[IX. The Crucible]

Two Years Ago…

At the crack of dawn, Danny was woken up and told to prepare himself. He was shuffled into a room along with the rank and file of the League. Many, he realized, were members of his own cohort from before Ra's pulled him aside for private training. They all stood at attention, uniforms crisp and clean, postures in an impeccable League salute the second Ra's al Ghul appeared on the mezzanine above them.

Ra's peered over the railing to survey them. Finding them satisfactory, he smiled and flung his arms wide.

"Congratulations to the first and second cohort for passing the second phase of your training," his voice boomed across the room. "And welcome, recruits, to your final test."

No one spoke. Danny doubted anyone even breathed .

But there was a sudden shift in the air. Everything suddenly felt sharper. Tenser. The back of his neck prickled as if the point of a blade was pressed against his skin.

Ra's al Ghul continued, hands settling behind his back as he prowled above them. "Your test will consist of three trials, each you will complete with a partner of your choosing, that will challenge the knowledge and skills that the League has painstakingly imparted upon you."

At the mention of "partner",Danny quickly scanned the room to find Henri. He caught Henri doing the same, and as their eyes met, they gave each other an imperceptible nod.

"Time and time again, your mentors have broken you down and shaped you into something better. Now it is time to test your mettle, to prove yourself by walking into the flames. Those who fail will be burned. And to those of you to succeed—" Ra's bared his teeth into a sharp grin, gleaming eyes seeming to stare straight into Danny's soul. "Those who survive this crucible will be welcomed with open arms into the shadows."

Sharp rock dug harshly into Danny's gloved hand as he braced himself against the cliff face. His chin tucked behind the crook of his elbow to shield his face from the shrieking winds blowing past. When it subsided, he pushed himself up off the thin ledge he stood on in order to grab a higher handhold.

From fifteen feet above, Henri called down: "A little bit more to go, Danyal! I think I saw a cave a few meters ahead where we can make camp."

Danny hauled himself up further, his right foot scraping to find that natural foothold he saw literally five seconds ago. "Sounds—" His heart leapt to his throat when his foot slipped. His grip tightened against the rock as he tried to recover his footing, his legs bending in an awkward manner to try and accommodate the strange position. " —good!"

He let out a ragged sigh. Every corded muscle trembled with exertion, doing everything they can to fight off the increasing fatigue that weighed down on him.

God, this would be so much easier if he could just fly.

"You okay?" Henri called.

Danny bared his teeth in a grimace. "Never better!"

"Well hurry up then! Don't wanna give up the lead we have on the other pairs."

Danny pushed himself off the cliff face slightly, peering down at the steep drop. There were a few dark shadows that he could see slowly advancing up, but—he shifted his gaze to the setting sun—none of them would be able to reach them before nightfall anyway.

He said as much to Henri, who scoffed and said something about "never underestimating the enemy" and "that's what they get for wasting so much energy on a pointless fight."

They kept climbing. And climbing. And climbing this damned mountain for who knows how long, ignoring the ache in their muscles and the way their fingers would nearly cramp at the force of their grip. Anything, everything to keep their eye on the prize.

That coveted title, the position they all worked themselves to near-death to get: official membership of the league.

After months of arduous training and their numbers slowly being whittled down, Henri and Danny were at last in the final stretch of the League's basic training. All of their hard work came down to passing the infamous final test. A set of three trials spanning seven days, meant to test each recruit's physical and mental skills to the limit. Those who did not complete each trial were kicked from the League. Those who could not complete all three tasks within the allotted time were failed. And even those lucky and skillful few who made it past the third trial were not guaranteed a place in the League.

What's more, whatever rules of conduct their mentors had bound them to during training (notably the 'no killing other recruits rule') was now rendered null and void. It was a no holds barred competition. Every pair for themselves.

The Head of the Demon demanded only the best. And only those who were willing to claw their way to the top were worthy enough to stand at his feet.

