The shooter's identity was concealed by a tattered cloak that shimmered in the light, every inch of their visible skin covered in black and blue material and the gun they were using was a complete replica of Jason's own firearm; they had stepped forward once and Alias fired a warning shot of ice by their feet out of defence. She didn't notice Nightwing lose his balance until she felt his weight being pressed onto her, and she managed to transfer him into a seated position on the floor before she straightened up and glared at the shooter. It was something about their signature. It was incredibly familiar. "Why does it feel like I know you?"

"'cause you do, Alias. Look, this is a really bad time, and I didn't mean to shoot Grayson―"

"How do you know his name?"

"I know everything. I came here 'cause you need my help."

"I don't think so." Alias ducked into a bolt and vanished in a cloud of dusty ice but the shooter barely moved a muscle, only looked over their right shoulder and ducked, fast. Nightwing didn't even see it happen, only witnessing Alias bounce across the floor and recover swiftly. His eyes were too slow to catch a speed so inhumanly fast. It was then that the Meta realised that their entire left arm was replaced with inorganic matter. "How did you…"

"The memories that you have about your meta origin ain't entirely true. Syndicate never existed through human eyes and yet was created by mortals. Your powers are entirely organic. You're not even supposed to be alive." She blinked. Not...alive? Living? What the hell was this person talking about? Of course she's alive..only, Jason said the exact same thing. And so did Sinclair.

"As much as I...wanna listen to this," Nightwing hissed as he swayed to his knees. "I'm losing a lot of blood here…probably too much..."

"Then tell me, whoever you are," Alias spoke after she knelt down to deal with Grayson's injury; her hand let out a soft hue as light bent through her fingers and around his bicep. "What am I?"

"Long story short: as the first conditioned mercenary they wanted to test your limits via punishment, see how much 'ice queen' you can become while you're on the field. You deviated during a mission, they punished you and, in turn, your power turned against you, freezing your organs and killing you from the inside out. Alias died a couple years ago in Syndicate HQ, all the way in London, so I have reason to wonder why she's here healthy and kicking ass." As the cloaked figure was talking they slowly made their way forward, their steps careful and silent, and stopped a metre in front of the twosome. Their anatomy was more noticeable up close; it was a male with some sort of voice modulator. "Somehow you managed to wake up and it's been a few months since Syndicate caught onto your scent. I mean the first time you guys met, that was literally a couple guys out of the many they have back home."

"So why am I here?"

"Why? I was gonna ask you the same thing, I honestly don't know. When I found out you were here, I pretty much turned rogue after pulling off that stunt to find you but, boy, Syndicate sure hate―"

"Stop saying that." Alias stood up again, with Nightwing in the fireman's carry. Her healing had an anaesthetic side-effect that caused the subject to be really drowsy. She never understood why it happened but only that it worked. "How can I believe someone who won't even reveal themselves? You can be anyone for all I care."

"Okay, good point. Urm, well, I am a wanted man in Gotham amongst the ruthless and immoral and I'd rather keep it on but, I mean, you don't have to take my advice―"

"Good. I won't. I should kill you for shooting Nightwing and rousing suspicion of a bomb that never existed." She turned and walked away from the man, a disappointed look on her freckled face as she took the stairs, and the shooter crossed his arms. He was determined to show Alias the truth, whether she cared or not.

"Subject 0001." As predicted, the Meta stopped in her tracks and glanced off her shoulder. "On your hip, right? How I know where it is, please don't ask. I know about him, the Arkham Knight who isn't really...Arkham Knight anymore. You tried to heal Grayson and only took away the wound and not the pain. Your healing goes way beyond just cells, it exceeds the constraints of time: you can erase wounds from existence, reverse damage. Banish year old scars and even bring the dead back to life. But Syndicate have broken your powers breaking you, and you think ice is the only thing you can manipulate. Alias, if you let me show you, at least tell you of your story, I will straight up bounce out of Gotham and not come back for another...two or three years. But if you let me leave, they will come after your head and will not stop tearing apart a city that's not theirs to find you. And I know you enjoy being here, do you not? Guess it's something to do with its grungy, neon layout. That's pretty cool."

Her cloudy, violet gaze lowered to the floor, her once tense face relaxed into one of curious concern. How does this man know so much about what she's capable of, know of Jason? Yet his aura felt comforting and volatile, like...like hers. Alias performed a gesture with her hand, and at the same time the man's hood was pulled off his head with an icy hand that materialised behind him. She froze, the words Rex had once said resonating in her mind: A man in blue and black ambushed Syndicate. Not a combat Meta but his skills were flawless, disciplined. Claiming to know you. "Max?"

