She looked glaringly out of place in the concrete room. A girl like that would have stood out no matter where she went. A sheet of long white hair hung down her back. It wasn’t the type of white that came with years of age. It was the type of white that looked like freshly fallen snow. Her face was as smooth as porcelain, and her lips were blue with cold. Everything about her was blue and white. A tight pale blue tank top showed off her slim figure, and her legs were clad in a pair of spotless white jeans. White combat boots were neatly laced up to her knees. At one point, she had worn a darker blue cloak, but that had been thrown into the opposite corner. 

Her head lolled back, allowing her frosty breath to blow icy clouds into the air like a frozen chimney. The only problem was that the room was kept at a solid 70 degrees Fahrenheit. She was beautiful. But not the type of beautiful that was associated with most girls. The girl, strapped to a chair in the middle of an interrogation room, had a terrifying beauty that emminated both seduction and danger. She wasn’t freshly fallen snow. She wasn’t early mourning frost on leaves. She was black ice. She lay in wait, blending into the background. But by the time they noticed her, they were already dead. 

Suddenly, a quiet moan broke the brittle silence. Her face scrunched up in effort as the drugs slowly began to leak from her brain. Long fingers flexed, and ice coated the iron cuffs attached to the chair. The grin that appeared on her blue lips was mildly terrifying. A pair of blue-gray eyes flew open, and her head snapped forward. 

Her chest shook and maniacal noise rose up from her throat. For a minute, the three men on the other side of the mirror thought she was having some kind of fit. But she wasn’t having a fit; she was laughing. Her whole body vibrated and the sound echoed around the room like the call of a wild hyena. This went on for a solid minute or so until it cut off so abruptly all three men jumped. 

Slowly, she raised her head until those piercing blue-gray eyes were boring holes through the glass, locking eyes with the young man in the middle. Tilting her head slightly to one side, she smiled at the person who she wasn’t supposed to see. 

His legs went weak and goosebumps crawled up his flesh on icy pinprick legs. The other two men took an unconscious step back, hesitating a little before giving their frozen comrade a light shake. 

The girl made swift motions with her fingers and ice rapidly scuttled up her arms until they were coated entirely in sparkling crystals. Tendrils wound down the chair legs and spread across the floor with a sharp cracking noise. Disturbed by the unnatural talent show going on behind the glass, the man on the left opened the thin folder that had been tucked under his arm. His two companions leaned over his shoulder as they read then only paper in the file:

Name: Ivy Jane Frost

Age: Unknown

Height: 5’9

Eye Color: Blue

Parents: Unknown

Siblings: Jackson Frost (deceased)

Spouse: None

Children: None

Death Count: Unknown

Alias: Frostbyte