Their first trial was a test of physical skill. A grueling trek from base camp to a designated rendezvous site ten miles out through the sweltering desert heat. Not only that, but the last hurdle to cross to reach the site was a steep thousand-and-something foot mountain. The base of which was already a rocky hike before it nearly shot up to one awfully flat rock face.

"Look out!"

"Wha— shit!" Danny ducked his head, biting back a shout as a fist-sized rock slammed onto his shoulder before tumbling down hundreds of feet.

"Sorry," Henri called from above. "Didn't realize it was that loose." His fingers found purchase on a ledge a few feet above and he hauled himself into the mouth of the cave. A few seconds later, Henri threw down a few feet of rope. "Climb up!"

Danny reached out to grab the rope. He wrapped it a few times around his arm and gave a sharp tug to make sure Henri had it anchored up there. "I'm ready!" Once Danny got a firm grip on the rope, it only took a few minutes to make his way up to the cave.

He nearly collapsed on his back as soon as his feet hit that wide expanse of rock. And his brain—finally registering that he was no longer in immediate danger of falling off and becoming a giant splatter on the ground—breathed a sigh of relief. What remained of his adrenaline rushed out of his body, replaced instead with an overwhelming onslaught of fatigue, hunger, and thirst.

Danny scrambled for his pack, guzzling down his water bottle and relishing the way the lukewarm liquid soothed his parched throat. He shoved the bottle back when he finished and stumbled further into the cave where Henri was foraging kindling for a fire.

"Merde," Henri swore under his breath. "This place has nothing."

Danny threw his pack against a dry corner of the cave and settled down beside it. "Well, it's not the first time we've had to sleep in the cold."

"Oh, I'm not worried for me. It wouldn't do for our resident prince to get back aches from sleeping on the ground now, yeah?" Henri said with a teasing lilt as he sat next to Danny.

"Hey!" Danny smacked him on the side of his arm. "And prince? Really?"

"I have eyes, you know. Mentor singles you out way too much, and some of the actual established members treat you differently than they do the rest of us," Henri explained. "And then seeing Lady Talia and her little son just made everything click into place."

Heat bloomed in Danny's cheeks.

He looked like them, he thought, giddy.

(Well of course he does. They were his family.)

Danny blinked. "Wait a minute. Was the whole reason why you wanted me to be your partner because you figured out that Ra's al Ghul is my grandfather?"

"Well…"

"Oh my god, I can't believe you."

"Stones at a glass house, Danyal," Henri sing-songed. "You got advanced training because of nepotism, and I might be able to pass this trial because I'm your friend. Besides, I didn't see you eager enough to pair with anyone else."

Well it wasn't like Danny knew anyone in the second cohort. And he was pretty sure the majority of the first cohort still hated his guts for one reason or another. (Did Dusan really treat him differently than everyone else? Was that why people hated him?)

He buried his face in his hands. "I can't believe I'm a nepotism baby."

"I can't believe you didn't realize it sooner."

"Well, I didn't have much choice in who my partner was, but what about you?" Danny pulled his knees up to cushion his head. "I heard you were ranked first in our cohort. Pretty sure the others would've been tripping themselves to partner with you."

"It's because I'm first that I didn't choose any of them to be my partner. Those bastards had been gunning for me ever since you left. People like them love to tear others down because they think they'll be able to stand taller," Henri spat. "Well, I showed them. I've earned my place here in the League, and I'll do whatever it takes to stay here."

From their position, they could see the sky quickly darken. Oranges and reds faded away to dark blues and deep violets, the first twinkling of stars emerging from the shadows.

"Is that it, then?" Danny asked, voice hushed. "I was the least evil option?"

"Danyal, there's not an evil bone in your body." Henri said.

That's what you think, Danny thought .

"If it wasn't for your family, I wouldn't even begin to guess why you're here." Henri tilted his head back, downing half his water bottle. He wiped the stray moisture from his mouth with the back of his hand. "But, no, that's not why I picked you. I wanted to be your partner because you're my friend, you've got good instincts, and because deep down I know you care more about bettering yourself than tearing other people down."

