Isadora sat alone at her table in Crew's Mess the next morning. The impending summer heat, and her recent leg injury, caused her to dress lightly and comfortably, forgoing some of her wilder selections. She wore a light blue, high-collared, sleeveless mini-dress, a wide, brown leather belt sitting at her waist, and a pair of worn out cowboy boots. Her hair was braided into pigtails that rested lightly on her shoulders.

After he was kind enough to assist her through the food line, Quincy had left her at the table in order to retrieve his own breakfast, confidant that she could handle herself for a few minutes alone. She was casually eating her breakfast, a bowl of hot cereal that she had jazzed up with a heaping spoonful of peanut butter, while scribbling programming diagrams in a large notebook pad.

Each time she finished a diagram, she would scratch it out and start over. She did this whenever she was deep in thought, and it usually had nothing to do with any project or job she was currently working on. On this day, her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Bane. 'The man behind the mask…' she thought. Was there a man, separate from the monster, behind that mask? Perhaps he was both man and monster? Shaking her head at the direction of her thoughts, she concluded, 'No, he is a monster.' She touched her lips as she thought about what his mouth had looked like as he smiled.

Bane entered the mess hall, though not to eat. He never ate with his men; all of his meals were delivered to his quarters. Only a few knew that he no longer used his mask for its intended purpose, and he intended to keep it that way. The mask was a symbol, a technique to instill fear, and also a ploy to let his enemies believe that he had a supposed weakness. Scanning the room for Quincy, he noticed Jack Frost sitting alone, and watched as she wrote furiously with her right hand, her left hand up near her face where she absentmindedly caressed the seam of her lips with the side of her index finger.

He thought she looked beautiful.

Swiftly redirecting his thoughts, Bane concluded that her chosen attire aggravated him. Having no time to observe her at that moment, he pulled his thoughts away from her and caught Quincy as he made his way back to Jack Frost's table. Motioning for Quincy to follow him, they sat down in an opposite corner of the room to talk. During their conversation, Bane's gaze constantly lifted to her. His eyes narrowed as he watched one of his men sit down at her table and join her for breakfast.

"Enjoying the fine dining?"

Isadora looked up from her diagrams to see an unknown man sitting down across from her. He was her age, she figured, cute, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. American. He looked young, too young to be in Bane's crew. She thought, perhaps, that he was newer than most. She looked toward the food line, wondering where Quincy had gone, knowing that he would not approve of this man speaking with her. She smiled politely, looking back at her notebook, intent on her work as she scribbled notes next to her diagram.

Bane watched the exchange and couldn't help but wonder what the man had said to make her smile.

"It's not so bad. You should have tried my mother's cooking," she said, her eyes never leaving her notebook. "The woman could burn water."

The man laughed. "Are you inviting me to meet your mother? We only just met."

His attempt at flirtation was obvious, causing Isadora to smirk at his response.

When she didn't respond, the man added, "I happen to be an amazing chef. Perhaps I will cook for you sometime?"

'Oh, please…' she thought, rolling her eyes.

Bane had watched long enough. Abruptly cutting his conversation with Quincy short, he got up to leave. Quincy followed close behind, just now noticing the young man sitting with Jack Frost.

Upon reaching the table, Bane and Quincy listened in on their conversation.

"That won't be necessary." Still not looking up from her work, she sighed, and then added, "I would kill for a piece of fruit, though. The lack of fresh fruits and vegetables on this boat is seriously disconcerting."

Isadora was still shaking her head when she felt a presence beside her. Looking up, she saw that Bane had stopped at their table, Quincy right beside him. Bane turned his head and stared at the young man, saying nothing. Isadora looked to the man sitting across from her before looking up at Quincy. The murderous look in Quincy's eyes could not be mistaken. Without another word, the unknown man stood up and walked away. Bane gave Isadora a sideways glance and then followed. Setting his food tray down, Quincy took the now unoccupied seat. Nothing more needed to be said, apparently.


Eli and Isadora spent most of the day getting familiar with Dr. Andrew Lucas and his personnel file within Flora-tech. Being the sole developer of the virus, he would have full access to the device. In order to steal it, they would need to imitate his security credentials.

Security codes for Flora-tech personnel changed daily. Isadora had Eli penetrate the security database so, when codes were updated, they would have the latest information for their purposes. Security clearance wasn't just about codes, though. They would still have to acquire Dr. Lucas' fingerprints and copies of his retinal pattern.

