Alias rolled her shoulders back as she walked away, taking down yet another horde of thugs after they tried to gun her down, with the driver embedded into the roof of the stolen car and his followers scattered around him. Her Arkham suit hasn't changed, but she found that having longer hair was indeed a hazard and cut it to a messy bob. Five months ago, Gotham had been revealed the legend that protected them from injustice. Scarecrow, with his cruel cunning, manipulated Batman's fears to show the world the man behind the mask.
And that man was Bruce Wayne.
Alias wasn't as surprised as she thought she would be, all things considered. She knew she heard that voice somewhere, Bruce Wayne the billionaire playboy who at night dressed up as a bat and played, almost, by the rules. Then again, not many people who would see what the Dark Knight was capable of were brave enough to concentrate on his voice. They'd be too busy insulting him, or screaming about the multiple broken bones, torn muscles and crushed egos.
She wondered what would happen to Gotham now, would people have to step up to protect it since Bruce was gone? Even after five months, more than half of the initial population didn't return from the neighbouring cities in fear that a force like Scarecrow would threaten their lives again. In all honesty, she wouldn't mind having to break some skulls in honour of him. But she remembered what he said, about her future. Maybe this was her future, being part-time anti-heroine and being Gotham's shield from impending doom. She knew the rest of the Bat Family would be thinking the same. There was no point in mourning, just living and hoping.
With no leader to depend on, the militia's foundation collapsed and began fighting themselves with some occupying the remaining defence towers and others joining the thugs in whatever fight they were fighting. Of course Batman had done all he could to revive Gotham, but Alias knew better.
And so did Nightwing.
Ice had created a stairway that simply disintegrated when she reached the rooftop, remembering the time and place to meet the vigilante, and moved her hand in an elegant fashion to embroider her outfit in a light blue gradient just for fun. Secretly, she missed being with the militia and coming together to share stories and crack jokes, the only times they could really bond as a family. Family, why did her mind wander to something as sensitive as family but she didn't mind. Alias had hardened herself after the unmasking of Bruce, and the disappearance of the Arkham...Jason. Even now she still couldn't convince herself and wondered if she ever could.
She smiled to herself as she looked over her shoulder, diverting her sight from the city to see neon blue and a cocky grin. Usually she worked alone, but finding a body impaled and disfigured by a different shade of impenetrable ice brought the suspicion of a certain Flying Grayson. "You're late."
"No," he replied, packing his escrima sticks on his back. "You're just early."
"...anything?"
"Ran the DNA through the database. Someone's trying to frame you, Alias."
"How so?"
"The victim died of hypothermia and considering Gotham's current weather, it certainly isn't cold enough to kill."
"Any sign of trauma?"
"Just one. Purple ice that formed around their mouths and further scans found it grew from inside their lungs. If the cold didn't kill them, asphyxiation did. Not a pleasant way to go."
"I'll keep investigating, but here." Alias threw him a small usb stick over her head and he caught it in one hand, examining what was written on it before lifting his gaze to Alias, who had turned around with her hip cocked to one side and her arms crossed tight on her chest. "It's Syndicate's files, found this off one of the black ops team hiding near Divinity Church. There's firewalls I can't knock down and security nodes that won't give me access. I'm not a technical person, so to be honest I didn't know where the hell to start. Can't stop me from trying, right?"
"I'll get it unlocked as soon as possible."
"Thanks, Grayson. Appreciate the help."
"Ey, don't sweat. Just stay beautiful, will ya?"
She chuckled, "Sometimes I wonder if you're flirting or trying to annoy me."
"My number's still up for grabs." Nightwing began to jog away from her with a playful expression. "Not everyone has the chance to get it."
"I'll see you later."
"My offer still stands." Alias shook her head to herself just as he leapt past the edge and reached down to her belt to tap a button on her comm device, the electronic replaying the voice message once again so she could surround herself in nostalgia. It wasn't that she couldn't get over it, she kept falling in love with his voice the more she replayed it and, with constant repetition, knew the words by heart but didn't decide to mouth them. In fact, to further indulge herself in her world a perfect replica of the Arkham Knight formed from ice appeared before her. When the message started, the figure moved in the same manner as the original, that swagger to its walk and tough sway to its arms, its disciplined posture and raised robotic chin. Hell, the way the natural and synthetic light hit it was realistic, and the colours were retained to the t.
