaguing cities across the U.S. with the most ruthless murders imaginable.  He’d been linked to over fifty killings in LA, Denver, St. Louis, Chicago, and more. Each time, he’d somehow evaded enforcement and slipped away unscathed.  This time was different, though. 

Ever since he’d first made the news, May had studied Mann more attentively than all her other cases combined.  The Mann, the myth, the legend " he was an obsession of hers.  Every single time up until now, he’d remained in the shadows, unseen until the moment of the murders.  Usually, he made a spectacle of them, apparently relishing the helplessness and absolute terror flashing across the public’s face.  The guy was undoubtedly a psychopath, but he was a damned smart one.  Why the hell would he reveal himself now?  What was the point?  He was basically screaming, “Catch me if you can!” to every acronymed enforcement agency this side of the Atlantic.  Was he tired of being too good?

“May, I know that look.  Don’t you dare even think about it.”

“Think about what?” the older Frost innocently inquired.

“Please, I’m not an idiot.  I’ve seen your shrine to Mann at your apartment.  I know what you’re "“

“It’s not a shrine,” May coldly retorted, cutting off her younger sister.  This so-called ‘shrine’ was more of a room, if May were to be honest with herself " her guest room.  Rarely receiving any visitors, when if she did, she’d spend the night on the couch, the spare room in May’s apartment was entirely dedicated to Mann.  All four walls were littered with newspaper clippings and photos taken of Fraus throughout his reign of terror.  Threads of string, tied together by multicolored yarn connected certain articles, creating a jumbled web of possible connections between crimes and debatable leads as to where Mann could have been at the time.  The bed was blanketed with hundreds of crumpled pieces of paper containing messily scribbled plans May had concocted on the numerous sleepless nights spent obsessing over her twisted passion.  For obvious reasons, the room remained locked " May holding the only key.

“Zona, the guy needs to be caught.  Don’t you understand "”

“I know he needs to be caught!  You think I enjoy seeing mangled bodies on the TV every six months?  News flash " I don’t.  I get the man’s a f*****g psychopath.  I just don’t get why you should feel responsible for catching him.  He’ll kill you, May!  He trucked an entire band.  Twenty-four people hospitalized.  He demolished a f*****g car with his body.  He’ll f*****g des "”

“Shut up,” May cut in, cocking her head to the side.

“No!  I will not shut up.  You don’t get to "“

“Arizona!  Be quiet!”  May’s mind was moving a mile a minute as puzzle pieces flew about in her thoughts.  She snatched the news article back up and stared at the print. ‘Band… Christmas parade…GT car…knee…twenty-four hospitalized…orchestrated.’  No.  F*****g.  Way.  It couldn’t be this simple.  She bolted up from her chair, bumping into her sister, as she searched the cabinet on the left wall.

            Forgetting she was supposed to be mad at her, Arizona questioned May’s odd reaction.  “What are you "“

            May shushed her sister as she frantically threw open drawers and folders, glancing at them for a second before tossing them aside, blowing her hair out of her eyes and muttering, “I know they’re in here somewhere… Aha!”  Holding a manila folder overflowing with papers, she raised her hand in triumph.

            “Care to explain?” the blonde began, quirking her eyebrows.

            “These are all the cases Mann’s been suspected of in the past ten years,” May said.

            “I thought you kept those at home?”

            “Those are just copies " I keep the originals here…just in case.  Ya know?  But, it all makes sense, Zona.  The news!  That’s how he always gets away.  He’s got a guy in the paper working for him.  I don’t know how he does it in every city, but look here " all the articles written just before his murders take place.  The hangings in LA, the bomb in Denver, the floater in Chicago, the murder in Baltimore.  Read the articles on the front page!”  May was bouncing on her toes as she looked imploringly at her younger sister.

            Arizona timidly scanned the articles before looking back, confused.  “I don’t get it.”

            “The word play.  Look at the words the authors use.  It’s the same type of clues each time.  LA:  The article’s about babies reactions to pesticides in local lawn gardens.  Five cases specifically were nicked from the records of child illness brought on by that particular pesticide brand.  Boom.  Next day.  Five people hanged in Lincoln Heights Park.  Baby…lawn…garden…five…nicked.  The Hanging Gardens of Babylon.  Lincoln’s on the NICKel, which is worth five cents.”

