<div style="text-align: center"><a class="link link--external" href="http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s29/hellrazer212/zadoksplash.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">DESMOND</a> <u>DEZ</u> <a class="link link--external" href="http://i148.photobucket.com/albums/s29/hellrazer212/zadokside.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">ZADOK</a>​</div><br/><br/><i>Breathe in.</i><br/><br/>A firm twist squeezed around the doorknob before the door was thrown open. Quick scan: Janitor's closet. Useless. Useless. Useless. Bleach - tripping agent. Ladder, metal; sturdy enough to serve as an obstruction. There was no time to apply the bleach properly, only enough to open the bottle and let it spill on its own. He couldn't run with the ladder for too long, either. Too bulky. Focus on the short-term.<br/><br/><i>Breathe out.</i><br/><br/>Short, blonde curls sat with a rugged, unkempt look. The tie was uncomfortable, the slice of teal fabric getting thrown around by the wind like a ragdoll, flailing in panic. The tightly bound, black shirt was less of a hassle - such are things you grow accustomed to from use. In a way it was better than the baggy nonsense a lot of guys came in. The fashion of wearing something that could fit a hippo was lost on Desmond. Fork in the path - ballcourt or teacher's lounge. No point trying to fortify at this point, he'd need company for that. For now, stay mobile. Go with the biggest space with the least chance of getting cornered. Ballcourt it was. Turn left, keep going. Keep moving.<br/><br/><i>Breathe in.</i><br/><br/>A deep, guttural groan could be heard as one of the abominations stumbled out of an open classroom door. No time to think. A crude swing of the ladder later Desmond could hear the snap of breaking bones and a softer groan from the crumpled mess, hands grasping the thing that had caved its skull in with the tightness of rigor mortis. No time to pull it away. Leave the ladder, keep moving. Pool, acrobatics center... not enough openings, bad ground, spaces too tight. Keep moving.<br/><br/><i>Breathe out.</i><br/><br/>It was becoming harder to maintain his pulse - things were getting stranger by the second, threats assaulting him from every possible angle. He couldn't panic. Nothing came from panicking. He wouldn't panic. He just needed information. Something to process, something to build on, something to give him a goal of some kind; a way out. But he'd need to understand the problem before he could understand any possible solution. Someone who could shed some light on this.<br/><br/><i>Breathe in.</i><br/><br/>A loud battlecry of some sort could be heard from a room not far off. Unless the freaks had somehow developed working speech, it was undoubtedly human. The door was ajar, and behind it mirrors and sinks. A bathroom - single door, no windows; pretty much the worst place you could hole up in. From his angle he couldn't see into the stalls, and he would have tried to recognize her if her face was turned his way, but for now being human was enough. "Hey! You! Get out of there. There's only one way in or out, and you get cornered and it won't matter how hard you can swing." he hollered, beckoning her out of the deathtrap.