"Flattery will get you nowhere ," Danny joked.

"Good thing it's the truth then," Henri smiled. "I mean, just think of this morning. While everyone else was too preoccupied with eliminating the competition as soon as the test started, what did you say we should do? You said to sneak out of base camp and get a head-start on the first trial before anyone noticed."

Danny buried his head in his arms, ears burning.

"You're a good person, Danyal. I don't know why you sometimes act like you aren't."

Here in the darkness of the cave, with Henri's red hair and too-kind words, Danny was reminded of the times when he was a kid and snuck beneath the covers of Jazz's bed. Eyes red-rimmed as he sniffled into her arms and she soothed his worries whenever he got into trouble or the kids at school would tease him about not being as smart as the rest of his family. You're a good kid, Danny. You're good, and that's the most important thing.

(But here's the thing: Danny wasn't good. If he was, then maybe Talia would have considered him good enough to keep. Maybe he would have been able to save his family. Saved Tucker. Saved Sam. Even Phantom, the source of all of his good deeds, was still considered a menace half the time.

Phantom might've been a bit good, but Danny had certainly never been good enough.)

Midway through the night, Danny woke to the sound of voices near the mouth of the cave. He kept quiet, aware that the darkness made him and Henri invisible to the intruders until they walked further in. He nudged Henri awake with his foot. The latter's dark eyes snapped open, the only movement their strict training allowed them.

Danny carefully tried to make himself smaller as he observed the two. The one on the right was female (5'7", possibly 175 pounds, body-type and stance indicates affinity for leg-based martial arts. Avoid kicks at all cost). The other on the left was male (5'5", leaner, maybe around 150 pounds? Expect faster movements). The two had yet to notice Danny and Henri, their attention focused on looking down below the cave as they talked.

"It would've been so easy to cut their hammocks loose," the guy said. Danny couldn't recognize the voice. Recruits from the second cohort? "Just one slice and— splat! — another one out of the competition."

Henri signaled Danny with a few hand signs. Me-right-you-left-take-out-quick.

Danny signed back. Nonlethal?

"It would've taken too much time and energy and you know it," said the girl.

Henri shook his head. Ledge-push-them

She craned her head up. "We need to focus on catching up with those two guys in the lead. Where'd you think they are?"

No, Danny signed. Nonlethal.

Dangerous-my-plan-easier.

"Well they haven't left the mountain yet. We would've heard the helicopter if they did."

Nonlethal.

No!-Eliminate-quick— Henri aborted his hand signs when the intruders turned around, still oblivious to their presence. There wouldn't be much time left before the two walked further into the cave and so Danny and Henri.

Henri scrunched his face in exasperation. Fine. Nonlethal.

In a flash, Henri and Danny leapt out of their hiding spot and rushed at the intruders. Caught by surprise and tired from their climb, the two were barely able to put up a fight. Danny's opponent only managed to block Danny's strike for a second before Danny redirected his attack and struck the guy's carotid artery with the edge of his hand. The guy fell to the ground with a thud. Stunned from the sudden interruption of oxygen before passing out.

Beside him, Henri had the girl in a chokehold. The girl scratched at his arms, gasping furiously before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she was knocked out cold.

Henri dropped the girl with a frustrated sigh. Face screwed up in pain as he gripped his side. " Putain de bordel de merde!"

Danny rushed to him. "You alright?"

"Alright?" He screeched. "No I'm not— that bitch stabbed me with a knife!"

It was then that Danny saw the glint of a knife on the floor, the blade streaked red with Henri's blood. "Shit." He ran for his pack, taking out what bit of disinfectant and gauze he could find.

"Fuck— give me that," Henri said. He snatched the supplies from Danny's hands before slumping down against the cave wall. "I'll take care of this. You go tie them up or something."

