A few nights after Tom had gone, Anna was suffering. She hadn't been sleeping and she was really struggling to come to terms with Tom not being there and what that meant for her. She looked at her watch: 3.01am. She needed to sleep but it wasn't happening. She closed her eyes and was bombarded with images of Blackburn's eyes staring pitilessly down at her, his hand around her neck. She messaged Blackburn on netsend.
Are u awake?
Instant response: Yes…
Can we talk?
I'll come get you. There are guards patrolling. Can't have them catch you.

Ten minutes later there was a tap on the door. It was quiet, so as not to wake Daisy who lay sleepful and motionless on her bed. Anna crept out, wondering if she was making a terrible mistake. It felt like asking the question again back on Stow – why do you keep me around? A knife tip, balancing on the edge of a tightrope. Dazzling the air. He stood there, large and imposing, with his stern face, and his sharp, dark eyes of terrifying, merciless determination. The Ghost in the Machine. The mass murderer who had brutally, efficiently and cruelly killed thousands of people. She couldn't connect that fact to the man in front of her. It was too large. She snuck out, easing past him, and they tiptoed silently and with practised ease to his lab. She slipped inside and he turned the lock. Her heart clenched though she knew he only meant it as a precaution. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, leaving her tingling. She should leave. She should not have come. She should have lived with the uncertainty. She could have done it, surely she could have coped? Anna chided herself. It was too late now.

He motioned with a heavy hand for her to sit, and then sat and faced her. His hair was cut short again but not military short. He rubbed his chin. "What's up Faeilr?" She stood on the edge of the precipice again, dancing along like lightening.
"Tom's…" she paused. If Tom was truly the reason for her life then her next sentence would condemn her or at least give him the opportunity. And she had snuck down here of her own 'free' will to bring it up! Stupid! No.. she took a breath. Tom wasn't the only reason she was alive. Was he?
"Faeilr." She realised she hadn't said anything for a couple of minutes.
"Sorry, um Tom Raines. He is missing. Do you, do you know where he is?" She cast her eyes downwards.
His tone was curt. "Yes."
Her eyes glanced up. He looked grim. "Did you make him disappear?" She whispered in shock.
"No."
"Is he okay?"
The Lieutenant's lip curled. "No."
"Can you help him?"
"See previous answer" he replied bitterly. Anna was confused. "What was your question Faeilr? What was the real reason you had me sneak you down here?"
"What about me?"
The Professor looked perplexed. "What do you mean?"
"What about me? Are you going to… Tom Raines was the reason you didn't murder me. After Olivia. Are you gonna.."
She looked up at him, desperation flooding her eyes. He looked surprised. "No" he muttered. "No, I have the tracker. You aren't going anywhere. Decline Whyndham Harks." His brow furrowed. "Do it!" he ordered fiercely. She nodded.
"Fine. Okay" she muttered. Blackburn looked like he was about to say something else but stopped himself. With a fluttering heart Anna kept her gaze glued to his as she left the room. His gaze before the door slammed shut troubled her greatly. He had looked like he was troubled and reconsidering. Like he was regretting his decision.

Anna rejected Whyndham Harks the very next day, tears splashing across her keyboard as she typed her apologies. It had been her one chance to get away, her one chance at freedom. But she would never, ever be free.

So a few weeks passed. Blackburn taught, but seemed to switch between being distant and disconnected, to raging a furious blaze of fire on them, infecting them with rigorous programming skills as if urgency was the key. Anna saw the signs of change, of a storm coming, building on the horizon. So, as she had on the island, she began preparing for the time it would strike. She downloaded survival skills for the landscape around them into her processor. She mapped escape routes, noted times when security was rampant and when it was less so and stored away certain ingredients that could be combined to make poisons or healing tonics. She packed a travel bag with emergency clothes and hid it in a storage vent near the basement. She packed another just in case the first was found, and placed it in the ceiling tiles. Anna knew her movements were tracked by Blackburn so when hiding the bags she had been careful to have an excuse for being down there. She cursed the tracker in her foot, now healed completely, that led bloody footprints into the ether wherever she went. Blackburn had verbally assured her she was safe but that look…. She shivered. That look had been chilling. Something dangerous was afoot. So as her fellow Plebes slept, ate and laughed and went about their daily routines, Anna kept preparing. She sent a netvirus detailing everything that had happened, all that she knew. That had been painful and difficult to write, to relive, but also cathartic. Her fingers had stumbled over the keyboard, cautiously and hesitantly at first but then they had flown over the keys with vigour and aggression. She carefully piggybacked it onto another email and bounced it across the world, expertly tracing it so that it arrived safely. That was a backup plan. And she watched Blackburn, watched his rigour, the tension in his shoulders, the slight circles under his eyes indicating he had slept little but had spent the small hours researching. And she waited.

