[b][u]Thursday Afternoon, Level 18[/u][/b]

"Please remain calm. Containment protocols are in effect. Do not leave your designated work areas. Obey all instructions from department heads. An Incident Response Team is on their way. Please remain calm," the speaker system squawked twice before repeating its message. 

The dead security guard's radio crackled: "Captain Frenzel to all security in Level 18, do not breach containment; repeat, under no circumstances breach containment. The incident has not escalated for seven minutes. Keep it that-" the radio snapped in two beneath an engorged foot. The monstrosity continued down the corridor, came to a blast door, and let out an enraged roar. It smashed the keycard scanner, and roared again. It was, for the moment, safely isolated in a hallway with blast doors on either side.

[i]Elsewhere, several hallways away:[/i] A spill of radioactive, toxic, horrifying goop had eaten its way through the wall and was now steadily sloshing its way across the floor, eating into the mechanical room. Its green flourescence contrasted with the brightly-lit corridor's flashing orange hazard lights. Somewhat to the north, a supply closet was nearing occupational capacity.

This particular supply closet, one of the larger ones on this level, had a few interesting items beyond the usual office and janitorial supplies. A handgun with a fully loaded clip was lying on the middle of the floor. Beneath it, a paper with "Cha" and a bloody pen. Near the door was a box of seven flashlights, one of which has a bloody SD card taped onto the side. At the bottom of the box was a crumpled ten dollar bill. On the top shelves, near the overhead ventilation duct, a crowbar and screwdriver lie abandoned. A ladder capable of reaching the ducts rests against the back wall.