Hello! I hope all of my wonderful readers are having a wonderful day! A quick warning that this chapter is slightly more violent than usual and touches on some heavy topics (this chapter is one of the reasons the fic is tagged with Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con), but it is all well within the fic's rating. Please comment and kudos below, I love to hear from y'all!

Year Thirteen.

Rule #12: Do not resist an order from your superior

Stormkrigeren could count the times she had been outside her Rooms on both hands - or rather, she could count the times she had been drugged for surgery outside the Rooms on both hands. There were a few instances when she had been very young and unable to run away that Dr. Schreyer had allowed her up into the Watching Room, and once even Outside (late at night, of course). But after Mr. Wilson's arrival, those instances had stopped and were replaced by unconscious visits to the operating room.

There usually wasn't any announcement, just a dose of strong sedatives during her weekly checkup before she woke up a few hours later back in her Rooms with a bandage and a new scar. Up until the previous month, the last time it had occurred had been a year ago. As usual, she was sedated and woke up with a relatively small scar on her left hip, and half a centimeter below it was a hard bump that hadn't been there before. She assumed that was when they had inserted her tracking device. But last month it had happened again.

Dr. Schreyer had been drawing her blood during Stormkrigeren's weekly checkup. She always took two samples in case one was contaminated somehow, and two samples meant she needed two vials. Stormkrigeren was acutely aware of this fact after years of repeatedly taking the same medical tests every week, so she had not put much effort into watching Schreyer do her work and contemplated the concrete ceiling instead. It was only when the doctor had begun to attach a third vial already filled with a clear liquid that Stormkrigeren had noticed the anomaly and instinctively withdrew her arm.

"Darcie," Lisa had chided her gently, holding out her hand for the patient's wrist, but Stormkrigeren just shook her head.

"You'll get in trouble if he hears you call me that."

Dr. Schreyer looked like she was about to reply, then paused and let out a low sigh, "It'll be over quickly, and I'll see if I can't get some nectarines for you when you get back."

Stormkrigeren had hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her and she had reluctantly surrendered her arm.

"Am I allowed to know what will be done to me?" she had asked, watching as the clear liquid trickled into her vein. The stuff was fast-acting and she was already feeling a bit fuzzy when Dr. Schreyer shook her head.

"No. Just try not to think about it and get some sleep," Lisa had told her. Stormkrigeren had been too tired to argue for information and instead leaned back in her chair as the sedative took hold. She couldn't remember exactly how long she had been under, but when she came to, she was on her mattress in the Rooms, feeling a bit sore around the middle and with a wide bandage over her lower abdomen. While changing it the next day, she spotted the slim cut in her belly button and another in the space below, immediately recognizing them as the external marks of tubal ligation.

She had every right to be furious - Lex had taken something from her that could never be replaced, but despite how much she hated the violation, Stormkrigeren could not remain angry over it for long. For a brief time, she was saddened by the loss, yet even at her youthful age, she recognized it as a small freedom. Now there could be no one to tie her down and no one to worry about when she ran free in the Outside. Of course, there were times when she would remember and wish things had been different - maybe she would want a child of her own when she was older - but then she would remind herself that every freedom had a price.

That had been a month ago, and by now the scars had faded so they were no longer uncomfortable and she was more worried about the fresh wounds from her night training with Mr. Wilson than any past injuries - though the way Lex was staring at her was a little unnerving as well.

They were sitting on the floor in the largest of her Rooms, Stormkrigeren taking notes from her computer for a class in pharmacology, and Lex sitting nearby scribbling in his own notebook he usually carried with him - though he honestly spent more time watching her than writing. It was not uncommon for him to visit unexpectedly and simply observe as she went about her day, or "just getting to know her better" as he liked to call it, so she said nothing and ignored him as best she could.

"Are you happy?" he asked suddenly, pulling her out of the study daze to consider the question. A pencil flew towards her face, but she batted it away before it reached its target and Stormkrigeren glared at Lex inquisitively.

"You didn't answer immediately," he frowned, twirling a pen between his fingers as if he were preparing to throw it next, "I asked if you were happy, Dee-Dee."

