Everett Oannes stood at the far end of the hall, just out of sight of those heading in and out of room 12C. This sort of stalker-like behavior was usually quite below him, but strange circumstances called for strange measures taken against them. He watched what sorts of people entered the room, trying to decipher a pattern. He knew these people, he knew just about everyone that attended this school. But what did they have in common? His brow furrowed, and he looked back to the creased note clenched tightly in his hand. Why had he received this? What did they know?

At first he thought it best to ignore it. This note was probably some sort of prank, or it was meant for someone else. But it had been in [i]his[/i] locker. Perhaps he was attaching unnecessary meaning to it, but the possibility of it being genuine burned in his mind like a hot coal. [i]Why[/i] did they give this to him. [i]What did they know?[/i] For the umpteenth time that day, Everett crushed the note in his hand, a snarl breaking across his face. A dangerous glint shone in his eye; normally he was far more amicable, but this note was akin to a threat, and he did not take kindly to threats.

Eventually he grew tired of waiting and watching, and knew he had to take this matter into his own hands. With the strength of conviction, he marched to the door and swung it open quickly enough to give a startling bang against the wall. His face was cool, but his single yellow eye had the aura of an enraged predator. His gaze swept across the room callously, looking at the present company as though they were insects. He exhaled from his nose sharply, and tossed the ruined note onto the floor in front of him.

"Which of you is responsible for this?" He said in a clear, cold tone.