Led Zeppelin beats against my ears. Plant in his better days.
I can't finish anything without Word, so here'll have to do.

A man swings a duffel bag over his shoulder and walks past violently swaying groups of school-girls, shrieks and laughter equally violent to the sensitive ear-shells of the civilized. teenagers. The word stands solitary, the connotations are enough to make the over-20's recoil and sniff, because we were certainly never like that. The girls themselves roll their eyes at the conservative soles of working-class women and men, both respectively leaning away from the other while waiting for the green-man to light up. The man with the duffel bag goes unnoticed.

"'...because although his intentions were no less than innocent, he was still first and foremost a MAN.'" A little too much emphasis, even for the class feminist, but the other students assured themselves it was probably because she'd lost in some lesbian hallway battle. Hormones. Paper. And large squirts of tomato-sauce, please, on my takeaway fries.
The english class continues, the desks neatly spaced in twos, while the young man at the front nodded for Dharlia to take a seat after reading out the marked quotation passages. The teacher walked and talked, and the students nodded their heads dumbly, a sort of polite way of asking him for no further elaboration and yes, to shut up, so the many miniscule-dramas could commence.

The bell rung, and the boys at The Back were the first out, eyes to the ground as they bumped and grunted into each other on their way. One would think, if she/he were to strip this place of walls and desks and chairs, (and clothing) that it was just another example of the animal kingdom, albeit one with considerably varied sizes and shapes, hairstyles and colours.

A documentary showing the lioness on the prowl, head sinking into grassy oceans, a sleepy tail manouvering her descent to the waterhole.
A girl called Rachel Myers reached the object of her desire: Levi Sundran, leaning against a Coca-Cola vending machine and chatting away to some blonde boy. Note: her claws were the colour red, and she hadn't even started the methodical process of tearing some poor boy to shreds yet.
A very strange animal kingdom indeed.

Levi's eyes flicker to hers, where they meet for a brief moment before he lethargically stretches, murmuring something to the other boy before turning his attention to the fair-haired young woman. And she certainly deserved the title of a WOMAN, because Rachel Myers was perhaps one of the most organised, most active and most ambitious seniors in their year. A deserving title to match her volumptuous frame. She wore her perpetual ego on her chest, but she was neither masculine or aggressive, bearing the weight of Western-pride that threatened to convulse into a hybrid of patriarchal Woman of the House and democratic-leader/Human-Rights officer. She was all soul and no whine, with full lips and slim legs. Levi, himself, felt a slight wave of guilt for giving her the opening. Academic records and achievements aside, Rachel's knack for picking up on social stigmas and student-gossip was short-ended.
He had to cringe, in fact; how many other boys would very happily grin at her, oggle at her deiriere while her back was turned and then drag her to the nearest locker-room...?

"Sundran?"
"Hmm?"
Her brown eyes were clear, bright new gloss lifting her lips into a confident smile, "Doing anything after last-period?" Levi noted that she didn't say 'school,'... I mean, she was a WOMAN after all... schools were for girls.
"Ah, I think I'm meeting Aurora..."
"I see. The Queen."
"Yes."

And within that particular pocket of time in which this conversation unfolded, an non-linear stretch of moments where situations give birth to circumstance then promptly decompose into memory, you could say these two were 'lucky.' For had they not, unlike others, stayed in their current position, they would suffered a great deal of (materialistic) grief.

The explosion was loud. Though the man with the duffel bag would argue that the screams that started soon after were a tough competitor in the race to assault as many poor souls as possible with their ground-shattering decibels. The duffel-man started getting annoyed with his constant usage of puns and innuendos and irony and tried keeping tight-lipped for a bit.
Anyway, as you can see, chaos ensued--teachers and students ducked for cover as the outside rubbish-bins coughed smoke and burnt-trash. Brick and bags were flung, concrete shook. As with all crimes, timing is essential. Bell rings, students file out, thumb obediently presses down on decimator, subsequentially initiating the green for all mini-bombs to explode in strategically-picked rubbish-bins.
No one's supposed to be hurt--didn't I just mention the bombs were 'mini'? And they're outside, the mini-bombs, so the impact and sheer force is not contained, in fact the active molecules expand and diminish (or some qualified-BS). Harmless. But thats just what I've been told, and I trust physicists.

Back to Rachel and Levi. She's screaming too, but we all know the opportunity to launch herself into Levi's arms probably neutralized any panic the moment she made contact. I should probably correct an earlier statement, regarding Levi's and Rachel's 'luck.' I would like to more boldly underline that wording with sarcasm, because really, kids like that make their own 'luck'. There's no doubt in my mind now whose part of the Other Side. It was in that moment Levi chose to talk with Rachel, and as such prolong his being in the institution, the school. Innocent enough, but Levi's one of the boys at The Back as well as homosexual. Of course he'd talk to student council elect Rachel Myers.

The man with the duffel bag walks out of the school, an unknown exit, and confirms the targets to his sergeant. Flipping his phone shut, he moves quickly down the street lined with old-picket fences and small businesses into the outskirts of the inner-city. A sniper is waiting for him. The bullet greets his temporal lobe with such vigour that all is white.