"Right— yeah. I should—" Henri was bleeding. Henri got hurt. Because Danny was stubborn and he insisted and— and he made the wrong choice again. "Henri, I'm so, so, sorry—"

"Just go , Danyal. Before those two fucks wake up and I got stabbed for nothing."

Danny nodded, mute. (Your fault.) With shaking hands he looted the intruders' bags for anything that could hold them. (You caused this.) With their own rope, he got to work tying their hands behind their back in tight knots, and then looping the rope between their ankles. (You couldn't protect him.)

Behind him, Henri cursed up a storm. An endless stream of french swears that Danny couldn't understand but could hazard a guess that most of it was probably about him. He couldn't blame Henri, though. It was his fault all this happened.

(If only—)

"Looks like our lead won't last much longer." Henri held back a grimace as he slipped black tunic over his shoulders. "We should get going soon."

Danny threw their opponents' packs deep into the cave after looting them of anything useful. For a moment, he contemplated hurling their supplies off the cliff— but it felt too cruel to leave them stranded here without any way to get back down. (But they would have deserved it.)

"Visibility is barely above zero," Danny said. The sky was still pitch black. It'd be difficult to scale the rest of the sheer cliff face when they can't properly gauge their handholds. "And you're— you're hurt."

Henri secured his pack. "It's just a flesh wound." He looked up at Danny, and something in his expression shifted. He sighs, carding fingers through his hair before placing a hand on Danny's shoulder. "I overreacted, don't worry. It didn't hit anything important."

"But—"

"It'll make the climb terrible, I won't lie, but I'm not just gonna drop dead that easily. Ranked first in the cohort, remember?"

Danny worried at the inside of his lip. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

They reached the summit at the crack of dawn. Black uniforms smudged with dirt and dust, faces crimson from the exertion. Henri clutched his side, almost fetal-like, before he grit his teeth and pushed himself up to his feet. Danny followed. The two of them attempted to regain some semblance of appearances as they neared the helicopter in the middle of the rocky plateau, patting off dust and combing sweat-slick hair.

At the sight of a band of people lounging in front of the helicopter, Danny froze. He widened his stance, shoulders tense and ready for a fight.

"At ease," Henri whispered. "Look at their uniforms."

At first, Danny thought they were other recruits. Ones that somehow managed to overtake Henri and Danny and decided to camp at the first check-point to pick off any competition. But a closer look confirmed otherwise. The standard League uniform was reminiscent of the shinobi shozoku, an all-black garment made of light but durable fabric, devoid of identifying marks. These uniforms, however, were slightly different. Though keeping with the same base design, the suit had noticeable kevlar and body armor built into it as opposed to plain fabric. Sewn over the heart—in subtle, gold thread—was the crescent emblem of the League of Shadows.

These people weren't recruits. No, they were disciples ; full-fledged members of the League of Shadows.

One of them—lounging at the entrance of the cockpit—acknowledged their presence with a tilt of their head. A black half-balaclava covered their face from their neck to the bridge of their nose. "Recruits," they said, as Henri and Danny saluted them. "State your purpose."

"Recruits Henri and Danyal reporting from basecamp, sir," Henri said. "We are ready and willing to proceed with the second trial, sir."

"Acknowledged, recruit." He nodded his head upwards at his companion, who held a stack of folders in one arm. "My co-pilot and I will serve as your transport towards, as well as your proctors for your second trial. You will be given a dossier containing the details of your mission as well as the outlined objectives. You are given carte blanche in how you choose to approach this, however what methods you use and how successful you are in completing your tasks will be taken into account on your final evaluation. If you understand, repeat to me your names and cohort designation."

Danny and Henri rattled off the information in clipped tones. Their proctor nodded, immediately pulling out a single file-folder from the very bottom of the stack. He handed them the folder with a wry grin. "Well then, if you understand, then why are your asses still here and not on the chopper? You've wasted enough daylight as it is."

The other disciples—most likely also proctors for the other groups—chortled. "Don't mess up now!" One of them called out. "The Head expects a lot from you two, after all. Don't wanna disappoint."