Max smirked at the mention of his name as he holstered his guns and tore the modulator from his throat. "Oh, so now you recognise me?" he grinned, his British accent resounding more. "C'mon tell me, what was it? It was my eyes, wasn't it? Maybe my sexy voice, always pleasing the ladies. Especially here, oh, they're all suckers for a British accent." Max was a young Japanese man with light olive skin and selective heterochromia; a section of his right eye was amber while the rest watery blue-green. The last time she remembered seeing him, he didn't dye his hair silver, and he definitely didn't have a mohawk that actually suited him well.

"Your eyes…"

"Hypnotising right? I mean, I find you looking more beautiful than ever, and I dyed my hair. Yeah, that's new."

"How did you...I thought…"

He chuckled, "So you are curious? Always were, Al. Don't worry though, I promise with my left arm that I'll tell you everything you want to know, but only on the condition that you take down Syndicate. They don't just have a bounty on your head, but a bounty on your boyfriend's too."

Alias looked away when he said that. "He's...not my boyfriend."

"If it helps you sleep at night. As I was saying, you help me and I'll help you. I give you intel about those pricks, you cross them out of our black book. For good this time, hearing them pop back on the grid is worse than death. And we both know that."

"...we'll talk but not here. I'll deal with Grayson first. Considering you pretty much stalked me, you know where to find me."

"It's not stalking if you know now."

"Stalking terribly then." With that, the Meta Mercenary continued on her way out of the HQ, so many questions lingering in her mind and not enough people to answer them. But not knowing meant Jason could be killed. She tapped the button to hail the elevator and a cold pout suddenly decorated her lips; she'll let the only friend she thought she lost talk, if it meant making sure she could take Syndicate out permanently.

Eventually they did talk. But it wasn't what she was expecting.

Alias, a natural-born Metahuman, probably the most obvious traits about her. But she was reformed by Syndicate after learning that her power was slowly killing her from the inside out. They took her in and shaped her into a mercenary, a conditioned killing machine that killed whatever, whenever. She was a weapon, something valuable to Syndicate.

Until they broke her. Alias was tasked with killing a man that previously saved her life before and refused because of this fact. So Syndicate punished her, pushed her towards the brink of insanity but her mentality didn't snap under the force. Her powers did, freezing her organs and was then declared dead. Even with those facts on the table, Alias was here in Gotham being a mercenary with a certain target to eliminate. Which begged the question.

Who ordered her to kill the Arkham Knight? Why wasn't her client reaching her calls? Moreover, who brought her back from the dead?

"So...you were born with your powers and not, y'know, given them?" Grayson asked her as they traversed the rooftops of Miagani Island with him in the lead and the Meta a mere step behind. After a week he had fully recovered and, with a bit more time to spare, she told him everything about her on a cup of coffee. Still, it doesn't seem like he can get over it.

"Yeah. Arcadius was an accident."

"You don't seem…I don't know."

"No. I know what you mean."

"I mean, aside from being a mercenary, you're so...nice. No, not nice. Thoughtful. You don't only think about yourself. As someone who's used to being alone, you don't mind company. Ah, no offence."

"None taken. But what's life like if you live it alone?"

"Why don't you ask Bruce that?" They both shared chuckles; it was nice, not having to remember Bruce in such a bad light and instead relish the moment when he did care, when he did fight for others, when he did risk his life. "Here." Nightwing flipped forward and past the building's edge whilst Alias created a glacier to launch her higher into the air, both performing some sort of acrobatic feat before they landed on one knee. Grand Avenue, where it all started. It took a small group of followers, a diligent police officer and a small vial of the fear toxin to trigger the explosion of something more. This district of Gotham was declared by the public as a no-go zone so even when the events of Halloween rolled over, ground zero was left untouched. Alias slowed down at an abandoned police car when the thought of her being a part of the destructive terror creeped back into her mind, and her hand slid across the vehicle's frame.

"Dick, I..." she briefly closed her eyes and Grayson turned back to face the mercenary. She doesn't usually call him by his first name, she rarely did, but he noticed the sorrowful frown on her face. "I never wanted to be bad, you know. I never wanted to kill, or fight. I was planning to leave the defending to Bruce."

"Huh, didn't we all?" he asked, a relaxed hand to his hip.

"But I used him as an excuse for what happened to me. I used him because...he was there. Back at the Asylum, he was there. In my memories, anyway. But...now that I know that the memories that I have aren't even true, I just want to say thank you to him. For not giving up on me."

"Hey. Don't beat yourself up for something you couldn't control. We all have demons. Some we can fight, others have been there since time. We just...need to learn how to handle our demons to overcome them."

