Conner watched Noah and Robyn leave and close the door behind them. Robyn locked the door behind her as had been the norm since Conner had been brought back to Hearthome. The library had become his new bedroom with the administration building being cut off for all of the patients. Conner stayed sitting at the table, patiently counting 300 seconds in his head. When he hit the final number, he slowly pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, stretching his arms above his head.

"Conner."

Conner, still stretching, turned around. "Right on cue. You truly are military."

Jason Ryan stood with his arms crossed, his face looking as if it were made of stone. The usual friendly twinkle that generally permeated his eyes was gone – and had been, for the last seven days.

"How are they?" Jason asked after a moment, glancing to the wooden doors of the library.

"None the wiser," Conner said, rolling his shoulders and feeling the pleasure of his bones cracking lightly underneath. "How's the hand?"

Jason took a moment to absently look at his left hand which had been wrapped tightly in bandages. "Getting better."

"Always a good thing," Conner wandered over to Jason. "And dare I ask, how are you?"

Jason glanced sharply at Conner.

"Jesus Christ," Conner sighed. "You'd think I just said I'd killed your first-born. Just asking how you are, calm down."

"We're not friends. We are simply working together to achieve our goals," Jason said sternly.

"Trust me, I don't want to be friends with you," Conner shook his head. "But I can imagine what you might be going through so thought maybe I could give a useful gem or two."

"You got no clue," Jason growled.

"Oh?" Conner raised an amused eyebrow. "Killing people? Nah, I wouldn't have a clue would I?" Jason did not respond. "Was it your first time outside the battlefield?" Again, Jason did not respond. Conner studied his face. "Interesting. Not the first time. But been a long while. Never gets easier, does it? One thing to shot a guy shooting back at you. Entirely different to beat a bound and gagged man into a bloody pulp."

"Enough." Jason's voice was firm.

"Got ya. Apologies for my concern. So, is everything set up? Got the van in place?"

"Just as you wanted."

"You say that like you don't trust me."

"I don't."

Conner snorted. "Well, you wanted me for my mind and for my plans. So at the very least, trust in the plan."

"It's a risky plan," Jason said slowly. "I am choosing not to trust but to at least accept it. It does have some merit of making sense. But Conner, I need your absolute assurance that no-one gets hurt."

"One day, Jason, you'll see that the last thing I want any more is bloodshed. If you've got everything where it needs to be, then everything will be fine. It'll be a shock to the system. There'll be a little panic. The therapists might have their work cut out for them. All eyes will be on the administration building." Conner winked. "Exactly like we need it to be. It's just those four and then we'll be exactly where we need to be." He extended his hand out. "So gimme it and then we can be off."

Jason stared at Conner's hand and then looked up into his eyes.

"And you're ready for this? You're ready to put yourself in those shoes again?"

"You worried I'm about to go on a murdering spree?" Conner scoffed. "I'm fed up of trying to prove myself to anyone. It'll be an act. I'm not happy about it either but this will be the most effective way to get what we need. If you don't believe that, then you can leave me in this library and try and figure out what to do yourself. Otherwise, accept it!"

Jason's eyes narrowed and for nearly a minute he bore a hole into Conner. Finally he reached into his jacket and threw an object lightly at Conner.

It twisted once in the air and Conner caught it with a well-practiced movement. He spun the gleaming knife twice around his fingers before balancing it on one-finger and staring at the blade. It was the shortest of his collection, the same knife that Rebecca Watts wielded against Noah.

It was the first time since the deal had been made that Conner had held one of his own knives. Every centimeter of it was more familiar to him than his own body. Yet, despite all that…

"Hrm," Conner smiled sadly. "It feels a little heavier than I remember." Nevertheless he flicked it up into the air and caught it. "I suppose that makes sense."

"This is not a matter of trust. This is just for you to play your part." Jason stepped in close so he was almost nose-to-nose with Conner. "No changing the plan."

