Cold-Blooded

Combat

Alias exited her room in an outfit that leaned towards practicality rather than style; a bodysuit patterned with the militia's camo and combat boots. Upon leaving, her two favoured guards and a rookie followed her shortly behind, assaults in hand and ready to issue support when their commander needed it. But the rookie 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, Axel. I appreciate your concern. And Breaker, I keep telling you. I'm not Crane and I'm certainly not the Arkham Knight. While I am your commander, think of me as a friend. I hope that's okay with you."

"Sure it's fine with us," Breaker replied. "Anything for you, 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 put his gun down 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. "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.