Hello again! I'm trying not to delay posting but I'm a perfectionist at heart and I'm constantly tweaking the story. I do have two complete chapters after this but we're definitely getting to the end. It's been one hell of a ride.

It was strange, feeling the cold run down her arms and numb her fingers, down her legs and chill her bones to blunt pain. It was pooling out of her, Arcadius pooled out of her, and she could only whimper. It was strange. Unusually quiet in Gotham. She couldn't hear the cars that raced down the streets, couldn't hear the rain patter, couldn't feel Nightwing's signature. Her hand reached out to him but it hurt, everything hurt. Everything: emptied. Alias whimpered.

"Alias!" Max cover-rolled onto the lower outdoor space, holstering his pistols and scooping her up into her arms. She was ice cold, her body shaking uncontrollably and her pained breathing coming out in puffs of vapour. Her battle with Rhys left her face scarred, the fracture on her jaw had deepened and completely sealed over and with her body constantly breaking and repairing itself, Max was worried that the scar might not ever heal. He cupped her face with his metal hand, the contact alone spreading a thin sheet of frost across his palm, "Blake, talk to me!"

"Y-Yuma…" she whispered, struggling to lift her hand to hold his arm. "Can't feel…body…"

"We're gonna get you out of here. Hold on." Tucking his other arm under her legs, he easily stood with her added weight and ran to the railing, clearing it in a single jump and had to twist his body when he landed in the monorail he brought into operation. He set her down on the seats and tore off his cloak, wrapping it around her trembling body. "I'm coming." Max left her side for a moment to retrieve Nightwing, who was in a considerably better condition than she was and he darted over when he saw her deteriorating state. Nightwing took her in his arms and Alias leaned away.

"Blake―"

"Can't control…powers…" She held out a shaking hand and Dick watched as purple frost grew moss up her arm and didn't even bat an eyelid. He pulled her in close and Blake couldn't shake out of the embrace, trying her hardest not to force contact but it couldn't be helped. "No…let go…"

"A little cold won't hurt me, Blake." She hesitated and snuggled up back-to-chest, his arms wrapping around her body underneath the cloak. What's left of his armour blocked quite some heat, but it was enough for now.

"We don't have a lot of time," Max told Nightwing, rolling back his metal shoulder before walking to the middle of the carriage and tearing the panel in the ceiling housing the main transformer. Placing his palm on it, the panels on his prosthetic lit up white and he removed his hand once the carriage rolled along the track out of Founders Island. As the movement of the monorail caused the doors to close, Max stuck his foot between the set closest to Nightwing and Alias; he brought out his guns and combined them into a sniper rifle and sat with one leg hanging out, checking the magazine before scoping the passing environment. "I'm blocking Rhys's thoughts but it won't be long until she catches up. Every time I redirect her, she's finding more ways to redirect me. Right now, we need Blake away from her for as long as possible."

"Blake…" Nightwing held her tighter. He quickly scanned her with his Detective Vision and her core temperature had dropped far below normal ranges; her organs were having trouble keeping up. She'd stopped trembling and Nightwing knew that meant her hypothermia was severe, but Alias being semi-coherent meant she was still fighting. He wasn't sure if it was her godly physiology or sheer willpower. "Conserve your energy, it's gonna be okay."

"You're…an absolute…dream…" He smirked.

"When am I not?"

"I don't…deserve you…"

"Don't say that."

"I don't deserve…your compassion, Dick."

"Bruce taught me to do the right thing. If he didn't give up on you, neither will I."

"Bruce…would appreciate that…" Alias moaned, "Can't feel…Arcadius is gone…"

"Gone?" Max echoed her, looking over his shoulder in disbelief. Then his face relaxed, "But that would mean―"

"I need…Rhys here…"

Max stood from his place, letting the doors close behind him, and stood in front of Alias and Nightwing, "Nope. No way. We need to withdraw and actually figure out how to get Jason back."

"There's no other…way…"

"There has to be. She almost killed you!"