            “May, you’re grasping at straws here.  That’s just a coinci "”

            “Denver:  The article describes how the Rockies were off to an explosive start after the All-Star Break.  They’d moved three games into first place over the Padres.  Boom.  Next day.  Mexican family of three blown to smithereens in the stands of a little league game.  The father’s name…wait for it…Diego.  As in San Diego.”

            Squirming in her chair, Arizona tried to object.  “Still.  I don’t know, May.  It fits, but I think you might be looking for something that’s not there.”

            “I’m not, sis!  See, here!  Chicago: The day after the Bears headline with their Super-Bowl matchup against the Colts, a man washes up on the harbor, dead " leg caught in a bear trap.”

            “OK, fine. But " “

            “Baltimore:  The paper recognizes the 150^th Anniversary of the death of Edgar Allen Poe.  The following day a missing person’s report is filed for a RAVEN Goodwin.  The police find his body a week later, hidden underneath his own living room’s floorboards.  Have you ever read ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’?”

            “Of course I have, but "”

            “How about this?  Look at today’s paper.  He barreled over a ‘band.’  He rammed his knee into a car…a ‘G’T.  ‘Twenty-four’ people were hospitalized.  He ‘orchestrated’ his escape.  Hell, the author f*****g capitalized ‘May’ in the article.  He’s calling me out, sis.  I know he is.”

            “Why the hell would he wanna do that, May?  What reason could he possibly have for calling you out?”

            Ready for this, May immediately shot back her rebuttal.  “Why did you stop running 5Ks, Arizona?

            Taken aback by the curveball thrown at her, Arizona said, “Um…they got boring.  They weren’t a challenge to me anymore.  Why?”

            “So, what did you do after that?”

            “You know what I did, May.  I started doing half-marathons; I ran Tough Mudders; I did triathlons.”

            “And why did you do those?”

            “What do you mean, ‘why’?  You know why.  I love pushing myself.  When running wasn’t enough, I added distance.  When distance wasn’t enough, I added obstacles to the course.  When that wasn’t enough, I added two other sports to the challenge.  Each time I did something more difficult than the last it made me feel invincible " like I could do any…”  Arizona’s eyes widened when she caught on to what May was getting at.  “You don’t think…”

            Face wiped of all humor, May finished her sister’s thought.  “Oh I know that’s why he’s calling me out.  Mann’s gotten bored, sis.  No one’s caught him yet, so he’s upped the ante.  I don’t know why he chose me, but he obviously has, and there’s no way in hell I’m backing down.  I’ve solved every case I’ve ever taken, and it’s never been because I’ve shied away from a fight.  Besides,” she said, pointing at the day’s paper Arizona had thrown onto the desk, “we know just where to find him…”

             As she stalked down Seventh Avenue, a rapid sense of anticipation began culminating in May’s stomach.  This was it.  She’d been planning non-stop since she’d pieced the puzzle together.  Arizona, despite fighting tooth and nail against the idea, was in her car a few blocks away, monitoring surveillance they’d set up the past few days.  The sisters had gone over every contingency they could think of, and Arizona had taken May through a two-day crash course in self-defense.  They’d opted not to contact the police, in order to prevent Mann’s moles from giving him advanced warning and allowing his escape.  But May was a pro, and Arizona, due to numerous practice runs, was only two minutes and fourteen seconds away if things got hairy.

            Grasping the collar of her jacket, May spoke into the button-microphone she’d acquired over years of advanced detective work, “Tulip to Canyon.  Do you copy?”

            An exasperated sigh came through her earpiece confirming that Arizona had, in fact, heard her.  “Are you serious?  Those are about the dumbest codenames I’ve ever heard, May.”

            “It’s Tulip, Canyon.  Over.”

            “Fine, Tulip.  Yes, everything’s all clear.  You’re good to go.”

            “Roger that, Canyon.  I’m approaching the building now.”

            “I can see you on the camera, May.  You’re "“

            “It’s Tulip.”

            “I can see you on the camera, Tulip.  Be serious.  You could die.”

            “And you wonder why I never invite you to these things,” May said under her breath, before mumbling, “…killjoy.”

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to.  Now, is the hat-cam working?”

