After only a few minutes of struggle, and Roanna having the upper hand by forcing her way on top of the man with the pig mask, she finally managed to wrench the gun free from his grip and used the butt end of the gun much like a baseball bat and wailed it into the pig mask as hard as she could, knocking the man unconscious immediately. Getting off of the now limp body, she was able to react just in time as one of the men on fire from her explosion took a bullet to the neck, collapsing quickly into death. Part of Roanna wanted to smile, karma was a bitch, but then she had to stop and think about just who the hell was shooting and why. Then it hit her, if someone shot that man, it was because he was a member of this group…and now since Roanna was wearing a mask…

“Oh SHI-AAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHH!”

Hot tears streamed out of Roanna’s eyes, making the mask all that more uncomfortable as the distinct smell of both blood and tears filled the hot mask nearly to the point where if she hadn’t been crying, she would have vomited. Collapsing down onto her ass, Roanna gripped her leg, pressing her hand over the fresh bullet wound and forced herself to check the other side of her calf. She rolled up the baggy pant leg just enough to see that it had a clean exit wound, but rendered her leg useless regardless.

“Shit! God dammit! Fuck!” Roanna hissed through her clenched teeth, rocking back and forth slightly as if that would ease the pain. Never before had she been shot before; grazed by a couple bullets here and there yes, but never shot. Thinking quickly, Roanna tore off the pant leg at her knee, using a small amount of heat to burn the fabric so that it would tear easier and wrapped it around the wound tightly. The last thing she needed was her blood all over the crime scene. Once the fabric was tied tight enough, she tried forcing herself back to her feet. She had to get out of here, and now. But the slightest amount of weight she seemed to put on her leg caused her entire body to scream out in pain, and a series of hot, fresh new tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Bastard might as well have shot me through the neck.” Roanna seethed angrily, getting back down onto the floor on her hands and knee and drug herself towards the closest locker room, it being the men’s. Dragging her leg behind like a useless bag of potatoes, she used most of her upper body strength to drag herself there, ignored by the screaming, frantic students that continued to pile out of the gymnasium. If Roanna hadn’t been so caught up in trying to get out of there in one piece, she would have noticed a man sporting a cowboy hat helping her with these…thugs.

By the time Roanna made it to the mens locker room, most of the gym had been emptied of students. Not wanting to take her chance with any of those thugs coming in here, she forced herself back onto her feet, shut the door and with a quick burst of heat, welded the lock. She would worry about getting out of the mens locker room later. Roanna slipped back down onto the ground, sliding down the door with her back braced against it and tore off the turtle mask, tossing it angrily to the side. Her forehead was soaked with perspiration, making certain parts of her ash brown hair stick to her hot skin. Using her forearm to quickly wipe her forehead, she quickly turned her attention back to her leg. She untied the ripped pants fabric now soaked with her own blood and examined the wound again. Letting out a series of curse words she didn’t even know existed, she knew what she had to do.

She placed both hands on either side of her wound and closed her eyes tightly. She could feel the muscle and tissue around the wound pulsing, and with each pulse pumped out more blood coating her hands. Holding her breath, Roanna felt her hands starting to heat up slowly, and then with a scream that echoed through the entire locker room, the hissing sound and smell of burnt flesh wafted it’s way around the room, filling her nose now with blood, sweat, tears, and burnt flesh. As soon as Roanna felt the wound on both sides close up, she jerked her hands away and let out a grunt of exhaustion. Looking over her ‘handy’ work, the wound had been successfully cauterized which bought Roanna more time. Chest heaving and sweat pouring down her forehead and neck, she rested her head back against the door just trying to collect herself. Her hand reached out lazily towards the mask and ripped pants fabric and watched as they both began to smolder, as if placed on a somewhat warm bed of coals.

She would just have to wait until after the police left, which could be hours, hell even days. Still, she was in no shape to try to figure out an escape route just yet, and the fatigue that plagued her body threatened to take over as her eyelids kept slamming shut. Finally, in the end the exhaustion won over her willpower and Roanna slunk down on the mens locker room floor unconscious.