Chapter Text
The night air is cool and crisp, with a gentle breeze rustling through the trees as the streetlights cast long shadows across the empty grounds of Winslow High. The familiar hum of urban life in Brocton Bay mingles with the eerie quiet of the desolate school, painting a picture of stark contrast. Evelyn, her sharp mind always alert, leads her team toward the rear entrance of the building. Her blonde hair is tied back in a tight ponytail, and her steely blue eyes reflect a cold determination.
"Team, we're moving in. Quietly," she orders, her voice a mix of authority and calm. The squad members nod in acknowledgment and follow her lead, each one an expert in their field. Sergeant Liz, the Team Sergeant, takes her position next to Evelyn, scanning the area with vigilant eyes. Weapons Sergeant Maya grips her assault rifle tightly, ready for any unforeseen threat.
Engineer Sergeant Casey moves swiftly to the door, her fingers deftly working on the lock-picking tools. "Got it," she whispers as the door clicks open. They enter the dimly lit corridor silently, their senses on high alert. Medical Sergeant Bree and Communications Sergeant Tori bring up the rear, covering their backs as they advance deeper into the school.
Evelyn glances at her wrist-mounted screen, small messages and commands blinking on it as if guiding her through a game interface. She sees the mission: "Rescue Taylor Hebert," and studies the map overlay that pinpoints Taylor's location. "Locker area, third floor," Evelyn murmurs to herself. She gestures for her team to follow as they move up the stairs, their footsteps eerily quiet against the hard tile floors.
They reach the third floor without incident, scanning doorways and intersections with practiced precision with only their weapon mounted flashlights to see in the dark corridors. The oppressive silence is broken only by distant city noises filtering through the cracked windows. Evelyn gestures for Maya to take point as they approach the locker filled hallway. The stench hits them first—an overpowering smell of rot and decay.
"Jesus Christ," Tori mutters under her breath, gagging slightly.
With swift efficiency, they locate Taylor's locker. Evelyn's heart pounds as she sees the locker's state—embedded with vile, used feminine hygiene products and other grotesque items. The sight makes her stomach churn, but she pushes past her disgust. "Casey, get this open now," Evelyn commands.
Casey works swiftly, unclasping a small fore-arm length crowbar from her belt and prying it deftly between the door and the frame, the locker door swings open with a muted thump and tearing noise as the metal warps. Taylor Hebert lies inside—covered in filth and barely conscious where the team quickly pulls her out and lay her down on the ground. Bree immediately kneels beside Taylor, checking her vital signs.
"She's alive, but barely," Bree reports grimly.
"Stabilize her," Evelyn orders, maintaining her composed demeanor despite the horrifying sight. Bree nods and pulls out a medical kit, beginning to work on Taylor with practiced hands—cleaning her up and administering various antiseptics along with bandages to the wounds littering the girl's body.
"We need to get her out of here fast, we don't have enough supplies to treat her fully" Bree states, her voice tense.
Evelyn nods sharply. "We move out now," she orders, lifting Taylor gently into her arms. Carrying her like precious cargo, Evelyn leads her team back through the deserted corridors, their haste matched only by their silent efficiency.