            “You look ridiculous, but yeah.  Resolution’s crystal clear.”

            “Please " I rock the trilby.”

            “Focus, May…Tulip.”

            Taking a few calming breaths, May closed her eyes and went over the plan again in her head.  It was the night of the twenty-fourth.  She was outside Carnegie Hall.  Inside was the country’s most notorious serial killer since Gary Ridgeway.  She was double-tasered and wore a bullet proof vest under her duster and had a knife hidden in her left sock.  Arizona was two blocks away, ready to help.  As she crept up the stairs, May could hear the loud thumping of her heart skipping a beat every now and then.  Thump-thump.  Thump-thump. Thumpety-thump-thump.   

            “Let’s ride, Fraus,” she whispered, reaching the doors of the orchestra hall.  “Let’s have some fun, before you melt away back where you came from.  I know your game now.  Even if you escape tonight, don’t you worry " I’ll be back again " someday.  Your time is up.”

            Receiving confirmation that the coast was clear, May stealthily opened the huge wooden doors of Carnegie Hall and crept into building.  It was almost pitch black.  The only source of light came from the moon and streetlamps shining through the enormous glass windows of the atrium.  “I don’t see anything,” May heard through her earpiece as Arizona surveilled from the car.  “You?”

            “Me either…neither?  Which one is it again?”

            “It doesn’t matter, May!  Focus.”

            “Codenames, Canyon.” May meticulously delved deeper into the hall, footsteps muffled by the red carpet.  The silence was unnerving.  The faint buzzing of neon red exit signs provided the only noise as she made her way to the heart of the theater.  Nothing seemed out of place.  There were no trip wires, no hostages, no spooky voices letting her know her best laid plans were all for naught.  It was almost too perfect.

            With the reception area and atrium behind her, May now stood at the doors of the auditorium.  “Canyon, you there?”  She needed to make sure her sister was at full attention.

            “Still here, Tulip.  You ready for this?”  Despite the annoyance at her insistence for using codenames, May could still detect her sister’s tone of concern.

            “As ready as I’ll ever be.  Remember:  You’ve got eyes on the ceiling, I’ve got eyes on the ground.  If you see anything " anything at all " holler.”  She pushed open the door and tip-toed into the aisles.

            A lot of things happened at once.  May saw a flash of red skirt across her face, she heard Arizona screaming into her earpiece, and she felt something nick the right side of her neck.  Jerking her hand up to feel the spot that had been nicked, she felt an object protruding from her skin " a dart.  Suddenly dead-tired, May’s eyes drooped and she stumbled into one of the many of the auditorium’s empty chairs, falling unconscious.

            When she came to, May found herself dangling above a large vat of what smelled like bubbling acid, hands tied above her head.  Struggling with the knot, she took in her surroundings, rapidly blinking away the weariness and adjusting to the darkness, noticing she was still in Carnegie Hall.  Actually, she was on stage " well, technically above stage, but that’s beside the point. 

            “I was wondering when you’d come around.”  A light glared onto the stage as the voice came from behind her.  May’s eyes watered in the sudden presence of light and she looked away.  It was at this point that she noticed she was no longer wearing the trilby.  Arizona had no visual, assuming she was still in the car " which she probably wasn’t.  May knew her sister well enough to know Arizona had been out the door before May had even noticed she’d been tranqued.  Her earpiece was also missing.  Her mic, on the other hand, was still on her.  Mann had not confiscated the duster.  Arizona could at least hear everything.

            They’d planned for this.  May hanging over a huge tub of boiling acid might not have been the exact parameters, but the sisters were prepared for a moment like this.  May just had to keep Mann talking. 

“Show yourself, Fraus,” May said, surprised at how unafraid she sounded.  “Have the decency of looking me in the eyes when you kill me.” 

“Well, well, well, little Miss Frost has bit of bite to her, doesn’t she?”  He looked just like he did in the papers " pipe and all, except he wasn’t sneering this time.  A Cheshire grin stretched across Mann’s face as he slowly walked into the light, his form casting an enormous shadow, voice riddled with hints of a Swedish accent as he muddled his vowels.  “But, of course, I don’t want to kill you right now.  No, not quite yet.  What would be the fun in that?”  His coal-black eyes peered into her ethereal-green ones, alight with insanity.

