The Pandora Index (Older work)

Everything Happens for a Reason (3)

Madison Sleet

The poorly lit room was dominated by a large circular table, it was made of shimmering marble and dark patterns decorated it like black veins. Around it were thirteen chairs carved in a similar fashion, two of the chairs were empty and the other eleven hosted a single silhouette with glaring, yellow eyes.

"We have called for Mister Sleet's counsel, Madison," Mister Wright boomed from across the table, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Why are you here?" Miss Green scowled to my right, "Surely you're aware that you're not welcome here."

"I am here to inform you that I will be occupying Mister Sleet's seat at the table for the next few days or so." I said.

A gruff chuckle came from the direction of Mister Grail's larger silhouette, "What might be his reasoning for such an insult?"

"My father has not informed me of his reasoning." I lied, carefully filtering my emotions, "So I'm afraid I cannot answer that yet."

"Father." An arrogant cackle came from Miss Page's direction, "You still dare to use the same name as him, it's simply revolting!"

A quiet chuckle spread around the table for a moment.

Miss Page continued, "After all the years he put into training and supervising you, you waste it by deciding to get yourself beaten unconscious the second we need you, by a spoiled child no less. I don't recall you even showing an intention to use the contingency plan..."

I was able to keep my steely demeanor reinforced by biting the inside of my bottom lip, "As I have already explained, the contingency plan was not a viable option at the time."

The grin that was on Miss Page's face diminished a little until it returned to it's disgusted scowl, "Yes, Madison. I remember your excuses, but they still remain irrelevant. A few worker's lives seems like a worthy sacrifice to protect the rest of the world. You are a coward, and you are just as responsible for the escape of the one hundred and forty-three valuable specimens as the conspirators!"

A ruckus of general agreement spread across the room.

"Your words must sting her like a swarm of wasps, Miss Page," The silhouette of Mister Marlow mumbled, from across the table, "But it appears as though your venom is wasted on poor, steel-faced Madison."

"'Poor Madison?' You always did have a soft spot for Thralls." Miss Green smirked, "Especially the ones that are no more than useless idiots with a pretty face."

The pressure on my lip increased until I began to detect a familiar metallic taste in my mouth.

"I gave you a complement, Madison..."

"Ah yes, thank you Miss Green."

...

I woke up from the meeting as if waking up from a bad dream; cold sweat and a tightness lingering in my chest. I was sitting at the desk in the same dark office that I was in before my mental journey to the Meeting Room. I reached for the shot of whiskey that I had left a few inches from my hand and downed it. I stood up and walked to the door.

The meeting felt like it took years of my life away from me. I stood there in the drafty hallway for a while. The things they said, all those things. I slammed my fist against the wall. The dent and cracks I made in the drywall and only barely soothed the anger I felt. I am a failure as a Thrall, an entire facility was lost because of me. I don't deserve to feel this emotional over something that was my fault.

"Crying doesn't accomplish anything anything." I told myself, slowly breathing in and out, "I put up with them because I'm Mister Sleet's daughter, and I need to follow his example. I need to earn their trust."

I turned and began to head to Mister Sleet's office. Daniel hasn't returned from the path yet even after three days. Thralls can only enter the path to the sea and come out in one piece if they have their Librarian nearby. Even I haven't gone through it yet. It was a pretty risky move to send him in so soon, but that's just how Mister Sleet does things. I got to the elevator and reached for the button.

To my surprise, the elevator let out a ding and opened, revealing the large figure of Williams. He had a somber expression, "Oh, Madison. You alright there? You look upset."

"I should say the same to you," I smiled, "I'm fine. The meeting just lasted longer than usual."

Williams chuckled, "I was just going to ask if you'd care to join me for a drink, but if you're tired-"

"No, a drink sounds good. Maybe later?"

"Alrighty then. Are you going to see Sleet?" Williams asked.

"Yeah, fourteenth floor please." I asked as I stepped onto the elevator.

"Affirmative," Williams said jokingly as he mashed the button, "Is he still just sitting there watching him sleep?"

"He's not hurting anyone yet, he's fine." I chuckled.

Williams shrugged, "Doesn't he get tired though?"

"No, you know he doesn't really need to sleep."

"Doesn't he get bored, I meant."

"I don't think so. He sort of goes into a trance when he's interested in something. Hell, I remember one time Mister Wright and him played a chess game that lasted nearly a week!" I said smiling at the distant memory.

"Oh really?" Williams said as the elevator came to a stop, "Who won?"

The doors slid open and I stepped off, "It was a draw."

The elevator doors closed behind me as I made my way down the hall. I was about to reach for the doorknob when I heard the elevator bell ring again. I turned and saw the last person I would've expected to see at Pandora.

I took a few steps back. The towering figure of Spade stepped of the elevator and slowly trudged towards me. The silk scarf that covered his mouth flowed behind him like crimson wings. The reflective goggles that covered his eyes glimmered in the orange-white light of the room. His long coat was grimy and dusty, and already the smell of death wafted into my nose. I pulled the gun out of my holster and aimed it at his face, this didn't seem to discourage him in the slightest.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" I growled.

It's raspy voice echoed in my head, "Madison..." It shoved a bandaged right hand into its coat pocket without slowing its steady pace.

"Stop moving." I commanded. My protests had no effect and soon he was standing no more than a single arm's length away. The huntsman pulled a small box out of his pocket and extended his arm towards me. Why didn't I pull the trigger?

"Please, take this." He nudged the package closer.

Without taking my finger off the trigger, I reached out to grab it. Four black, needle-like claws poked out of the bandages and the last finger on the hand had been cut off at the knuckle. No one knew how the huntsmen became so disfigured, it was just an accepted theory that they had always been like this, even though it was an illogical assumption.

The box wasn't that special. The actual wrapping was normal paper and it had a black ribbon was tied around it to keep it closed. There was a tag on the ribbon;

"Keep this gift hidden. Do not open until 6:50 PM on October twenty-third. You must remember those who have forgotten."

I stopped at the signature, my heart skipping a beat. I looked up to the huntsman to confirm what I had just read, only to find myself staring into empty air. Typical huntsman. I looked back down to the small note in my hand.

It was signed, "With good intentions, The Index."