Having access to all Flora-tech network computers, Isadora's job for that day was to infiltrate Dr. Lucas' work computer in order to track his movements and figure out his schedule. To her dismay, the good doctor did not use his work computer to keep track of his work schedule or personal business outside of Flora-tech. His calendar was empty, and he secured all incoming and outgoing email before purging everything.

Not to be discouraged, Isadora installed a Keystroke Log onto his computer to track and record all future movements. If nothing came of that, they would have to do things the old-fashioned way and tail him when he left the office, possibly break into his home as well. While she waited, she would continue programming the malware they would use on the device.


That afternoon, while Isadora was programming code, an alarm sounded in one of her programs. She assumed it was her keystroke log for Dr. Lucas' computer and was confused to find that there was no recent activity. Searching for the alarm, she found that it was coming from the silent alarm at the entrance to her apartment. Opening up the view of her security cameras, what she saw caused her eyes to widen significantly.

Standing in the middle of her apartment was Bane.

Turning her laptop so no one in the room could look over her shoulder, she watched, brow furrowed, as Bane wandered through her apartment. He was alone, and he did not seem to be searching for anything in particular. It looked like he was just observing her things.

She knew that she did not leave anything behind that involved her identity or that of her family and friends, but that didn't mean that she was any less anxious at the sight of Bane in her apartment. Glancing up from her laptop, she made sure that the other three men in the room paid no attention to her as she continued to watch Bane.

Seeing nothing in the living room/office area of the apartment, she watched as he went to her kitchen, opening her cupboards and drawers. Nothing of interest there either, apparently. She watched him open her fridge. Empty. Switching camera angles to follow him around, she looked on as he entered her bedroom.

Bane stood in the doorway to her bedroom for some time, just looking around. He went for her dresser next, pulling open all of her drawers and riffling through articles of clothing.

Isadora glared at the screen and shook her head. 'If you bring even one piece of clothing to your nose…' she thought, fidgeting in her seat and looking around her one more time before turning back to the screen. He didn't, though, and she exhaled in relief.

Entering the bathroom just off the bedroom, she watched from the hallway outside as he looked around from the doorway but then turned to head back to the main area of the apartment.

'See nothing you like?' she smirked to herself.

Bane stood for several minutes; his only movement was the turn of his head, as if he were mentally cataloguing the place. Pausing suddenly, he then turned and went to the window that exited out to the fire escape. Opening the window with ease, Isadora watched as Bane exited the apartment.

Unfortunately, she did not have time to set up a security camera on the roof, but she knew that he would not find anything of value up there, just a couple of chairs, a rooftop garden and a couple of potted apple trees.

"How's it coming with that malware, Frost?" Eli said from beside her.

With practiced ease, she took a second to close the window providing the inside view of her apartment, bringing her back to the code she was programming.

Not bothering to look up at Eli, she casually responded, "It's coming along nicely."

"It's crazy how little time it takes you to program code," he continued. "It all seems to come so naturally to you."

"Mm," she agreed with a nod, paying him no attention.

Eli had tried several times to get Jack Frost to converse with him in a more personal manner, instead of just talking about work. He wanted to know more about her, but she was stubborn in her privacy. When she offered no further conversation, he persisted.

"How about you have dinner with me tonight?" he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

She looked up at him, confused. "We eat dinner together almost every night."

Quincy's ears had perked up from his position across the room, intently listening to their conversation, and wondering what the hell Mr. Horowitz was attempting to do.

"I was thinking something a little more private." Eli shrugged, "You know… so we can get to know each other a little better, without escorts and mercenaries constantly looking over our shoulders." He gave a nod in the general direction of Quincy and Atticus.

Atticus also listened to their conversation, inwardly amused.

Isadora said nothing in response as she tried to grasp what exactly he was asking her. Was he… asking her on a date? Was he hitting on her? Why was everyone hitting on her today? 'For crying out loud,' she thought.

Quincy shook his head slightly at the fat man's attempt.

"Um, actually, I was planning on eating dinner in here this evening." Isadora tried to sound convincing, as if she wasn't just pulling an excuse out of her ass. "I really want to finish programming this code."

Eli was incredulous of her response. "All work and no play, Frost?"

"Exactly," she said, agreeing with his words in order to placate him.

Eli smiled. "Maybe another time, then."

