The Choice of the League
The private chamber was silent except for the low hiss of braziers lining the stone walls. Ra's al Ghul sat at the head of the room, his posture relaxed, his eyes anything but. Talia stood to his right, Lady Shiva to his left—still as a drawn blade. Cheshire leaned against a pillar in the shadows, arms folded, expression unreadable. Damian stood before them, calm, composed, too calm for a boy his age.
Ra's gaze never left his grandson.
"You have analyzed the heroes," Ra's said at last, his voice smooth. "You chose Superboy not at random, but by calculation. Strength. Will. Compatibility."
A pause.
"Do the same now. Analyze the League. Tell me who receives this fruit."
Damian didn't hesitate.
"Cheshire."
The word landed like a thrown knife.
Talia's eyes flicked sharply toward Cheshire. Lady Shiva's expression didn't change, but the air around her shifted—interest, not offense. Ra's raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
Cheshire straightened slightly.
Me?
Internally, her mind raced.
Not Talia—the Demon's Daughter.
Not Lady Shiva—the greatest assassin alive.
But her.
A part of her bristled. Another part, colder and more honest, understood immediately.
Close-range combat.
Aggression.
Constant movement.
Reliance on blades, traps, poison—getting in close and surviving long enough to kill.
Damian's voice cut through her thoughts.
"This fruit does not reward perfection," he said evenly. "It rewards adaptation. Lady Shiva does not allow herself to be touched—this power requires proximity. My mother would need to unlearn half her instincts. You, Cheshire, already fight inside danger."
Cheshire felt her lips twitch despite herself.
"So I'm reckless enough for it," she said lightly.
"You're compatible," Damian corrected. "That's the difference between power and waste."
Ra's studied her carefully now, as if seeing her for the first time.
"Step forward."
Cheshire did.
Damian opened the wooden box fully and lifted the fruit. It gleamed unnaturally under the firelight—pink, glossy, its surface marked with swirling patterns that made the eye ache if stared at too long.
"This is the Sube Sube no Mi," Damian said. "Once eaten, there is no return."
Cheshire's hand hovered for half a second.
She thought of masks.
Of running.
Of always being one mistake away from death.
Then she took the fruit.
The bite was immediate regret.
It tasted wrong—artificially sweet, nauseating, like rotten honey mixed with oil. Cheshire grimaced but forced herself to chew and swallow. The room held its breath.
Nothing happened.
Then—
Her skin tingled.
Not pain. Not heat. A sensation like something letting go.
Cheshire gasped softly as her balance shifted. Her boots slid half an inch across the stone floor without her meaning to move. She steadied herself on instinct—and her hand slid smoothly off the pillar as if it were coated in glass.
"What—" She laughed once, sharp and surprised. "That's… new."
Lady Shiva's eyes narrowed, assessing. Talia's interest sharpened.
One of the assassins, curious and foolish, flicked a throwing knife toward Cheshire.
It struck her shoulder—
—and slid off, clattering harmlessly to the floor.
The room went very still.
Cheshire stared at the knife, then at her arm. Slowly, a grin spread across her face—dangerous, delighted.
"Oh," she murmured. "I'm going to enjoy this."
Ra's al Ghul exhaled, satisfied.
"The League grows stronger."
Damian closed the box and turned to his grandfather.
"One more condition," he said calmly. "The Light, the governments, and the heroes must not know I gave you this fruit."
Ra's inclined his head slightly. "You have a cover in mind."
"Yes. Cheshire 'found' the fruit during a classified mission you authorized. She returned it untouched as proof of loyalty. You granted permission for consumption." Damian's eyes met Cheshire's. "In return, she becomes a permanent asset of the League."
Cheshire chuckled. "Promotion and godlike powers? I've had worse career moves."
Ra's smiled faintly.
"So it will be known."
Damian stepped back, the matter settled.
The League of Assassins had taken its first step into a new era—
and not a single outside power would realize it until it was far too late.