- Mar 25, 2014
- 1,301
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<div align=center>It was one of those days. One of those days that almost required the gym teacher to leave work early and either head home or to the bar. To make matters even worse he couldn't even do that. No, his shift should have ended two hours ago. But here he was. Forced to stay the night in one of the empty student dormitories. Trying to unravel just what the hell was happening to everyone in the little time they had before... Well, he didn't even want to think about it.
Being an instructor in the field of power control and understanding, it was natural he felt like a complete failure when he didn't know how to fix this... Whatever it was. It had to be a virus. Everyone had headaches, violent coughing fits, fevers and nausea. Though aurally a school bug would blow over Leeroy's head, this was nothing like he had seen in all his years at this school. This time, powers were corrupting, deforming and taking control of their user. And nobody was safe.
Not even him.
As he scribbled down some paperwork about students potentially absent that week and had risky powers, the man cough violently and exhaustedly. His lungs hurt, and it wasn't like him to feel this bad for being in pain. Pain... God, since when did his body register that in the first place? It was funny though, the only pains he felt were inside his mind. Headaches sucked. And they never got this bad.
Over-the-counter medication was taken a few moments ago, the bottle and the white dots within now lazily splattered across the counter. It felt like this was both for the illness he was feeling and the night undoubtedly laid out ahead of him. Not only was he physically unfit to drive home but he optionally stayed here to help any of the students who needed not only medical help but someone to help with their out-of-control abilities. If he could get his own self together in the first place, that is.
Unlike the times he usually exploded his body was not heated up to insane temperatures but instead declining supernaturally, much against the laws of the flu itself. Removing a thermometer locked within his jaw without skipping a beat to his writing Leeroy glanced at the reading. 57 F. He then flipped a few pages and wrote that down. Two hours ago it was 98.7F. One hour ago it was 83.2F. At this rate he could be frozen by the end of the night. The scribbling soon came to cease because of this, his hand trembling like a winter-bitten leaf. He rolled his desk chair over to a coffee pot, proceeding to hold it in his arms to keep him warm. He wasn't going to drink it, but... If scalding liquid wouldn't stop him from being a very hairy ice cube, there was no hope for him.
With a weak glance at the open door Leeroy observed the hallway. Despite the whiteboard message reading 'MR BRADSHAW- OPEN FOR ASSISTANCE', nobody seemed to be around. Hopefully that wasn't for a reason as macabre as the teacher dreaded, but, knowing this wild and unnamed disease, death was a complete possibility. </div>
Being an instructor in the field of power control and understanding, it was natural he felt like a complete failure when he didn't know how to fix this... Whatever it was. It had to be a virus. Everyone had headaches, violent coughing fits, fevers and nausea. Though aurally a school bug would blow over Leeroy's head, this was nothing like he had seen in all his years at this school. This time, powers were corrupting, deforming and taking control of their user. And nobody was safe.
Not even him.
As he scribbled down some paperwork about students potentially absent that week and had risky powers, the man cough violently and exhaustedly. His lungs hurt, and it wasn't like him to feel this bad for being in pain. Pain... God, since when did his body register that in the first place? It was funny though, the only pains he felt were inside his mind. Headaches sucked. And they never got this bad.
Over-the-counter medication was taken a few moments ago, the bottle and the white dots within now lazily splattered across the counter. It felt like this was both for the illness he was feeling and the night undoubtedly laid out ahead of him. Not only was he physically unfit to drive home but he optionally stayed here to help any of the students who needed not only medical help but someone to help with their out-of-control abilities. If he could get his own self together in the first place, that is.
Unlike the times he usually exploded his body was not heated up to insane temperatures but instead declining supernaturally, much against the laws of the flu itself. Removing a thermometer locked within his jaw without skipping a beat to his writing Leeroy glanced at the reading. 57 F. He then flipped a few pages and wrote that down. Two hours ago it was 98.7F. One hour ago it was 83.2F. At this rate he could be frozen by the end of the night. The scribbling soon came to cease because of this, his hand trembling like a winter-bitten leaf. He rolled his desk chair over to a coffee pot, proceeding to hold it in his arms to keep him warm. He wasn't going to drink it, but... If scalding liquid wouldn't stop him from being a very hairy ice cube, there was no hope for him.
With a weak glance at the open door Leeroy observed the hallway. Despite the whiteboard message reading 'MR BRADSHAW- OPEN FOR ASSISTANCE', nobody seemed to be around. Hopefully that wasn't for a reason as macabre as the teacher dreaded, but, knowing this wild and unnamed disease, death was a complete possibility. </div>