The second they saw the name "Mortimer Drake (Alias: The Cavalier)" at the top of their dossier, Henri's face darkened into something downright murderous.

"The League really does their research, don't they?" He sneered at the photo of a well-groomed man that could almost pass for a real-life version of Captain Hook, long dark hair, goatee, and all.

Danny held a hand over the microphone of his over-ear aviation headset, to minimize their proctors listening in on their conversation. "You know him?" Danny asked at a normal speaking volume, the roar of the open cockpit masking most of his words from everyone except Henri, who sat beside him.

Henri mirrored his movements. "Know him? He's the man that ruined my life."

"I have eyes on the package."

Their mission took them to the wealth-drenched shores of Monte Carlo, the city teeming with the vibrant lives of rich socialites searching for new and exciting ways to waste their surplus of cash. The opulence of it all might have awed Danny at one point, but now, the sight of all this excess only wound his stomach in tight knots.

(How long did that other-Danny last, he wondered. How long did he last in that empty castle, wallowing in grief, with only Vlad for company?)

"Copy that."

Tonight marked their third—and hopefully last —night in the city. The previous two days had been marked by vigorous stake outs and observations on Mortimer Drake's habits, mannerisms, and the layout of his multimillion dollar luxury apartment.

Their mission? A simple search and seizure of an item of the League's interest. According to the dossier, Drake was an American collector with the taste of the eccentric and esoteric. He used his wealth to obtain a wide variety of artifacts to display in his many, many international properties— and those that he couldn't buy, he stole as the rogue Cavalier.

The particular item in question—a large red gem of unknown make—was bought illegally at a black market auction. The item was to be shipped in tonight, guarded by a squadron of private security. The route they were going to take was unknown, the number of staff involved was unknown, and any added security on Drake's part was unknown. Not exactly great odds for a two-man team working off of limited intel.

"And the mark?"

"Twice as ugly and surrounded by guards. ETA forty-five minutes."

On top of that, they were given a secondary objective to complete. Optional, yes, but doing so would garner them a more favorable outcome with their proctors. And if Henri was anything, it was an overachiever. So while Henri was tailing Drake and the shipment, Danny volunteered to break into the apartment, set-up the bugs that they'll use to temporarily deactivate security, and look for their secondary objective. Danny wasn't normally an extra-credit kind of student, but in this scenario, he was all for it.

Ra's and Dusan assigned this trial specifically for him , after all.

"Find the book yet?"

"Not yet, just doing one last sweep for bugs. Are you sure not preparing for the guards is the right call?"

"Positive. The little weasel's the type to ogle his treasures alone so no one can see what a fucking weirdo he is. He won't bring his guards inside if he can help it."

The apartment was in the clear. Whatever bugs he caught were swiftly disabled, and their various entries and exits were secured. He stood up from his crouch next to Drake's bedside table, stretching his arms as he walked back into the main living room. It shouldn't be that long of a wait now.

Sunset bled through the wall-length windows of the grandiose apartment. He winced, swallowing down the bile creeping up his throat at the sight. (Red-red-too-red.) He shifts his eyes away from it, the intensity of the color reminding him of things (crimson eyes, the color of burning skies) that Danny would rather forget. Gathering dust on top of the coffee table was an antique looking perpetual calendar. The bronze disk was held up by a stand, the face of the sun engraved in the middle, with its innerworkings exposed to the light. He bent down, glancing at the date.

April 3rd.

Oh.

It was his birthday.

Strange how at fourteen, being fifteen felt so far away, but now that he was there…nothing felt different.

Tucker always made such a huge deal about turning fifteen. It wasn't as great as turning sixteen, he would say, but fifteen marked the year he could get his learner's permit. Which meant one step closer to getting a car of his own. And if there's anything Tucker thought girls liked in a guy, it was being able to drive.

