Chapter 3: The Tribunal

Chapter 3: The Tribunal

The back office of FreshMart smelled of stale coffee and desperation. It was a cramped, windowless box filled with overflowing filing cabinets and a cheap laminate table that had seen better decades. Howard Henderson, the District Manager, sat at the head of the table, his tie slightly askew, a sheen of sweat on his upper lip. Beside him, the store manager, a harried-looking man named Dave, fidgeted with a pen, clicking it repeatedly. They had arranged the room to look official, but the setting only amplified the pathetic nature of the proceedings.

When Elara walked in, punctual to the second, they both stood, their expressions a carefully rehearsed blend of apology and authority. She was dressed not in her uniform, but in simple dark jeans and a plain grey sweater. She looked exactly like the tired, unassuming student they believed her to be, which made the shift in the room’s atmosphere all the more jarring when she spoke.

“Mr. Henderson. Dave,” she said, her voice calm and clear, acknowledging them with a slight nod as she took the seat opposite them. There was no fear in her eyes, no trace of the victim seeking solace. She looked like a consultant who had been called in to assess a failing business.

“Ellie, thank you for coming,” Howard began, folding his hands on the table. “First, on behalf of the entire company, I want to offer our sincerest apologies. Brenda’s comments were abhorrent, and we have a zero-tolerance policy for…”

Elara held up a single, slender hand. The motion was so quiet and self-assured that it stopped him mid-sentence.

“Let’s dispense with the placating apologies, shall we?” she said, her tone level. “They are contractually obligated, but they are not what I’m here for. We’re here to discuss a resolution.”

Howard and Dave exchanged a bewildered look. This was not the script they had prepared for.

“Of course,” Howard recovered, forcing a smile. “We want to hear your side of things, and then we can discuss next steps.”

“There is no ‘my side’,” Elara stated, her gaze unwavering. “There are only the facts. Brenda Hawkins, in her capacity as a supervisor for FreshMart, engaged in a targeted harassment campaign on a public social media forum. These posts included ableist remarks concerning a perceived disability and racially charged insinuations. Both are in direct violation of Section 4, Subsection B of the FreshMart employee code of conduct regarding online behavior, as well as several state and federal anti-discrimination laws.”

The legal specificity of her words sucked the air out of the room. Dave’s pen-clicking stopped. Howard’s smile faltered. They weren’t talking to a cashier anymore. They were talking to someone who had done their homework, someone who spoke the language of corporate liability.

“Furthermore,” Elara continued, her voice dropping to a colder, sharper register, “by allowing this behavior to fester, creating what is clearly a hostile work environment, FreshMart and its parent company, Retail Corp Holdings, have exposed themselves to significant legal and financial risk. I’m sure your shareholders would be very interested to learn of a potential multi-million dollar lawsuit stemming from a supervisor’s fifty-dollar-a-day power trip.”

Howard’s face went pale. The mention of the parent company’s name was a direct hit. He was no longer dealing with an internal HR issue; he was staring down the barrel of a corporate catastrophe.

“We… we are taking this very seriously,” he stammered.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Elara said coolly. “Which is why, as I requested, Brenda Hawkins will be joining us now.”

Right on cue, there was a knock on the door and Brenda entered, a smug, defiant look on her face. She had clearly been prepped by management, told this was a mediation, a chance to smooth things over. She saw Elara and scoffed.

“Look, I already told Dave, it was just a joke. People are too sensitive these days,” Brenda began, crossing her arms. “If she can’t take a little criticism, maybe this isn’t the right job for her.”

“Brenda,” Howard warned, his voice strained.

Elara ignored him, her focus locking onto her tormentor. “It’s interesting you mention criticism, Brenda. I did a little research. Let’s talk about your time at ShopRite, five years ago. There was another young woman, a cashier, who you felt was ‘too sensitive.’ You were let go after the company paid out a confidential settlement for workplace bullying. The terms of that settlement included a non-disclosure agreement, which, by discussing the matter now, I am not violating. But you certainly established a pattern, didn’t you?”

The color drained from Brenda’s face. Her blustering arrogance dissolved into pure, slack-jawed shock. Her eyes darted from Elara to the horrified faces of her managers. How could this girl possibly know that? It was a buried secret, a stain she thought had been scrubbed clean.

“And before that,” Elara pressed on, her voice relentless, “at CostGiant. An incident involving falsified time cards for a subordinate you favored, while writing up another you disliked for the same offense. You resigned before the official investigation concluded.”

It was a masterstroke. Arthur’s information, deployed with surgical precision. Elara hadn’t just brought a knife to a gunfight; she had brought a targeted drone strike. The managers now saw her not just as a legal threat, but as something far more terrifying: an unknown entity with inexplicable access to information.

“That’s… that’s a lie!” Brenda sputtered, but the denial was weak, pathetic. She was broken.

Howard Henderson slammed his hand on the table, his face a mask of fury and panic. “Brenda Hawkins, you are suspended, effective immediately, pending a full investigation! Get out of this office. Now!”

Two managers, one victory. Swift and decisive.

Dave, looking utterly defeated, got up to escort Brenda out. As she reached the doorway, Brenda turned, her face twisted into a mask of pure hatred. Her eyes, filled with venom, locked onto Elara.

“You think you’re so clever,” she hissed, her voice a low, ragged whisper that carried across the small room. “You think you’ve won. I’ll find out who you really are. I’ll tell everyone what you did. I will ruin you. You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

The threat was empty, the final roar of a paper tiger being shredded. But for Elara, it was something else entirely. It was a justification. The battle for the workplace was over, but Brenda, in her ignorance and rage, had just greenlit a war on every other front. She had made it personal.

Elara watched her go, a cold, serene calm settling over her.

Good, she thought, a faint, chilling smirk gracing her lips. You have no idea who you just threatened.