Nakamura slowly rubbed his cheek where he had been slapped and stared blankly towards Yami, perplexed as to how calm the troublemaker had been. Nakamura couldn't help but take another glance at what was left of Genesis: The middle-aged man's clothing was soaked in red from head to toe, and his mouth lay open, his teeth an unnatural grayish-yellow tint. His nose was hanging from a limp and thin thread of flesh which hung down from a grotesque cavity that was in the middle of his face. From what had been his forehead now lay a mushy looking pile of chipped flesh, bone, and brain. Hell, if Nakamura could describe the mess that was his Principle's face, it would be mash potato's covered in ketchup...

He couldn't help it anymore. Nakamura's throat ran hot and a foul taste ran up the back of his mouth. His lips quivered and his mouth creased as his legs buckled from under him. Finally, with a defeated groan, a yellow-green fountain of bile fell from his mouth and onto the carpeted floor of Principle Genesis' office. Nakamura stood back up wiping his lips, his head spinning. [i] Get your shit together! [/i] This time, Nakamura slapped himself. He was better than to just mop around vomiting, right? The people still stuck in the hallway were either dead or were about to die, and Nakamura knew that in order to refrain from being put into either of those categories, he'd have to work with Yami.

[b]"Yeah,"[/b] Nakamura said with a huff. [b]"There [i]is[/i] shit we gotta deal with. But what's your plan, Rambo? Sit around drinking Sprite? We have to formulate some sort of game plan."[/b]