She stood cross-armed on a vantage point that overlooked the well-guarded control tower in Founder's Island that had been built 20 minutes ago, mentally marking the number of armed men that held their post and wandered around in directed paths to ensure that security was kept at a constant. The calm before the storm; her rosy lips stretched into a subtle smile.

Not anymore.

Targeting her closest enemy, she sprung forward and moved directly towards her target and brought him down easily by pushing all the momentum she picked up onto his back and used him as a human surfboard. The sound of impact was loud enough to be heard by any one of his allies that were close enough so she kept moving, keeping low and passing them undetected.

Whilst two black-clad militia went to check out their unconscious friend, the woman was already up the stairs and sneaking behind an unfortunate guy leisurely passing the control room door who wasn't going to know what hit him. Literally. When she knew she was in close proximity she kicked the back of his knee and brought her hand to his neck, transferring his entire body onto her shoulders like some sort of rack; he kicked and choked against her chokehold, and she rolled her eyes as she flipped him over her and slammed a knee into his face. "You're too loud."

Bullets flew past her and she looked up, another militia attempting to fire at her despite his boost of adrenaline sending his aim all over the place. She'd give him points for trying though. "B-boss! She's here!"

"And you're louder," she replied as she dove for him, jumping so that she trapped his body in an octopus hold with her legs and reached for the furthest arm. He must've thought it was some sort of wrestling match because he tapped her arm persistently, but she didn't care and heaved his shoulder out of place with the crack sounding heavy and sickening. She let him drop to the floor an unconscious mess and shrugged her hoodie back in place, almost crying out in shock when strong arms curled around her body and swept her off her feet. Alias fought against their strength, wanting to break out of the submission hold by using the wall beside her, but her attacker must've seen through her tactic because they moved her away. But then she chuckled. "Forgotten already…?"

She timed three counts before kicking both legs off the floor, an ice wall magically appearing in front of her as well as behind them, and she forcefully pushed against the wall in front. Her attacker lost balance and slammed into their own wall, the force enough to loosen the hold and the Meta didn't waste time as she swung her legs over, crossed them over their head and flung her upper body down. She let inertia and gravity run its course as they both went pinwheeling down the stairs and onto the floor, with Alias the fastest to recover as she rolled onto her feet. "Oh~," she smirked, elongating the word when her eyes fell upon the Arkham Knight who was just getting off the floor, and the ice walls collapsed into tiny shards. "Surprised you came all this way, Knight."

"You've got a bad habit of fighting my militia, lady," he snapped back coldly, the lips hidden underneath stretching to a cocky smirk when he watched her face stiffen up before relaxing just as fast.

"You have a bad habit of trying to be intimidating. Besides, I wasn't done. I have four of your militia left. Would you let me finish?"

"No." Alias flipped back and landed on one knee as she dodged his customised grappling hook, gathering the cold around her to form a shield as he repeatedly fired at her.

"You want to kill me. Again. Are you that persistent?" She leapt back onto her feet to shake the mild trauma off her right arm, using a quick hand to strip off her hoodie and dash it aside to display her well-endowed figure but the Arkham wasn't close to fazed as he had been watching the spilling violet snakes for a while now, and she spun it above her head before cracking it. A whip made of tinted ice, its idle motions possessing the realism of a normal whip. He wondered how adept she was in using ice. Could she freeze a city? A nation? Nevermind, he didn't want to be there to witness it. "I'll give you a shot, Knight. Don't waste it."

Without warning, she sprinted flat out towards him, ready to unleash her subtle might, but slowed in her tracks as she felt something overwhelm her senses. It tugged at her mind and jumbled her thoughts, confused her balance and shattered the whip. Alias tried for a step back to refocus and the Arkham Knight grunted in triumph, finding an advantage quicker than he imagined.

He landed a heavy punch on her cheek and her head recoiled on impact, the Meta Mercenary peering at him before stealing one of his guns and shooting his head but realised she missed completely as he tilted his head to the side. He copied her and used his other pistol, finding her also avoiding the bullet but she flicked the weapon out his hand and served him a boot to the stomach, the Knight meeting the wall adjacent to the stairs with a harsh thud. Letting out a breath, he instinctively blocked a couple alternating straight punches and ducked a spinning roundhouse, Alias's movement speed gaining with every attack they performed. She had found an opening and dragged him towards her, using his momentum to backflip off the wall and, once she came down, capturing him in an inverted chokehold.

