A/N: This is my first story on FF. Expect some crappiness (e.g.: OOC-ness, comic inaccuracies, etc.). If you see it, please leave a (polite, please) message. If I can, I will fix it, but if it interrupts the story, I will just as likely leave it in. This is not meant to be disrespectful, but I have spent a lot of time developing this story and changing one seemingly insignificant detail could quite possibly adjust the whole plot. Chaos theory, people.

Also, this story is OC-CENTRIC. I am essentially borrowing the YJ universe and characters. Most of the events will revolve around my character. If you have little patience for such things, I respectfully suggest you leave now. If you flame, IT WILL BE MOCKED in the story if I can fit it in.

Please, read and review! It makes the story better!

June 5, 20- -: League of Shadows, Taipei. 2300 hours

"I can't believe it! This one is still alive after nearly three hours! Numbers one through 23 never came close!" the astonished man looked through the glass into the containment chamber. His hands flew to and fro, rather like frightened pigeons, reflecting his agitation. With long brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail, the man's glasses were askew, his eyes open wide. There were dark circles under his eyes, indicating that he had not slept in days, but whether due to dedication to his work or fear remained to be seen. A small animal with red eyes and horns perched on his shoulder. Across from him, a second man spoke, causing the first to jump.

"Yes. It would appear this one wants to live more than her predecessors. See that the genomes give her the proper knowledge, nothing unnecessary mind you, and see that she is outfitted properly. I want to see her in training in the month." This man, taller and slimmer than the other, turned to where various machines beeped and promptly tuned out the other man's quibbling. This doctor was so very irritating, couldn't he just silently follow orders? In hundreds of years, very few had managed to annoy him to this extent. The doctor needed constant approval, constant orders. Truly, he was this far from just slitting the doctors damn throat himself, minions be damned. Heading a group of trained killers was very strenuous, and left him with very little patience for dealing with fools.

"A month? Great One, I'm not sure we can even cover half-" a heavier voice cut in, commanding silence from the frazzled ponytail.

"He said a month, Dr. Desmond. Cut anything nonessential. Speech, anything beyond basic math, literacy. Give us a killing machine. Set the parameters for the genomes and return to Cadmus. Project Kr needs to take full priority now." A bulky man with three scars on his face, one crossing over his mouth, spoke from farther back in the room. He looked at the doctor with disdain. This man was the linchpin to their perfect weapon? God help them all. If Luthor hadn't recommended him, Savage would never have taken a second look. He tried to avoid looking at the weak little man anyhow. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to be in Bialya by noon tomorrow. Ra's, as always, it has been a pleasure. Until our next meeting."

The slender man looked up at this, inclining his head and saying "Until then, Savage. Give my regards to Queen Bee. Cheshire," Ra's said, causing a dark-haired woman with a grinning cat mask to drop from the ceiling, "escort the good doctor to his plane after he finishes with the genomes. And doctor?" Desmond looked up nervously. "One month."

As he was being escorted out, Dr. Desmond couldn't help feeling impossibly small. These people did not need him, but he needed them. His life's work, it was far too important to not have funding for. Blockbuster needed to be finished, and then… then they would see who had impossible deadlines. His eyes narrowed with grim determination.

Back in the building, beyond the one-sided glass of the observation room, a naked young woman pondered her surroundings. They were sterile, save the bodies of others who, even though she did not realize it, shared her face and DNA. She ignored these, not realizing their significance, but looking instead at her hands, wondering wordlessly why they moved when she wanted them to. But while she pondered this, she also noticed that each breath came more easily, she didn't have to think as hard to make her arms and legs move, and after a moment she was well on her way to sitting up. She looked about sixteen, with sharp golden-brown eyes, blonde fuzz for hair, full lips, and a mildly beaky nose. She was by no means beautiful, but the word attractive could be applied to her without much exaggeration. Her body was toned, without the atrophy that plagued most of her senior clones. She wasn't short by any stretch of the imagination, when she stood she would be almost 5'8, but the way she held herself, like a small child learning to crawl, made her seem so much more fragile than she was.