Going back to her work, she tried to not let her sudden anxiety overcome her, knowing that Bane was still in her apartment and out of view.


Bane stood atop the roof of Jack Frost's warehouse apartment. He had hoped to gain further insight on her, perhaps find out her name, but was disappointed with his lack of findings. It seemed that she had wiped the apartment clean of any identifiable items.

'She is clever.'

It was what he found on the rooftop that gave him any information about the woman aboard his ship. The garden looked to be well cared-for, and the apple trees ready to bear fruit. He imagined the way she might look as she tended to her garden, her hands dirty from the soil, the way her body would sweat in the summer heat, her hair shining in the sun.

He scoffed at himself, realizing what a distraction this woman had become, tempting him with her defiant looks, indifferent demeanor, and pretty dresses. If she would just submit and tell him her name, he could finally research her and know everything he needed to know. He would not have to play this game with her anymore. He could go back to his work without her constantly on his mind.

Pieces of the conversation that morning between Jack Frost and the annoying young man from his crew came to mind. Perhaps if he gained her trust, she would open up to him. It seemed that a peace offering was in order.


The rain poured down in heavy buckets as Isadora ran to the car in her royal blue cap and gown. Her father opened the door to the back seat, giving her a gentle push inside before the rain soaked through her gown to the beautiful white dress underneath. Her mother threw herself into the passenger seat up front, laughing as she watched her husband run around the car to get inside and out of the rain. They all laughed, together.

'Wait, where's Gabe?' Isadora asked as she looked around wildly for her brother.

'He's catching a ride home with Jenna; he'll meet us there,' her mother said.

'Ooooooo…' Isadora teased, playfully.

'Leave the boy alone, Isa,' her father said from the driver's seat. 'Gabe is shy enough without you teasing him.'

They pulled out of the high school parking lot, heading for home along country roads as the rain pounded the roof of their car with a loud consistency. Isadora, sitting in the middle of the back seat, leaned forward to rest her forearms along the driver and passenger seats, straining against the seatbelt that held her in place.

'Aw, come on. You have to let me get in a few jabs at my baby brother. I'll go off to school next year and there will be no one left to do it, especially since you guys won't step up. And you call yourselves good parents!' she shook her head in mock disappointment, and then giggled.

Barnaby Lake was coming up on the right. They were just rounding the lake when a car appeared, stalled on the lakeside of the road in the T intersection with Ashwood Lane. The torrential downpour made it almost impossible to see the other vehicle. Pulling off to the side of the road behind the stranded car, her father made quick work of his seatbelt in order to go offer assistance.

Her father turned to them before attempting to exit the car. 'You girls stay here. I'll be right back,' he said as he squeezed Isadora's hand still resting on his seat.

Isadora heard the automatic door locks suddenly engage, trapping them inside. An uncomfortable feeling suddenly overcame her. The rain continued to pound harder on the car. The sound was deafening.

Holding her hands over her ears and closing her eyes, she called to her parents in the front seat, 'We have to get out!'

Unable to hear her parent's response, she opened her eyes and looked at them. Both were silent, staring straight ahead. Their skin was pale as death and their eyes vacant.

'Mom! Dad!' she called out, attempting to shake them from their silence.

They wouldn't budge, wouldn't acknowledge her. They were silent. Taking in her surroundings, Isadora realized that everything had gone silent. There was no sound. The car, the rain, even her own voice as she screamed to be heard, was now silent, dead.

She tried opening her door, desperate to get out of the car, but the doors were locked. Glancing out the window to her left, she saw headlights racing toward them from Ashwood Lane.

Isadora could only plaster herself against the door, bracing for impact. She screamed, 'NO!'

Their car rolled and tumbled, over and over again, as the force of the other vehicle tipped them over a small cliff onto the rocky beach below, and then… nothing.

Pain.

Isadora couldn't breathe as the pain radiated from her chest. Every struggling beat of her heart only compounded the painful sensation as she took in her surroundings. She was upside down, her seatbelt holding her in place as her arms dangled above her. Thick shards of glass sparkled from some unknown source of light, only to be snuffed out as her blood began to drip away from her body, drowning the shards in darkness. Her dangling arms were covered in blood, gravity pulling the blood that leaked from her chest over her face and downward. She was alone. She could do nothing but scream her silent scream.