"Nice," he commented on her fighting style, holding onto her shoulder with a gloved hand. "Although, I think your technique lacks something." She widened her eyes and noticed her mistake; he brought his foot up and pushed off the vertical surface, holding her arm as his world turned, and dragged her across his body with small effort. She bounced on the constructed rooftop and coughed on the last few tumbles, finding the Arkham Knight holding her tight by the throat, and she glanced up at him. "You know, I don't personally enjoy beating up women, but a threat to my men is a threat to me."

"Then you might want to choke me a bit tighter," she smiled, tensing up slightly when he reached behind him and took out a portable syringe filled with a honey-brown serum. Just by looking at it she knew exactly what it was. The fear toxin, made to cause severe psychological trauma to its victims and permanent damage if too much was consumed. But Alias didn't shy away from the needle as he stabbed it into her neck, and the wave of sudden searing pain washed over her, her muscles locking together and her teeth baring out of reflex.

"Scarecrow wants to talk, but I didn't think you'd simply waltz in and remember the location." Dark brown veins popped up under her freckled face and danced down her neck, her hands clamping onto his own in an attempt to free herself even though she knew she couldn't.

"You...really are...intriguing…"Alias faintly breathed out as her hand reached out for his masked face, and blacked out in the next moment with her risen head and hand falling limp onto the cold floor, and the Knight brought a hand up to his ear.

"Alias is down. Calling for extraction."

"Sir."


Blindfolded and tied up, again.

She had regained consciousness faster than she thought, since it did take her some time to freeze the fear toxin that poisoned her blood, but she kept quiet as the sound of conversation spurred her attention. It was funny, though, since she knew exactly where she was even though she's never been here. Judging by the temperature, she'd guess the run-down mall on Founders'. Somewhere above ground level. Ground level and below was actually warmer by a few digits, maybe they're planning something under all that rubble and dirt. But there were a couple things that ticked her off.

The first thing was the childish, suggestive sniggering that echoed around her; three armed men with all of them somewhat excited. This was a first, usually most people that tie her up intend on killing her. "I still can't believe the boss gave us the keys to the room," the one behind her spoke up, placing his firearm on the floor. Biggest mistake in the presence of a mercenary. The second thing was when one of them decided it was okay to grab her by the neck to establish his dominance, and brought his face extremely close to hers. "In this room, sweetheart...you listen to me."

"Charming. But you're not my type." Alias smiled and the militia chuckled before striking her face with a hard slap, the other two sounding amused at the display. The Meta kept quiet, regaining control of her head and neck as she straightened up, but what happened after was the last strike. One of the men from behind held her in her chair by the shoulders while another confronted her, leaned forward and began stroking her inner thighs. That was the third thing.

"It's a shame, though," the man in front told her. "All these dirty things I wanna do, and can do, but you're sitting here. Defenceless and alone."

Alias tilted her head, "So, you don't know who I am?"

"What―"

"Good. That means I get to kill you." Alias snapped her leg into his knee with strength enough to shatter his kneecap and the militia screamed in twisted agony as he instantly dropped to the floor. She waited for the other two to respond to either her or their friend crying and clutching their now broken knee, and guessed correctly at their tactic. One tried grabbing for her hair but she rolled forward, her icy aura freezing the chair and therefore having it break apart, and dusted herself off casually. "You're first," she told him, indicating her target by pointing her manicured finger, and stepped back. The militia let out a worried sound as she had left her frozen afterimage in her place and she was nowhere to be seen.

"Crap! Where did she―" It was quick. Unexpected. His head left his body as a katana made of ice sliced through his neck entirely. The spray of blood did not only decorate the floor in red, but added a gory glisten to the bladed weapon. His sentence would now stay unfinished, in eternity, as the Meta Mercenary let his corpse slump to the cold floor. His head, however, was used as a distraction as a reverse roundhouse sent it flying to the fit militia. He had caught it out of reflex and let it slip from his hands, nothing but this cold sensation ran through him. Not in fear. In anger.

He drew out his gun out of instinct, for the Arkham Knight trained him if a circumstance like this were to arise. And it did. Only he made the greatest mistake of taking his eyes off her and became a sudden platform for her to roll off, and let out a gut-wrenching scream as she had driven her sword through his right thigh in a diagonal cut. It wasn't long before the door had burst open and several more militia littered in the room, and Alias glanced off her shoulder as she straightened up.

She laughed, fluttery and gentle, with all those eyes and all those weapons calling her name. But her smile dropped. She was incredibly angry. Some scream when they are angry. Alias was known to channel it instead, and this was what made her a mercenary by heart. She twirled both katanas with her wrists and slowly confronted her new opponents, the hazy mist gradually cracking the surface of skin around her freckled cheeks, nose and eyes. The haze she never understood but the sensation it brought when she summoned it was all she needed to know. Her aura became visible as dry winds. Alias moved.