“This is all just a game to you.  Isn’t it?  I was right about you, Fraus.”  May found someone satisfaction in knowing her countless hours spent delving over his case files and police reports weren’t all in vain.

“Oh you’re quite right, May.  May I call you May?”  He took a long draft from his pipe and exhaled before continuing.  “This is, after all, life’s most dangerous game, is it not?  The hunt for man?” 

May shuddered as his words struck her.  It wasn’t the words themselves that made her uneasy, it was the way he said them.  The complete and utter reverence they carried, a demonic-like worship of Satan himself.  “You’re a monster,” she spat, revolted by Mann’s praise of murder.  “How can you live yourself?  You "”

“Live with myself?  May, we’re not so different, you and I.”

“I’m nothing like you!”  Frost shouted, outraged by the mere thought of her and Mann being alike.  He was getting to her, and he knew it.

“Oh, but you are, May!”  Mann laughed.  “We both thrive on the chase.  Sure, yours is for catching baddies and mine is for ending lives, but that’s all semantics.  We live for the hunt.  Finding our targets, planning for days " sometimes weeks, taking account of every possible outcome, and then…pouncing.  Ah, yes.  The thrill is unmatched.”

            May wanted to throw up.  The loss of blood flow to her arms was starting to make her dizzy, but she needed to stay focused and keep Mann talking.  Whatever Arizona was going to do, she needed more time.  “How did you escape?”  The words were out of her mouth before she even knew they’d left.  “Every single time, the police had you cornered, but you always got away.  How?”

            Mann seemed a little surprised by the question.  Of all the things he was expecting to come out of May’s mouth that was not one of them.  “Curious little minx are you?  Well, I guess I’ve still got some time to kill.”  He flashed her a wink at the horrid pun, “Besides, I’m still waiting on that sister of yours to show herself.”  May tried to hide the panic in her eyes but Mann noticed her tense and cackled in triumph.  “You thought I didn’t know about her, did you?  Arizona Frost,” he recited, as if reading an index card.  “Third Grade teacher at New York City’s Public School 111; fifteenth place finisher of last year’s Iron Man Triathlon; master in Krav Maga.  I told you, Miss Frost.  We both do our homework.” 

            May tried to stay calm, despite everything she thought she knew collapsing in front of her.  She should have known Mann would have done his research.  She should have known he’d find out about Arizona.  She should never have gotten her sister involved in this.  She knew Mann.  She knew what he was capable of.  He would kill them both without batting an eye and not lose an ounce of sleep.

            “But I digress,” Mann continued.  “You see, May, it wasn’t all that hard.  You obviously found out about the clues in the papers.  Bravo for that, by the way.”  He tipped his bowler hat in mock respect.  “All I needed to do was read up on which city’s writers got the most attention.  I would read thousands of articles, keep a tally of whose name appeared most on the front pages of each section of the paper " be it front page, business, sports " and target the most statistically probable writer.   Simple science, really.  Plus, people will do anything for you when you threaten their families.  Did you know that, May?  I would have these writer’s lives down to a science after a week’s worth of surveillance.”  May stared at him in sick fascination as pride emanated from his face.  “It was like taking candy from a baby " easier actually.  I would give them a list of words and phrases that needed to be in their next article and in return their families wouldn’t die!  Everybody wins!  They tell me when the article is getting printed, I kill my prey, and I’m gone before the police know what happened.”

            “But why me?”  The question had been eating at May for the past three days.  “Why did you chose me?”

            “I thought it was obvious, May. Our records.  We both happen to be undefeated and untied " chasing perfection.  Ali vs Frasier, if you’ll amuse me and my boxing allusions.  They had Madison Square Garden for their Fight of Century, we have Carnegie Hall.”

            Just as Mann finished, a blur of blonde shot out from the right of May’s vision.  Arizona had moved so fast, May had barely registered her presence before her and Mann had begun a deadly dance of fists and feet.  Fraus, surprisingly, was holding his own, abnormally limber for such a large man.  May could only watch helplessly as the two duked it out on the stage.

