Captain Cold Flash Novels & Stories

I am done apologizing for who I am. I leaned forward, looking into the camera. "I am an Omega. I am the Captain of the Redmoor Wolves. I will see you on the ice tomorrow night."

I could see the silhouette of Caleb Ruiz spinning around toward the away tunnel, his posture stiffening in sudden, profound confusion. "At center... number 88... Captain of the Wolves... KANE HARLOW!" The name tore through the arena like a lightning strike. For a fraction of a second, the entire stadium went dead silent, paralyzed by absolute disbelief. Then, the away fans exploded into utter, chaotic madness. Out of the tunnel, a dark figure exploded onto the ice, skating with an aggressive, terrifying speed that could only belong to one person. The spotlight caught the heavy shoulders, the sharp, familiar lines of the white and red jersey, and the silver tint of his visor.

"Dr. Frost's uncle is Valen Frost, aged 47 years old. He's the chief of staff of a southwest military unit as well as a general. "Other than that, Dr. Frost's cousin, Blake Frost, is a powerful man of his own merit. He has a nickname called 'Blake the Great,' and he, alongside Nero Salazar, is known as the two greatest heroes of this generation." Cassian just smiled bitterly after that. "Mom, I'm just a regular doctor. Am I even worthy of her affections?"

Damn right! “Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same, Colt. I mean even just a teeny tiny changes of waves in your heartbeat when she calls you—” “No!” Well, that was fast. “Liar,” Frost muttered, still grinning. “Now who’s full of shit? Shove that to your ass because you can’t fool me when it’s clearer than the sky, Officer Snow,” he snickered. “Just shut up. You, yourself didn’t come from a romance novel,” Colt snickered back.

The flashlights began blinking like crazy, creating a blinding wall of white light. This happened because Julian Vane wasn't just any regular hockey player who did well in the sport. He was the Ice King. He was a global superstar, a billionaire icon, and he practically owned the entire league with his talent and fame. The captain and leader of the other foreign hockey team immediately went bright red with anger and deep embarrassment at being ignored so quickly. He felt completely insulted, but nevertheless, he controlled his fierce temper, forced himself to keep calm, and walked past the shouting crowd with a stiff, angry back.

To the right, a two-story-high promotional banner hung from the ceiling. It was a giant portrait of Aaron. He was staring directly ahead, his gray eyes fierce and unyielding, his jaw set in a hard line under his helmet. The gold captain’s "C" was emblazoned proudly on his chest. Below his image, the text read: ‘THE ICE KING: REIGNING CAPTAIN’ I swallowed hard, looking away. Five years ago, I was the one who sat in a cramped, drafty college apartment, pressing ice packs to his bruised ribs when he couldn't afford a trainer, sharing a single sleeve of cheap crackers because our bank accounts were empty.

However, Freed and his group swiftly moved to intercept him. The Stormwatch captain was clad in armor, but he lacked the imposing presence of a warrior. Instead, he gave off a somewhat sleazy vibe. The middle-aged captain knew he had no way to escape, so he asked in a slightly obsequious manner, "What brings you here, sir?" Freed quickly formulated his words and then said coldly, "We have orders from our superiors. We don't want to harm our own people, so as long as you clear the way, no one will get hurt."

“Purewater! Come now, don’t you want to sell me purewater, I want everything.” He said to her and she frowned before she walked slowly to his store, business was slow that day and she had not even sold much since morning and the cold sachet water was no longer cold. “It is not cold ooo.” She said to him.

With a sharp exhale, he sent forth a violent gust. Snow swirled, white and blinding. The fog… dissipated. Searchlights from the rooftops illuminated the compound, turning the night nearly as bright as day. Impressive. A great organization truly attracts all kinds of talent. Kraezon was one of the Ten Captains. His ability—controlling wind—was evident. A single exhale and a gale had cleared the dense fog. Too bad, he hovered far above the ground—beyond the reach of Ray's spatial swap. Meanwhile, swarms of Jayzepanese poured out, and beams from the searchlights converged on him. He had been spotted.

I sighed inwardly, knowing Emily doesn't take vanilla flavor. The Ice cream parlor is a big and expensive one and Serena's entrance had caused a stir. Serena is a public figure. "I can't take this," Emily said. "Why?" She asked. "I don't want this," Emily said. "She doesn't take any other flavor besides strawberry," I said. "Will you shut up! And do not interfere in our business!" Serena said, slamming the vanilla ice cream on my face. There was a loud gasp, and the next thing I heard was the sound of camera clicks.