Cold-Blooded

Red

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?"