Tucker's birthday was in January. If it was April now then that meant—

No. Tucker…Tucker was still fourteen. Tucker would be forever fourteen because he died before he had the chance ( —to even scream, the explosion was just that quick—) to be anything more. If Danny were better, Tucker would have had a future ( — but would it matter? The future is all the same. Rubble and fire and death, what difference would a couple extra years make? )

("I am inevitable," Dan decreed. His eyes are red, the skies are red and burning, and smoke— so much smoke it burned his nostrils and filled up his lungs until he was choking and— cold, cold fingers around his throat won't let go and he cannot breathe he cannot breathe he can't-he-can't-he-can't-he-can't-he—)

"Brother?"

Danny reared back, as if burned. Hands drawn back into fists against his attacker, willing ectoplasmic energy into his hands to blast away his attacker—

"Brother? Danyal!"

"Danyal? Danyal, what's going on? Hey— hey, why aren't you answering?"

His lungs heave. There's smoke in his lungs, filling his mouth with that acrid taste. He smells sauce and char and can feel the sensation of claws digging into his jugular—

"Danyal— merde. I need you to breathe for me, Danyal. Can you do that? Come on, count with me now."

Danyal-Danyal-Danyal— who is that supposed to be again? Danyal-Danyal-Danyal—

("Danny Fenton died," said the other Vlad, in that other future where everyone is dead.)

Everyone is dead in this future too.

There is a warmth covering his hand, can feel circles rubbed into the back of his palm. He wants to yank it out, but the touch is familiar. There is someone counting in his ear; in for four, hold for seven, out for five. He breathes in— air from an AC, cool, slightly dry, with some kind of nondescript linen air freshener. No smoke. No char. No—

He looks out the window. The sky is closer to orange than it is red, and it isn't burning.

There are two Ming Dynasty looking vases that frame a wall table. There's a large L-shaped couch in the middle of the living room, facing a too-big flat screen TV. On the coffee table there's a strange assortment of crystals.

He doesn't acknowledge the frost creeping out from his feet.

"Brother? Are you alright?"

He snapped his neck towards the voice…and looked down.

"Damian?" He gasped.

Damian is here. Here. Dressed in a League uniform and a goddamn katana strapped to his back. How did he get here? Who the fuck let him in here?

"Wait— as in that Damian?" Henri swore. "Why the fuck is he here?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." He knelt down to Damian's height, grabbing his shoulders. "Why're you here, bud?"

His hands are trembling against Damian's shoulders and they won't fucking stop. Get a grip on yourself, Fenton. He's so close to becoming a full-fledged disciple of the League and now is not the fucking time to act scared.

Especially with Damian here. Small Damian. Tiny Damian with tiny breakable bones and a tiny snappable neck—

Damian stares at him, brows furrowed. What must he think right now? God, Damian must think that Danny is so weak freaking out over nothing. How is Damian supposed to rely on him then? How could he entrust his safety into someone so damn useless.

He tries to steel himself. Will the ice in his limbs to shift, and to burrow ever deeper into his chest. Mind over matter, Danny.

"Damian," he repeats, voice more level, " why are you here?"

Damian looked as if he was caught off guard. He blinked his eyes a few times, looking down at his feet, suddenly unsure of himself. "I— I wanted to help."

"Help? With what?"

"There— I overheard members of the League talking. They were saying that because so much resources were spent on you, if you failed the test you would be— they said that you'd be put down!" There's a desperation in Damian's eyes as he lunged for Danny, grasping his too-small fingers around Danny's shirt. "It's a lie, I know it is! Mother and Grandfather would never— I nearly wanted to gut those fools for saying something like that!"

"But it's true." It surprised Danny how easy it was to accept it. It surprised Damian how Danny didn't even blink at the insinuation of his own murder. "Since the very beginning, I've known that staying at the League was only possible if I did well. If I couldn't handle it, I would have to leave, because the League can't afford any weakness if it wants to save anything."

"Danny. They said that they would kill you."