Bane had entered Radio late that evening to find Jack Frost sleeping peacefully at her desk, her head resting on her folded arms. He looked over and briefly made eye contact with Quincy who had taken over the security monitors for a while after Atticus' shift had ended.

"She insisted on working late," Quincy said, returning his eyes to the security monitors in front of him. He knew why she insisted on working late, but he felt that he did not need to divulge that information to Bane.

Approaching her, Bane tilted his head as he looked upon her, thinking that she looked so innocent in sleep, so vulnerable. Taking advantage of that vulnerability, he stepped closer, carefully sweeping a lock of hair from her face. He did not retreat and instead, looked closer.

Her sudden cry caused him to step away from her.

"No!" she cried out as she began to thrash around.

Quincy looked away from the security monitors to Bane, concerned. Bane only continued to watch her, waiting for her to utter something of use to him as she struggled within her nightmare.

Isadora's eyes shot open as she gasped for breath, unconsciously throwing herself backwards into her office chair as she clutched at her chest.

Pain.

She could still feel it. Even now, seven years later, she remembered what it felt like to be impaled in the chest by the debris from the crash. Whimpering at the remembered pain, she tried to calm her breathing.

'Breathe… breathe… it was just a dream.'

It was always the same dream. She should have been used to it after so many years, night after night, waking up to the agony of an old wound. The odd thing was, she could not remember any details from the actual crash that took the lives of her parents. Most of that day was still lost to her. And yet the same dream plagued her. It had been a long time since she last had the dream. She wondered why it was making an appearance.

When she gasped for breath and launched herself from her desk, Bane knew she was finally awake. Looking to Quincy, Bane silently nodded, indicating that Quincy could take his leave.

Quincy dutifully stood and left the room.

Bane continued to observe her as she clutched her chest, whimpering in pain, attempting to calm herself. He was all too familiar with nightmares. He had woken up in similar ways after he was beaten within an inch of his life in the Pit, clutching at the areas of his body that remembered the pain still.

Bane placed one hand on the edge of her desk and kneeled down next to her, calmly stating, "You were dreaming."

Isadora didn't flinch at his sudden appearance, still too affected by her nightmare to care that he had been there while she slept and had witnessed her dreaming. She still winced in pain, her brow furrowing.

"Are you in pain?" he asked, his mechanical voice gentle.

Still absentmindedly grasping at her chest, she gave him a terse sideways glance before she responded.

"No."

"You are lying to me," he scolded her.

Isadora looked directly at him then, unsure of what to say. Not seeing the harm in answering his question truthfully, she spoke, "I'm not in any real pain… it's… an old pain."

"Ah," he began, satisfied with her response, "I, too, know of such pain. The body remembers all too well, does it not? It never lets us forget."

Looking into his blue-green eyes, she shook her head in agreement. "No… it doesn't."

Thoughts of the extensive scarring on his back came to mind. He probably knew exactly how she felt. She wondered what could have possibly caused such horrific scars, but then stopped herself, realizing that she would rather not know.

Bane continued to stare at her, meaningfully. His eyes fell to her chest for just a brief moment before settling on her eyes once again.

"What happened to you?"

A flicker of annoyance appeared on her face. Suddenly desperate to occupy herself with other tasks, she shut down her laptop as she responded, "I do not wish to say."

Bane watched as she retrieved her messenger bag from the floor and slipped her laptop inside. His lips twitched with amusement underneath his mask. She knew that she could not lie to him, resulting in her refusal to answer. Few have ever refused him and survived. And yet she kept refusing him, and he continued to let her.

"Very well," he said, accepting her answer. Bane stood and offered his hand to her. "The hour is late. Off to bed."

It was a challenge, she realized, a game. Isadora had no intention of willingly letting him touch her again. Looking from his offered hand up to his eyes, she could clearly see that he was trying to provoke her. She smiled, knowingly.

Bane, however, found that he reveled in her smile.

Steadily, without breaking eye contact and using her desk for leverage, she pushed herself up and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder. His close proximity meant that she was nose-to-chest with him upon standing, much closer than she felt comfortable with.

Bane's eyes followed her as she eased her way around him, picking up her crutches and making her way out the door. His hidden smile was genuine as he escorted her back to her room.


Quincy arose at 05:00 hours that next morning to a steady knock at his door. Shirtless and only in black boxer-briefs, he pulled his pistol from underneath his pillow and walked to the opposite side of the room, opening the door an inch to observe whoever was on the other side.

