Aaand Morgan's jumped off the slippery slope. Terrific, huh? I'm writing this on the seat of my shorts, so I actually don't plan much of this, just let the story take me wherever it wants to go, so sorry if that was a bit sudden. I swear I'm more thoughtful in real life.

Song for the Chapter: "Shadows" by RED. Capitalization intended.

-I am a line break, beginning the story-

When I wake up to the sound of someone shouting, there's a sunburn stinging the left side of my face, my back, and my neck. Okay, Atlantean durability doesn't really cover sunburns. Good to know, even if I'd rather not have found out in my lifetime.

But back to the whole 'shouting' thing. As I shove myself into a sitting position, I spot a parked car near the end of my chosen mini-beach jutting out from the mainland. A man is running towards me, kicking up puffs of sand with combat boots that are clearly not designed for the beach. The practical part of me shakes its head at the unsuitable choice of footwear, but I sincerely doubt that most people think of that when they spot a teenage girl collapsed on a beach.

I blink at him sleepily, hands going to the water-bearers in their proper place on my back before I remember that he's a civilian. I won't hurt innocents, no matter how frustrated I might be with the world.

He stops about a foot away from me, dark eyes of an indeterminate color bright with worry beneath knitted brows.

"Hey, kid! What happened? Did someone...?" The man trails off awkwardly before continuing. "Do you need me to call 911?"

I sigh, standing up and glancing at my arms to see that my magic hasn't returned quite enough to project the usually automatic illusion of bare skin.

"No, I'm fine." I offer a thin smile to him with the lie, gears in my head turning as I try to concoct a story. An idea pops into my head: why not try romance? Not between me and him, of course, but a little mention of it might work. "My boyfriend and I took a little trip out here and he went to go buy some breakfast for us."

Admittedly, I don't have much knowledge of love and courtship, but who knows? Fate just might smile on me today.

By now you should know that fate doesn't smile on me, though. The stranger frowns in concern again.

"I don't really know how to ask this...but are you sure he wasn't playing around? There isn't a place to get breakfast for miles around." He says, shifting from foot to foot.

My expression immediately goes flat as I realize that he's caught that lie, and I don't care enough to come up with an explanation. Rather funny that he thought I of all people would be with a surface-world boy at all.

"Sorry. I should've checked out where I was before I told you that." I sigh. "I just wanted to get you to go away, really. What's your name, anyway? I can't just call you 'you.'"

He blinks rapidly in confusion. "Uh, Mike Leonard. What's that got to-"

"Don't know, do you? Doesn't matter much. There wasn't a guy." I brush some of the sand, dirt, and leaves off of myself, exposing the belt buckle. "Dunno if you know my face, but you should know this symbol from somewhere. Basically, it means I'm way stronger than you and I always will be. Buzz off."

Then all confusion drops from his face, a slow grin replacing it. "You sure about that...Morgan? Neither of the Leagues think so, Shadows or 'Justice.'" Leonard scoffs as my eyes narrow in a combination of confusion and suspicion. There aren't many who know my name to shorten it that way.

"But the Shadows want whatever information you have about Atlantis, the League, and its pet team." The dark-haired man continues. "And they recognize that you could be strong without the League's constraints. Maybe work on your ability to lie first." He smirks. "You've been lying here a while. Not too hard for a contact of ours to tip us off that the new fish was stranded here. Regardless, the Great One wants a water-breathing guard for Psimon, and with no time to alter someone to fit the bill, you'll work. No hard feelings about the incident with Deathknell, by the way. She twisted a few contracts."

I cross arms that shimmer mid-movement back to the illusion of plain skin. "There are always conditions. Are the Shadows willing to tell me any of them up front, 'Mike Leonard?'" I ask, not expecting him to tell me anything. He and I both know that I'll take it. Training, a job, and a bit of protection when the League hunts me down? Too good to pass up.

Leonard mirrors the motion. "You'll find that out if we've decided you belong to the Shadows, won't you?" He replies. Meaning if I can fake enough loyalty and prove I'm not a double agent, which would more likely than not result in execution.

"Then I'll just have to show you I'm worthy." I say, dropping my arms to my sides.

"Not me. Sensei and Shrike will determine that." My recruiter starts to turn away before I blurt out, "Wait."

Leonard stops, though he doesn't turn to face me fully. "Yeah?"

