[catch-all] They say I bang, they never toy with me

[hypothermic]

WHO: Leonard Snart/Captain Cold and anyone unlucky enough to cross his path
WHAT: Catch-All for general shenanigans
WHEN: January
WHERE: Everywhere he shouldn't be and then some
WARNINGS: Violence, potential mentions of child abuse/domestic abuse, general PG-13.

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Kitchen Nightmare // Open

[hypothermic]

SOMEONE has been creeping into the kitchen during the dead of night and leaving it in a very bad way.

On a good night, your favourite pasta goes missing, along with the chocolate bar you were saving for a special occasion.

On a bad night? The good left-overs get stolen, and the rest, well... end up on the floor, in the trash, or thrown haphazardly back into the fridge.

On the worst night? The kitchen looks like it was hit by a snow-storm. A sheet of ice covers a stretch of preparation tables and appliances. More than one microwave has been reduced to a shattered, melting mess of plastic, metal and ice. The fridge is intact, but most of its contents are splattered on the floor.

Everything smells like tuna. Warm day-old tuna.

What kind of sick bastard could have done this, you might ask? The answer is skinny, angry, and hungry. Make that hangry.

You can also blame Kabal. As one does.

For those with a bone to pick, the thief/kitchen terrorist appears to strike in the late PM or early AM. He's quick, stealthy, and more often than not slips in and out without being seen. Usually through the ventilation shafts, but sometimes through the door. When he's lazy.

Confront him, shame him, fight him, feed him if you're a saint, but whatever you do, know there's a blizzard warning in effect, and you're risking frostbite.

CHIRP

[birdical]

The first time someone nicked her cooking, Elleru assumed it was an honest mistake. It was a small dish of spicy stew she was saving for Kieran with a small note attached to the lid:

Do Not Take ☺

Clearly, she hadn't labeled her dish with the proper upright terms when she'd put the container in the fridge. After all, and it was an appliance used by the community of Anchor as a whole. Someone must have been very hungry and desperate, and hopefully, they'd enjoyed the meal. She made a concentrated effort the next time she cooked, leaving the stew with an altered note:

Please Do Not Take ☺

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to deter someone from taking her dish again, this time leaving the bowl right on the counter. The rest of the kitchen was a mess, of course, but the fact that her bowl -- and the note -- was in plain view made her consider that, perhaps, this was not someone mistakingly taking her food. They had done this on purpose.

And so, a few nights later, she places one more dish in the fridge:

Please Do Not Take. I will know who you are. ☺

And with that, she leaves the dish on the middle shelf, everything else pushed to the side so it is the most accessible bowl there. She then unscrews the lightbulbs in the kitchen, and waits in the darkened corner for the thief to arrive. She's seen scenes like this a dozen times in her books, crooks entrapped by a clever protagonist, forced to own up to their crimes. She did warn in her note she'd know who did it, after all -- she intends to make true her word, even if she has to catch them in the act.]

[citharede]

Athena comes in the front door while Len is rummaging in one of the fridges, not making a secret of her entrance, but she freezes when she sees someone else is there.

Someone hurried, shifty, pawing at the food like they don't know what they're looking for.

She hesitates, then: "I come in peace. Need help or something? I know the kitchen pretty well."

[circumspector]

She's waiting, her fingers drumming on her table. She does in fact have a bone to pick. Several, in the way of the steak she had been putting aside to deal with her little problem.

So here she was. Waiting to catch whoever it was in the act, because this wasn't a joke, not for her. It's not hard to follow up on it, when she can hear heartbeats, taste the heat of living bodies against the back of her throat, the horrible scent of warm tuna is overwhelming enough to make her feel sick, but the odd tang of cold air is also as noticeable to someone with a nose as sensitive as hers.

So when he does appear, there she is. Waiting with hard black eyes. Animal-wet as she blinks. Drumming her long black claws in her irritation.

"Hey. I've got to talk with you."