A/N: my apologies, lads, it's a bit of shorter chapter. life has not been kind recently, but at least I can still write.

Year Seven.

Rule #6: Do not fail to prepare

Though she never saw the rosy sunrise, every dawn found the little Project Stormkrigeren already hard at work.

Just like Mister Wilson had taught her, she began every morning by taking a minute to mentally map out her surroundings, which was simple enough as her entire world was only three rooms. The layout was simple and minimalistic - there were no bright colors or flashy designs to overwhelm her, and she liked it that way. Fewer distractions meant better concentration, and better concentration yielded to more productive thinking which allowed her to clear her mind enough to get a few hours of much-needed rest.

It had taken her a few months to adapt to a sleep cycle interrupted at random intervals, and despite Dr. Schreyer's extreme disapproval of it, Stormkrigeren found herself able to live off of those precious few hours with rarely any side effects. A morning alarm wasn't necessary as she woke up whenever she felt rested - or more often, too uneasy to fall asleep - and she would start getting ready for the day.

At Mr. Wilson's instruction, she had a varying schedule that constantly shifted, sometimes by hours, minutes, or even just a few seconds.

"It will teach you to expect the unexpected," her teacher had explained, "Living to a tight set of rules and deadlines will make you cocky - sure of what's about to happen next, and you'll let your guard down. You never let your guard down - got that, Storm?"

She had simply nodded and clenched her fists a little tighter, promising herself that she never be caught unawares. And she rarely was.

Stormkrigeren knew everything that went on in her Rooms - which wasn't much because she lived there by herself and didn't have visitors very often, but she still prided herself in knowing the goings-on that occurred in every brightly-lit corner and getting as involved as she could. If Dr. Schreyer or Dr. Angklow or Dr. Lee or Dr. Shienne was there, she would try to help if they would let her, and sit quietly if they wouldn't. But most of the time they did.

Dr. Scheyer liked it when Stormkrigeren helped, and showed her how to do some of the tasks that went into keeping her Rooms nice, like making sure that the floor was swept and the counters wiped and the mirrors washed. Dr. Schreyer even let her help out in the kitchen Room, on the condition that Stormkrigeren didn't make a mess.

Since she had been tall enough to reach the counters in her small kitchen, Stormkrigeren had helped make and prepare her own meals - at first simple and half-ready ones, but now she made complete breakfasts for Alexander, Dr. Schreyer, and herself as part of her studies in Domestic Housekeeping. The tailored course included serving their meals as well, laying out the utensils and waiting on them while they dined, and only when they had left was she allowed to eat. She didn't mind too much as it often allowed for her to experiment with her food, leading to the discovery of her love for nectarines and soft pretzels, and absolute hatred of all things porridge.

Eating while she worked saved time and kept her hyperactive mind occupied, so barely any moments were ever spent in personal activities - not even daydreaming. If she was bored or under-stimulated, she would simply ask Dr. Schreyer up in the Watching Room for something new to learn. From the 5000-piece puzzles of various city maps to intricate ink calligraphy, everything was a lesson designed to increase and hone her skills, so her love of learning grew.

While a normal child would only just be entering school, Stormkrigeren had started as soon as she could speak, and within a few short weeks had learned to read at a second-grade level. From there, things began to happen quickly. Speeding through at least three grades every year with flying colors, it wasn't long till the six-year-old was learning at a college-level. She spent her days either at her desk or on the floor with her books laid out around her, poring over textbooks, thesis papers, study guides, and diagrams, gaining proficiency in every subject at an amazingly fast pace, her memory perfect and she never seemed to forget a single word.

Only a few months before, Stormkrigern earned her first doctorate in Technical Physics from Berkeley, and was already well on her way towards another in Mechanical Engineering from the California Institute of Technology's online curriculum. Most of the universities she had applied for questioned her distant learning style with its lack of definite knowledge of the student, and the fact that she never attended any ceremonies or conferences was yet another red flag, but she got the sense Mr. Luthor's deep pockets could be very convincing when it came to getting something he wanted.

Her studies weren't just mentally challenging, but physical as well, and Mr. Wilson was her Teacher. His lessons were odd and seemingly useless to someone trapped between white walls, but she soon learned that he never did anything without reason or good purpose. Silently hunting him in a dark room full of obstacles increased her detection skills. Teachings in psychology, camouflage, and acting taught her deception and the art of blending into one's surroundings. Minimalism and special diets trained her body to survive off of almost nothing, while the constant shifting of the weather in her Rooms helped her adapt to surviving in the extremes - yet all these were only the least of Mr. Wilson's lessons.

Mister Wilson was not always in town, or even in the country, but somehow he managed to meet the required hours Herr Luthor set for him and make time every month to give Stormkrigeren her lessons in everything he considered it worthwhile teaching.

Seventy-two hours a month, and often longer, he would train her in the art of combat. Those hours were usually split up over various visits, though sometimes there would be a training 'sprint' that could last for days on end, forcing her not only to learn, but to live every word her Teacher instructed. And his most important lesson was to always be prepared.

A few months before, it had been decided that Mister Wilson would spend some of his hours with Stormkrigeren doing 'night training'. Stormkrigeren thought that a better phrase would have been 'blind combat', because the training wasn't always at night, but it was always dark when they sparred. The procedure was simple - Mister Wilson would enter her Rooms as quietly as possible after she had gone to bed, and Stormkrigeren would have to try her best to knock him unconscious. It was meant to reduce her reliance on her eyes for balance and targeting while increasing her ability to wake up from a dead sleep ready to fight for her life, but said 'night training' mostly taught her how to be patient and listen.

Sleeping was already something that she struggled with. Stormkrigeren was a light sleeper - the slightest sounds or movements would jerk her awake just before oblivion could take hold. She found it extremely hard to relax, even when Dr. Schreyer would give her medication for it, so she rarely managed more than a few hours of disturbed sleep. It was hard to relax when she was unconsciously waiting for his arrival.

Mr. Wilson was a master of moving silently, to the point where in the first few months of 'night training', she never woke up till he was right beside her bed. Eventually, she learned to be alert even when she was asleep, and to rely not on her eyes - which were utterly useless in the darkness - but on her ears. She learned to recognize his arrival by the dull click of the sliding kitchen door locking shut automatically, the suppressed shifting of rubber soles on the concrete floor, the light swish of metal leaving the scabbard as he drew his weapon, and Stormkrigeren would be on guard in an instant.

She knew that she would never stand any chance against his weapons and night-vision goggles with only her bare fists and keen hearing, but she always did her best. Yet sometimes one's best isn't good enough.

Most of her scars were earned this way - a pattern of past trauma covering almost every inch of her skin, but she never let the pain hinder her.

She never knew which nights Mister Wilson would be there, and he would always come when she least expected him. Stormkrigeren spent every night taut and restless, waiting for him to arrive for their battle in the dark, but nearly every night, her waiting would be in vain. He didn't come very often - just enough to keep her on her toes - but for some reason, Stormkrigeren found that she enjoyed the rare blind combat. Sometimes she'd lose within the first minute, and other times she'd survive for over an hour, gradually growing fiercer and better over the months of training. But it always ended the same way - with his blade at her throat. The lights would come on and he'd remove the old orange-and-black helmet to nod in approval before leaving with the words, "We'll try again tomorrow."

Once again, Stormkrigeren would be left on her own in the cold Rooms, staring at the red blood on the grey concrete as she gathered herself together again. After a while, she'd clean up the mess and return to bed. She rarely slept long, always waiting for the sun she never saw to come up so she could do it all over again.