She hummed to herself as she clipped her bra in place, the wall mirror to her left giving her the dazzling view of the lace lingerie hugging her intimate skin, but even so she wouldn't mind leaving her room like this; the so-called surprise after her successful completion, which she was surprised seeing so nicely wrapped on the bed. While the bra itself was simplistic, it was her tanga briefs that was hooked over her hip bone that made something that was a necessity to become something more. It would be one hell of a distraction and rouse up the infantry...but that would mean the Knight would get on her case, and seeing him explode once was somewhat terrifying.
But still, Alias posed in front of the mirror for a moment, her elbows up and her hands holding up her tousled hair and a smile cracked her face. "Mm...I'll say. The black looks better after all."
"Miss Alias, er sir, ma'am," one of her henchmen awkwardly called her from outside her room and she chuckled calmly, sauntering to the door and didn't think once to cover herself up.
"I've told you already, just Alias. The titles are unnecessary."
"Y-yes...er...s-sorry, Alias...um..."
She leaned on the door, her hip popping to the left. "...is there something you wanted to tell me, Breaker?" Breaker found it incredibly hard to tear his eyes off her body, since her curves were blatantly on display for the world to see, if it wanted, but he was going to try and be respectful. Try. With a body like that, trying was all he could do.
"Um, y-yes...yes there is. You've been, er, personally chosen to command the post on, uh, Miagani Island."
"Personally? By who?"
"Scarecrow...um...Alias."
"Scarecrow, huh? Weird. First he doesn't want me to command and now he does. Not that I don't mind, it's just that I rather keep to my mercenary occupation...never mind, I'm rambling again. Thank you for the message, Breaker."
"Not a problem." With an endearing smile she closed the door and sighed, a temperature higher than her own sending a warm sensation through her body.
"You can't sneak up on me even if you tried, Knight."
"I wasn't trying to." Came the modified, digital reply and Alias glanced off her shoulder with his livewire hue at the corner of her sights. She swayed towards the mirror again, admiring herself more carefully and watched the Knight turn around to glance at her reflection.
"I became commander of Miagani."
"So I've heard."
"I didn't really want to be, but since Scarecrow's running this whole thing, I trust his decisions...almost."
"And what do you mean by that?"
"Don't you think it's a little suspicious that after all this time, Scarecrow's so curious about Batman? Like Crane wants to find out who's really underneath and...I-I don't know. Something's off, just don't know what. He's being careful."
"Like you."
"Me? If I was being careful, you wouldn't have captured me. If you want me to strike, just say the word."
"No, we draw him out, we make sure there's no more shadows left for him to hide in―"
"And now you're pissed." Alias turned around to face him, and began walking up towards him with a soft frown making her appear more appealing than before. "Under that cyber facade, you're hiding something."
The Arkham Knight stepped back once, crossing his arms. "There are some things you wouldn't understand."
"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I can't emphasise with you...if you won't kill me, I'm guessing your title is affiliated with Arkham Asylum...or maybe is something more compact, more restricting than the Asylum―" He gripped her shoulders and pushed her back, unintentionally seating her onto her bed.
"We're not gonna discuss this again."
"But I'm not like those who are wasting time distracting a man that surrounds himself in his own fears."
"And how do you know his fears?"
"Look at everyone else: Nigma has a superiority complex and planted those stupid trophies around to prove a point, Dent is battling two versions of himself and Harley's slowly falling apart after the Joker's death. If that doesn't look like fear to you, then you honestly wouldn't be wearing the Arkham symbol."
"I want you training the rookies downstairs in ten. We can't waste time." Just as the Knight was about to leave, Alias caught his arm and he stopped.
"Knight, I'm here for you."
"And you're wasting time."
She narrowed her eyes as she stared deeper into his mask, her violet eyes lighting up. "It is the Asylum, isn't it? What happened to you? What did they do to you?"
"I said―!"
"You keep dodging my statements...it has to be―?!" Alias let out a sound of alarm as the Knight let his explosive rage move his body, pinning her onto the bed with his hands tight around her wrists and his mask so close to her face it was starting to feel intimidating. No, it was intimidating.
"And what would you know about the Asylum, huh? Do you even know half of what I went through in there?! Do you?! No, you don't. Because you had the freedom to do whatever you wanted to, while I was trapped in that fucking place against my own goddamn will for over a year! Over a year with that...crazy bastard! So tell me, how can you emphasise with me, huh? How can you even begin to imagine the hell I went through?"
Alias held her breath, the hate, anguish and pain in his demonic voice causing every frozen nerve in her body to tremble in fear, her eyes wanting to water but it took all of her will to stop herself from crying. Gradually, she closed her eyes and breathed out, what was supposed to be calming instead came out shaky and shallow, and the Knight kept still, waiting for an answer.
"What would you know," she muttered, shaking her head back and forth several times but she felt her temples become moist; she was crying...and she didn't even notice. "The only thing you know is my name and what I can do...and not how I became a mercenary in the first place...I was only a kid…"
"Wait, wait, what are you―"
"You think it's easy trying to remember a past you want to forget? I can still feel their hands on me, strapping me into chairs and siphoning what was left of me. They would torture me days on end because I wasn't like the others, they would stab needles into my skin and keep me docile but they also made made my heart colder. They made me watch them kill every person I lived for and cared about...and every time, they'd chip away at my sanity until I stopped screaming, I stopped speaking. They..." Alias bit her lip as she felt her throat tighten and burn against that heavy marble in her throat, but the Arkham Knight didn't let go or move away. He wanted to hear it, her pain and anguish. He wanted to understand. Realise he wasn't the only one broken.
"They made me...like this, a merciless killer afraid of nothing..." Her voice reduced to desperate whispers by now, her own pain and silent anger writhing through every word she spoke of. But when she found herself, the strength in her voice returned. "But herself...so no. You're not the only one Batman left behind." Her strained words pulled his hands away from her wrists and he straightened up, the Meta covering her wet face with her arm while the other reached up for a pillow and hugged it tight against her chest.
"A-Alias...I never―"
"Just leave me alone! Okay? Just...just, go. Knight...please..."
"Alias―"
"We both have a job to do, don't we? I'll be down there in five, just...let me be alone.." He wasn't the only one, he always wondered if she had something to hide behind her level-headed yet flirty demeanour and alluring voice. She may not have been broken by that green-haired bastard but their events were similarly aligned; Syndicate didn't just strain her mentally and physically but biologically too, and now her blood ran colder than death itself. Alias had told him she can't remember her name, and maybe what happened to her was a result of her reported amnesia.
The Knight walked with near-soundless steps to her door and when he reached down to open it, he glimpsed off his shoulder and sighed.
"I'm sorry."
Alias moved her face out of the pillow just as the door closed, the fabric stained with her tears and she bared her teeth in anguished nostalgia as her mind kept replaying those lost memories. But then she sat up and combed her hand through her hair, her new role as commander popping into her head again.
As she got up and caught sight of herself in the mirror, she realised, even in the body of the 25-year-old, the well-maintained body capable of freezing whatever it wanted, she was still the drained, numb, broken girl on the inside. Just had her gathered pieces frozen together.
"My name…"
