Angelina tucks the transposer under layers of black clothes and takes the lead. But before you can even get out of the building there's trouble. You insist on going to your house to lay low for a while, but Angelina objects with a startlingly loud, "Hell no!" You nearly die as her wail echoes through the hall, and you try to get outside as quickly as possible.
Rushing down halls and passed doors, posters tacked on bulletin boards blur by unrecognizably around your eyes while every sound, whether hum, or drum, or pat of sole to tile beats indiscernably into cacophony between your ears. Not a single other soul passes by on your flight through the doors and into the parking lot.
You take lead of the escape, "There's no time to argue Angelina! There's my car. It's still running and ready to go." You jog along the sidewalk around the building and are followed by the heavy clomps of Angelina's big boots. "Come on. Get in. We can figure out where we're going on the way." You dive inside with Angelina close behind.
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