"He managed to see that there is good in my heart, good that was hidden by revenge and hatred that wasn't even supposed to be there." She had turned around and sat on the bonnet of the wrecked car with Nightwing following after her. "I've killed a lot of people, I've got their blood on my hands, and he still saw the good in me. In a way, I guess you can say he saved me."

"Yeah, he does that."

"His words were annoyingly true, and it pissed me off."

"He does that too. Wait, I just realised we're having a heart-to-heart here."

"Because I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about almost snapping your wrist. To think we'd be chatting the night away after what happened."

"Blake, you've said sorry so many times, I could be rich."

"But I feel guilty. I've never befriended a potential target."

"Well, in my defence, I am pretty flexible." She had to laugh.

"And I wanted to say that...even though it's only been several months, I do think of you as a close friend. Probably one of few. I don't have many friends. Not that it matters, but having someone else to emotionally depend on is a better change." She brought her legs up to hug her knees as she hid her face out of embarrassment and Grayson smiled softly at her. He knew her life wasn't easy, and didn't blame her for her tainted past. She lived someone else's life and memories, and he would probably be very confused and conflicted if he was in her shoes. But then again, this was Alias, a Meta Mercenary, trained in all fields. He wouldn't be surprised if she was suppressing some thoughts and emotions, but he was glad to know that she did come to him for advice and help.

"Well, as much as I wanna savour this moment," he spoke up as the silence stretched on, minus the car's distorted sirens, and hopped off the car to offer Alias his hand. "You do have somewhere to go. Right?"

"You say it as if I'm going across the world. I just...wanted to stay a while longer before I say goodbye." She kindly took his hand and slid off the bonnet, quickly dusted herself off and led the way towards the diner across the street. "I am going to miss you, just going to make that clear."

"Really? And how much are you gonna miss me?"

"Not that much. I'll definitely miss your witty sense of charm, though."

"Ouch. That hurt."

"Hurting now is better than hurting later."

"Where did Blake go? I didn't know I was talking to Tim." She rolled her eyes as she pushed open the door to the diner, letting Nightwing enter first before shutting the door behind her. After its abandonment, Alias had decided to renovate the place and ensured the originality of the diner. Even Grayson himself had to let out a low whistle. "You've got to be kidding me. You fixed this place up? Seriously?"

"It wasn't much, actually. Some of the booths I covered, I didn't think I'd be bringing a party in here any time soon. And I got the appliances working. I did just have to plug it in but..."

"Now that you mention it, I've been craving pancakes for a while and Lucius has been keeping tabs on what I eat. I don't think I'm supposed to have salad four days in a row."

She giggled as she sat in a vacant booth, crossing her legs under the table and rested her chin on her backhand. "There should be some fruits in there, I wouldn't mind what's left of them with mine." He flashed her a wink before hopping over the counter and disappearing into the kitchen, and she let out a content exhale as she combed through her hair and flicked her pink locks off one shoulder. The Meta knew he was coming and didn't flinch when his helmet was dropped on her table several minutes later, but was even more surprised when Nightwing didn't investigate the noise. Probably too busy finding more food.

"You didn't tell me you were bringing Dick with you," Jason told her as he sat down opposite her, with a sort of venom to his tone as if he wanted to spit out his words. Alias chanced a glance at him and her hank sank a bit seeing the scar that burned his cheek, but he seemed willing enough to show his face. For that alone, she was proud of him. It was a start.

"I didn't think I needed to. Besides, you two need to talk."

He glared out the window. "I've got nothing to say to him."

"I didn't say serenade him. Just talk."

"Fine."

"That's all I ask. Gray, a beer would be nice."

"I didn't know you drink, Blake," echoed Nightwing's voice from the kitchen.

"I don't. Well, not officially." Her eyes rested on Jason again. "Where did you leap off to?"

"I had business to attend to. Nothing special."

"What sort of business?"

"Business."

"You mean Sionis? Ah, that I know. You're getting slightly messier, not like you care."

"I don't."

"Guessed as much." The clink of glass brought Jason's attention to the bottle of beer placed in front of him, Grayson's face a mix of concern and reluctance as he passed over Alias's plate of food before sitting down beside her with his own dish. "Thank you."

"Jason…" It was obvious he was trying to formulate a sentence, words that wouldn't offend or victim-blame. I mean, it's been a couple years since they last saw each other, as close as brotherly bonds can get. Rivalry did come alongside it, but in the end they would get things done. As a team. "Glad to see you're okay." Dick smiled, and Alias had to pause in the middle of eating a strawberry to glance at Jason's reaction.

What was about to transpire in the next ten minutes would determine if they were willing to accept each other...