The halls echoed, forebodingly, with the silence of the lack in students. The school was rundown, subdued. Trashed. Doors and lockers lined the walls, and behind those doors were sleepy students, simply mulling their way through average high school.
But high school was to be average no more.
One girl strolled the empty hallways, easily, her footsteps echoing, loudly. She was tall, with long, golden-blonde hair, pale complexion, and a willowy look to her. Her clothes were saucy, but not too eye catching. She wore a black oxford shirt that was unbuttoned until just above her chest, tight black jeans, and black, stiletto boots. She was not one for gawking at, though she was pretty, but she had an aura about her that she was to be desired. Her bright red lips curved at the corners in an eternal smile, and, relishing as a farmer ready to harvest, she grinned, wider, and flashed her white, fanged smile for an instant.
Beware, little New Yorkers. Your time is up.