They were nearing the school.

The school that he had run from months ago.

The school where they all were.

He wasn’t going to get away as long as he could help it. He punched out his legs harder, kicking the ground more furiously, and propelling himself even faster than before.

The man in lead whipped out a gun and pointed it at his pursuer. His racing breath and quick pace jostled his arm enough so that he couldn’t get a clear shot.

Lucky for the man in back, unlucky for the people inside the school.

Going back to running with his head forward, the man made a beeline towards the door of the building. With end in sight, his speed excelled.

Pushing harder and gasping for breath, the other checked his watch. It was about eleven fifteen. Time for lunch.

He knew this was going to end poorly, and as he grabbed the door handle with his left, his right hand adjusted the straps on his gas-mask. His black leather hand ripped the door open, and he leaped through on his black combat boots.

He is Lord Poozzab.