Solomon, who watched the security monitors in Radio during the night shift, stood before him at attention. He was Indian in descent, lanky, and with boyish features. He really was just a kid by crew standards.

Quincy then opened the door wider.

"Sir," the young man greeted him.

"What is it, Solomon?" Quincy said calmly, leaning through the doorway and looking down the hallway in both directions. It was empty.

"I wanted to bring your attention to an attempted security breach by a member of the crew. It happened last night during my watch."

Quincy glared at the young man. "Why am I just hearing about this now?"

Solomon hesitated, and then shifted his eyes to the door down the hall, hoping to clarify his answer. "The attempt was unsuccessful. I felt it could wait until morning."

Following the direction of Solomon's eyes, Quincy's irritation relented, curiosity taking over. Leaving his door wide open, he stepped back inside and dressed quickly.

Quincy was still zipping up the fly to his cargo pants as he exited his room. "Show me."

The playback footage was paused on the screen, ready to be displayed, as Quincy followed Solomon into Radio. Taking the open seat in front of the security monitor, Quincy started the playback as Solomon watched over his shoulder. The footage was of the hallway to his living quarters; the time stamp read 02:23 hours.

Watching the empty hallway intently, he waited a few seconds before a figure walked into view. Stevens, a newer recruit, the same blonde-haired, blue-eyed idiot that was talking up Jack Frost in the mess hall the previous morning, was walking casually down the hallway, an area of the ship that he was forbidden to enter. Quincy observed as Stevens walked the entire length of the hallway, purposefully, reaching the opposite end and continuing until he was out of sight.

Quincy, whose nose was six inches away from the screen as he scrutinized the footage, was equally relieved and angry. He relaxed, leaning away from the security monitor. Stevens walked on past, no damage done. Perhaps he was unaware of his position on the ship, being a newer member of the crew.

"Just wait," Solomon said, gesturing to the screen.

Looking back at the footage, Quincy waited several more seconds before Stevens came into view again, walking back down the hallway and stopping outside Jack Frost's door.

"Motherfucker," Quincy muttered as he stared wide-eyed at the screen.

He watched as Stevens stood in front of her door; taking a moment to look down the hallway in both directions, before trying the door handle to her room. Thankfully, it appeared to be locked. Not to be deterred, Stevens reached into his back pocket and produced a small pouch, which Quincy could identify as a lock-picking kit.

"Son of a bitch!" Quincy roared, jumping out of his seat and slamming his hands down on the table on either side of the monitor.

Quincy continued to watch, absolutely livid. After about 30 seconds, he watched as Stevens stood up abruptly and ran down the hallway in the opposite direction of whatever startled him. After a few seconds, Quincy watched as Bane walked into view. Coming to a stop in front of Jack Frost's door, Bane leaned against the opposite wall and stood there, motionless.

"That's it," Solomon said, reaching in front of Quincy to pause the footage.

Standing back from the desk, his eyes still on the paused footage of Bane standing in front of Jack Frost's door, Quincy turned to Solomon and asked, "How long did he stand there?"

Solomon was hesitant to answer, but Quincy was his superior officer of sorts, and was required to answer his questions truthfully. "Until about 04:00 hours."

Quincy eyed Solomon with a questioning look.

Understanding his silent question, Solomon added, "He stands outside her door most nights, only for a couple of hours. He never disturbs her, though."

Satisfied, Quincy absentmindedly nodded. "Does he know yet?" he said, turning back to Solomon.

"No, Sir. I came to you directly, as ordered."

Quincy spoke as he made his way to the door, "Queue up the footage again. I'll be right back."

Seething in anger, Quincy rushed to the Control Room of the ship where Bane's sleeping quarters resided.


"You have been where you shouldn't... brother," Bane said as he threw Stevens into the closest empty room.

Stevens was nervous, looking back and forth from Quincy to Bane as he stumbled backwards. Playing innocent, he said, "I don't know what you mean."

Bane glared at the fool before him. "My instructions were explicit. The woman is not to be touched."

"I didn't touch her!"

"Ah, but my eyes are far reaching on this ship," Bane said while pointing upwards, watching the man's eyes follow his direction as he gestured toward a security camera.

Knowing he'd been caught, Stevens began to plead, "I wasn't gonna hurt her, I just wanted a closer look. Can you blame me? Pretty little thing with her 'fuck me' pigtails and short skirts." He smiled at his own assessment of Jack Frost, attempting to be congenial.

