Ohshc, Cold Heart

The Madame

Disclaimer! I do not own OHSHC, the school, or any of its characters (although I wish I did). All credits for them goes to Bisco Hatori, Viz Media, and Funimation Entertainment. I also did not make or own the image on the cover - I just turned it into a cover, so I'm taking no credit for that. Any additional characters and situations, however, are my own creations and the rights for them belong to me, any similarities to real people or situations are coincidental(although highly unlikely). Any use of my characters without my permission(also highly unlikely) might cause me to send a personal request to 'The Madame'. O_o

Oh, and P-O-V means, point of view

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~ 41's POV ~

I had been summoned The Madame:

Time: 18:00 sharp

Location: the usual place

I arrived outside a block of tall buildings at 5:25pm, 35 minutes earlier than the time arranged - The Madame did not appreciate tardiness.

I turned away from the bustling, brightly lit square with its bulletin boards and bright flashing lights, and walked along the sidewalk to what was nearly the far corner of the block.

There sat a small shabby café that claimed to be open 24 hours sandwiched in-between a nail salon and a tacky gift shop, sagging under the weight of the floors on top of it.

The café was worn down, its chairs were tattered, and there was a strong smell of old coffee that seemed to have soaked into the very walls of the shop. The few pastries and cakes on offer were peeling and flaking nearly as much as the old wallpaper. The shop only had one elderly lady on duty, her hair long gone grey, sitting on a stool behind the counter. She was asleep.

Luckily I was not here for the service or the food.

I walked through the café, and to a door on the far side that said 'residents only'. The door had a lock on it, but I just pushed it open - the lock was only for show.

There was a long corridor inside, with a door on the right that lead up to the apartments, and an old lift at the end of the corridor. I walked to the lift, my steps swift, I did //not// want to be late. Once inside I ignored the rows of buttons for the different floors and reached across to the panel which held the button to close the doors, and slid it up. The lift gave a jolt, and started to descend.

Twenty seconds later there was a ping, and the doors slid open to reveal a large, clean, well lit space about thirty meters underground.

The Guilds base of operations was situated in some of the long abandoned subway tunnels and bunkers built beneath the city in the late eighteen hundreds. There were other entrances besides the one I had used, but they took longer to use, and I didn't like going through the flood tunnels or the city's sewers.

I walked along the narrow, white, arched corridor, passing one of the training halls, an ammunition hall, an armory, one of the two firing ranges, the tunnel that lead to the 'fashion' hall, and the green room.

I passed nineteen people before I made it to the end of the long tunnel, where it had been remodeled and bricked off to form an office. It had no windows, the walls were lined with three inch thick lead, and backed up against the bedrock that ran through the city's foundations.

Two taciturn, well muscled men in their mid twenty's stood on either side of the door, they had ear pieces in and were carrying hand held machine guns. I nodded to them both, and got a blink back - a rather encouraging response. No one had ever heard 38 or 39 speak.

In fact, no one had ever heard any of The Madame's personal guards speak, many believed they couldn't. They were terrifying - bread, and trained from birth, conditioned and controlled. They possessed no individual thought, felt no emotions, and lived purely for The Madame's orders. If she told them to stop breathing they would have done so unflinchingly.

The Madame selected children for her guard every 14 or 15 years. And although she usually chose infants, I always counted myself as fortunate not to have been selected.

There were benches next to the wall, but I didn't sit down. Instead I chose to stand, hands behind my back, seven meters away from the door - aware that I was possibly being watched.

A minute or so later, at 5:50, the door opened and a girl about nine months younger than me came out.

She was English, with a pretty, air brushed face, sleek mid length dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail, and dark brown eyes.

Unlike me, The Madame's personal guards, and the other 'numbers' who were orphaned, abandoned, or sold and raised by the Guild, Erica was the second generation of a family that had chosen this line of work.

She had been shaking slightly when she left the office, but put on a smirk when she saw me, trying to flaunt the fact that she have been called in first.

"Losing our touch, are we?" She asked mocking.

"Hardly," I retorted, my accent slipped into an English one to mirror hers. "I don't rely on poisons to do my dirty work for me."

She bristled, her jaw tensing. I watched as she forced herself to relax, before using that tongue of hers that was as wicked as her poisons, "oh, get off your high horse." She snarled softly, "We all know that you'll be short lived - like your predecessor."

I was angry, but unlike her I didn't let it show - she didn't deserve a reaction. Instead I counter attacked.

"How's that gun hand of yours?" I said, indicating her right hand, "still got that tremor?"

Her eyes flashed dangerously, "I can hit the target just fine."

"Not when its an actual //real// target, though," I said smoothly.

Her right hand twitched towards her hip for her knife or gun, for a moment forgetting that 38 and 39 had removed them before she'd gone in to see The Madam.

Suddenly aware of the fact that I was armed and she was not, she reluctantly backed down. 38 held out a sealed bag containing her weapons, as 39 held out an empty bag for me. She snatched the bag and left, muttering away under her breath. No doubt plotting some way in which to poison me.

Sighing, I placed both of my guns and my two knifes into the bag, before proceeding to place my belt, earnings, and phone into the bag as well. The door frame into The Madame's office was also a metal detector, if I had any metal on me as I walked through it, the alarm would be triggered, and I'd be gunned down instantly.

I held onto my watch, waiting as the minute hand ticked towards 6pm. With thirty seconds to go, I placed the watch into the bag and walked up to the door. Aware that 38 had his gun trained on the center of my back, I pushed open the office door and went through.

6:00 on the dot.

The office was large and empty, except for a big curved desk towards the back of the room that had about six computer screens on it, and a file that sat right on the center of the dark wood. The Madame stood behind the desk, tall and slim, dressed in a sharp, smart black suit. Her physical appearance alone reminded one of a knife, to say nothing of her personality.

I kept a respectful five meters from the desk, whilst she approached it and shuffled some papers. The silence dragged on, but I dared not break it.

Slowly, she raised her hand towards me, a black object in it, and pressed the button.