"I guess so," she answered quickly. It wasn't exactly a lie, but she knew thinking longer about a proper answer would lead to punishment in the form of another tossed pen. Lex's smile returned at her speedy reply.

"And you have everything you need?"

"Yes," she nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with this.

"Your caretakers - they treat you right?"

"Yes."

With the exception of Lex himself. Dr. Schreyer and Mr. Wilson were only doing their jobs, and injuries she gained were usually by accident while training.

"You're not worried about anything? No anxiety?" Lex asked, his tone filled with heartfelt concern, but she could not shake the feeling that he was trying to trip her up. Stormkrigeren shook her head 'no' at the question and Lex smiled.

"That's good. You're not allowed to have bad days, Darcie."

Something in the way he said it almost made her flinch and she shot him another inquisitive look as he stood up, hoping he would elaborate his meaning. Lex did not, smoothing back his russet hair instead as he replaced his notebook in his coat pocket and headed for the door.

"Pack up - it's bedtime," he called back to her as he exited the Room before the door hissed closed behind him, leaving Stormkrigeren's silent questions still unanswered.

The overhead lights turned off a few moments later, surrounding her in complete darkness except for the glow from her computer screen. By its light, she managed to collect and put away her study items, but she did not immediately begin to prepare for bed. Stormkrigeren had just finished night training almost three hours before - it should have been nowhere near time for her to attempt sleep. It was most likely just another one of Mr. Wilson's tests meant to keep her on her toes, and as there was not much she could do by her dim computer light, Stormkrigeren decided it would be better to obey.

She went through her usual routine and toilet despite having done it only a few hours before, trying to ignore her reluctance to go back into the dark Room when the soft glow of the kitchen lights was so much more welcoming. They would turn off if she lingered too long, so not wanting to be suddenly left in the dark, Stormkrigeren made her way to bed.

The sheets seemed rougher than usual that night as she hugged the blanket to her chest, but she refused to tuck it around herself despite the chill in the air. She raised her head to shake out her flattened locks still damp from the shower and stared up at the black ceiling while she waited for Mr. Wilson's arrival. He usually came within forty-five minutes of when she laid down to rest, though it was not rare for him to take longer. This seemed to be one of those nights and Stormkrigeren silently kept track of each minute as it passed, leaving her alone in the freezing darkness.

She could not shake the feeling that something was wrong, that the darkness might never leave, but she shoved the thought away and continued to wait.

Sleep was almost impossible at this point, she was so cold and taut with nervous energy, waiting for something, anything to happen. Stormkrigeren had lost track of time at some point, but she knew the lights had been out for far longer than ever before.

She got up to pace the Room from one wall to the other and back, becoming increasingly nervous with each step. It was too cold, too dark, too quiet - something had to be wrong. She considered trying to turn on the lights in the kitchen or bathroom but decided against it after realizing that it would be weakness to try to leave a test. True strength lay with patience and perseverance. She would wait.

Walking in the darkness kept her somewhat warm, but the low temperatures and the stress of constant vigilance eventually got to her. Stormkrigeren tried to ignore it, but exhaustion was quickly draining her strength and her muscles felt like they were made of lead as she continued to pace the Room, until finally she was forced to stop. She fell asleep collapsed on her mattress, for once her blanket tucked up around her to stave off the cold as she drifted into a fitful sleep.

Stormkrigeren was unsure how much time had passed before the sound of a door sliding open jerked her awake, and in an instant, she was on her feet to address the threat. A soft golden light was spilling into the Room through the kitchen doorway, and through the gap, she could see a familiar figure habitually prepping the coffee maker.

Drawn towards the warm light, Stormkrigeren reluctantly joined Lex in the kitchen, where he acknowledged her with a small nod but otherwise did not tear his gaze away from the dripping pot. He was wearing what she assumed to be his pajamas - a cotton sports tee with Metropolis Metros emblazoned on the front and a pair of flannel sweatpants. It was only then that she noticed the Glock on the counter beside him. Lex noticed her gaze lingering on the weapon and hefted it casually in his left hand.

"Sleep okay?" he asked in a soft voice.

She hesitated, unsure if the first reply that came to mind would anger him, then a brief wave of panic rushed through her when she realized she had taken too long to answer, so she quickly stated the first thing that came to mind with a shrug as she rubbed her arms.