Bane was now brooding, darkness overcoming him in that moment.

"No one is to touch her." Bane continued, stepping closer to the man and towering over him, "No one is to look at her. Are my orders clear?"

Stevens sputtered, no longer able to look at Bane and instead, looking at the floor, "Y-yes, Sir."

"Good. Now... I think I shall make an example of your actions."


Wearing her tight, green, D&D Dice 'Choose Your Weapon' t-shirt, Isadora struggled to pull on her skinny jeans as she sat precariously on the edge of the bottom bunk, trying not to place an excessive amount of weight on her injured leg. Even with the, now minimal, bandaging on her knee, she realized a little too late that removing her jeans later on could be problematic. But her good mood would not be deterred and she vowed to deal with the consequences. After securing her grey, high-top sneakers to her feet, she opted to leave her crutches behind in the hopes that she could start strengthening her right leg. Slipping the strap to her messenger bag over her head, she opened the door to her room and walked out into the hallway. Checking her watch, it was 7:00 A.M. and Quincy was nowhere to be found. Walking down the hall a little ways to his room, she knocked on his door and waited.

No answer.

Having an odd feeling, knowing that Quincy was always outside her door in the mornings to walk with her to breakfast, she went in search of him. She did not venture into areas of the ship that she didn't know, deciding to just head to breakfast as usual and keep an eye out for him on her way there.

Isadora was about to turn a corner when she heard a familiar voice a little ways down from where she was standing. It was Bane's voice, she was absolutely certain. Instead of turning the corner, she continued forward, inching her way down the hall until she reached an open doorway.

Knowing she wasn't supposed to be in this area, she stood flush against the wall as she peeked through the doorway and into the room. Bane was talking to one of his men, Quincy standing at his side. She pulled back immediately only to slowly peek through the doorway again, realizing that they had not noticed her. She watched the exchange; Bane looming over the man standing before him, Quincy looking so angry he might start shooting members of the crew at random. Isadora then recognized the man, his blonde hair and blue eyes. He was the same man who had hit on her the day before.

"No one is to touch her. No one is to look at her." Bane almost looked crazed as the man before him practically cowered at his feet. "Are my orders clear?"

She figured he would get in trouble for speaking to her, knowing that Quincy kept her away from the rest of the crew for a reason.

"Y-yes, Sir." The man spoke to Bane's feet, obviously shaken.

"Good," she heard Bane say, his deadly tone was something that she had yet to witness. She watched as he continued, his words an obvious threat, "Now… I think I shall make an example of your actions."

She watched Bane's eyes flash in twisted delight as he took hold of the man's head with both hands, and while steadily looking into his eyes, broke the man's neck with quick brutality.

With a sharp and thankfully silent gasp, her eyes followed the body as it fell to the ground. She stared at the body for a moment before returning her eyes to Bane. To her surprise, Bane and Quincy were watching her. She looked at them, calmly, not saying a word. She refused to be intimidated by him. Retreating back to the state of indifference that she struggled to keep at all times, she turned and walked away.


Bane did not know what to expect from her reaction, but he did not expect the direct way her eyes had met his. He looked at the now empty doorway for a moment before speaking to Quincy.

"Go with her."

Quincy gave a silent nod and made for the door.

"And Quincy…" Bane began, looking upon the body at his feet with utter loathing.

Quincy turned around at the doorway to face Bane.

"Hang his body for the crew to see. Let it be a message to all that my orders are not to be ignored."

With another silent nod, Quincy left the room in search of Jack Frost.


'What the fuck! Was that necessary?' Isadora screamed internally as her pace quickened and she rushed to get away from the horrible scene.

Was this what it meant to be a crewmember on this ship? Any minor infraction and the boss would end your life? She couldn't fathom what could possibly deserve such severe punishment. And it was just because he spoke to her? Ridiculous. And the look in his eyes when he did it… he enjoyed it.

Quincy caught up with her just as she reached Crew's Mess. Isadora couldn't look him in the eye, knowing he was culpable for what she had just witnessed. She couldn't account for the deep disappointment she now felt. Scolding herself for feeling it, she was now absolutely certain that Bane was not a man at all. He was the cruelest form of monster.

'Bane was right about one thing,' she mused. 'I have no friends aboard this ship.'