            “Finally decided to show yourself,” Mann jeered as he blocked the blonde’s flurries of punches and kicks, staying on the defensive.  “Hmm.  Once again, I was expecting more.”  Moving so quickly neither sister had time to react, Mann had grabbed one of Arizona’s fists as she threw a side hook, hit her square in the sternum, and used her momentum form the punch to hurl her over his head.  She sailed like a ragdoll and slammed against the side wall of the stage before crumpling to the floor, moaning in pain.

            May screamed in protest as Mann ignored her and slowly stalked towards her helpless sister.  Arizona was going to die, and there was nothing May could do about it.  Nothing.  If only there was something she could distract him with…the knife!  How had she forgotten about the knife?  She could still feel it rubbing against her ankle underneath her left sock.  If only she could reach it. 

May began swinging her legs, swaying back and forth over the vat of boiling acid " racing against time as Mann stalked closer and closer to Arizona.  Her plan was stupid.  Absolutely mental.  But it was all she had at this point.

Twenty feet…Fifteen feet…

She now had enough momentum to bring her ankles up to her hands during each crest in her pendulum like motion.

Teen feet…Five feet…

This was it.  All or nothing.  Life or death.  May swung her legs up one final time, and grasped the knife with her right hand, feet flying up to the ceiling.  Then, in a James Bond-like maneuver, she cut the rope holding her above the vat of acid, while maintaining her bodily momentum, and sailed into a makeshift backflip that propelled her just out of harm’s way " sailing free of the tub.  Landing safely, May twisted her body into a kind of sideways summersault, rose on one knee, and let the knife fly.  The glinting silver imbedded itself on the stage’s side wall, inches from Mann’s face.

 Panting from the near death experience and acrobatic exertion, May yelled at Mann, “Stay away from her, Fraus!  It’s me you want.  You said Ali vs Frazier.  Not Ali vs Frazier and his little sister!”

Enraged at the insult to his gamesmanship, Fraus turned away from Arizona and gave May his undivided attention.  “So that’s the way you wanna play, Frost?  Let’s have some fun.”

May tried to make it somewhat of a fight " she really did " but two days of self-defense wasn’t going to help her here.  Hell, Arizona had barely lasted a minute against Mann.  She was able to dodge his first few blows and was even able to land a feeble punch that did little more than tickle the behemoth when she was met with a roundhouse kick to gut, sending her flying backwards, head slamming against the tub of acid.

She retched and clutched at her stomach as Mann approached, smiling wide and eyes aflame.  His shadow loomed over her as he stared her down, a predator readying its final blow.  He looked as if he was about to say something when May saw, out of the corner of her eye, a silver object speed through the air and lodge itself in the back of Mann’s head.  His body went rigid for a second and then collapsed, falling head first into the boiling liquid, dissolving almost instantly.

May looked in the direction the knife came from and saw Arizona, arm still outstretched, staring at the place Mann had been.  Tears in her eyes, May’s little sister limped over and collapsed onto the ground, crying hysterically and hugging May harder than she ever had before.  It had been years since May had last seen Arizona cry " though this situation definitely justified it.  Arizona was so tough and intimidating that May often forgot she was still only twenty-three, just barely out of college.

“Zona,” she whispered, comforting her sister as she sobbed, “Now’s probably a bad time to tell you your Christmas gift was concert tickets here on New Year’s Eve.”  Arizona’s sobs quickly subsided into half sobbing " half laughter as her younger sister let go of all her emotions.  May continued, “I know this might be a bad first impression, but I honestly think that you’ll "”

“Stop it, May!” Arizona pleaded, recovering from the waterworks.  Tears had stopped falling and she was taking deep breaths in efforts to finally calm herself.

“I mean we both did go full-on Kim Possible.  What, with my ninja backflip and your knife throw.”

“Okay.  Okay.  I’m all better,” the younger sibling sniffled as she wiped her face and sat up.  “You always knew how to make me feel better, May.  No matter what.  I love that about you.”

“Aww.  Love you too, sis,” May smiled back as she brought herself to her feet, holding her hand out to help her sister.  “Now, come on " it’s technically Christmas.  Let’s get home and let the feds deal with this later.  Besides, Frosty’s on at nine " now that’s one hell of a movie.”

Author's Note

Let me know what you think! This is my first post, so let me know if you find anything that needs fixing. If you get all of the puns I'll be so proud of you.

Let me know if you understand the references.