[hider=My Hider] Bio Name: Norman Bisqwell Age: 34 Occupation: English teacher Biography: Norman was always buried in one pile of books or another, his parents having to extract him from his daily reading and writing excursions in order for him to be socialized. He grew up in Middletown, New Jersey, his parents of the normal variety(father an engineer and a mother who had training as a nurse). Norman was known as a "good kid", completing his work and chores in a timely enough manner so he could get back to his book or, as his teenage years proved, his video games. He was fascinated with story and the way narrative and text made one truly think. He was also known for his leadership ability, having served at a local church's camp as a counselor for many a year. At age 21, he decided to become a teacher, completing his degree at 24 and securing a job teaching senior English at a high school in nearby Mahwah. He has been teaching for ten years and has had a relatively normal life... Physical appearance: Norman has ash brown hair and dark blue irises His physical build is slightly athletic, his gym schedule rather limited now due to work, but in high school he played tight end. [/hider] It was a bitter cold day in the suburb of Mahwah, New Jersey, which meant that most were indoors where one could find heat from the oppressive winter that had gripped most of the tri-state area. Snow was in the forecast starting tomorrow and communities were bracing for what the meteorologists were calling the worst snowstorm the northeast has EVER seen. Norman snorted at the thought. He had lived in the northeast for all of his thirty four years on the earth and from what experience had taught him, disaster was usually never in the cards. People would inflate their discourse with hyperbolic phrases and utilize rhetoric to ensure that small talk stayed alive, but actual disaster, endangerment of life? No, that didn't happen very often, and when it did, it was unexpected. But enough about that. Norman's dark blue irises found what they had been directed to look for just a few minutes ago: an elevator in this maze of a mall. There was a new shopping mecca that had been erected just last week and it's doors remained open to the public even with the prognostication of doom and destruction. The mall was bustling with people dodging in and out of stores, the whole spectrum of emotion both visible and audible. All Norman was concerned with, however, was purchasing new dress shoes for work. He was on his feet most of the day, teaching his students the merits of Shelley's Frankenstein and Emerson's Transcendental movement, so his footwear tended to wear out. Heh. Wear out. Cause he wears...shoes... He laughed slightly at his terrible pun, arriving at the elevator, the doors sliding open to allow the denizens of the metallic cubicle to exit and for Norman, the lone passenger, to enter. The doors slid closed, Norman turning around to note the well decorated interior: faux wood varnishing was complimented by an obsidian colored metal that had advertisements for other portions of the mall. He was surprised to see that the typical glass encasing was not at the rear of the elevator, but he supposed that those who designed the supermall knew that if the glass broke and someone tumbled to their grisly doom, they would have the pants sued off of them. Smart move. The elevator went up one floor before the doors slid open once more, a woman entering. He gave her a polite smile before staring ahead. As the elevator ascended, Norman began to absent-mindedly tap h... There was a jarring halt to the elevator's ascension, the lights in the elevator growing dim. "So much for a smooth opening for this place."