<div align="center">(http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y112/shit_brick/Character%20Pix/IRL%20Women/Brunettes%20Western/lost_message_by_LittleFlairsmaller_zps5d9998ad.jpg)<br/><strong>Red Wilson</strong><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">(a level 25 pixie warlock to some, an eating machine to others, and a geek to most)</span><br/>is on <em>the restricted floor</em></div><br/>As Red walked out of her classroom she was fully aware it was the last of that class for high school, forever.  Absentmindedly she crunched on a homemade apple chip, savoring the classic combination of cinnamon and apple, saying goodbye to classmates for the last time, and thinking of the future.  Many of her friends thought it was weird, but Red more that ready to start college right this second and throw herself in to the world of true culinary arts.<br/>Before she got too far a classmate of hers ran up to her, calling her name.<br/><strong>"What's up?"</strong>Red asked in her usual, sunny manner.  As a habit she extended her pack of chips to the girl, who politely declined.  Her classmate looked confused and said that some stranger had told her to give Red this note and said it was important, maybe this was one of Red's friends?  Red couldn't say and shared in her classmate's confusion.<br/>Then she opened the note.  Seeing the restricted floor mentioned made her eyes light up.  Red was curious, always thirsty for adventure, and had probably red too many shojo mangas, but she wouldn't get any sleep tonight if she let this opportunity pass her by.  She was just about to share her enthusiasm with her classmate, but when she looked up the girl was gone.<br/>Strange.<br/><br/>Cautiously, but swiftly, Red made her way up to the instructed classroom.  The loose and soft fabric of her oversized tank top fluttered behind her.  A bright red tube top flashed from under the oversized openings and her jean shorts were only long enough to peek from under her shirt.<br/>Her mood was pretty good, and then she turned in to the classroom.  From behind Paul Red could see Dyllan dangling helplessly from Brad's hulk-like arm. She never understood why people needed to pick fights for fun.  Honestly, she just wanted everyone to get along, and didn't mind taking a few hits and jabs for the sake of peace, but she didn't like watching helplessly while her friends were pummelled mercilessly.<br/><strong>"Hey, what's going on here!"</strong>Red exclaimed, running up to the jock.<strong>"Put him down, Brad!"</strong>Red ordered firmly, looking as intimidating and scary as a scrawny, five foot three girl could be, with her eyes blazing, chin up, and chest out.