"Yuma…" She peeled out of Nightwing's grasp and staggered to the row of chairs parallel to her, Nightwing already by her side and helping her stand upright. "Arcadius became…a part of me…when I died. Without him…"

"You'll die," Max finished her sentence, and groaned in annoyance. "Why is there no easy way with you?"

"I like…the challenge," Alias smiled weakly but suddenly held her head. "Rhys…getting closer…"

"Blake, are you sure about this?" Nightwing asked her.

"I…told you, Dick. Not stopping…until we find Jason. Even if…it kills me."

"But what if he doesn't want to be found?"

"He'd do the same…for any of us. We…have to try…"

"No, what we need to do right now is get you warm and…shit, Al!" Max leapt forward to catch Alias as her legs collapsed from underneath her, with both men in an awkward dance to getting Alias back on the chairs. Her breathing slowed entirely, the cloak a different colour due to hypothermia spilling out of her and Nightwing towered over her, trying to keep her awake. Max rushed toward a new set of doors and booted them open, fear charging his prosthetic. "Rhys, she's―!"

"You won't get away!" Rhys's shrill scream could be heard by the entire Chinatown district, the echoes bouncing inside the carriage walls and Max fired electric bolts at Rhys to slow her down. She was no longer flying, but her leaps and bounds were enough to catch up with the flying monorail; she threw a concussive ball of energy that shook the monorail but it kept going, zooming across Mercy Bridge. "I won't let you run away from me, Blake! You're mine!" Rhys missed her jump onto the monorail but used an ingenious way to bring it down: she flipped over a wrecked taxi, grabbed the roof so hard she pierced the metal and tossed the vehicle in one move. It struck the carriage, knocking it off the overhead track and sending it barrelling across the bridge, crashing into the centre tower. Rhys grinned manically to herself as she ran over to admire what she did. Her smile dropped.

How odd. Rhys assumed that Alias would somehow cushion the fall with what little power remained but she and her allies weren't spared a soft landing. The front of the monorail was completely dented in and the main transformer had caught on fire, but her allies were nowhere to be seen. She peered around, observing the crushed cars and upfolded asphalt and watched as Nightwing and Max stumbled out of what remained of the monorail. She sighed, "Aren't you boys tired?"

"Yeah, well," Max checked the magazines in both pistols before helping Nightwing upright. "It's either you or us."

"I'll take my chances." Nightwing moved first, sprinting straight for Rhys and she grinned, balling an electric fist. She fired, Nightwing dodged and Max countered with a shot that knocked the smile off her face. She rushed forward wanting to tear out Max's throat when an escrima struck her nose out of nowhere, blinding her momentarily and two more kicks to the chest got her staggered, but she guessed a punch next and caught Nightwing's arm. He was nimble, flipping over her and diving in between her legs so Max can hit her with a three-round combo. Rhys was getting slower, her godly powers sucking out every ounce of life in her body.

Rhys recovered out of her fall, blocked Nightwing's kick and managed a blast to his midsection, the heat melting through his armour and layers of skin and muscle. Nightwing cried out, made space by ducking back from her grab. Max saw and charged forward, reaching for his belt and throwing a knife that stabbed through Rhys's hand, while grabbing hold of Nightwing and pulling him out of the fight. Max stared venom as Rhys roughly pulled the knife out of her hand and charged his metal arm, a concussive bolt discharged in moments. Rhys took the hit, didn't know it would launch her off her feet, fold her over the guard railing on the bridge. She barely missed Gotham's murky waters, using a thrust of lightning to veer onto the lower pillar. Rhys was panting, groaning at her own overexertion.

She was falling apart, but she had to take care of Alias. She had to, she…faltered, for a moment. Her mind focused on Alias, and she almost questioned why she was going after the Meta Mercenary in the first place. This was…no. Focus...focus. Rhys was only here for one person. She can't keep messing around like this. So when she finally got off her back and wiped the blood from her face, the fiery haze fizzed across her face.

"Okay." Rhys lowered to a squat and rocketed through the bridge, the concrete spewing up chunks at her arrival, and Max couldn't even get a cocky remark out about her not being dead without getting catapulted up into the centre tower's platform. She boasted a laugh, and threw Max's prosthetic aside. "You're gonna get your brother killed, Blake!"

