[center][h3]March 14, 2018 - Harvard, Massachusetts.  Bromfield School.[/h3][/center]
[center]47 Degrees.  Rain.  Chance of Thunderstorms.[/center]
[center][IMG]http://i67.tinypic.com/w82lb5.jpg[/IMG][/center]

A lifetime ago, and in a very different world, Isaac dipped into the chemical culture that prevailed at his campus.  It was a brief exposure, lasting merely a single semester. However, it was certainly enough time for him to decide that while reality was quite frequently awful, the alternative involving a distinct lack of control, both physically and cognitively, was utter hell.  If Isaac could shine a spotlight on exactly when he knew that his time swimming in the semi-pharmaceutical pool was at an end, it was when he was lying prone on a vomit-scented shag carpet, staring out helplessly as human bodies thrashed about while they moaned incoherent nonsense.  Come to think of it, Isaac mused, perhaps the two worlds weren't so different after all.
 
Roaring sounds of assault rifles firing off into the darkened hallways sent Isaac's senses reeling.  The first drumbeat of semi-automatic fire ripped into his eardrums and channeled its way along his spine.  The effect was dizzying, causing him to stumble to a knee and nearly lose his grip on his weapon.  As he struggled to open his eyes, his blurred vision from the flashes of gunfire spotted Sticks huddled in the corner.
 
The only sounds that Isaac could make any sense of after that point was the rapid thudding of his heart beating at 142 beats per minute (according to the heart-rate monitor), his gasps of air, and the arrythmic drumming of metal and fire.  Isaac steadied himself, using his rifle as a temporary crutch while he struggled back to his feet.
 
[right][color=green]You might feel a sensation of weightlessness, Isaac.  This is normal.[/color][/right]
 
Pain and imbalance lead to nausea.  With every gunshot, Isaac felt pressure in his skull and his vision darkened into a cloudy red-black hue.  Shielding his eyes with his free hand and squinting, Isaac attempted to make sense out of his surroundings.  The windows of the room were shot out completely.  Poised like soldiers against the backdrop of smoke and shadow were Nosering and Skullface, each taking turns at firing into the abyss.  For several minutes, Isaac couldn’t make out the target.  But with each passing moment, as his adrenaline fueled him and the drugs gradually subsided, Isaac could make out humanoid shapes flailing in the dark.

Nosering mouthed something to Skullface who, in turn, made a gesture and looked back at Isaac.  Without receiving any response from Isaac, Skullface turned his attention back to the next wave heading toward him.  The situation was clear.  Either Isaac finds a way to recover or they were going to leave him behind.  Regardless, their position was not defensible for much longer.

Drawing in some breaths and ignoring the pain coursing through him, Isaac lifted his weapon and half-limped his way to the door.  Immediately, he felt a tap on his shoulder.  Defensively, Isaac shoved backward, catching an angry and confused Nosering in the chest.  He shook his head angrily and held out his gun for Isaac quite deliberately.  With a nod, Isaac shouldered his hunting rifle, grabbed the assault rifle, and watched Nosering make his way toward Sticks, helping him to his feet.

Positioning his shoulder against the doorframe, Isaac looked back at Skullface, who nodded and gestured with his hand to open the door.  After a deep breath to focus himself, Isaac pulled the door open and raised the gun, hoping, falsely, for an empty hall.  Instead, he found at least four targets turning a corner to rush toward the door.  They were fast, which meant they were recently deceased.  Soldiers or lab workers, he wondered as he fired Nosering’s rifle into the smoke and darkness.  Some of the bullets sank through flesh, dropping two of the targets to the ground.  The others pushed up to the door, forcing Isaac to slam it in their faces.

“[color=goldenrod]Lab workers…[/color],”  he muttered, before reopening the door and finishing off the targets.

Skullface deftly picked off three more on the other side of the hall before motioning again for Isaac to push ahead.  With a nod, Isaac fully opened the door and entered the dimly lit hall.  The scent of rotten flesh and burning seeped its way into Isaac’s mask.  It was clear that someone had started a fire somewhere.  Unfortunately, it was impossible to tell which direction it was coming from.  Worse, the classroom Isaac emerged from was in a very different part of the school than where he last remembered.  Confused and still somewhat dazed, Isaac paced, trying to figure out what direction to go. Luckily, Skullface emerged from the room and motioned Isaac toward a specific direction.  Isaac nodded and moved, keeping low and stealthy while weaving around corpses.

For the next few minutes, Isaac wandered blindly until a firm hand stopped him and corrected his direction.  This lead him toward a staircase.  But instead of going down, as he expected, he was instructed to go up instead.  Not being in a place to question, Isaac lead the way up the stairs, halting at the door toward the top.  He tugged the heavy door open, encountering an empty hall.  After giving an indication to Skullface that it was clear, the tallish and rather skinny man pushed past Isaac and quickly lead the way.

 Luckily for Isaac, the carnage of the floor below hadn’t seemed to make its way up here yet.  Emergency lights gave the school an eerie glow, revealing months old posters such as “Joni for Class President” and “Madrigals ‘A Journey Through Spain’ 1/15/2018.”  Meanwhile, classrooms were re-arranged with military supplies and lab equipment.  Skullface checked the window of room 316C carefully, knocking a few times before opening.  He then motioned for Isaac and the others to follow.

  The room was almost completely black, but Skullface seemed to maneuver his way through it pretty expertly.  He grabbed some radios and spent a few minutes setting up their channels before handing them to Nosering, Isaac, and Sticks.  Isaac clipped the radio to his jacket and strung the headset up through his mask to his ear, inserting the piece.


Nosering, meanwhile. grabbed some supplies and some flashlights as well as an extra M16.  He held it out for Isaac, who swapped it with Nosering’s rifle.  

“This is my rifle, this is my gun.”  Nosering mused over the radio with a grin and continued searching the room.

Isaac rolled his eyes and checked the room for extra ammo.  He quickly loaded the weapon, then cocked it, hearing a heavy slam right afterward.  For a moment, Isaac thought he had accidentally pulled the trigger.  But the slam didn’t come from the weapon, it came from a room nearby.

“What the fuck was that?”  Nosering said.

Skullface made his way to the door and spoke over the radio.  “I’ll check it out.  Stan, stay with New Guy and Smith.”

“The hell I am.  New Guy can handle himself.  I’m coming with you.”  He argued.  But Skullface already left.  Nosering grumbled and leaned against a wall, looking out of the classroom window.  Isaac was doing the same, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught a thin blue glow.  Curiously, he made his way toward it.  He nudged Sticks aside and knelt in front of what looked like a mini-refrigerator, likely hooked up to the generator.  He opened it slowly, shielding his masked eyes with his hand for a moment until they adjusted to the light.  Inside, he found a series of syringes, each with labels.  He grabbed one and pulled it out, examining it in the light until his eyes could focus on the handwritten letters.  [i]Jones, Edward[/i].   Isaac returned it and examined some of the others: [i]Browning, Maria[/i]; [i]Drebin, Frank[/I]; [I]Clarke, Montgomery [/I]; [i]Scott, Stanley[/I].

Inside the syringe was a red-tinted solution. Partially blood, Isaac presumed, but whatever else was added was anyone's guess.  Carelessly, he tossed the syringes back into the refrigerator and closed the door, just in time for another loud slam.  Not more than a second later, Skullface was on the radio.

“You guys need to get over here right [i]now[/i]!”  He demanded in a tactically hushed but assertive tone.