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The wide, paint-chipped door concealing this parallel universe swings open, screaming at your ears. You step one foot in and immediately it stings your nostrils, engulfing your entire mainframe. You slowly begin to move through, the distraction of flickering flourescent lights doing no justice to the unimaginable aftermath of a dripping troop of male adolescents. Each grey tarnished locker, garnished with the sources of that putrid stench clinging to your sillouhette. Overturned benches. Unflushed urine. The hurricane that massacred this sacred fortress showed no mercy, and left as quickly as it had arrived. You reach the far door, its name tage a blinking 'exit'. The cool steel of the handle provides relief as the air you are so accustomed to whips around each corner of the door, awakening you from this nightmare. "The pity?", you think to yourself as you glide down the bustling, overcrowded hall; "There shall be no retribution."