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Meet Lee Stephen. Your average middle-aged bloke, a loving wife and two beautiful children. Now this day was a real special one for Lee, you see it was the first day of his new job as a security guard for an art gallery but it was also his last. For at the current moment there couldn't have been a worse place to work than in an art gallery perhaps being due to the very recent string of attacks on the art houses of the city. Actually, that was the only reason why this was a bad move in Mr. Stephen's career path of course the man himself knew this fact because he just so happened to be rooted to the ground by...ice?

"Tell me, do you like....art?"

A cold and bitter voice echoed through the room, young and female coincidently the voice belonged to a young teenage girl with skin as white as snow and with eyes as red as the rage that lived within her. Her thick brows furrowed as the museum security peon failed to give a correct answer never mind an answer at all. Just as she presumed an ignorant uneducated fool with no eye for fine art. She began to approach him, slowly pacing towards the man who had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

"Tick tock, tick tock. Come now, this is a matter of life and death, you must know an artist, a painting?"

You could see the panic in his eyes as he struggled to think of anything and then it struck him like a shovel to the face. He was standing in a room covered in art exhibits, this particular room held the works of one Damien Hirst, a modern artist who liked to preserve animals and cut them in half….not quite Picasso.

"D-d-damien Hirst!"

Judging by the way the girl's face twitched maybe that wasn't the best thing to say and perhaps Lee had just thrown his life away. "Wrong. Answer." Now she was face-to-face him a smile crept onto her face, a vicious smile, a devious smile as she grabbed onto his face, her thumbs boring into his cheekbones. Now as soon as her hands made contact with his skin he began to scream it was as if his face was being dipped in liquid nitrogen and it spread swiftly across his entire body. Now perhaps she had been gripping his face too hard but due to the skull being weakened by the cold his head exploded in a mass of skull fragments and brain. A nasty way to go.

"Oh, what a pity. You could have been a marvellous statue, an amazing work of art but perhaps there is hope for you yet, an image of imperfection, yes? Much like the Venus de Milo! Oh I am BRILLIANT!"

The girl wasn't entirely prepare for what came next. A giant blast, who could have predicted it?! Apart from nearly jumping out of her skin she span around to see what could have possibly caused a noise of that extent. Then it was revealed to her that the cause of it was…a man and obviously one with great power, considering the hole he had just blown through the floor. Of course what to do now was the real question, this man whoever he was in no way, shape or form someone she could not afford to take lightly. Of course this by no means meant showing weakness either.

"You better pray that you didn't damage any works of fine art there," she sneered, "you might just regret it."

She stopped and stared at the palms of her hands, the powers the surged beneath her skin were still incomprehensible to her, the power to freeze on touch. Sure he could blast through a floor but she could freeze the floor and then put her foot through it when it turned brittle. Ok, still wasn't as impressive but considering the fragility of the human body damage could be done. Enough damage to kill a man but would it be enough to kill this one.

"I am The Arctic Nun," she said while crouching down, tracing her finger along the floor as if her finger was an oil pastel of frost. "You say I killed an innocent man, well this is what I say…WRONG! I killed a philistine, an ignorant wretch who did not deserve to marvel such works of art!" She laughed uncontrollably, a little too much but all in all, it was a distraction to keep his eyes of her hands, her fingertips placed on the ground, the cold frost creeping across the floor at quick a pace seeking out his feet to fix him to the ground.

She couldn't help but smile as the man found himself rooted to the spot, a smile as chilling as her touch. "That's cute but I don't think you'll be bringing me anywhere," she said while standing up, "however, I will be the one to bring you to new heights!" Again she began her approach, just like the last, slow and menacing with that blood thirsty gleam in her eyes, carefully stepping over frozen brain fragments and an eye. After all, who wanted that kind of shit on their shoes? Those were good bloody shoes she had on.

"Oh come on, nature' design is NOTHING in comparison to the works of lets say…Caravaggio and darling when you look at the grand scheme of things a few bodies is a sufficient price, wouldn't you agree? Of course you wouldn't. True beauty is a vicious thing, it is brutality embodied! It is….it is…the passionate suffering around you!! Not some preserved calf dissected or an unmade bed, if I wanted that I'd go to McDonalds on a night out!"

Now she was face to face with the "defender" this scourge against the world of art, a man in which there was only one way to deal with. "Sculpture is a beautiful thing, take a trip down Italian Renaissance lane and you might see, or a gander at The Little Dancer by Degas and too might see it. The same goes for MY sculptures, Conduit. Captured in their last desperate moment, you can FEEL the terror in the eyes, it's all in the eyes, the body twisted in the struggle of it all. I call it Death's Final Dance and you, sir are about to join it," she said with a certain amount of malice and insanity in the pit of her throat as she thrust her hands towards Conduit's face.

