I run my hands over the cold metal of the tunnel that leads up to the Headquarters. The place is dark and silent at this time of night and I can finally plan out my escapade in peace. The panels into the building are heavily coded and the warning sign says that I might set off some kind of alarm if I step into a certain proximity to the building.

"Hey!" Suddenly a deep male voice echoes through the tunnel, making me jump out of my skin. I hear quick tapering of boots as the silhouette of a figure approaches me, torch in hand.

"What on earth you doing here? These are prohibited areas. "

I open my mouth but close them again, nervous of what to say.

But wait. I've seen this guy before. In the Revival Joint! His name's Mark, if I remember correctly.

He doesn't fail to recognize me either. "Wait a minute - I revived you, didn't I?" he flashes the torch at my face, "Raven!"

"It's Rachael."

"Whatever." he waves me off, "What are you doing out of your Quarters?"

"Uh, nothing," I lie, "I was just... exploring."

"Well, it's past your bedtime. Go on now." he flashes the light towards the exit.

In the dim light of the tunnel, I observe the lining of his face - clean shaven with arched brows, a long nose and a sharp jaw line. His longish messy hair, a dark shade of brass, falls over his forehead. He stands half a head taller than me. He wouldn't be much older than eighteen. Definitely on the attractive side.

But what really stands out among his features are his icy blue eyes. The blue of his eyes is so profoundly blue - one I've never seen before. Like a shabby curtain with slivers of sunlight peeping through the cloth. Like the misty blue of the winter skies of November. Okay, I sound dramatic. But I think I've given you an idea how blue his eyes are.

I start walking towards the exit but just before the cutting, I swiftly turn around and pull out the gun from his belt.

Someone's got crappy reflexes.

"Whoa!" Alarmed, he lifts his hands up as I point the gun squarely at him, "You wouldn't want to play with that, Raven."

"Rachael." I correct him.

"Okay, minor mistake," he says feebly, "Doesn't require a weapon's discharge, does it?"

"Take me out!" I tell him.

"Okay, I know I'm irresistible, but let's just talk this out, alright?"

"What?" I ask, confused, "No, not on a date, you idiot! I mean take me out of here! The Elysium."

"Out of the Elysium?" he snorts, "Oh, no, sorry, I can't."

"Can't or won't?" I narrow my eyes at him.

"Both, okay!" he says, exasperated, "Now stop being stupid. No one goes out of here. You're dead, remember?"

"You're lying," I hold the gun firmly. God, who knew guns were this heavy?

"That pendant around your neck. It's a gold anchor cross. No store in the Elysium particularly encourages biblical merchandise. You couldn't have got that unless you had gone out of here."

He eyes me for some time.

"Keen watcher, aren't you?"

"Extremely," I say, "Take me out."

Suddenly, Mark reaches out and snatches the gun out of my hands. Tucking it inside his coat, he raises his eyebrows at me, "You were saying?"

I had underestimated his reflexes. I clear my throat awkwardly, "Umm...I mean...please."

He looks at me scrutinizingly. "Okay." He sighs.

I look up at him, "Really?"

"No. You're crazy." He starts walking away.

"Mark, please!" I race after him and take hold his arm to stop him. He shoots me a look and his cold blue eyes touch mine. It sends a chill down my spine and I let go of him.

"Look," I say, "I don't know where I am, I don't know what these people want! They keep talking about strengths and wars and training, and I have no freaking clue what's going on! You may believe what these people tell you, but I do not. I have to get to the bottom of this. It will just get a lot easier with your help. Now it's up to you." I look down, waiting for his reply, unwilling to hold his piercing gaze.

"Do you like pizza?"

I look up at him, "Huh?"

"Do you like pizza or not?" He says.

"Yes, I'm human," I say irritated, "Are you messing around with me, Mark? Coz let me tell you, I'm pretty seriou - "

"Meet me at the pizzeria on sixth street tomorrow."

"What has that got to do with anything?" I ask in ridicule, now totally sure that the guy is mental.

"Do you want to go out or not?" he asks calmly.

I try to think for some time, wondering how that makes any sense. "I don't understand."

"That's alright. You don't look the smart kind anyway," he rolls his eyes, "If you really want what you say you want, meet me at the pizzeria tomorrow."

"The pizzeria?" I ask again, confused.

"Raven," he winks at me as he leaves, "You have no idea how many answers pizza can help you find."