I knew they had special plans for us the second we were initiated, because it was all very, very public. Usually, it wasn't a big ceremony, just a quiet meeting at the Hall of Justice or the Watchtower and then you showed up at the next mission unannounced, and people mostly got the picture. Us, however, we came on in a big, flashy, flamboyant way, so I figured I couldn't expect to last too much longer on the team. After all, the last few times they'd done this, it usually meant the new recruit had about four, or maybe, if they were lucky, six, months left to live before getting bumped off.

The JLA was supposed to show up in Washington, D.C., anyway, so that they could receive some kind of Medal of Honor from the President—yet again. Their excuse was that they wanted to take the opportunity to honor their newest members in front of the people they'd be protecting from then on as members of the League. I had to remind myself to hold my tongue and roll with it. Can't give them a reason to kill you now, I kept thinking.

After they got their medal, Superman dominated the podium and gave some tedious, mind-numbing speech about how much they appreciate the young people who are so willing to join their quest and how flattering, but humbling, it can be to have someone that age looking up to you for guidance and blah, blah, blah. I tried to look excited, really, I did. Rose even nudged me and muttered out of the side of her mouth, "Smile. Look dead and you'll be dead." But the most I managed was a grimace and a hope that the press would chalk it up to my being a Bat.

"I know, I know," I replied, meaning to have every bit of testiness in it that I did. "I just want this press party to be over with so I can go back to Gotham."

"What, you don't call it home?"

I shook my head with such a slight motion that it was nearly imperceptible, like, you'd need to zoom in a lot to see it. "Not anymore, I don't."

"Which is why," Superman boomed at the podium, "I am proud to introduce to you the newest young members of our team."

Here it comes, I thought to myself, squirming uncomfortably in my seat on the stage. It's the beginning of the end for you, Drake. Count your seconds, you don't have many of them left.

In case you couldn't tell, I'm no optimist. I've learned better.

"Blue Beetle!"

Jaime stood and sauntered to the front of the stage, putting on his best showman's smile and waving to the cheering crowd. I already knew that I was going to come to resent that kid, because he had such a good handle on the situation. He was playing this perfectly, playing the spectators like a hand of cards in poker. Sure, it was pretty innocent right now, but if you twist it in just the right way, you get somebody who's mastered the fine art of deception. The League would like him. He'd probably outlive us all for that.

"Red Arrow!"

Mia stood up next, slinging her bow over her right shoulder and giving a good wave. I couldn't see her face, but I was guessing she was playing it like most of the Arrows do: obnoxiously cocky and laid-back. I also picked up that it's mostly safest to just act like certain traits run in the "family", even if they don't. It's all in the showmanship, so far something that everybody else seemed to have down pat. Mia would last long, too. Maybe not as long as Jaime might, but still a lot longer than me, I figured.

"Zatara!"

I felt the corner of my mouth begin to curl upward into a sneer of disgust, but I forced it back down, hoping it looked like nothing more than just a twitch. Zachary Zatara was, for lack of a better term, a stupid, spoiled brat. He'd never been anything other than a jerk to me, and I didn't like him very much—or at all, for that matter. And, believe me, I wasn't the only one. So, I figured that he'd probably go once everybody got tired of listening to him moan and complain, and even his cousin, Zatanna, could do nothing about that, could do nothing to save him. (Not that even she would want to, but, hey, you know the drill.)

"Ravager!"

Rose stood up next to me, making sure her swords didn't clatter against her chair. Looking out at the people, I saw a few faces turn pale, although they all kept smiling. I, myself, couldn't stop the chill that ran through my veins whenever she spoke to me or glanced at me. It wasn't romance; it was the acutest sense of fear. There was just something about her that said, "Back off. I'm dangerous." So she wasn't much of an actor, but her brutal honesty still worked for the League. People couldn't help but be scared of Rose Wilson, daughter of the infamous Deathstroke the Terminator. At the very least, she could come in handy as the intimidation factor. No telling how long they'd need her for that.

"And Red Robin!"

I pushed myself onto my feet and stepped forward so that I was shoulder-to-shoulder with the others. Camera flashes went off all around me, blindingly bright and unmistakably annoying. I clasped my hands behind my back and stood tall, trying my best to seem unbothered by it all. But the reality of the situation was that the white bursts of light that assaulted my vision turned every one of the hundreds of smiling, happy, excited faces into sinister, bloody sneers. I didn't see my adoring fans out there; I saw my victims, the people I'd have to hurt through my actions with the League. Their pearly white teeth vanished, leaving gaping holes that dripped blood onto skin that was bruised and deathly pale. Their perfectly combed and styled hair became matted, tangled messes atop their heads. Their designer clothes tore, becoming rags whose tears showed ugly wounds on their starved, skeletal bodies. Shackles and chains appeared on their wrists and ankles, and they were suddenly moving towards me with amazing speed, running despite their weighty fetters, closing in around me, pulling me down, screaming, "Why won't you help us? Why won't you do something?" And their outraged fists drew blood at every strike, and then I was just like them, chained by my own lies, my own participation in the game…

I sucked in a deep breath to rid myself of the waking nightmare, and the scores of excited people were back, looking fresh and clean and very free. I hated myself for not being able to live up to what they thought I was, but what could I do? I was one guy, flesh and blood, who could be killed in hundreds of different ways, and I didn't really want to rush my death. Besides, this couldn't go on forever…could it?

"Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow heroes," Superman was saying, extending a hand in our direction to indicate us. "Please welcome the newest additions to the Justice League of America!"

Applause erupted all around us, along with shouts of joy and enthusiasm. These people really are happy for us, I thought, and it made me want to cry. Don't clap for this. Don't clap for us. We're using you.

I heard some of the yells, which deepened the pain. Welcome to the JLA, they say. Yeah, welcome to the one place you always wanted to be. Congratulations, your dream came true.

And the countdown begins.