An unseasonal, torrential thunderstorm raged outside the Old Gymnasium.
The heavy downpour hammered against the rusted tin roof, creating a deafening, metallic roar. The thick scent of damp earth mixed with the sharp tang of rusting iron, flooding the enclosed space and drowning out the rest of the world.
Yet, the deafening roar of the storm was nothing compared to the pulse pounding violently in his ears of the intruder standing in the shadows behind the steel entrance doors.
Zen, clad in an oversized, pitch-black hoodie, stood perfectly still. He let the mist from the rain soak into his clothes. His light eyes, hidden deep within the shadow of the hood, stared through the gloom straight at the wooden bleachers in the center of the gym.
The sight twisted brutally inside Zen's chest.