Better than the alternative. There was nothing for Danny outside of the League. Not as Phantom, and definitely not as Fenton. There was too much risk. Too many uncertain variables. Too many ways that he could mess up and accidentally plunge the world into another dark timeline. Even if Danny helped arm the League with all the ghost hunting knowledge at his disposal, it still might not be enough.

"And I'd let them."

There were no heroes in Dan's timeline.

Silence hung like a noose. The tension was only broken by the crackle of Henri's voice in Danny's ear. "Look, I don't know what the fuck is going on over there but you better be ready. Target's ETA is less than 10 minutes, and I don't want the little prince ruining our run here."

Danny swore under his breath. "Yeah, we'll be ready." He dragged Damian towards the library by the elbow. "Damian won't get in the way, don't worry."

"Good." There were muffled sounds on the other side. "And you…you're alright?"

"What? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Good. That's…good."

A click told Danny that Henri switched off his comms.

With a sigh, he turned to Damian again. "Alright, now I really need you to leave."

Damian crossed his arms and huffed. "I am not leaving."

"I'll tell mother."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh just try me."

Despite the flash of fear across Damian's face, Danny begrudgingly admitted to himself that convincing Damian to leave now would be as fruitful as all of Vlad's attempts at flirting with his mom. He made Damian hold onto a piece of his shirt and channeled that sleeping store of power inside of himself.

Ra's and Dusan ran him ragged with exercises on drawing out his ghost powers while in human form. Invisibility, intangibility, minor ecto-rays and telekinesis (something he always forgot that he had), among other powers. Abilities that he took for granted inside the wellspring of energy that was Amity Park, he was now forced to remaster using the limited resources he had.

He let the invisibility wash over him and Damian. The other's response was only a sudden jolt from the cold energy, but otherwise Damian didn't seem to think that anything was different. Unless Damian happened to walk in front of a mirror, he wouldn't notice that he was invisible right now.

"Look, I'll let you stay, on one condition: you stay quiet and you do what I say."

"Isn't that two conditions?"

"Amazing observation Einstein, now shut-up and don't let go of my shirt."

The library itself was a room with a heavy oaken desk and built-in wooden shelves filled with a hodge-podge of probably rare and esoteric books. The subjects themselves ranged from ancient history to herbology to first editions of almanacs from who knows what century. And while the shelves and books were kept tidy and dusted, there was hardly any sign of actual use or focused subjects. It was as if Drake was just collecting for the sake of collecting.

Danny thumbed his way down to the far bottom shelves. The books were sorted alphabetically by their author, putting his mark at…

…Not there.

At the corner of his eye, he spotted the top drawer of the desk being strangely ajar. Upon closer look, the others were locked shut. Carefully, he opened the drawer, checking for any kind of hidden traps. Finding it clear, he pulled the drawer back and— aha!

He pulled out a faded brown book, the edges of the pages lined yellow with age. Sewn on the cover in faded black thread was the title: " Summoning Spirits and the Subjugation of Spectres" by Heinrich Showenhower.

Another from that family.

Idly, he wondered what Freakshow was doing.

He flipped through the pages, noting various illustrations and diagrams that looked a bit too close to magic than his parents' science. Circular formations with strange writings, pentagrams, detailed sketches of specific herbs, a couple depictions of the more primitive ghosts in the Zone—

His eyes caught something familiar.

A picture of an orb. A bright and mesmerizing orb.

Freakshow's orb.

"Danny?"

He snapped the book shut. "Were my eyes red?"

"What? No. Why?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

A foreboding chill crawled up his spine.

He turned on his comm-piece. "Henri, do you have direct eyes on the package?"

A pause, before the earpiece crackled to life. "Affirmative. Drake and It just arrived at the apartment. Right now he's doing one last inspection before taking it inside."

"What does it look like?"

"About as close as what intel gave us. It's bigger than I thought, though, maybe about the size of my palm."

Fuck. Fuck. It was a coincidence. Surely it's a coincidence. The odds of the crystal being Freakshow's orb were higher than Danny felt comfortable with, but the most frustrating part is that he can't tell if it's Freakshow's orb unless he actually sees it.