"Alias," it started. "If you're getting this, I want you to know that you mean everything to me. Nobody had ever given me the chance to express what I really felt except you, and every time you gave me the opportunity I pushed you away. But you still insisted in seeing what I saw, feeling what I felt. Unlike you, I was born in an empty vessel that had been filled with…with hate, a~and anger, and revenge…that I wanted to put in a bullet and between Bruce's eyes. People don't change, Alias. There are no heroes and there are no villains. There are only those who think they're doing good to this godforsaken place and those who realise you need to fight to survive. We both know where we stand."
The replica walked up to her before pulling her into a loving hug that it wanted to last forever; but she didn't respond, for it was just animate ice created by memories and imagination. By now, she could hear the wet strain and anguish in his pre-recorded voice and wanted to cry for him. "I'm...I'm sorry. I don't deserve you, I never did. And yet, I bet you've become someone better. Better than the ashes I've become...I promise you, Alias...I'll find you." It had held the nape of her neck with both hands and placed a mouthless kiss on her forehead before collapsing into shards on the floor in unison to the recording stopping, the Meta flicking her hair as she walked away from it.
"It doesn't take that long to find me," she muttered as she rocketed to a higher vantage point that overlooked another defence tower, her words laced with burning ice. Nine guys, all armed and protected by two sentry guns and a drone. Without warning she fired into the air, a dusty afterimage left in her wake, and landed lightly behind the militia in control of the drone who was casually whistling to himself. Alias stepped back once before leaping forward and landing a dropkick to his back, unable to find balance as he helplessly tumbled over the edge with a scream alerting those close by.
"What the hell was that?"
"I'm not sure. I'll take a look."
"I-I'll cover you."
She had frozen the drone and summoned it to her possession, leaving the now exposed area by taking a quiet back route and the hazy mist rose to her face an iridescent blue; having spent most of the five months training, the hazy mist had evolved to the point it appeared like a fiery scar and gave her more than infrared perception but faster healing capabilities. It wasn't strong but it was useful, especially when she was campaigning with more mortal allies. The two that heard their friend fall to their unconsciousness had now realised they weren't alone, and everyone moved with frightened caution. "Hey, yo―" The militia that had turned to react to her presence was launched off his feet by the frozen drone she threw at him, and struggled to clear the fog that obscured his mind.
"Sleep tight," Alias sighed before she lunged down and struck the centre of his chest, watching his body succumb to the darkness and lose function. She straightened up and analysed her situation again, only frowning when the number of militia left suddenly changed. First there were seven, and now there's four. And the sentry guns were taken care of too. Someone was here, and stealing her count. With the militia's pistol in her hand she sauntered to the middle of the reconstructed rooftop and stopped at the balcony; there they were, whoever they were, shooting two frames in the backs of their heads. "How annoying."
A tinted glacier had erupted underneath her feet mid-step and she flipped backwards as she fell past the edge, touching down on the so-called ground floor on one knee. She lifted herself off the ground when she pointed the gun behind her and pulled the trigger, and then above the anonymous man; the guys that were hit impacted the floor and fell over the balcony, already dead. "I don't know who you are," she told the man as the mist faded, crossing her arms. "But I didn't ask for a shadow."
"Talk about a thank you," he snapped back with his voice sounding oddly familiar. He was dressed sorta casual-military, with a black-red layout, a dark beige leather jacket and a red visor withholding his identity. And...was that an alternate Bat symbol slandered on his chest? Who was this guy? It was as if he was insulting what Batman lived for. "I helped you take these guys down―"
"I didn't ask for your help. Remind me, who are you?"
"Someone you don't need to pay attention to."
"I'll call you...Red. Yeah, Red. Listen, since you're here, may I suggest you don't involve yourself in business you don't want to be involved with."
"You don't tell me what to do."
"Probably. Rex?" Alias called the name off her shoulder and a man shuddered into view, his green, piercing eyes contrasting his confident expression. Rex had definitely changed since his time as part of the militia with his hair loosely tied back, sleeveless bomber jacket and quarter-lengths; apparently the chill of tonight, and possibly every other night, didn't faze him one bit. His expression dropped, however, once his eyes found the visored man and fell to a defensive posture.