"What now? Do we go our separate ways and I contact you later? What?" I demand, trying to replace the calm mask that he's managed to make me drop within minutes of our meeting.

"None of the above." The dark-eyed man says with a sly tone that should've tipped me off to the danger.

But before I can ask what he means, there's a faint stinging sensation on my neck. I have no more than a few seconds to whirl around and spot a lithe man dropping down from the tree behind me before I collapse, weakness coursing through me as my traitorous heart sends the blood carrying the sedative through my veins. A few minutes later and my vision dims, mind dulling with my hearing. I can only trust that they wouldn't kill a potential recruit.

Finally darkness descends over my senses with unconsciousness.

-I am a line break, changing the scene-

When I wake up, I'm in an austerely decorated room, austere being defined here as 'nothing but a wood floor, blank, windowless walls, and a bed without bedposts or a headboard.' Guess they don't want any funny business.

Meanwhile, I'm stuck with a mouth that tastes like a dolphin gave birth and died in it. And of course they didn't even see fit to provide me with a glass of water, so there's no changing that.

I shove myself into a sitting position, hands going to where my water-bearers should be but aren't. Not like they'd forget my most obvious weapons. The League of Shadows might be a bunch of sneak thieves with a fanatical devotion to Ra's al-Ghul, but they aren't incompetent fanatical sneak thieves.

Two blank-masked, black-suited figures enter the room through a sliding door that I didn't see initially. They've got uncanny timing. Or cameras watching me. Something tells me the latter is the case. While neither one is visibly armed or musclebound, they're part of a group that assassinates people for a living. There's no way these two don't have a thousand ways to kill me with a toothpick alone.

In any event, Lackey #1, as I've christened him, beckons to me as Lackey #2 stands by the door expectantly.

Having absolutely nothing else to do and no reason to refuse, I rise and follow them out into the hall. It's a rather plain corridor, wood floors and blank walls just like my room. At the end lies a black-lacquered door. Lackey #2 motions for me to head down the hall. Are these two mimes or something?

I take a step forwards before stopping. Something's off, just a bit.

A glance at the walls and ground reveals that they aren't as plain as I thought. Thin lines on the floor look as suspiciously clean as the cuts of a blade, and tiny holes on the walls gleam ever-so-slightly with the tips of metal darts poking through. A Shadows-style test, the kind that kills you if you fail.

I turn with a deadpan expression to them. "Trying to kill me so soon? I'd electrocute you if I didn't think you were prepared for that."

The featureless china masks hide my escorts' reactions, but I doubt they're surprised. This League isn't as idiotic as its heroic counterpart when it comes to recruiting. They wouldn't pick someone they thought was too stupid to see the trap.

I scan the corridor around me, finding a tile with the slightest tinge of oil to it, as if it's been touched by human hands before. A deliberate clue that I'm sure has been left for me to find, but hey, whatever works. I walk over and press it with my own palm, making a panel slide back and to the side, revealing a low table with a red tablecloth covering it, a black snake's head patterning the cloth. A green-and-gold-clad man kneels by it, grey in his dark hair.

I enter, noting as I turn to kneel at the table that the Lackeys were behind me the whole time, steps too quiet for me to notice.

"May I assume that you are the aforementioned Great One?" I ask hesitantly.

The man's lips curl up slightly. "You may, child, but it isn't wise to assume in this line of work." He replies. "In this case, you are correct. I am Ra's al-Ghul. Kirigi and White Ghost brought you to me with the promise that you would have information and the potential to work as a guard for our catatonic friend Psimon. You are willing?"

I smirk. "Of course. I'll do my best with anything you throw at me."

Ra's nods. "Not confident enough to make promises? We take oaths seriously in the League of Shadows, though I doubt that Aquaman would lead you to think anything good of us."

I'm hesitant to respond. Is this a verbal trap? No use wasting time thinking of an answer.

"Not magically gifted enough to see the future." I reply. "I take my oaths seriously too. I won't make a promise that I don't know if I can keep, especially with someone who has not yet made an official contract with me."

I can't tell if the chuckle he makes next is genuine or not. "Few can see the threads the Fates weave, child. One thing I can say for certain: you will spend the next day with Shrike and Sensei. They only need that long to determine if you will thrive with us or die unworthy."

I know I'm worthy. The question is, can I prove it?

-I am a line break, ending the story-

I don't really have any comments to make here, but I thought I'd put this here because it's habit. See you next week!