Alias exited her room with a grey bodysuit and specialised thigh-high boots; upon leaving, her two favoured guards and a rookie followed her shortly behind, assaults in hand and ready to issue support when their leader needed it. But one overheard the conversation she had with the Arkham Knight, which meant he also heard her cry, and was aching to ask her a comforting question.

"A-Alias...?"

She tilted her head towards the speaker, "Yes, Axel?"

"Are...are you okay?"

"Idiot! I told you not to say anything! Do you not understand; it's none of your business."

"No, it's okay...I'm fine. I appreciate your concern. And Breaker, I keep telling you. I'm not like everyone else...I'm not just your leader, I'm your friend. I hope that's okay with you, Rex and Breaker, since you two never gave up on me. Sorry, Axel."

"Sure it's fine with us," Breaker replied. "Anything to make you happy, Alias." The Meta smiled softly as they walked into the awaiting elevator in silence, with Rex pressing the corresponding button for the basement, and didn't utter a word on the way down. It was when the doors opened again to reveal a massive room with rookies clumped in groups did Alias usher the rookie that escorted her away and stepped to Rex's side.

"You know what to do. I'm counting on you, Rex."

Rex nodded once and left her side, and the Meta flicked her hair back before walking to the front of the room. She waited for them to acknowledge her presence but they simply ignored her, laughing, talking, sparring. Alias made a surprised face before signalling to Breaker; he pointed his firearm at the ceiling and fired a couple times. Just like that, the laughing, the talking, the sparring stopped. Breaker gestured and Alias stepped in the middle of the crowd, her arms crossed and hip cocked to the side.

"I won't bore you men of my graceful introduction, as you will all learn who I am from today onwards. I won't say my name unless you ask, and I won't stop until I know you can't tell me to. Is that clear enough for you?" As she had run into her last sentence, the small friendship group in front of her began smiling at each other and kept nudging the one with the bleached blonde hair. She grinned, "You. You want to fight me?"

"I don't know er...you sure you won't chip a nail, sweetheart?" The bleached blonde mocked her, with the rest of his group instigating the situation by rousing up excitement and anticipation. Alias tilted her head briefly, he seemed like fun.

"Are you sure you want missing teeth, rookie?"

"Oh...so you do want me to beat you to a bloody pulp?"

"If you can. I won't stop you." The man wiped his face with a hand before swaggering to the centre, everyone else in the massive room clapping and cheering for him once he was at least a metre away from the Meta. "Okay, rules are simple. I'll give you three attempts to floor me before I can react."

"You're making this too damn easy, beautiful."

Her brow cocked. "You'd be surprised."

"Oh, I sure would." The bleached blonde brought his fists up and bounced from one foot to the other, trying to confuse her judgement and find an opportunity. There. He went for a right cross, but she dodged by leaning to the left. His eyes widened, relaxed just as fast, and he tried again. Only this time it was a kick. It wasn't sloppy, in fact it was a well-performed back kick that had barely skimmed past her freckled cheek. Then he acted on first thought and went for a lower kick, but suddenly regretted it when she caught his foot in her hand.

It happened way too fast, and he found himself on the floor clutching his torso as the wind was knocked out of his lungs. That was when there was no smirk on the rookies' faces, the look of total shock and horror from the man's group of friends; there was no signal for a chuckle. They had witnessed a woman of question floor a man without difficulty, without a moment wasted. Pure instinct.

"See that?" She pointed at him struggling to push himself off the padded ground. "Gloating is one reason why this man is on the floor. Another reason, he hasn't been informed of my fighting background, nor has everyone else in this room. Apart from my men, each one of you has failed." Then she turned to the man, who was now on all fours gasping lungfuls of air. "Also, you lack a base. Without a base, anybody can knock you over. I see you have some skill in kickboxing, but you just fought a mercenary adept in more than one fighting style."

"Who the...hell are you…?"

"Glad you actually asked without reducing to begging." Her eyes fell upon the group of men that surrounded the twosome in the middle. "I am Alias, a Meta Mercenary and your potential commander if you pass...oh, I have such bad manners, I'm sorry. Would anybody else want to try me?" She gazed around for a hand, but they kept to themselves, avoiding eye contact or giving her too much eye contact to not be picked.

A gloved hand shot out from the sea of rookies and her eyes side-glanced at them. "I volunteer." The sea parted and her expression dropped faintly when the Arkham Knight walked out into the centre, the intensity thickening with every breath as the rookies realised two superior figures were about to spar. Considering how skilled they both were, they wouldn't be surprised if there was a draw. "Hope you don't mind."

"I'll let you take your pick. Bladed or projectile?"

"Wait, what, you guys are gonna kill each other?!" A voice hollered somewhere behind the Knight and Alias stifled a laugh.