And if he sees it—

He glanced down at the still-invisible Damian observing the perimeter. (Mine-mine-brother-mine-DANGER.)

Danny gripped the book in his hands tight. He's broken out of its control once, hadn't he? He could do it again.

(Didn't Sam have to fall off a train for him to break out of Freakshow's control?)

"Damian, you need to leave."

"And I told you I won't."

"Go to the balcony and start heading to the apartment above this one. It should be empty. You have a communicator on you, right?"

A new wave of apprehension washed over Damian. "Brother?"

Danny started pushing Damian out of the library and towards the balcony. He ripped the comm-piece out of his ear and handed it to Damian, rattling off a set of numbers. Frequency lines. "I need you to go up there and contact our proctors. Tell them who you are and to contact Dusan or mother or anyone and tell them that I may be compromised."

"Brother you're worrying me."

"I need you to do this for me, Damian. Can you do that? It's important."

The urgency in his voice must have knocked some sense into Damian. His little brother slipped the comms piece into his ear and nodded, repeating Danny's instructions back.

Danny ruffled Damian's hair, breaking Damian's invisibility. "Good. Now go, and stay safe."

"What's going on, brother?"

Danny shook his head. "It might be nothing, but I'd rather you be safe in case things go south."

With Damian safely out of the way and the League alerted, Danny took his position near the entrance of the living room. He wanted to take this test with his own strength, to prove in some small way to Ra's that he was worth more than his ghost powers, but that sentiment would have to wait. If Danny was right— and he really, really did not want to be— then this mission needed speed more than anything else. And the element of surprise invisibility and intangibility could get him would be their trump card.

He crouched and waited.

Eventually, the door opened. Mortimer Drake entered the space, holding the orb out in the open.

Red seeped into the corner of Danny's mind—

And all he could feel was bliss.

A/N: I'M ALIVE STILL. Honestly did not mean for this chapter to take this long but alas, such is life.

My entire heart and soul to my wonderful beta Dragon for being patient with me and helping make this chapter shine. You're the true MVP!

"disciples" - y'all have no idea how much I've agonized through this tiny detail. I've cycled through so many names for what to call the official league members, because just calling them 'shades' or 'shadows' or 'ghouls' or just plain old 'assassin' just didn't seem iright./i I had an idea at what point to base the League rankings/roles off of the real life order of assassins ran by Hasan-i Sabbah, (who Ra's al Ghul was probably inspired by), but the order and many of the ranks/terms they used heavily referenced their religion which I was just not comfortable in borrowing for a fic. My last ditch solution was to scroll through the assassin's creed wiki and see what kind of names they used for their different ranks and disciple ended up being the best term that I could find that Ra's would also probably like lol.

merde - "shit" in french

Putain de bordel de merde - "holy fucking shit" is a close translation that I could find online. Unfortunately the extent of my French is the bits I've learned in Canadian elementary and my high school classes in the US...so, all in all, not much.

shinobi shozoku - the traditional ninja outfit

Mortimer Drake/Cavalier - an old Batman and Robin villain. To quote wikipedia:

"Mortimer Drake was a man of exotic and idiosyncratic taste. When he found himself unable to purchase more exotic valuables for his collection legally, he resorted to theft.[2] Donning a costume resembling that of a Musketeer, he called himself the Cavalier. His course of actions ultimately brought him into conflict with Batman and Robin.[3] His code of gallantry was important to him; in one story, he helps an old woman carry her groceries in the middle of making his escape."

However with this version of Cavalier, expect his code of gallantry to be much more...selective and self-serving

Danny's birthday - April 3rd is when the show's first episode aired, which makes it a meaningful (and popular) date for Danny's birthday.

IT IS SO GOOD TO BE BACK. Seriously did not mean to leave this fic for that many months, and hopefully the next chapter will be out in a month or so. However unlike before, we'll be sticking with Danny's POV for a while so...uh, stay tuned ;P