Emily, Headed to the Science Lab<br/><br/>Things were pure bedlam. At first, when reinforcements had come to the restaurant, Emily had been relieved. Clearly, procedures were in order, whatever sort of attackers or dangers that threatened the Vault were swiftly being dispatched ... and things would shortly be back to normal.<br/><br/>Except, well, they<em>weren't</em>.<br/><br/>As Emily was escorted out of the restaurant, she saw all the bloodshed. And heard all the gunfire. And heard ...<em>dogs? Can that be right?</em>she wondered. She'd thought the restaurant was chaotic ... but what she saw outside of it was pure anarchy. Terrified, she'd scurried along with armed guards to the medical bay, hoping to find safety there ... but no. What they really wanted was another pair of hands to carry things. She'd been handed some extra ammunition and a baseball bat, and sent to the science labs.<br/><br/>"This can't be happening, no, no, no," Emily murmured, as she entered the science lab. Her world was all about procedure and order and routine, and in the space of a few short minutes, that world had disintegrated. She didn't know what to do.<br/><br/>Looking about, she desperately hoped to see family and friends - her father, perhaps - but no. The only familiar face she saw was that of Kenya Hamilton, the Vault DJ, who'd she'd chatted with a few times before. She didn't know the woman well, but she thought she was a good person. She smiled nervously at Kenya, and idly twirled her baseball bat about in her hands ... and dropped it.<br/><br/>"Stop being so clumsy," Emily said to herself in a scolding tone. She picked it up, wiping tears from her eyes, not noticing that she was crying.