The Script Behind the Curtain
The message from The Light arrived just before dawn.
Polite. Neutral. Carefully worded.
A request for a meeting of core members—nothing more. No accusations. No demands. Just an invitation extended to the League of Assassins, scheduled for the following day.
Ra's al Ghul read it once… then again.
He allowed himself a thin smile.
They were curious.
They always were.
Cheshire's display during the Texas shipment operation had been flawless—too flawless. Speed beyond recorded metahuman thresholds. Attacks sliding past her as if reality itself refused to touch her. No visible tech. No detectable magic signature. No alien energy trace.
The Light wanted answers.
And Ra's intended to give them exactly what Damian had prepared.
Ra's knew this was not diplomacy—it was an interrogation disguised as courtesy. The Light wanted to know how Cheshire gained her power, and more importantly, whether the League now possessed something they did not.
What they did not know—what they could not know—was that Damian had already planned for this moment.
The League could not afford attention.
Not yet.
Not when the world was still blindly searching for Devil Fruits without even understanding what they were looking for.
So Ra's would follow the script.
In the private council chamber, Ra's reviewed Damian's instructions once more.
The Story:
Cheshire had been sent on a high-risk, off-the-books mission.
During that mission, she discovered a Devil Fruit—unconsumed.
She returned it untouched, resisting temptation.
Her loyalty earned her a choice.
Permission was granted.
The Devil Fruit was eaten under League supervision.
Her powers were the reward for faith, discipline, and obedience.
She was inducted permanently into the League of Assassins.
Simple. Clean. Plausible.
Most importantly—it revealed nothing.
No timelines.
No methods.
No hints of how Devil Fruits were located.
No implication that more existed.
Just one lucky discovery.
A single exception.
Ra's al Ghul knew the Light would not fully believe the story.
Lex Luthor never did.
Vandal Savage would doubt but remain patient.
Queen Bee would watch reactions more than words.
Ocean Master would care little as long as balance remained intact.
But belief was not required.
Only uncertainty.
Because uncertainty slowed action—and time was exactly what Damian needed.
Ra's rose from his seat, robes whispering against the stone floor.
"Prepare the delegation," he ordered calmly.
"We will attend."
As he turned away, his thoughts lingered not on the Light—but on his grandson.
You move the board without touching the pieces, Ra's thought.
A true Demon's Head in the making.
The meeting would happen.
The questions would come.
And the League of Assassins would give nothing away—
except the illusion that everything was already under control.