"It was a little cold."

Lex just smiled and opened a cupboard to grab a clean mug. "I'll see if something can't be done about that."

His expression darkened suddenly and unexpectedly as he sighed in frustration, running a hand through his russet hair.

"I've got some debts I need to collect on, Dee-Dee," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear. Stormkrigeren watched wordlessly as he removed the pot from the coffee maker to calmly fill his mug with the dark brew, his expression neutral as he brought it to his lips. She wisely decided against asking him what he meant, knowing that Lex would fill the silence - and he did. Taking a long swig from his coffee, he set it down and finally looked her way.

"Darcie. You know that you owe me."

She hated when he used her 'human' name - the one he had chosen for her, the one he had given her. It was a subtle reminder of just how little control she had over her own life and how much she had to depend on Lex to provide for and protect her. Stormkrigeren nodded slowly in agreement. She owed him everything she was.

"I won't make you pay all of it back now," he said gently, "Just a little bit."

Lex raised the gun to aim in her direction and nodded his head towards the bathroom behind them, clearly threatening her if she did not obey. She knew what would happen if she did not follow orders, but she also knew what would happen if she did. Stormkrigeren frowned down the barrel of the weapon, bravely refusing to move.

Alexander only sighed and took the safety off as he moved a step closer to press the muzzle against her left shoulder. He knew her well enough to understand that death wouldn't mean anything her, but an injury to an essential joint could put her down for weeks, maybe even months, unable to defend herself and unable to fight. Thanks to his father's, and later his own gentle persuasion, combat had become the focus of the little Stormkrigeren's life - but this was one thing she could not fight.

Stormkrigeren glared at him as she obediently folded her hands behind her back and Lex moved to stand behind her, shifting his weapon to her shoulderblade before nudging her in the direction of the bathroom. The constant pressure of the cold steel ring against her skin forced her forward into the small room, pressing her up against the tiled wall as Lex locked the door with his free hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him remove two plastic cable-ties from his pocket and struggle to insert the end of one into the other using only his right hand. As he concentrated on tightening the makeshift handcuffs around her wrists, the pressure of the gun on her shoulder lessened for a brief moment, and Stormkrigeren did not hesitate to take advantage of it.

She kicked out at his ankle, knocking him off balance as he howled in pain and she was aware of the gun going off near her head as she dove for his throat. He fired once more and she was aware of a hot flash of pain in her side, but Stormkrigeren ignored it, loosening her bonds just enough to slip her hands out and wrap them around his windpipe. She was a moment too late - the muzzle of his weapon was already shoved into her hip. They both froze, panting face to face as Lex smiled. Both of them knew that he could put a bullet in her long before she could strangle him or perform a nerve strike. He had won.

"Let go of me, Darcie," he simpered calmly, "You don't want me to turn all the lights in your Room off forever, do you?"

Stormkrigeren was considering all her options, desperately hoping that there was some way to get him to release her, for her to escape, for someone to save her, but to no avail. It was either obedience or her ability to fight back - and there was no way she was letting him take that from her. It was with great reluctance that Stormkrigeren finally released her grip and allowed him to bind her hands. Lex towered over her, pressing his body onto hers as he forced her up against the wall with his free hand delicately stroking her burned side. She promised herself that she would be strong, that she would be brave, but she could not help but be afraid with his breath hot on her neck as he slipped beneath her waistband.

"Pay up, Dee-Dee," he murmured.

V*V*V*V*V*V*V

Though it felt like an eternity, he finally left, and she was left on the floor to pick up the pieces. The bastard had not bothered to untie her, though Stormkrigeren most likely would have killed him if he had. After a brief struggle, she managed to get up onto her feet and snap the cable ties that were rubbing her wrists raw, though she trembled from the effort. He would be back - there was no shred of doubt in her mind that he would return to collect the rest of her debt - though how much more she would have to bear to repay it all, she did not know.

Stormkrigeren glared at her reflection in the mirror and a weak, scared little girl stared back. She hated it, she hated what he had made her, she hated herself for letting him get the best of her, she hated that she would not be able to fight back when he came again. There was no place to run, only white walls and dark mirrors.