"It's my plan," Conner smirked. "Of course I'm not gonna change it. If they are so obsessed with the Ripper, Conner Shepherd, then I'll show them exactly what they wanna see. When it's over, they will be more than happy to run the fuck away from here. They don't need to be scared of you or Pigritia. They need to be scared of me." Conner flicked the knife underneath his shirt, tucked under his waistband.

Conner and Jason walked to the corner of the library, where hidden behind the aisles were a small service door that if you weren't looking for it, you wouldn't even know it was there. Jason had snuck in in the week and gave Conner a near heart-attack. However, this hidden exit proved a great way in and out of the library without unlocking the main door. Jason assured Conner that not even the orderlies knew of this door as it was long forgotten about.

Just as they reached the door, Conner stopped and looked back at Jason.

"We're on your time limit, Shepherd, so get moving."

"Whether or not he deserved it, Paulie was a murderer," Conner said quietly. "He murdered Imogen Banks and laughed about, drowning her in the mud. Out of the people you could have chosen, Paulie is certainly the one you don't have to feel guilty about."

"I don't feel guilty about it," Jason said firmly.

"No?"

"No." Jason replied. His expression faltered for a moment. "What I am… worried about is Johann might already be…"

"Nah. He's the last bargaining chip, right? She's gotta keep him alive if she wants to see her fake allies again. So your professor fella will be fine. By the end of today, we'll have both him safe and sound and Pigritia in our clutches. You don't have to trust me, but that's a damn promise." Conner grinned. "And we'll both get what we want."

There was still a drop of blood on a box of old files. She couldn't look away. It was a terrifying reminder of what had happened, and no matter how much they tried to clean up, they just couldn't hide the evidence. Rebecca Watts felt the tremble through her body as the drop stared back at her. Her hands were still bound, as were her ankles, but they had left her and the others ungagged now. They fed them and gave them water. But that was all. They had become prisoners of the DHP and the monster who called himself Jason Ryan.

The way the blood had dripped from his knuckles, had stained his face. A face that had permeated throughout Rebecca's nightmares over the last week. Poor Paul. Did he deserve such a fate? He had murdered Imogen Heap, but Rebecca had always been raised with the belief that an eye-for-an-eye makes the whole world go blind.

And was she any better? She had attacked Noah Barker, had stabbed him with that knife, felt it slide into his flesh. She would have killed him had she not been stopped. No, Gula would have killed him. We're the same person! You can't just put it all on a mask, can you? You're no better than Paulie, no better than Jason Ryan, you're just as responsible!

"Your thoughts are deafening," Dave grumbled from where he sat across from Rebecca in the supply closet. The bruises were slowly fading from his face, but the swelling over his left eye hadn't died down at all.

Rebecca looked at him with wide eyes. "S-S-Sorry."

"We'll get out of this," Dave said. "We have to."

"We're done, Dave, done," Derrick said from beside Dave. His arm was still in its makeshift brace. When he spoke, Rebecca could see the missing teeth that had been dislodged and displaced. "We're not getting out of this."

"This is illegal and we're innocent!" Dave replied firmly. "We just did what we were asked to, that's all. We shouldn't have been punished like this, Paulie shouldn't have—"

"Paulie got himself killed the moment he murdered Banks," Marcus Morris, the final prisoner in the room, said from his position. "If it wasn't by him, then it would have been by Pigritia. He went off the plan that was given to us."

"And what do you think is going to happen to us?" Derrick asked fearfully. "He's going to take us, one by one, until we end up in the same hole that Paulie did!"

"Look, we did what we were asked, I know," Marcus sighed deeply. "But that's it for us. We just got to wait for an opportunity and then we escape Hearthome, get the hell out of here. It's a shame, I like this place, but…"

"Escape Hearthome?" Dave raised a eyebrow. "Ain't no chance we're going to escape Hearthome. Whatever lockdown they have is still in place. We can't leave these walls."