"Red Hood," he spat coldly with his gold-plated western accent and reached behind him whilst the Meta Mercenary raised a curious brow.
"Red Hood, huh? Cute name." Red Hood aimed his pistol at Alias and fired, not expecting anything less as she caught the bullet in her hand and showed him the used ammunition encased in ice. "You remind me of someone. He tried to kill me the first time we met."
"Charming."
"I know. I could imagine him being more charming underneath the inviting armour he wore, but he never gave me the chance to admire it. Sometimes, I even wanted to be selfish to him but you don't need to know that."
"Alias, this guy is bad news," Rex told her, making sure the anti-hero was at the corner of his eye. "I don't trust him, not one bit."
"Wow, insulting a guy holding a gun to you. Yeah, like that's really smart."
"Maybe," she replied as she threw the cold bullet away from her, and began to slowly make her way towards Red Hood. "But there's something...intriguing about him. Especially those guns. They look oddly familiar...almost too familiar." Then she suddenly blurred towards him and swung her arm that aimed for his head but he ducked under it, turned into her with a stunning elbow and drove her body into the floor, the finishing touch pointing his pistol at her head.
"Too slow."
"Alias!" Rex was so close to moving but then she started laughing, filling the vicinity with a cloud of confusion. She watched the nuzzle before whisking herself off the floor, fixing her clothes and hair and sighed.
"I knew it," Alias cooed softly, turning her body halfway before extending her arm and turning back to Red Hood; a light violet, glassy pistol was pressed against his red visor and her expression faded from something subtle. Even Rex could see the betrayal, anger and revenge in her eyes, the way she gripped the weapon, how her arm didn't waver for a moment. Now it looked like a very, very close showdown with both parties a tug away from ending each other's lives, but the Meta Mercenary looked like she just tapped back into her past of being a mercenary. "Who, are you?" She asked sternly, the quiet rustling of footsteps and overhead creaking ringing in her ears with gradual persistence.
She didn't expect a straightforward reply, she wasn't hoping for one, but when he answered it was like a sudden blast into her past. "A dead man walking."
Boom.
Her eyes were filled with a blinding light. Pain flooded her body in white-hot waves. No sound, no smell, no...life. Just burning embers and metal shrapnel.
Alias regained her grasp of reality and realised she was falling, the rooftop the threesome stood upon destroyed with debris flying in all directions, and had to twist her body out of the way of a chunk of metal. She had slicked her bangs back with a thin sheen of ice before deciding to react properly to the situation, glancing up and spotting Rex. Only, he didn't look too good. "Rex!" She flipped and landed on a section of brick wall and went on one knee to keep her place, moved the falling wreckage out of her path with clusters of dry ice and blasted off with violet whispers trailing behind her. In seconds she caught the Meta but the velocity she travelled at threw them both towards the blazing building, crashing through the wall, knocking over empty shelves and tumbling across the cold floor.
When they had stopped moving, Alias lifted her upper body off Rex's chest and stopped to stare at his face. She couldn't tell if he was breathing and his heat signature was dropping slowly. But the tears that managed to form fell onto his bomber jacket, and she smiled. "It's him, Rex..." her voice wet and lost as she got up. Everything about Red Hood was exactly the same as everything about him: his fighting style, his guns, his voice, his standoffish aura. The one thing, however, that was different was his face, painted red to show the blood of the man he once was. The man she's been trying to find for how many months, was living in another man's vengeance. "It's Jason." The Meta Mercenary barricaded the door behind Rex with ice before leaping out, plummeting aside the debris once again.
She rebounded off pieces of metal, brick and plaster as she descended and found the hooded man reaching behind him for his other gun, aiming up his iron sights. Alias's face shifted colour once again and her instincts kicked in, deflecting his rounds with her own shots of ice and that caused frosty mini-explosions in the freefall. But the Meta wasn't ready to play games and the tears froze against her freckled cheeks, her proximity getting closer and closer.
They had been falling for so long, they've forgotten how close they were to the ground.
