1.1 Section 3: The Lower Level



Elise walked nonchalantly down the hall. She didn't know where she was walking and it didn't matter. All she could think about was how stupid she was for setting herself up like that. The moment had been the ultimate flash back for her. But he isn't like them. He's just some poor schmuck looking for a good time! I can't believe I over reacted like that. And to think this is only my first day working with him. How embarrassing. She reached some lonely hallway, which, by the look of it, had a blown fuse in the lights. They flickered faintly, casting a sinister glow that fused all things together. Staring down that curving hall was like looking through a circular kaleidoscope with fog swirling in it. She'd have to tell Brock about it. Speaking of Brock, if she wasn't mistaken, she should be near where the engine room would be. He said something about going down there to check the fuel. How long ago had that been? How far had she wandered?

To go back the other way would bring her to the hallway connecting to the bedchambers and to the way back to the front of the craft, so this must be the way to the engine room. Just to make sure she said "Lights On". Nothing happened, and so she placed her hand on the slick metal surface of the wall and began down the hallway. The cool metal made her fingertips tingle slightly. She glided smoothly along. Hardly a sound from her lightly falling footsteps echoed through the ominous dark of the winding corridor.

Nearly 30 yards in she saw the light begin to increase. She turned a tightly curving corner and saw the source of the light. There was a hole going down to the lower levels of the ship. Light was protruding from there. She walked quickly over to it and peered down for a moment before swinging her legs onto the ladder and making her way down. She made no sound jumping down off the ladder when there were no more rungs. In the dim light she could see she appeared to be standing in the center of a disaster area. Things were strewn about and things clacked and clanged with no apparent regularity. Wires hung down and out of everything, but fortunately everything still looked like it worked. It looked as if this also was the storage area. There were boxes upon boxes, all nailed shut and strapped tightly to the floor with leather binding. The room itself looked to be rectangular, but she was closer to one end than the other. Brock was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't mean much since there were doors leading out of the room every 10 feet or so. She went in the direction she couldn't see the end of, and was surprised when she saw a bag that looked exactly like her own. She stooped down to open it. Inside were her things, but she couldn't figure out why they would be down there, or why it was that particular bag that had been brought down. In it were her books and IMC's. (Information Micro Chip's) Then she heard it, a soft hissing sound. She slowly stood up. Her leather boots squelched as she turned in the direction of the sound. It sounded like it was coming from further along the room. Crouching slightly, she agilely made her way toward it. As she came closer, she saw sparks and realized it was a torch for metal. She was able to see the tool, but not it's owner. The tool was propped in a position where it would do no harm, but also so that it continued to burn.

The soft rustling of pants sounded behind her and she suddenly found herself with her arms behind her back and her face being plowed into the gritty metal floor. She made no sound, she knew it would do no good. She was flipped onto her back. She stared up into the gleaming eyes of Brock, who dug his one knee into her thigh, and pinned her arms to the floor. Her jaw clenched, but she wore no expression. Brock realized suddenly that there was no fear in her. Her eyes, the set line of her jaw, even her smell screamed hate for this animal that was holding her helpless on the floor. In those few moments, he caught a glimpse of her past. To his own surprise, he was the one with fear. Not only fear for the way she reacted, but for his animalistic act of attacking her. He released her and fell onto his own back scrambling away.

Elise lay where he left her, no, where he had pounced away from her. She felt such confusion as never before at the look in his eyes when he had done it. They had changed rapidly from cold-hearted murder, to uncertainty, to confusion, to fear, and then his whole face contorted into a look of pure shame. She didn't dare look over at him. Riddick on the other hand, couldn't tear his eyes way from her. He had scooted far enough over so that he sat with his back against the wall. He was wondering why she wasn't looking at him when she suddenly, quick as a flash, rolled in the opposite direction and up onto her feet. Now she was standing, back against the opposite wall 15 feet away.

She inhaled deeply, and released it again slowly as she sank to her knees. Her butt met her feet, and then the floor as she moved her feet so that her legs now made the shape of a "W". It was how she used to sit when she was being punished as a young girl. It was the position of vulnerability for her, a chastisement for herself. Her hair hung limply in her eyes, but she made no move to sweep it back.

Brock brought up his legs so that he could place his arms across his knees. Then he tilted his head back until it rested against the wall and his eyes met the ceiling. Her stare felt cold, but her face said she just wanted an explanation. "Would you have used Manny's gun if you hadn't chickened out last minute?" He couldn't tell if her question was meant to anger him, or tell him something. He got it though; she had seen him take Manny's gun. She must of. Then she must have felt it weighing against her stomach when he pinned her. He also understood that he had confused her as much as she did him. He didn't know how to answer, but then he didn't have to. She had meant for it to be rhetorical.

Then she asked something he hadn't expected till later after the shock, but apparently she wasn't one to be easily distracted. "Why is my bag down here? I'm quite sure I didn't bring it down, so gee, it must have been a fucking ghost, huh?"

"Did you see which one it was?"

"Yeah, it has all of my information sources in it. I need all of them for my studies at Bisham Tech."

"Not all of them are for Bisham Tech."

"I know that, but I do believe you shouldn't."

"Why are you so interested in the study of law and the criminal system?"

She stood up, walked over to her bag and pulled out the box with her IMC's in them. "These are my things, and I don't appreciate you going through them. This looks like the only bag of mine here, so I'm going to take this back up with me," she zipped it back up and slung it over her shoulder," and then I'm going to go have some dinner."

He lifted his head from the wall and brought his hands down to the floor. He looked avidly at her before saying slowly and clearly, "don't avoid the question."

She gave him a piercing look and mocked the tone of his command with, "don't talk to me." Her eyes softened slightly before turning away.

He looked at the floor for a few seconds before saying, "I have my own share of monsters in the closet you know."

She turned, but the look wasn't one of confusion or interest, it was amused with a hint of hurt on the side. "You are the monster in the closet."

He shifted his gaze from the floor to her, tilting his head slightly. Whether or not she meant to, she had practically hit the button on the nose. Whether or not he knew it, she had given away a hint to her closet monster.