I won't ramble too much, since this story won't have another dislclaimer or AN unless necessary, but I dearly thank the support that I'm getting considering this is my first arkhamverse fic. It's not a lot but it's a start.

DISCLAIMER: WARNING - SPOILERS! Set during the events of Arkham Knight, following the ambiguous antagonist of the game since we don't get much of that (and also because I couldn't fit this in the summary). I do not own any characters except for those unfamiliar with.

NB: Cold-Blooded is going through a slight rework, happens when you end up writing too many plots for one story. Just some edits here a there, a few major ones too. Also thank you~

All 5 guns were trained on her, ready to fire if she moved a hefty inch, two of those guns were a rifle with enough power to rip her head and shoulders to shreds. But not even the threat of death could wipe that glossy smile off her face. It was seductive, yet predatory. It asked for more, but only for those that could handle her. And 13 well-trained militia found out the truth. Limb locks, pressure points or simply heavy trauma to their head or spine brought their lives to a halt, and most of the guys she faced were equipped with blades and assaults. Talk about poorly executed.

"Look, boys, I'm sorry about what happened to your friends," she spoke with the calming force of a British blizzard. "But if you want to kill me, at least be men and pull the trigger. Pointing guns at me does not reinforce your masculinity… If you even have one."

"Quiet, lady," one of them spoke threateningly, pressing the nuzzle of his assault to her temple, but instead of a whimper he received a chuckle in return.

"You really want to play it rough? I don't think you know you're messing with, rather nice-smelling man. There's no windows in this room, and the door is locked from the outside…"

"What the? How do you know that? You can't even see."

"Maybe. But everything has a temperature, and everything and everybody in this room has a temperature different to mine, so I don't have to see it to know it's there. Call it an alternate perception of the sort."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Please. It wasn't even my best. But since you asked so nicely…" The man that held the cold weapon to her temple looked around him as freezing winds gradually cycloned around the woman's seat, the rest of the men realising that it was snowing. Inside the room. Just as one was about to fire, ice crawled up the rifle and shattered in moments and it wasn't long before everyone else's firearms did the same. "I make sure you regret even touching me."

"How the hell is she doing that?!"

"She's a Meta...crap!"

"Get her to stop, man!"

"Too late. I'm bored now." She broke free thanks to the element freezing the restraints keeping her tied to the chair and, with remarkable speed, floored three men in seconds, her movements leaving a wispy trail where the hands were. The other two, who had to take a moment to realise what happened, began to adapt to the situation by transferring their bodies into a fighting stance; feet spaced apart, fists up to shield their face, knees slightly bent. But the woman sighed as she straightened up from resting on one knee, turning around to face her remaining opponents, blindfolded and without the need to place her body in such position.

"Surprising. I thought a blinded hostage would be easy to apprehend…" She dodged a left hook and countered by grabbing the arm that shot out at her and pulled him towards her, her shoulder slamming into the militia's bulletproof vest with enough force to launch him off his feet and slam into the far wall. "But since this has become an impossible situation, it seems like you're wasting time rather than making me wait for some man in a mask." The last man standing went for a low kick but she blocked with her own and spun around, executing a mid kick that forced him back a step, but she wasn't done yet. The woman launched forward and went for focused hits, every strike sending a shockwave of ice into his vest and, when she felt it consume the entire garment, a more stronger punch burst the vest to glassy fragments.

"Huh―?!" The militia didn't have time to blurt out his sentence because she booted him into the nearest wall and, while he was doubled over to recover, axe-kicked the back of his head and heard bones crack on impact with the floor.

"Huh. Man in a mask…" Her hand reached off to whip the blindfold off her face, revealing her cloudy, lilac eyes, before throwing it onto the floor and sauntering to the door. "Batman better not be rescuing me." Reaching it, she snatched the dark grey half hoodie off a hook and slipped it on before tilting her head at the obstacle in front of her.

"She's in this room."

"She took out five guys, they're all down."

"Boss says to shoot her on sight."

"Really? And just when things were getting better…" The woman snapped her palms and a barrage of ice zoomed through the steel door, impaling the figures outside and she smiled hearing them collapse onto the ground. "Now, if I can find who came to kidnap me and beat his ass, then maybe I'll feel better." Finally regaining her composure, she put a frozen index to the door and traced its shape, pushing it gently when she was finished to have it give way for her. With an approved hum, she stepped on the door, and the bodies under it, and quickly scanned her surroundings before blasting into a bolt down the corridor.

