Good morning! This is just a quick warning that this chapter contains a tiny bit of child abuse and emotional abuse, but it is well within the rating for this fic.

Year Six.

Rule #5: Do not refuse to recognize authority

Except for the gray tile in her bathroom and kitchen, and the gray concrete all throughout, for the most part, her Rooms were completely white.

She asked Schreyer about it once, wondering why some other color hadn't been picked. Lisa had just replied something about white being a very clean color. Stormkrigeren decided that was an in-ad-eh-quate reason and it was probably because white was the color of focus. According to Mister Wilson, at least.

The Rooms were built to help her focus. She was distracted pretty easily, especially when the atmospheric regulator or the overhead lights hummed louder than usual (Lisa said the noise never changed volume, but Stormkrigeren knew that it did). But she needed to stay focused on her work and use every moment of her waking hours as efficiently as possible in order to progress towards the 'project objective'. She needed to learn all of her books and pay close attention when Mister Wilson was talking or showing her something, because if she didn't, she wouldn't progress.

Alexander told her a quote once. 'Perfection is unattainable, but progress is.' He didn't tell her who said it. Stormkrigeren decided she didn't care - whoever said it was right, and that was all that mattered.

Herr Luthor once told her that everyone was put on this Earth for a purpose, and most people spend their entire lives trying to find theirs. Luckily, Herr Luthor already knew what her's was - he was smart like that, he had to be to build his own million-dollar company from the ground up. Her purpose was very simple: she was to be the perfect protector. Protector of what, he didn't say, so it must not have mattered much if he didn't mention it. Stormkrigeren politely pointed out that she can't be the perfect protector because perfection is unattainable.

He hit her for saying so. It hurt.

Herr Luthor and Alexander didn't visit her Rooms for a while after that, which wasn't exactly unusual, but the odd thing was that no one else did either. Mister Wilson did not come for her usual lessons, and Dr. Schreyer never came down from the Watching Room for the weekly physical examination and blood tests. No other visitors came through the door, meaning that besides the ever-present Watchers, Stormkrigeren was completely and utterly alone.

Stormkrigeren decided that being alone was a good thing (not that she necessarily liked it)(she hated it) because it helped her focus. There was no one around to distract her with questions or tests or their gusting breaths thundering in her ears, and no distractions meant it was easier to study. Or at least it should have been. There were no people with their loud breathing and constant questioning, but the atmospheric regulator and bright lights were still there - she swore they were louder than usual.

The fridge and small pantry in her kitchenette remained stocked with just enough food to keep her healthily fed. She had figured out early on that they were usually refilled through the shelves' false backs long after she had gone to bed for the night, so food-wise she was perfectly fine. She did her own laundry and most of the cleaning, so that was fine too.

Being alone in her Rooms was surprisingly… normal. She spent most of her days alone already, so the absence of human contact didn't seem to make much of a difference. Mister Wilson only came for lessons a few times a month for a few hours at a time. Herr Luthor and Alexander visited her every week or so, but never stayed longer than an hour. Doctor Schreyer was there daily for only a few minutes, though she was nearly always present in the Watching Room. Stormkrigeren could occasionally feel her gaze on her beyond the dark mirrored glass, but after Mister Luthor's visit a few days before, there had been a sort of... dis-con-nec-tion, for lack of a better word. Lisa was still there, only a few meters away, always monitoring and remotely ensuring that the subject was in good health, but Stormkrigeren had no way to reach her caretaker if she needed her.

Being alone didn't scare Stormkrigeren - she was good at being alone. But being forcefully kept that way did.

Of course, it occurred to her that maybe they were just busy, maybe she was just imagining someone in the Watching Room, maybe her food stores weren't as usually stocked as she had believed. Maybe Mister Wilson was out on one of his 'contracts' as he called them. Sometimes they took longer than he expected, so that would explain why he hadn't come sooner, or maybe he had been injured again and was resting up for a few days. Maybe Herr Luthor was too busy with corporate meetings or business trips to make time for his regular visits, and maybe Alexander had too much homework to do to even think about stopping by. Maybe Lisa had something personal to attend to and couldn't make it to work for a little while, or maybe she had even been fired for talking back to Herr Luthor again (she had nearly been fired once before for doing so). Maybe Dr. Angklow and Dr. Lee had finally gotten those jobs they had applied for with S.T.A.R Labs. Maybe Dr. Shienne had to go overseas again for another conference and wasn't able to take the night shift in the Watching Room.

Maybe no one was watching. Maybe no one was coming to make sure she was still alive in there, locked up all alone in her Rooms. Maybe the Project had been canceled, maybe Herr Luthor decided her life's purpose wasn't worth fulfilling. Maybe she had been forgotten.

Almost no one knew she existed, those that did had already forgotten her.

They had forgotten her.

They had forgotten her.

And they were never coming back.