Nightwing widened his eyes at the spectacle; she tore off Max's arm too fast the moment never registered to him. "Holy…! Ghost!" Nightwing darted to the monorail, lunging away from Rhys's flying punch. He could see it in his Detective Vision, her heart beating faster than before. She's much stronger than before but this fight, win or lose, was going to kill her.

Rhys threw an arc of lightning that he barely rolled away from, a hand still clutching onto his flesh wound. Nightwing's adrenaline was wearing off and every pull and tug at his burned muscles were slowing him down. There was no way for him to go toe to toe with Rhys, not in this condition, but he was sure as hell gonna go down fighting. It's what Bruce taught him. But then Rhys got in close, real quick, closer than he realised, and Nightwing bared his teeth.

He was punted into the side of the monorail, the impact winding him completely. He was grabbing for air, his body not responding to his brain; he guessed some cracked ribs were the reason, but the kick rebooted his lungs and they weren't working like he needed them to. "I'd stay down if I were you," Rhys cooed, squatting in front of him to show her pouty face. "You're not who I'm after."

"Rhys, you're dying…" he rasped out and her pouty face disappeared into a look of acceptance. "You don't…need to do this…"

"I do," she told him. "Arcadius is mine. I'm not leaving until I get him back." Rhys stood and Nightwing caught her hand.

"But…Blake…"

She scoffed and flicked his hand away. "She never deserved him. Never deserved anyone…" Rhys finally got back on her feet and strode around to the monorail doors, her hand tracing lightning paths on the side, and frowned when she saw Alias lying there, unmoving. After all that commotion outside, she expected Alias to try and move. No, she remained unmoving.

She reached inside the monorail, got a hold of Alias's leg and flung her out. Rhys half-expected her to recover mid-throw. She didn't, her body awkwardly tumbling across the ground and the green concrete beam bringing her to a floppy stop. Rhys frowned and walked over to Alias, watching her. Alias was still. Whatever remained of Arcadius was keeping her alive, or tried to. Arcadius was there, she was...

"Wake up." Rhys nudged Alias's leg, got no response, and retaliated by curling her hands around her throat and hoisting her off the ground. "Wake up! I'm not done with you!" Alias flailed when Rhys shook her, her head lolling back and forth. Alias was there, trapped far and deep into the crevices of her own mind. It was…it was too late. Her heartbeat lost its rhythm, the snowy moss growing up her neck almost entirely covering Alias's body. Rhys couldn't accept that.

Alias, dead? Never.

"No. No! Wake up! Wake up!" Nothing. "No! I won't let you die before I kill you!" A violet mist was summoned on Rhys's cheeks and she tightened her grip slightly, red energy flooding into Alias and forcing the mist that sparked in her hair to light crimson. Rhys didn't let go and kept pushing, didn't stop until Alias finally opened her eyes and screamed from the bottom of her lungs, raw, ragged. With her scream came a gale that rushed past them.

Arcadius was roaring, deafening, and Alias held onto Rhys's arm when the chill seeped in. She could feel the haze burning at her face, wanting to melt her skin and cook her brain. Every signature lit up in her head, her vicinity and the bodies in it a gorgeous canvas of smeared watercolour. It was...it was insane. It was overpowering. But even in the chaos, she found clarity.

The Shard of Arcadius, fuelled by Rhys. It was all Alias needed.

Alias tightened her grip on Rhys and Arcadius flared brighter against her cheeks and into her hair, the crimson hue shifting back into its fluttering blues and purples. The mystical ink came to life as the raw energy crawled up her arms, and Rhys caught her wrist in panic. The storm was raging, swirling wildly and swaying Mercy Bridge. "How are you―"

"I'm sorry." Rhys lost the strength to keep Alias in the air and reduced to her knees while Alias stayed standing, sinking her hands into Rhys's blonde locks. Cracks appeared on Alias's hands and crept up her arms, fractures dancing along her skin violet glass. "I'm sorry," she repeated. Arcadius took in all he could and in doing so, the lightning completely dissipated, the arcana that fuelled Rhys's rage no longer existent. What it left behind was a woman sent to her death, with nothing Alias could do about it.

