Good morning! Here is a chapter with a tiny bit of escape!
Year Sixteen
Rule #15: Do not try to leave before it is time
All the doors in the Rooms were on tracks and could be controlled remotely, with the main exit and equipment room usually being locked while the kitchen door was only locked while she slept, so Stormkrigeren did find it a little unusual when it hissed shut behind her while she was washing the dishes.
She paused, a sudsy plate still in her hand as she turned to stare at the door as it closed and she heard the soft click of it locking, but didn't move to attempt escape. It wasn't exactly a bad thing to be locked in the kitchen, and she still had access to her bathroom. The biggest inconvenience would be if she had to spend the night in there, probably on the hard concrete floor, but it wasn't like she hadn't slept without a mattress before.
Looking back, she could remember this wasn't the first time she'd been locked in the back room for a few hours with no explanation. It could even be considered something to look forward to, as last time when the door had finally unlocked, Stormkrigeren had discovered that climbing handholds had been installed on one segment of the west wall. Those had been both entertaining and useful in her training with Mr. Wilson, and she silently hoped whatever was being added now would be as well.
Stormkrigeren spent the next hour cleaning the kitchenette inside and out, then sat listening at the door to her main Room for a short while, but she couldn't hear much besides some drilling sounds and the occasional voices giving orders she couldn't quite make out. Eventually, she got bored of trying to eavesdrop and decided to clean something else.
About halfway through scrubbing the already-spotless shower, her keen hearing again picked up the dull click of the kitchen door unlocking. She nearly jumped up to investigate immediately but forced herself to slow down and finish the job she'd set out to complete.
Only a few minutes passed before she walked out into the nearly renovated Room, the stark white walls and open space briefly overwhelming after the hours she had spent in the confined back Rooms. She pushed the distraction away and quickly checked for any traps or other occupants besides herself, but finding nothing she looked up to observe what had changed.
There were ceiling rings now, metal and dotting the roof at regular intervals. Her first thought was that they'd be for climbing, but they were neither wooden nor large enough for a comfortable grip, but she was still sure she could hold on to one if necessary.
Stormkrigeren decided they were probably for hanging ropes from and returned to the kitchen for a broom to sweep up the concrete dust left from the drilling. After that was finished, she practiced a few routines on her punching bag, releasing her energy after being pent up in the smaller Rooms. Combat had always been a refuge for her, a method of strategic physical movement that she could lose herself in. It was just her and the opponent with the same goal in mind, doing everything they could to see the other fall. She was swift and strong and light on her feet, striking in and out like lightning over the sea. Her opponent, on the other hand, was only a heavyweight punching bag, almost brand-new after she'd broken the old one, and part of her wished Mr. Wilson was there instead to give her a bit more of a challenge. He hadn't been around for a few days, which wasn't too surprising as it happened quite often, and it did wonders for her sleep, but it put her on edge not seeing one of the few people she ever had contact with.
After a while, she concluded her practice and went to get herself a drink before heading for the storage room. It was behind the southernmost door in the mirror wall and was rarely unlocked, and when it was, it only led to a small room where she would occasionally find training equipment or educational materials such as a treadmill or weights for her physical exercises, and a few times small engines for her to take apart and rebuild as part of her tuition in engineering.
Luckily, today it was unlocked and she was able to carry out one of her more recent projects, a Honda XL700V Transalp engine that she was building essentially from scratch. She had all the pieces, it was just a matter of getting them all installed correctly, which was barely a challenge for her considering how last month she'd constructed an entire DM13-L4-T engine from parts, so this was a bit of a step-down. Lex had been ecstatic when she'd finished, going on a rant about how much he loved automobile mechanics and had been on the verge of trying to get ahold of a jet engine for her to 'play' with, but Stormkrigeren had politely requested to experiment with something a little smaller first. Thus the half-built Transalp engine on her desk.
She was nearly finished with the oil filter when the overhead lights suddenly flickered and went out with a dull fluorescent thud, leaving her in complete darkness. This was a normal experience and Stormkrigeren only exhaled in resignation as she set down her tools before making her way to the bathroom. The lights still worked long enough for her to complete her toilet before flickering out while she headed for her mattress. It was no use trying to do much in the dark, wasting her precious downtime, but even laying in her bed she didn't allow herself to go to sleep quite yet.
She considered the hanging rings on the ceiling and their possible uses, most likely strength training and maybe climbing. An idea occurred to her, a dangerous and impulsive one, but it made escape a possibility.
She didn't loathe the Rooms, but they weren't easy to like either. Growing up here had made them her home, and despite the hostility she was faced with every moment, there was still a level of comfort in the familiar. Yet for years now, Stormkrigeren had longed for the outside world, a place where Lex wasn't watching her every move and deadly assassins were less likely to trace her. She had barely any idea of what lay beyond the steel door and Watching Room, and even less knowledge of how she would survive out there. Nowhere to go, no friends, no acquaintances, only enemies. Lex had her trapped in more ways than between concrete walls. Her only hope of survival were her skills and the small savings account she'd built up over the years by working online. She'd get by. She'd have to. But first, she'd have to escape.
