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rumors of her staunch attitude and cold demeanor, I can’t help but feel just a little bit of pity. Being the eldest of the Elders, she should have had control of the Corporation, but instead her brothers Raul and then Rupert took over, leaving her with the smallest base, the tiniest of glories.
    “That’s Director Elder to you, sweetheart. I’m guessing you’re new?” the secretary replies. She doesn’t try to hide her true feelings; instead they nearly bleed from her eyes. Unacceptable. Inappropriate.
    “Right. Director. I need to see her, please,” I say, trying to be polite.
    Annoyance flashes from the woman’s eyes. “I’m afraid you’ll need to book an appointment. The Director is a busy woman and can’t be bothered for something trivial,” she nearly spits.
    “Look, Wanda ,” I pronounce, placing my hands on the desk and reading her nameplate. Impatience roots itself deep within my stomach and I know I should calm myself down. I’m about to tell the lady off when I’m cut off by a scratchy, stern voice.
    “It’s okay, Wanda. Miss Madden may come in to see me whenever she pleases.” I glance over and see Myra Elder in all her uptight, gray-haired glory, giving Wanda a knowing look. I wonder what she’ll say about me. The missing Madden sister come to save the day, or a hazard needing to be contained?
    “Sorry, Director Elder,” the woman replies softly. Myra turns to me now, eyeing me sternly. Her hazel eyes are lined with the fine wrinkles that come with age, and her hair is smoothly combed into a gentle chignon. Like everyone else here, she wears a suit, though hers is characterized by a stiff pencil skirt and a soft blue dress shirt. Around her neck lies a simple gold chain clinging to an ornate locket. I nod to her, refusing the usual Hunter salute of lowering the eyes to the floor.
    “Follow me,” she says. She leads me through a corridor of offices until we reach the end of the hall. Ushering me inside, she closes the door behind us.
    “Please don’t scare my staff,” she says, moving her way through the office until she’s sitting at her desk. I was expecting a modern-built, toxin-free room filled with vid screens and prototypes for her to approve, but am surprised by an ancient-looking decor. The office is large, bigger than the ones in Central, with wide open windows and wall-to-wall shelving stacked with books. I take my time joining her, scanning the titles of her library. The Harpy and the Hunter. Winged Beasts. Ulysses . I wonder if she’s read every single one of them. There must be hundreds.
    “I’m not used to this kind of setup,” I explain, abandoning my curiosity and taking a seat in a plushy chair facing her. I resist the urge to stare out the open window and admire the lush green landscape and ominous looming mountains. It’s like a dream, seeing the beauty of the Fresh Air Zone still being harvested and grown just outside the downtown city walls.
    “It is beautiful, isn’t it? How long has it been since you’ve been outside?” she asks, gesturing toward the window.
    “A year,” I answer without a hitch. It’s been about a year since my life got twisted upside down. Not a particularly great anniversary to celebrate. I decide to change the subject. “I’m guessing Tor briefed you on my conditions for returning to the Corp?” I say. The tiniest glimmer shines from her eyes and her lips turn up into a tight smile. She leans back in her seat.
    “I’ve created a contract for you that binds you only to your independent duties, and I’m sure you’ll be satisfied with the pay. I don’t blame you for being hesitant to return after… everything that happened in Central. But things are different here, I can assure you. I do not run such a rabid organization as my dear brother. Here we abide by a code of honor, of professionalism, and above all for humanity ,” she says, quoting the Elder Corp slogan. I ignore the Corp b.s. and lean forward slightly, pursing