Stormkrigeren decided that being alone wasn't as good a thing as she'd thought. She also decided that she depended too much on the kindness of her caretakers and superiors. Her life was an odd cycle - she obeyed and she was rewarded by having her needs met, she had her needs meet and she diligently obeyed. She hated to admit it, but she did in fact have a need for human contact - and it wasn't being met. The only reason she could think of as to why her caretakers weren't meeting it was that she must have disobeyed an order somehow and as punishment she had been forgotten.

She thought about this for a while. The shelves in her kitchen were slowly becoming bare, though she still had enough nutritional shake powder to last another week or so. She had completed all of her text- and work-books, but Dr. Schreyer hadn't come with any replacements. The combat drills Mister Wilson had taught her were quickly becoming easy and repetitive and understimulating. Unless someone came soon… she wasn't quite sure what would happen.

Stormkrigeren considered yelling or trying to climb up to the Watching Room's mirrored observation window in an attempt to get someone, anyone's attention. She needed to know that there was someone up there, that she had not been forgotten, that she had not been left all alone. The problem was, she didn't know what to say in order to get them to reply. The problem was, she didn't know what to do if they didn't.

Mister Wilson always said that Stormkrigeren struggled with being patient. She often found it hard to stand still and be quiet and listen and not stim while someone was talking or taking her measurements or showing her something. Mister Wilson was always patient - he never stimmed or spoke too loud or moved too much, and he was constantly listening for anything that might present a threat. He taught her to listen too. All she had to do was stay very still and calm, and let her ears take in every sound that reached them, tuning out the ones she didn't want or need to hear so that she could focus on the important sounds. Important sounds were almost always quiet, like whispering and footsteps and doors and the soft swish of clothing or blades, so Stormkrigeren stayed quiet too in order to hear them better.

She listened for a long time, for anything out of the ordinary. She tuned out the humming of the lights and the atmospheric regulator, and the low distant humming of the small fridge in her kitchenette. She ignored the soft gurgle of water in pipes and the minute shifting of rebar in concrete overhead. She made herself deaf to her own heartbeat and slow breaths and blood rushing in her ears. She listened, sat still, and was patient.

Her patience was rewarded by sound. The sound of the door to the Watching Room opening with a hydraulic hiss.

She was on her feet in an instant, fists raised in preparation exactly the way Mister Wilson had taught her to address a threat, but instead found only Alexander standing in the doorway. Not Mister Wilson or Luthor, or even Dr. Schreyer - just Alexander staring at her.

Stormkrigeren automatically stood 'at attention' with her hands folded behind her back, resisting the urge to fidget at the sight of another person because she had not been forgotten and someone had come back, but she remembered to stay still and wait for permission to move. Alexander didn't give it immediately, still staring intently at her without even saying 'hello'. Mister Wilson had spent a long time trying to teach her to read other people's body language, and most days she still wasn't sure she understood. Right now she could tell she had got it wrong when she tried to read Alexander's - there was something off about the way he moved, like he was both delighted and furious at the same time, which must be wrong because no one could be happy and mad together-

Alexander stepped closer, still staring at her, or 'inspecting' as Mister Wilson called it - it just meant that Stormkrigeren had to stand very still until they were done or spoke to her. Not having much else to do and curious to look at someone she didn't see often, she inspected Alexander back. Lisa had told her that he was Stormkrigeren's senior by eleven years, though he was still a bit short for his age, but much smarter than many other seventeen-year-olds. He was also a bit shy, so his genius was not often apparent since he didn't talk much, especially around his father. Alexander always visited her Rooms with Herr Luthor, so it was a bit odd that he was there on his own, still 'inspecting' her and thinking hard by the look of it.

"Where's Herr Luthor?" she asked innocently, a little confused by the deviation from normal, before suddenly remembering that Alexander hadn't given her permission to talk yet.

He hit her for speaking up. It hurt.

The trained instinct Mister Wilson had drilled into her head took over and she allowed herself to go partially limp in order to roll with the fist when it made contact with her cheek. Her body moved as it had been trained - if a blow sent you to the ground, you retaliated with a sweeping kick to bring the opponent down to your level - so she retaliated without hesitation.

She realized her mistake when Alexander stumbled, though he quickly regained his balance, but in that brief moment, Stormkrigeren understood that she was both deserving of punishment and afraid. She had made a mistake, she had to sit still and let herself be punished, but the adrenaline pumping through her blood screamed run.

So she ran.

She scrambled to her feet and sprinted for the door to the side Room containing her kitchenette. There was no way she could win in a fair fight - she may have been stronger than him, but he had the advantage of height and weight, so her only chance to escape the beating was to escape him completely. She could figure out how to lock the door behind her, she could wait for him to leave or for Dr. Schreyer or Mister Wilson to come back, she could wait and be patient-

Dr. Schreyer had also told her that Alexander played basketball after school. He was light on his feet and had a knack for easily grabbing the ball out of the air. He had made the motion a thousand times, and it felt no different now to clench his fingers in a fist, to grab and pull back, except instead of grabbing orange rubber, he grabbed Stormkrigeren's dark hair.