"This may hurt a little."

Recoiling as the tricky bastard Conduit burst into a fancy lightshow, the lack of amusement was pretty clear on The Arctic Nun's face. So close to becoming a perfect work of art. So close and yet so far but now she was stuck with him safe from her grasp spewing sentimental nonsense about human emotions. He actually made a point but the girl wouldn't allow him to be right, he knew nothing of art and she knew all! You could tell this entire thought process was going on due to the way her eyebrows were dancing up and down, it was a bad habit of hers.

"Well, I didn't exclude the human contribution either," she said waving her hand, dismissing the very fact she might have been wrong. "Some of the greatest works of arts came from the dreams of men but these were great men. Not all men are born great, you know and these men can be sacrificed for the cause. The average Joe, his gaze falls upon a masterpiece and he dismisses it as "pretty", it's people like you, Conduit that we do not need! You all need me! YOU ALL NEED ME!!"

Ok, so perhaps a screw had fallen loose somewhere between point A and point B but nonetheless on the search for true beauty sanity was not something needed on the journey. With the man in the air she would have to approach a different tactic. Backing up against the wall she firmly planted her hands on them and went to work, icy tendrils spread across the walls, the floor, the roof and anything that touched them. Although this technique would not directly get the philistine, she hoped he had brought a nice pair of gloves with him because it was about to get very cold.

"Indulge me, good sir. How will you show me!?"

To be perfectly honest The Nun had no idea what this bloody ruffian was up to but it was probably not going to be something she was going to like. However, this fool also had no right to lecture her about true beauty and art. As if she knew! Nobody in this forsaken city had a clue about real art, classicism, romanticism, baroque, mannerism, those were real genres of visual art. Not this modern and abstract shite that was seen in every city square and art exhibition, it was all trash and it was trash that she intended to pick up and destroy and no man or woman was going to get in her way.

"Oh, of course the philistine calls this rubbish art! I have not touched one piece of real beauty with the intention to destroy. What I destroy has no meaning and no point and it makes everything the great masters have achieved obsolete! Then general public will sit an applaud an unmade bed, or the canvas full of red spots but they will not appreciate perfection! We live in a society where PERFECTION IS DENIED! But not to fear, I will be the one to rectify this! Mark my words!"

Then erupting from his hands a sonic blast, which destroyed the precious ice that caked the walls with beauty and also stunned the girl completely. What strange powers this man held, it wasn't in the cliché elemental range like hers anyway. However all it really helped to create was one pissed off super villain. "HOW VERY DARE YOU DESTROY MY ART! You…you FIEND!"

It would have been at this very point where the idiot fly straight into her and she was caught completely off-guard by this assault, too absorbed in her self-important screeching. When he collided into her, she could feel the air being forced out of her lungs but he had made a fools choice by charging in like the hero. Coming right into contact with her icy grip. Unfortunately, it was at this point that The Nun was beginning to feel the strain. For with using her gift came with downside and it was one that she was currently experiencing, the use of her powers often took it's toll on her body, the constant secretion of ice from her pores put her muscles and nerves under a horrifying amount of strain, particularly in her hands and all this overexertion was taking it's toll now.

"Get off me….you brute," she spat as they flew through the air before she took her hands and planted them on the back of his head, hoping to cause excruciating pain but only at the price of horrible pain for her.

There was both an alarming amount of satisfaction and anguish the Nun received from planting her hands on the back of his head. To him it would feel like liquid nitrogen caressing his skull but to her it felt like her hands were being dipped in molten lava an experience which caused the young woman to scream and very bloody loudly. It was hard to say who might have been in more pain, probably the poor hero in all of this just because she had to put up with her roaring in his ear like there was no tomorrow.

"STUPI-" and then they hit the ground or rather, he hit the ground the frozen bitch was merely flung across the room like a rag doll on impact.

For a few moments she merely lay there, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the burning feeling in her palms to die down. Sitting up all she could do was look on in horror at the damage they had caused to a collection of great sculptures, if her jaw could have dropped any lower it would have crashed through the floor. How could this man cause such damage and call it art!?! It was incomprehensible. It was disgraceful. It…it..wasn't that bad actually she though tilting her head towards the new work of art. Of course she would refuse to admit such, created by a mistake instead of skill, time and precision! Unthinkable!

She got up off the floor and stared Conduit down, he had ruined everything! What a bastard! Having overextended her powers The Nun had no choice but to do this the old fashioned way. Fisticuffs! Or rather a little fist fight if you weren't so obnoxiously British and for once in her life, the young woman had nothing to say, instead she just charged towards him her right fist swinging upwards to deal out a vicious uppercut.