Mr. Wilson came that night, as she had expected, entering the Room almost an hour after the lights had turned off. Stormkrigeren's keen hearing picked up his tread about twelve meters away at her four o'clock. She pretended to be asleep, allowing her body to go partially limp as he approached, removing the katana from the scabbard on his back while he inched forward. She knew he would suspect something, but hopefully not till he was close enough to be within her range.
Her fingers tightened around the corner of her thin blanket, kicking it off to toss it over where she guessed his head was, blinding his night vision goggles. She knew she only had a few seconds before he tore it off, so Stormkrigeren wasted no time with hesitation as she groped for the hatchet she knew he kept in the back of his utility belt. Mr. Wilson swore as he stumbled, and she took advantage of the movement to jump onto his back moments before he finally managed to rip off her improvised net and stand up. She bent her knees allowing his momentum to transfer to her as she launched herself upwards. For a brief moment she was flying, and then Stormkrigeren remembered she couldn't see the ceiling ring she was aiming for in the darkness. Luck was with her as her fingers brushed against the metal and she managed to cling on - but not without suppressing a low grunt of pain as her shoulder was very nearly yanked out of its socket.
She'd memorized the positions of all the rings before the lights had gone out, and knowing from what direction Mr. Wilson had entered, she managed to navigate her swing to the next ring. It was a near miss, her calloused hand almost slipping on the smooth steel and shoulders straining to hold her weight in such a position, but she managed another two jumps until her bare feet hit glass instead of thin air. An alarm went off somewhere in the Watching Room, but she ignored it as she shattered the two-way mirror with the hatchet and hacked at the plexiglass beneath.
Mr. Wilson was shouting something below her as the lights came on suddenly, momentarily blinding her, but she did not lose her grip on the ring as she repeatedly smashed her weapon against the window. It wasn't doing as much as she'd hoped, only leaving deep gashes she struggled to pull the ax out of, not breaking through the thick barrier. She was still trapped. But she wasn't going to stop.
"Storm!" Mr. Wilson was bellowing furiously, "Down! Now!"
Stormkrigeren grimaced and shut him out, continuing her hopeless attempts to break through.
A throwing knife embedded itself in her side, narrowly missing her left hip, and she almost flinched, the pain causing her to pause her assault for only a moment before pressing on. Mr. Wilson was still shouting as she tried to drown out his voice with the rhythmic thwack of the hatchet, but one sentence demanded her attention.
"If you don't come down right now, the next one will be your shoulder," he threatened. They both knew what that meant. She had long ago decided she didn't care if she died, but living and being unable to fight would be unbearable. A bullet or knife to a joint would put her down for weeks, possibly months, and it would never heal completely. She'd never be able to fight to her fullest.
It was with great reluctance that she let go of her weapon and released her hold on the ceiling ring to drop to the ground. She rolled to soften the impact, unsurprised to find herself immediately trapped in a headlock. Stormkrigeren remained silent as he shoved her up against the mirrored wall, the tip of another throwing knife pressed against her shoulder.
"Bloody idiot," he muttered, and she frowned, suddenly noticing the eyepatch covering his right eye, but still said nothing.
"You're going to need stitches," Mr. Wilson muttered again before raising his voice, "Schreyer! Medkit!"
He didn't wait to see if the doctor had heard him up in the Watching Room, reaching down to grab the blade in her side and sharply pull it out.
Stormkrigeren barely stopped herself from flinching at the agony, earning a cuff to the back of her head which she dutifully ignored. Forced against the mirrored wall, she could feel the hot stickiness of blood seeping from her side, but didn't try to stem the flow, watching Mr. Wilson's reflection instead.
He still glared just as hard as normal despite lacking his right eye, but she could tell by the slight unsteadiness in his movements that the loss was recent and he was still getting used to being half-blind. That gave her an advantage, one she could use to trip him and give her wild gamble on escape a second chance. But considering it again, the odds were not in her favor. Being half-blind hadn't done too much to his aim and it would be hard to miss when the knife was already pressed against her skin.
The steel door leading to the Outside hissed open to reveal Dr. Schreyer behind it, seeming more than a little put-off as she stepped towards them to examine the patient. She looked for all the world like she'd have enjoyed giving Mr. Wilson a harsh dressing-down for injuring the Project yet again, but refrained and got to work examining the wound.
Stormkrigeren obediently held still as the Doctor peeled back her shirt to get a look at the cut, probing the skin around it with a gentle touch before the older woman grimaced.
"I think it only skimmed a rib, so no broken bones, thank goodness, but there is still the possibility of internal bleeding and injury to her lower abdominals," she said smoothly, her words pointed at Mr. Wilson, "I imagine Mr. Luthor won't be thrilled by the news."
He only grunted in response to the subtle jab, "Just stitch her up."
Dr. Schreyer opened the large first-aid kid she'd brought with her, silently locating a syringe of local anesthetic and was about to inject it into the patient's side when Mr. Wilson shook his head.
"No painkillers," he growled, before turning to Stormkrigeren, "Try not to flinch."
