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My guard duty is in the infirmary, but I'm allowed to stretch my legs and train and such. Which is why I'm staring at a steaming pitcher of something right now, absolutely baffled. A bunch of other people are here, so I followed them in an attempt to get to know the people I'll be spending quite some time with, or at least observe them. They've been taking foam cups and pouring some of the brown liquid into the cups.

I'm not so stupid as to not know that it's a drink. But it's one that could have unforeseen side effects on my body, and frankly, I'm not sure what it is. Smells like hazelnuts, like the stale cookies someone brought into school for lunch once when they couldn't find anything else. Desperate kid, but he got a normal lunch in the end thanks to some helpful donations from our classmates. I wonder how they're all doing...

Doesn't matter much now, I guess. I have to focus on the situation at hand: puzzling out the nature of the beverage in front of me.

'You gonna get some coffee, kid?" A man asks from beside me, frowning.

"Coffee?" I turn to him, blinking owlishly, before I remember to keep the icy, dispassionate pretense up. Not too much longer, Shugan'syaithan.

I've begun addressing myself by that name, a rough translation of my alias, Devil Ray, into Atlantean. It's a bit of a mouthful, and sometimes I slip and call myself Morgan'auli again because of the shared second syllable. But it helps sometimes, to disassociate myself from everything. Not everything, exactly, just the stuff that hurts.

"Yeah, coffee. The magic brew that you chug down no matter how bad it is because it keeps you awake?" He snorts, rubbing a tanned neck where gills flutter weakly. Somehow the motion doesn't seem natural, though, and I have the sneaking suspicion that he's a gene freak, as the saying goes. Someone not born with powers or part-alien or whatever, but instead tinkered with by people like Cadmus. There're quite a few of them in the Shadows' ranks.

"I don't need coffee to stay awake, unlike some." I shoot a cool gaze at him. "Just came to see what the fuss was all about. Should I know you?"

"Jared Adedemola. Should I know you, weirdly dressed girl? Hold that thought." My new acquaintance goes to pour himself a brimming cup of coffee and slowly makes his way back over to me, only dripping a little bit on himself. "Hazelnut's the preferred flavor around here. I don't like it much, but it's coffee. The caffeine beast needs feeding. So, answer?"

I'm more than a bit perplexed by the friendly-ish demeanor he's exuding. I guess not every person who works for Black Manta is a complete si'nac. And of course the girl who's trying to harden herself to things gets to meet one of them. Of course the Fates want that for me.

"Devil Ray. The League of Shadows sent me to guard Psimon. Telepaths who are...like him are hard to find." They sent me only after they'd gotten as much information about Atlantis and its inner workings as they can, but I'll take what I can get.

The grimace on Jared's face tells me he agrees. "Thank God. I've done some stuff I never imagined doing here, but that guy gives me the creeps. He's a Shadow too, isn't he?"

I lift my shoulders in a light shrug, keeping my face nearly expressionless. "Not my business. I take the job and get it done. No questions asked."

A dark eyebrow raises. "Who shoved an icicle up your ass? I haven't heard that kind of stuff since I was a kid watching spy movies. I understand doing things for money, kinda, but not carin' what they are is stupid. Especially from a kid who's young enough to be my daughter."

"I'm 17. Going on 18." I snap with more emotion than I mean to. "And you're a hypocrite, aren't you? You look too soft to really believe in Black Manta's ideals."

Jared looks at me askance. "Seriously? Huh. Not much younger than Kal. But don't call me a hypocrite just yet. I've got my reasons for working here. Notably these." He pokes his neck and winces. "Get desperate enough, start doing a few things for cash, get some stuff done to you and try to go back only to realize you can't, and you'll stick with the people who're fine with pretty much anything."

Kal... Kaldur? With a name longer than most surface-worlders are used to, it wouldn't be a surprise if they nicknamed him. "Che. The best way to beat prejudice is to show your strength in the face of it. If some of the bigots are too weak to stand against you, then that's just unfortunate."

He frowns, taking a long gulp of sickeningly-scented coffee. "I don't think a teenage girl knows much about that."

"A teenage girl doesn't. I do." I say absently.