To her credit, she didn't scream when Alexander yanked her back to him, but immediately jumped so that her skull knocked hard against his jaw and her heel rammed into his shin. Alexander screamed - yelled, more like - but otherwise made no response to her struggling and clawing at his arm when he caught her in a tight headlock. He knew exactly who his father had hired to train the little spitfire in knives and hand-to-hand contact, but the summaries of her skills didn't include much knowledge about guns.

Stormkrigeren fell still when she felt the weight against her temple - heavy, metallic, a little bit warm with his body heat after being hidden beneath his shirt - but didn't take her hands off the arm wrapped around her throat until Alexander forcefully shoved her away from him and up against the wall, the Glock never wavering from her.

"Don't fight back, Dee-Dee - at least not against me," Alexander said softly, the barrel of the gun trembling as he pointed it at her chest, "I promise you can fight back against anyone else who hurts you, anyone but me. Because I'm going to take care of you, Dee-Dee."

Alexander paused, his voice shaking when he moved closer to press the Glock against her ribs, the metal still warm through her thin shirt. "You just have to do what I say."

She nodded, slowly. She knew what guns could do. She knew that if she was truly honest with herself, she had no other choice.

"Stay still, Dee-Dee," he whispered.

She obeyed and remained still.

It hurt, but she was familiar with pain - it had been her lifelong companion in her short life. Pain was temporary. If she waited long enough, it would go away. Alexander would get tired eventually, too tired to hit her, and both he and the pain would have to go away. She was patient. She would wait.

Alexander was loud and was not good at listening. He yelled a lot of things when he hit her, but she never replied. Stormkrigeren simply kept her head down and gritted her teeth - he was too loud, too rough - but she was patient and did not try to hit him back when he called her bad things. Bitch. Bastard. Sickening. Undeserving. Thief. A waste of money. A waste of breath. Useless. Careless. Broken. Bitch. Bastard. Alien. Go back to where you fucking came from. No one wants you here. Go back to the stars, you fucking alien.

She wanted to tell him she couldn't go back to anywhere when she had always been here. But he hadn't given her permission to speak. He would hit her again for speaking up. It would hurt. Not that it mattered really - he was already hitting her. Across the face with his gun. Across the throat with his fist. Roll with the blow, don't let the full force of it hit you, roll with the blow. Sit still, be patient, obey.

Alexander was panting hard, but he hit harder and harder, both of them breathing in short, tortured gasps. She couldn't tell if he was mad or sad - his face was red and angry, but there were tears in his eyes. She didn't question it. He would get tired soon and would go away. She was patient. Alexander was loud.

"You were supposed to be my father's crowning achievement!" he screamed, the gun slipping from his grasp and clattering on the concrete floor as he continued in a softer voice, "But I guess now you're going to be mine."

Stormkrigeren looked up hesitantly from where she had sat obediently still and silent throughout the beating, unsure if eye contact would just anger him more or if it was safe to move out of his range in case he decided he was not finished. His words suddenly clicked in her brain as she took in the information, before nodding wordlessly in acknowledgment. She knew why no one had come, why she had been left all on her own.

"It's okay, Dee-Dee," Alexander murmured, dropping to his knees in front of her. Besides Mister Wilson, he was the first person she could remember who truly lowered themselves to her level, who looked her in the eye, who spoke to her as an equal and not as an object. She wasn't sure if she liked it coming from him, and she definitely didn't like his thin hand stroking the bruise blossoming on her cheek, but Stormkrigeren had learned early on not to say what she didn't like. She stayed quiet and listened instead.

"Pop's dead." Alexander told her with a sad grin, wincing sympathetically as she wiped blood away from a cut on her forehead, "I promise, Dee-Dee, he's gone now. He can't hurt you anymore. It's going to be okay, I'm going to take care of you now-"

He paused, a thought suddenly occurred to him, and a real smile slowly spread across his face. "Pop's gone. He's finally gone, Darcie - he can't hurt us anymore. The Rules may have changed, but the Game still continues."

"What game?" she couldn't help but ask quietly, still panting a little from the exertion of taking his blows. He was going to beat her again for asking, she knew it, she wasn't supposed to speak without permission-

Alexander only gave her another small smile, pitying her ignorance as he moved to pick up his gun from where it had fallen and hefted it lightly in his hand.

"The Game. My Game," he said softly, "It's like chess, you see, but in more than two dimensions. The pieces are people and the world is my board. I am the King, but you, Dee-Dee, you are the Queen - the deadliest and most powerful piece in the game. The rewards are many and the rules simple: play exactly how I tell you, do not hesitate or ask why, just play quickly and obediently until we win. If you don't, I will give you a present."

As he said these last words, Alexander unloaded the gun and forcefully shook the clip, causing bullets to spill out onto the floor. He picked one up, grabbing her wrist to place it in her hand. "What is it?"

"Nine-millimeter... One-hundred-twenty-four grain with additional pressure… Winchester PDX Defender?" she replied after a moment, having identified the round by its markings, and Alexander nodded.

"Or you could just say bullet, but it's the same thing. A weapon of destruction - just like you."

A/N: Once again FF disappoints me with the limited number of letters I can have in a chapter title. The title listed in the chapter itself is the actual title.