During her scan of the room, she saw little things crouching in the corners, with some things on them hurting the things she looked out of they were so bright. Soon after her thinking thing started to hurt, and moments later she was unconscious on the floor, her seeing things closed. But still one thought pounded through her subconscious and consciousness: know. Even as fighting maneuvers were pumped into her brain and personality pumped out, she clung to the burning lust for knowledge.

Two months later: LoS, Taipei, 1430 hours.

The young woman from the observation room floor crouched on a beam above two men talking rapidly. Under her mentor Sportsmaster's nose, she had figured out how to make sounds from her throat, but translating them into language took more capability than she naturally had. Her main plan of action was to stalk anyone in the LoS to try and mimic the shapes they made with their mouths. But they talked so fast! She did get the shape made the most; she would have to show Sportsmaster later. She looked at the round thing on the wall with the lines pointing to the numbers, and saw the lines pointing to the positions that they were when she was supposed to be hitting things, with Sportsmaster yelling at her for some reason. She knew he'd yell more at her today, he always got very angry when the lines reached a certain point for some reason. She scampered from one beam to the other, heading to the hitting-things-room. It was really big; it took her a lot of jumps to cross end-to-end when she was taking big jumps and less jumps from side-to-side (She checked one night when Sportsmaster was not there)

When she reached the hitting-things-room, she saw Sportsmaster looking really angry in the corner. She quietly made her way over. Sure, he looked really angry right now, but when she breathed out her new mouth shape, he was bound to cheer up, right? She was hiding behind a column when he started yelling really loud at a couple of people who seemed to be doing nothing wrong. They were just standing really close together, and the guy seemed to be eating something on the girl's face. It looked odd, but she couldn't see anything wrong with it. She carefully stepped out from behind her column, gently tapped on Sportsmaster's shoulder, made a face that she had learned meant someone was feeling good (pulling up the corners of her mouth. It felt weird the first few times, but she got used to it), and breathed in, before making the proper shape and breathing out.

"Sheeyat." No! NO THAT WAS WRONG! He was looking at her strangely! She blushed, took another breath in, flattened her mouth, and tried again.

"Shet." Closer, but not quite. Everyone was looking at her now, even the guy who had been eating the thing off the girl's face. One more time! She breathed in, tears filling up her eyes, sniffled, and breathed out.

"Shit." She made it! The turning up of the corners of her mouth felt more natural this time, and she brimmed with pride. She looked up at Sportsmaster to see if she did well, only to see his face turning the color of a sunset, only with blotches of color more like the night sky. But while both of those separately made her feel like jumping out of her window and not falling, ever, Sportsmaster's face looked like a very ugly thing. She looked down at the flat things at the end of her legs she stood on, her face turning the same color as Sportsmaster's, just without the night sky color. She turned around and started running out of the hitting-things-room.

Sportsmaster stayed, fuming. Where had the thing learned that word? It wasn't supposed to be able to talk. Hell, it shouldn't have been able to think! When Ra's al Ghul gave him the job of training 24, he thought it would be easy. Strength training, teaching it how to use the fancy techniques the genomes gave it, but not dealing with its first period, (it was physically sixteen for God's sake! Couldn't the genomes have slipped something like that into its mind? He was going to kill Desmond) or how to properly dress, or anything like that. God, it was like having toddlers again, mixed with having teenagers. Artemis was bad enough, but Jade, being the oldest and the test child, was nothing short of painful. And now 24. He needed a break.

The girl didn't leave her room for the rest of the day.

AAAAAND IT'S CHAPTER ONE, LADIES AND GENTS!

Hope you enjoyed it, come back for more and R&R! It feeds the souls I keep in jars on my wall! Who knows, I may have one of yours... to ensure that it doesn't die, review... or live soullessly, like the people who cut YJ...