"Then we'll force our way, the four of us, it won't be a problem," Marcus said firmly. "We know where the gates are, we know where the controls are, it will be simple. We just have to work together. Fuck the DHP and fuck the Sins. We're done."

"No!" Rebecca found herself speaking up. She was terrified at the prospect of leaving Hearthome, terrified at the DHP, terrified of the Sins. The whole situation, her whole life, was now steeped in terror. "We did what we did. Just because we don't remember why we did it doesn't change the fact that we did. We accept it, we should just accept it!"

"Have you forgotten about Paulie?" Derrick asked, the fear thick in his voice.

"None of us have forgotten," Marcus said. He turned back to Rebecca. Marcus had always been friendly, unlike Dave and Derrick, who had abused their positions as orderlies. Marcus had just been someone who enjoyed cooking and talking. Someone like him shouldn't have been involved and yet here they were. But why? Rebecca couldn't answer that question. None of them could. They had accepted the job given to them, with no arguments needed, and now here they were, facing their repercussions.

Knock, knock. All four pairs of eyes looked at the door. Knock.

Rebecca found a shiver running through her body again. This wasn't like Jason Ryan. In the last week, he would just march in, ask questions, and then leave. There was no knocking on doors.

There was a click, the handle turned, and the door opened.

Conner Shepherd stood in the doorway, his usual wolfish grin on his face.

"Hi folks," Conner said, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. He turned around and with a flick of his fingers, the knife appeared in his palm. He raised the blade in front of his mouth and slowly dragged his tongue across the silver blade. He quivered. The faint tang of copper echoed off his tongue. His tongue flicked off the tip of the blade and he looked at each of the people in the room, one by one, his eyes wild and fierce. "How's it going?"

"Shep-" Marcus started by in two swift steps Conner was suddenly in front of the much larger man, the knife glinting just underneath Marcus' cheek.

"Nah, nah, nah. No talking. Ain't time for you guys to talk. It's time for me to talk, you understand? If any of the four of you speak a single word to me, then…" Conner flicked the knife a tiny amount, just enough to draw a tiny slice into the meat of Marcus' cheek. "I'm gonna start carving. And by the time I'm done, the things Jason Ryan has done to you… Well, you'll be begging for his help." Conner straightened up and walked towards Derrick next. "Jason just broke some bones. Caused some bruises. Killed a guy. That's nothing." He spun on his heel almost as if he were dancing and squatted in front of Dave. "With a blade like this, I can be very delicate" He flicked his knife again, cutting a tiny sliver from Dave's nose. The big man's eyes widened.

Conner's spun in a full circle again and dropped to his knees directly in front of Rebecca. Rebecca squeaked and tried to back away as best as her bindings could do. "Awww… come on. Don't be scared. This is the knife you were given. Did you think it was a bad knife? Nah, this is the best one. It makes things that much more personal." Another flick of the wrist and a tiny cut appeared in between Rebecca's eyebrows. She winced and froze stock-still like a deer in headlights. A tiny bead of blood appeared from the cut and Conner leaned forward and darted the tip of his tongue, catching the bead neatly before drawing his tongue back in.

"So you guys wanted to make me the scape-goat!" Conner announced, popping back up to his feet. "You guys want to spread rumours of my past. You want people to know Conner Shepherd. If you want people to know something about someone, then you better know everything about them. So let me be your teacher, let me give you some first-hand experience."

Conner regarded each of them in turn, staring at them until they turned away. Deep in the pit of his stomach, he felt sick. But it was no time to worry about that. He needed to show them something fearful, something more terrifying that the Sins could ever be. "But don't worry folks, I ain't gonna kill ya. See, what's gonna happen is that you are going to do exactly what I say. You going to follow it to the letter. And maybe, if you are all good boys and girls, you may have the opportunity to redeem yourselves in the eyes of whatever deity you worship. And once you have been redeemed by them, then you will have been redeemed by me. 'Cause by the time I'm done, you will grovel at my feet as if I were your very Deity itself!"