"As militia, you must be ready for changing conditions. But as combat specialists, you must be able to calculate your moves and your opponent's before you encounter them. Your opponent could have a blade." She made a fist with one hand and brought her other palm to it and, as if she was drawing out her blade from a sheathe, the icy cutting edge glistened into view. "Or they could have a gun." The blade rested by her side as the Knight rolled back his shoulders but before they even took a step forward the Meta went down on one knee and flattened her palm on the ground. Ice moved as a dusty shockwave that slid across the ground and rose as glass once it reached the rookies. It scaled at least 10 feet and doubled back down as a secondary reinforcement before she straightened up. "You can either die or live. The decision is your attitude towards the encounters. But enough talk, you boys are here for a fight, right?"

And just like that the room came to life with whistles, chanting and clapping as the Knight and Alias kept their distance circling the space they were in, then she moved. She was quick, her blade singing ferociously as she swung for him and his gauntlets blocked her swings but realised his mistake when he went to grab for her. He grunted in surprise, his reaching arm stuck in her afterimage and he glanced to his left to get himself trapped in a four-kick combo and Alias rolled backwards onto her feet whilst he was quickly recovering; ice had decorated the padded floor in violet confetti. Then he saw it, her eyes. They were filled with anger. The face underneath grinned; so she was still mad at him. No wonder he felt those hits.

He rolled his shoulders as they circled once again, Alias twisting her wielding wrist in an attempt to trick his judgement, and she found herself cutting bullets out of the air. On the last round she threw her sword at the Knight, who simply leaned out of the way, and managed to slap away her punches before reversing her roundhouse; he flicked her leg up and she ended up landing on her stomach, the wind being knocked out of her. Half of the rookies reacted to her impacting the padding while the rest cheered on the Arkham Knight's regained upper ground. Alias pressed her body off the floor but the Knight kicked her onto her back, his hand reaching for her throat like last time. But she wasn't under the effects of the fear toxin, and she had several moves she could pull off in her position. A shame he let his guard down.

At once, she pulled her lower body off the floor, curled her legs around his bicep and, with the strength he thought she didn't have, flipped him and sent him sprawling to the other side of their restricted sparring mat. The rookies cheered for Alias this time as she steadily got up from one knee and dusted herself off, the Knight recovering just in time to let out a chuckle in his seated position. "You're not really giving me a chance, are ya?" he tilted his head and reached behind him for his firearm.

"I mean I could, but you wouldn't take me seriously." She gestured at his pistol, "Rubber bullets? Don't want to waste your ammunition."

"Maybe." He pointed it at her and fired, the round encased in ice and rebounding off her shoulder. "But you wouldn't take me seriously." The Meta brought the hazy mist to her eyes and smirked as she opened her palms, complete replicas of his modified weapons dusting into view, and cocked them quickly.

"Unlike you, I don't have to reload. Perks of the job, I guess." By now the entire room was betting who was gonna win the firearm-martial arts battle with some guessing the finishing move from both parties. Breaker, who was on a platform and able to see the spar amongst the sea of people, smiled at the spectacle. He could tell that Alias was venting her anger through this combat exercise, still upset at the Knight's ordeal, and had this weird feeling that she was gonna do something crazy. Knight specialised in many fighting styles and knew how to juggle them, but so was his leader, and they're both proficient at using weapons too. It was a pretty close prediction, but Alias seemed in the right mindset.

After shooting bullets out of the air, countering each other's moves and reversing throws, the Meta found herself in a tight sleeper hold and bared her teeth as he forced her on her tip-toes. Some of the rookies applauded his nearing victory whilst others encouraged Alias to fight through it, and the Knight brought his visor close to her ear. "You don't have to do this," he whispered. "Just...tap out."

"We both know that I won't do that," she wheezed and quickly juggled her options. He already knew her wall takedown and pulled her to the centre of the mat, and kept his base low and hips squared. There was one thing she could try and do and she took one last breath before moving. Kicking both legs up she used his low base to her advantage and swung upwards for a moment, before coming back down and regaining her footing on the mat. But with her momentum still going she elbowed his gut and made him loosen the hold on her, and kept a hold of one of his arms. Just like her training, Alias brought him over her shoulder using her hip and the Knight slammed back-first onto the mat. Just like that.

The room fell silent. A sword was pressed against his throat before the ambiguous man could even try to get up and Alias's supporters roared in triumph, both figures slightly panting as she finally reached down to help him off the floor and the barrier that divided the mercenaries from the rookies collapsed into cold, violet dust. "Not bad," he told her, humour in his demonic tone, and she turned her head in annoyance as the hazy mist faded.

"You just let your guard down because you knew my emotional state. I feed off my anger."

"A bit melodramatic."

"You were taught to suppress your emotions, I was trained to use it. I guess we really are different after all." She moved away from the Knight and began calling out instructions the rookies followed instantly while Breaker cleared away the empty shells off the floor; after witnessing her floor someone who was heavier and possibly stronger than her, they knew that she wasn't to be tested. Rex materialised mid-step and nodded his head in respect as he passed his leader and he watched as Alias's face lit up.

The face underneath frowned softly; the only person who...no. He swore at himself before striding out of the training hall, viciously tapping the button to call the elevator. It wasn't the time nor place. But he couldn't help but wonder.

What would a woman like her be doing in a place like this?