Alias let go and Rhys sunk to the ground, sobbing and mumbling to herself and holding her arm, her skin splitting apart to reveal the icy shards that stabbed through; the unfortunate side-effect for wielding a godly power not her own. The storm had calmed but Alias noticed the dangerous drop in Max and Nightwing's baseline and inhaled calmly, bringing their temperatures back to normal levels by soaking the cold that was shutting down their bodies. "I won't…forgive you…" Rhys shook her head, "I won't…I won't forgive you…"

"I know," she said sadly, straightening her posture as the icy moss that grew death on her skin thawed. Alias glanced at her hands, at the cracks that scattered, then looked back at Rhys. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness, Rhys."

"You said you'd kill me."

"I already have."

"No!" Rhys grabbed Alias's leg. "Kill me. Kill me! Or he won't stop! He…he won't stop! Blake, he won't stop…" She was sobbing at this point. "I'm begging you, Blake! I've died over and over again and he keeps bringing me back. I can't…I can't even use my own powers, please…don't leave me like this."

"Bringing you back…?" Alias tilted her head in confusion and then realisation. "Sinclair's been using you as a vessel of war, Rhys. Just as he was using the rest of us."

"I don't want to live if it means endless pain, I'm in pain, Blake…! It doesn't stop. It never stops. Please! I'm begging you. You either kill me, or I'll kill you."

"You know you can't kill me."

"So kill me. I'll tell you where Jason is, but you have to kill me. If you don't…I'll never forgive you…" Alias examined Rhys closely and knelt down to dry Rhys's cheeks, tilting her head when the woman leaned into her touch. "You have the Wrath, you're the only one that can stop him now. Promise me you'll kill him, Blake…please…"

Alias couldn't understand: Rhys was the more fiery of the Sinclair siblings, harbouring heavier grudges and doing whatever she needed to do to set things right. Taeyeon's personal lapdog, running rings around him and biting bigger dogs than herself. It was why Alias nodded in agreement. She knew exactly what it meant being Taeyeon's lapdog. There was no escape, and Alias found freedom in death. As will Rhys. "I'll kill him. I promise."

"Okay." Rhys adjusted herself so she was kneeling and waited with bated breath as Alias gently cupped her head with both hands, and began crying again. "You don't know how long I've wanted this. I've tried everything…"

"You could've been―" Alias tensed, a final desperate attempt at Rhys utilising the remnants of her powers before blood trickled from her nose. The explosion of information brought fury to Alias's hazy eyes. Jason was there all along, hidden in plain sight. She focused back on Rhys, "I'm sorry."

"I know you are. Please. Make it quick."

And she did. Alias narrowed her eyes and the cold shot through Rhys's head. Alias gently set Rhys's body down and peered over her shoulder, locking eyes with Nightwing as the vigilante limped through his burn through his injuries. She peered up at the centre tower and took off towards it, flicking her wrist as a glacier shot her into the air and onto the centre platform. Max was folded into a crater, clutching his ribs with his remaining arm and Alias climbed into the crater and knelt beside him. He tried for a relieved smile; he seemed unfazed by his missing arm but his cracked ribs were definitely biting into his side. "Is it over?"

"It is." She offered her hand and he took it casually, helping him out of the crater and clutching onto him a bit tighter as Nightwing hopped onto the platform with them, Max's prosthetic in tow. "I know where Jason is," she started. "Arkham Asylum."

Of course, Nightwing couldn't hide his shock despite the pain, "The Asylum? That means that Sinclair's goal was to break Jason from the start, not kill him. Think about it: if Joker could brainwash him there, who says Sinclair can't? And we're talking about a Metahuman who can manipulate pain, not a psychotic man in a purple suit."

"It's not just brainwashing him," Max hissed. "He could break Jason down to what he was before he found some form of absolution."

"The Arkham Knight."

"And not the same Knight Blake ran into, the Knight who absolved himself from fear and kept all his hatred and rage into a single bullet."

"This is bad." Alias realised, peering down at Rhys.

No. It was much worse than she thought.