She's been here before, an abandoned 4-star hotel after the owner lost touch with the business with profits plummeting into the darkened abyss. One hell of a place to train, though, especially the grand hall where the guests would meet up for...something. She didn't know, she wasn't familiar with the arts of a 4-star hotel.

The grand hall. Just had to take a left and… She almost stopped when two militia that stood watch had a gun pointed at her, but when she cover-rolled, during the motion, she casted a sheet of ice over the worn-out carpet and giggled at the pathetic sight of the two trying to gain their footing on ice.

"Here," the woman spoke to herself as she dove through the top window to the grand hall, moving into a swift sideflip to daintily land on her feet and let out a sharp but relaxed exhale. She decided it was time to flick her hair out of her hoodie with a sassy hand, which was an unusual colour like her eyes, but couldn't help but let a softer, more flirtatious smile creep onto her freckled face. Definitely not Batman, that's for sure. "Well, hello, my Arkham-wearing...saint of some sort. Who wields awesome guns and has the body of...a god."

Whoever stood several tens of metres in front of her donned a futuristic version of what the rest of the militia wore in this place, accents of red streaking along his clothing and a sagging utility belt, with a streamlined, bat-eared helmet that blurred out his identity, and a chestplate that resembled the Arkham symbol. His gun didn't waver as he stepped forward once, his steps almost soundless. She glared at his feet for a brief moment; he was being careful, light-footed. The militia weren't even close. This must be their leader. Only problem was that brief moment ended up with him pulling the trigger.

And in that brief moment, she almost lost her guard. Thankfully her defence mechanism froze the bullet before it reached her, bouncing off her chest before clattering to the ground encased in tinted ice.

"Keep your eyes on me," he spoke firmly, the helmet tuning his voice with a demonic hum.

She flipped up her palms, "Remember you just tried to kill me."

"I know who you are. Might not be on the database, but you're there… Alias."

"Still not dropping the fact you tried to kill me, but as least someone knows who I am. Really hate being called 'woman' and 'lady'. Oh, and don't even get me started on 'sweetie'."

"You're a Meta Mercenary, specialised in stealth. You're known not to leave behind any trace, since your manipulation in ice and infrared perception allows you to have control of any situation. Like this one. I bet you're memorising my body heat, how much I'm exerting."

"I won't lie, it's what I do. But less about me, I want to know about you…" Alias began to stroll up to him carefully, watching his trigger finger tighten slightly but didn't attempt to stop. "Yeah. You're intriguing. I bet someone fed you to a pack of wolves and you came back drenched in their blood. Don't worry… I did too. So tell me…" She stopped when the nuzzle was at her neck. "Who are you?"

"They call me the Arkham Knight."

She chuckled, "Cute name… But I've heard that every villain here's launching a mass attack against Batman, with Scarecrow leading the charge, am I correct?"

"You're not mistaken."

"Then I want in. Like everyone else, I have a thing against him, and I want to make sure...the last time I see him, is on his deathbed."

"Didn't think you were a grudge-holding type."

"Didn't think you'd psychologically attack Batman, but I guess we all got surprises."

"How did―"

"The ears, for a start... The fact you have bat ears and wielding guns is making Batman think... Who did I have to break to cause such a scar? Who did I leave behind that he's forgetting his own sense of morality?"

"You don't know me."

"Maybe not, Knight, but if I manage to persuade Scarecrow I'll know more than you..." Her palm encircled the barrel of the gun as she leaned in close to where his ear would be. "So promise we'll meet again. Everyone else is boring." And just like that, Alias let go of his gun and turned around before silently walking off and flicking her hair once again. And that was when he watched her use her power, her hands surrounded by an icy mist as a glacier shot her into the air, the Meta Mercenary vanishing through the cracked window a second later and the Arkham Knight put his iron sight down.

"That, was Alias?" Someone had asked him through his mask, the Knight sliding his pistol into the empty holster.

"Yeah. I thought they were rumours but..."

"She proves to be a valuable ally."

"And a pain in my ass."

"We must be prepared to adapt to changing situations, Knight. We shall see what she is planning to do, but for now, keep an eye on her."

"Understood."