Her fist shattered the mirror with a single blow and the shards of glass fell to the concrete floor, leaving Stormkrigeren's broken reflection scattered on the ground. She did not allow herself to look down, to look herself in the eye, and examined her hand instead, which was surprisingly unharmed from punching the mirror. She glared at the unbloodied fist for a long moment, more questions forming in her head, but she had neither the strength nor the peace of mind to even attempt to answer them. She dropped her fist with an inaudible sigh and moved to turn the shower on.

The hot water helped to calm her racing heart and soothe the bruises she had earned during the ordeal, and she felt a little better after getting dressed in some clean clothes - enough so that she felt justified in glaring up at the Watching Room as soon as the lights came back on.

Nothing happened. No one came down to examine the bruises clearly visible on her throat, no voice came through the speakers asking if she was all right, and no shadow appeared behind the two-way mirrors to even give her the satisfaction of acknowledgment. She wanted to scream, to make someone see her, to bring attention to herself and her pain and the injustice done.

Nothing happened. No one came. That is how the world works, she decided, they shatter you into ten-thousand shiny little pieces and lock you in with no one but yourself to try and pick them up.

V*V*V*V*V*V*V

"Concentrate," he growled, thrusting his blade through her defenses to cut the skin beneath her shirt. Stormkrigeren managed to suppress a pained grimace, but the attack had set her off-balance and she stumbled. The tip of his dagger was pressed against her breastbone in an instant as Mr. Wilson frowned.

"I told you to concentrate, Storm. You lacked vigilance, and it could have cost you your life if this had been a real battle."

"I will do better," she promised, ducking beneath his blade as she got up to raise her knives in the 'ready' position. They began again, steel against steel, deflecting and attacking to break apart before coming together again. Stormkrigeren fulfilled her promise and was putting more effort into each of her strikes than she had been previously, but she still lacked vigilance. Mr. Wilson nicked her side again to see if the pain would wake her up, yet she barely flinched and only glared up at her teacher as she moved to throw off his next blow. She reacted too late when he knocked the dagger from her hand and tripped her into a headlock, his blade against her throat. Stormkrigeren could feel her Teacher's gaze on her neck, no doubt noticing the bruises she had neglected to cover up.

"It's makeup," she lied, "Schreyer was teaching me how to use it and I must have forgotten to wash it off my fingers."

"You forgot?" Wilson asked slowly, grabbing her wrist with his free hand and turning it over so they could both see her clean hand, "You should really pay more attention, Storm."

He released his hold, allowing her to stumble away and bow her head in shame, "Yes, sir."

"You do that," he growled, dropping back into the 'ready' position, "Blades up."

They resumed practice as before, though Stormkrigeren still struggled to keep her mind on the task at hand, and Mr. Wilson could not blame her. He knew he should point it out, it was his job, he was being paid to teach her to fight and there was no sense in getting protective of someone who he was training to become a rival - but he also knew that Luthor had choked her and God knows what else. No one deserved that kind of treatment, even someone as dangerous as his student. There was not much he could do to help except give her time to recover, so against his better judgment, Mister Wilson went a little gentler as they fought.

Stormkrigeren must have been paying more attention than he had thought and spotted his show of weakness almost immediately when he ignored a movement that clearly left her open.

"Stop it," she panted, hurriedly parrying his easily defendable blow. Mr. Wilson gave her one of his rare smirks and struck a little harder.

In the original version of this chapter (uploaded as part of Red Capes: Saviors at the start of 2020), I got a few questions about the implied non-con and I just wanted to confirm that yes, Stormkrigeren is aware that she could easily take Alexander down even with multiple bullet wounds, so it's not about her being injured, but about what the injuries would do to her in the long-term. There's a reason Slade is the only one who injures her during training because he can be trusted to only leave surface wounds that won't be debilitating as she grows and gets older. The entire purpose of the Rooms is to ensure that when she gets out, she will be running at peak performance and have the self-preservation to make sure she stays that way for as long as possible (she becomes 'a weapon capable of improving/maintaining itself'), and both resisting a superior and allowing herself to be permanently injured goes against the purpose that has been drilled into her head from Day One. Not only would she be physically injured, but it'd likely mess her up psychologically as well.