Wet, coppery, sticky. Lightning-fast, adeptly skilled, hidden eyes. Firearms, disarmed and disassembled. People, chopped to size. Ice, dry. Zero. Dead.

It took her a moment to realise what she was doing and she took a step back, lowly panting at the bloody carnage that surrounded her. Limbs were cut off, bodies were decapitated, blood stained the floor in a pool of deep crimson. Blood decorated her person, painting her skin, clothes and hair in blotchy splashes. She had purposely left the last man to suffer and struggle with his broken kneecap, let his life seep out one breath at a time. "You." Alias sauntered over to him and knelt down, tilting her head with a pout on her face before standing up again. "It's a shame, though." A boot to the face made the man collapse onto his stomach, and with no arms to drag himself away he tried squirming for freedom instead but felt pressure on his back. "All these things I could've done to you...your death could've been worse. Much worse."

She brought her hand from her side and aimed the pistol he had previously thrown down at his head, using her thumb to pull back the safety. His pleas of mercy rang about the room, but it only made her tighten her grip. Bang. Another life taken, just like that. It was that moment in the chair that triggered her long-lost memories, but a memory that was terrifying to bear witness to. That's why she had to kill them.

A gun clicked and Alias moved her covered eyes, remembering this certain heat signature. She hesitated, threw the gun away and turned around to face the Arkham Knight with a relaxed face. "They tried me. You saw what they did, what they tried to do."

"You just killed a few of my best men."

"With the intention to force me into sexual submission against my will. That's why they lie on the floor, in pieces, rather than standing around me on guard, like you ordered. Next time your men pull off something like that ever, expect not to see their bodies." Her voice was cold, chilling, sharp enough to cut, and the Knight didn't flinch. Didn't retaliate to her words. Her hand reached up and pulled the blindfold off her face, in which she tossed at his masked face, and sauntered to the door. "If you need me, I'll be talking to Scarecrow about my place in this alliance. And finding a new outfit to wear, it's covered in their blood."

"There's no need," a soft voice spoke out and she felt the air get colder by a couple .degrees, a cloaked figure emerging from the shadows of the room with clunky steps as they stepped over and around her organic destruction. "I've seen everything I need to know." His speech was clear, careful, unhurried. Logical.

"What?" The Knight protested, his gun still pointed at her. "No―I say kill her. Did you not see what she did?"

"And I say not to. Alias is a valuable asset that we can use to our advantage, Knight. Batman knows not of her existence; we can use her anonymity in our favour. Someone that can cause destruction and chaos. The evidence of her skill is under your feet."

"And what if she turns against you? Turns my whole army against you? 'cause I think the possibility of her putting a bullet in your head is very high. Hell, probably higher than killing Batman, but we can't hope too much, can we?"

"Tell me something, Knight." Alias interrupted as she pushed herself off the door with a foot and walked up to the ambiguous man, her eyes frozen lasers against his visor whilst his iron sight was an inch or two away from her forehead. "Are you immune to the fear toxin? Are you immune to the fears that cling and stick to you? No. You're not. You weren't trained to kill, you were taught to kill. Being trained and being taught are two different things. You were taught to hold a gun, I was trained to pull the trigger. You were taught to defend yourself. I was trained to fight. See, we have our fair share of differences, but having me on your side will make your job so much easier."

"She raises a valid point," Scarecrow chimed in, walking across to the three mostly-intact corpses to glare down at them. "You will get your revenge, but we must change the rules if needs be. You need a shadow, and Alias is experienced enough to be that shadow. Operation: Saviour would be able to progress faster if we have another pawn."

The Arkham Knight didn't respond to their statements but put his gun back in the holster, pushed past Alias and violently booted the door off its hinges, earning but a sigh from the Meta Mercenary. "Is he always like that?"

"His emotional state has been somewhat stable...until now, that is."

"Strange."

"Your payment will be wired to your account once Operation: Saviour has been completed. I have assigned you to the Arkham Knight's unit. Failure to comply will result in your imminent demise. I suggest you don't take my words lightly, Alias." She smiled and turned to face the door, only to look off her shoulder with a hazy look. Scarecrow was a mysterious man like the Knight, but his words were coated with intellectual film like his eyes that stood out against his heavy, fabric features. She didn't even want to apprehend what hid underneath after hearing rumors about the Killer Croc mauling him, and almost grimaced at the sight of Crane's hanging skin and sliced flesh. Then she suspected if he took inspiration from Freddy Krueger as his needle-gauntlet contraption looked vaguely similar to the killer's 'knives for fingers'.

She smiled. "I'll make sure not to disappoint you."