There was another trip planned. The Plebes were split randomly into groups of 10 or 11 and were given an instructor. They were to do another survival expedition. After Canva, there had been a lot of preparation to ensure something similar did not occur, headed by Blackburn. He had been heavily involved in the defences and planning for this trip. Each group would go somewhere different and it was a lot of work security-wise. But, with the more militant atmosphere and focus of the Spire it was felt that an excursion was useful for showing the reality of fighting and survival. Anna was allocated to Mange's group and she waited with the other Plebes, milling around the entrance hall, waiting. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the burly figure of the Lieutenant, dressed in black, passing on his way to his huddled mass of ten Plebes and her blood froze. BLAM! Suddenly warning sirens were blaring in her head. She couldn't stop it and she didn't know why, but something was off. Something was not right! He looked determined and resolute, almost predatory. She couldn't understand how no one else had noticed it! Anna thought of the storm to come. She thought of the Plebes surrounding Blackburn, excitement on their faces. Vik Ashwan, Wyatt Enslow, Daisy and other innocents. She snorted, she internally categorised them as innocents, in direct opposition to herself. Yet she did feel protective over them to an extent. She took a deep breath of air, gulped, and made a decision. She turned to talk to Mange. "I am going to be switching groups Sir. I have had it agreed with Lieutenant Blackburn." Mange looked like he was about to argue. He scowled, his furry grey eyebrow furrowing. He spoke: "we've spent weeks on preparation, and you want to change groups last minute?" He marched over to Blackburn. Anna quickly sent a message on netsend:
Agree. DO it!
Blackburn pinned her with his stare and she met his with furious, determined, dark eyes. He raised an eyebrow and turned his attention to a visibly annoyed Mange. "Yes?"
Mange pursed his wrinkled lips. "Miss Faeilr says that she has been moved into your group. Is this true?"
Blackburn flashed her a look. He looked concerned but there was slight amusement curling on the corners of his mouth. Behind that, something dark and dangerous, just invisible. Her eyes flashed furiously, daring him to disagree. "Yes" he growled, gravelly tones resonating through her as he side-eyed her. "If you have a problem with that, take it up with Frayne." So Mange grumbled but reluctantly let Anna join the group. Warily, Blackburn eyed her. "Mistake Faeilr" he muttered, and her stomach dropped. Yes, the storm was about to hit.

Their group of 11 and Blackburn headed to their location: an old army bunker. They had left the vactrain and made their way by minibus to the windy moor under which the bunker lay. As they neared it Blackburn stopped them. As they had walked Anna had noticed the way his bulging muscles tightened, how he was like a tiger or a panther, dangerous, seemingly relaxed but tense and ready at the same time, using a casual amble. So she was keeping one hand close to the knife in her pocket. Blackburn tapped a few buttons on his keyboard and Anna followed his eyes as they perched, one by one, on the pupils, watching them as they subtly shivered in turn. The Plebes didn't even notice it. He was sending them some sort of programme! Then his eyes dropped on her's. They bore into her's as he sent a virus to her processor. Due to her extensive and expertly built firewall, it would take a while for Blackburn to get any virus past it, and he knew it. The virus popped up for her to discard or to accept. A message pinged from Blackburn, Accept it. Or you'll wish you had.
Furious, Anna made to accept, mentally hovering over the button. But she just couldn't do it. She didn't know what it was for, she had no idea. The title was just a bunch of random numbers that made no sense. She shook her head. Blackburn stalked over to her and she winced. "Accept it" he growled, his fingers pressing painfully into her shoulder, hard enough to leave a bruise.
"No" she muttered under her breath, and he tightened his grip. It was becoming very painful, throbbing through her in a current of electricity as she tried to jerk away. "Let me go."
"Accept".
"What is it?" she asked in desperation.
He studied her, pressing his fingers still harder into her shoulder, pinching her as tears welled in her eyes from the pain. "It disables the location on your profile" he muttered as the group continued en route to the bunker. They were at the back of the group, treading on springy moorland. "Wahg? Why? Ouch!"
"Accept Faeilr or I will make you spend every break, lunch and afterschool in detention with me. I will take your weekends from here to next year and you will regret it. And I will fail your little friend Daisy. She will flunk her tests and her career will be ruined. And it will be on you."
She gaped at him open mouthed as they trudged. "You would do that?" but even as she spoke she knew. She saw it in his eyes, his dark eyebrows and strong muscles. In his stance, and deadly fingers. He would.

Mutely she nodded, angry specks flaunting her eyes. She accepted and convulsed slightly as the virus disabled her location. Blackburn shot her a predatory grin that sent shivers down her spine.
"Stop!" He called out and the Plebes did. He took them further on to where another vehicle was waiting. It was sleek and black and shiny. A stolen or redeveloped airship! Gasps rang out as the Plebes surveyed the wonder. It would have cost millions. There was no way Blackburn could afford such a beauty! He bade them to get on. Anna felt the noose tighten around their necks as they slid into the plush, leather seats. He took the controls and the Plebes screamed as it shot into the air. Vik hollered out joyful exclamations and Wyatt pressed her face into his shoulder to hide her sight from the heights. Anna felt sick. This ship would not be traced. There were no tracks like with the minibus, they would appear to have simply have vanished from the moor.

"Lieutenant Blackburn Sir," asked Wyatt as they landed. His eyes lightly landed on her, with regret and some affection marring the look. "Why are we here? Where are we?"
He bade them all to exit the vehicle and guarded them as they surveyed the windy, hilly mountains they had landed in. They were in between several peaks, in a hidden area. The middle of nowhere. Plebes huddled together against the cold, jackets tightly pressed around their bodies as they were rocketed side to side by sizzling gusts. Blackburn opened a steel grate from which a ladder descended into the darkness. "It is a change of plan for the exercise" he told them. "You are going to the bunker down here instead." The Plebes eyed the hole warily but gingerly made their way into its depths. Anna was last, horror ever mounting. She looked at him with pleading, wide eyes. "Please." She whispered. He simply gripped her neck and forced her down before climbing down after her and slamming the steel lid with a bang.

The Plebes emerged into a large underground cavern. It was largely stone and dulled with soft light from lamps. Clearly Blackburn had set things up there. At one end there was a roughly hewn rectangle, etched into the base. "Go stand in the rectangle", he commanded, and, like good little soldiers, the Plebes did. But Anna caught the look of uncertainty in his face and gulped. This was it. The storm had come.