She inclined her head in a small nod, directing her gaze to a smudge on the mirror instead of watching Dr. Schreyer thread the sharp curved needle. The wound was cleaned and stitched back together in a matter of minutes, but she barely noticed the additional pain of the needle in her skin, she was focusing so hard on the reflection's imperfection. Only when Schreyer began packing up the first-aid kit did Stormkrigeren realize the operation was over, but Mr. Wilson still kept her pinned to the wall until the older woman had left.
His grip around her throat slackened as the steel door hissed shut, and Stormkrigeren patiently waited till he had fully released her before pulling up her shirt to look at her bandaged side.
"You didn't flinch," Mr. Wilson stated, wiping her blood from his knife. She nodded and massaged the back of her neck, waiting for the reprimand to counteract his praise. He was taking far longer than necessary to clean the blade, and she was about to point it out when he finished and slipped it into his belt. "Stormkrigeren."
"Yes, Teacher?"
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, glaring at her with his one good eye, "I'm supposed to tell you to never pull that sort of shit again. But I think it'd be better if I told you that what you did was effing stupid."
Stormkrigeren only nodded, not raising her eyes to meet his gaze. He didn't try to push the subject further and picked up his hatchet from where she'd dropped it among the shards of mirrored glass before leaving without another word. She was alone - and still trapped.
But Mr. Wilson hadn't told her not to do it again.
He'd told her she'd done it wrong.
He'd told her to try again.
V*V*V*V*V*V*V
"I'm just wondering why you would even try to get out," he said, blowing on his coffee before taking a sip, "I mean, it's not exactly a place you can simply escape from."
The veiled threat wasn't lost on her. She wanted to hit him, she wanted to hit him so bad, but she dutifully kept her fists clenched around her mug instead of his throat.
"Why are they built this way? Why am I not allowed out?" she asked. Lex raised his free hand as if in surrender as he shook his head.
"Pop built them, not me," he pointed out, "If I'd built them, there'd have been another room with a basketball court and a coffee bar."
The joke fell on deaf ears as Stormkrigeren frowned, "That answers none of my questions."
Lex sighed in resignation, swirling the coffee in the bottom of his mug for a few moments longer before deciding he'd stalled long enough and met her accusing gaze.
"Look, Dee-Dee, you don't want out. Believe me, you really don't. Here you're provided for, you're protected, and you get to learn just about anything you want all at my expense. Out there you're on your own."
She cringed a little at the reminder that she was surviving off of him, the idea of permanently owing him a reality she tried to ignore. She was a burden, and he kept her, but she didn't want to wonder why.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, and Lex smiled consolingly.
"It's okay. Don't worry about a thing, it's all planned and taken care of. If all goes well and you play the Game, I might be able to arrange some time Outside for you in a few years. That'd be fun, eh?"
Stormkrigeren nodded silently and poured the rest of her coffee in the sink as he continued, "The world is a chaotic place, Darcie. One can never be sure what sort of people you're going to encounter, whether they'll be for or against you. We both know you have basically no experience in the Outside world. You're a fierce fighter, but you'd barely survive a day. Trust me, Dee-Dee, it wouldn't be pretty. You're so strong and special and different, and poor old humanity is so fickle, you'd be rejected almost immediately. An outcast and a freak."
She struggled not to show it, but his words had struck home. He was right, she had no experience of anything outside her Rooms, and the entire reason she was here in the first place was because she was so different.
"All I want for you is to be safe," Lex said softly, his tone reminding her of the little boy with the russet curls who had been the only other child she'd ever known. Not much had changed, he was still the brains and she was the brawn, kids both hurt by a man with big fists, but now the entire world was that man. Somewhere along the way those kids had turned on each other, but remained united against a common enemy.
She almost felt guilty for always thinking badly of Lex, who despite all the hateful glares she was forever throwing him still provided for her with a patient smile. Then she remembered another child, a girl with dark locks and barely old enough to bleed, yet she already had her innocence stolen from her.
Lex ignored the fire in her gaze as he washed his mug in the kitchenette sink, humming and smiling to himself while looking for all the world like he'd never hurt a fly.
He turned the water off and put the cup in the drying rack, wiping his hands on a towel as he turned to check the watch on his wrist.
"They should be finishing up pretty soon," he said to no one in particular before glancing up at her. Stormkrigeren could feel his gaze lingering on the bandage beneath her shirt and she tensed instinctively as he moved to touch her injury.
"You did this, Darcie," he murmured, gently stroking her side through the shirt, "You're the one who made this ugly. I can fix it, and I will, but I'll need something in return."
He said it so calmly, belying the true meaning of his words. She would have to pay the debt, to pay for her mistake, she had no choice. Lex Luthor as good as owned her.
He stepped back and smiled at her pityingly, giving her a mock salute as he stepped towards the door, "Duty calls, Dee-Dee. Keep up the good work!"
Someone in the Watching Room opened the door right on cue and her tormentor slipped out to pull it shut behind him. Stormkrigeren made no effort to even try to follow him, and she wondered if that proved just how much he had already broken her around his little finger. It didn't matter. From that moment on she swore to never take orders from him again.