A step behind the crowd as he trekked backwards into the many bodies was enough for him to slink away, ignoring the way that students would avoid him, covering their faces as he went by even as he could clearly see them doing so, but he couldn't mind that.
Not right now, at least.
That was something, or more like someone, that he had to see. Breaking away from the crowd, with little more than a few eyes tracking him before they darted back to the doors, pulling at them and all but appearing to have forgotten he'd even been there in the first place.
Good.
That would only make his job easier if they all simply looked away.
Pressing against the furthest wall to the door, Dash made a break (as best as he could for every step came a wave, an ocean of fatigue and dizziness, the pit in his stomach growing as he tried to pick up his pace) for an adjacent hallway, noting the slow descent of the noise until all that was left were his footsteps against the floor, squeaking, squeaking, as he edged closer and closer to a shuttled corner of the hallway, and around that bend came an even darker corridor.
Passing him was a sign with a single demand.
"Do Not Enter"
Of course, he paid it little mind as he tore through the yellow tape and into the West Wing of the school.
The attack had been so sudden, many of the students couldn't get out of the way.
Not fast enough, at least.
Dash could remember it well, at least, he thought he could.
With all of the smoke and the screaming, it was hard to make heads or tails of what was going on, really, but it would have been terribly difficult for him to miss the bodies, twisted and broken in heaps and piles as the blood dripped around him. There was the collective shock that rippled through each of them as they, the ghosts, he reminded himself, charged at the remaining students, throttling the possessed bodies of their hosts in such unnatural ways that it seemed as though they were breaking and bending themselves. They had to, he figured, noting the dark bruising that bloomed on their skin as they flew from one unfortunate soul to the next, bodies slamming together so violently that many of the victims died on impact.
Oddly, he tell who'd gave in first: the possessed or the hunted.
Getting up from his seat with what he felt was not fast enough, he didn't miss the Glasgow smile that crept along one of them, still wrenched in quiet, still agony as the spirit left their body and sought out a new host.
He could still see it, set in his mind like stone, and he assured himself, begged himself, to get away so he wouldn't be seen the same way.
In the confusion, he couldn't help it, looking at them as they echoed each other.
One body, two bodies, three bodies, four.
So many that he couldn't stop himself from tripping over one of them, or were there more that he'd stepped on, faces contorted from the heel of his shoe?
Dash had half a mind to keep running, scrambling to his feet despite the fact that his stomach begged to be relieved of its little contents, and when the urge became too strong, he stopped just short of a student, screaming, screaming, as their innards became their outtards, entrails danced to the beat of their seizing until they just...stopped.
That quickly, though they hadn't stopped twitching for awhile, even as he quietly stumbled pass, and he found that he'd known them too.
Odd to think that you were shoving someone in a locker, and the next?
They were at your feet.
Dead.
He didn't know what to think about that.
He didn't know if he wanted to think about that.
He just had to run, right?
And run he did.
There were others like him, dazed, dazed as the massacre went on and on, but there were also teachers, pulling students into tiny cubbies that crushed their bodies but made short work of the need to find shelter.
It worked for most of the student body, the short ones that eased with some work into the tight space, and even the taller ones that found a larger ones that found a table share, hunkered down with someone just as scared as they were. Lancer was there, too, huddled in the coat closet along with a few teachers, and for a split second, they'd made eye contact but only moments later it was gone, shielded by the shuddering door held steady by his hand.
And it was only after a moment of realization that Dash understood very clearly where he was again, and he was standing in the open, vulnerable.
And he didn't have anywhere to hide.
Dashing over to one of the spots that he could see that had just a bit of room, there was the strange moment that the students seemed to spread out, almost appearing to consume more space...
No.
Surely that wouldn't be the case.
Again he tried, bending down to huddle under a table when a hand shoved him away, forcing him into a desk that screeched like a hellish banshee, and at no moment in his life had Dash been more sure that he would die when one, then many, smiles turned to him, flashing bloody grins as they made their way towards him.
Had he been a believer, maybe he would have prayed, but the thought struck him as odd, you know?
Of course, he didn't hate God or anything; it wasn't his fault that he was this way, and, funnily enough, his parents always told him to thank them, and God, for what he had. Sometimes he would try it, and he wasn't sure if he was just doing it wrong or he didn't do it well enough because there would always be silence.
Silence as he told the nothing his wishes, hopes, and dreams only to know nothing. Nothing more than when he started or ended...
...and now was no different, it seemed.
He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, as those smiling faces happened upon him, growing closer, ever closer, to him, and he had a sudden thought: would it be so bad to...die?
He could try to run.
Get up right now and scramble in the corner so they could give chase for a little while, maybe only a few seconds as they tore him apart, one little piece at a time.
Thinking about it, that wasn't exactly the nicest way to go, in fact, he thought with some degree of amusement, it would be quite messy, wouldn't it?
Part of him wondered how they'd do it.
Would they tear his arms off?
Maybe they would skin him and gut him?
However, he couldn't rid himself of the hope that they would just be kind to him, snapping his neck and leaving it at that, but the way their hands twitched, practically begging to rip him to pieces, he knew it wouldn't be so gentle.
He could never be so lucky.
Regardless, he centered himself, relaxing as they were only a breath away, and felt himself do something he hadn't done in a long time.
He smiled.
...
...
...
And when he could still feel himself smiling a that hair of a second when a glitter of white streaked by, Dash half expected his heart to jump out of his chest, eyes glued to the violent flutter in the corner of his eye as the horde twisted their heads to understand what they'd say, and it was in the moments that he met those vibrant, green eyes that his heart fluttered, too.
And his smile grew wider and wider still.
"Get to the exits! I'll hold them off whilst you guys get out of here!" There were punches been thrown left and right, the half-ghost hybrid throwing and dispatching the bodies of former bodies to and fro as the spirits voided their hosts and set out about attacking the halfa firsthand. For a few wasted moments, no one seemed to move, tracking with some level of fear and fascination as the horde began to thin out, and it was only when, in righteous anger, that Phantom looked back at them, a distinct frown on his face, that many perked up at his voice.
"I don't think I stuttered, did I? Or all of you here to watch the show? Get out of here!" It was a booming dictation that propelled the student body and teachers out of their startled stupors and onto their feet, just narrowly missing stepping on Dash as many tried to forget their earlier confrontation and the simple fact that many, no, all of them, had been willing and able to watch him die for their sake.
Of course, Dash knew it, too, ruminating on it was several of the football and basketball team members passed him, but none of them dared to look at him.
Not a single one.
Including Kwan.
Standing up himself, he didn't look to him either, nor the door that had quickly begun to fill up with students, but instead, the halfa, currently preoccupied but no less noticing the older teen standing there, but before he could speak, Dash cleared his throat, his face...strange.
Caught somewhere between a smile and a grimace, he spoke, azure blue eyes plastered to neon green as he spoke out, voice wavering but firm, even...joyous as he rang out.
"I can't believe it's you. I just...I can't believe you would save...save me." And he couldn't truthfully, grasping his hand over his heart as even more the possessed students' bodies fell limp around him, but he never broke his sight with the halfa, even when he turned around, and in his light, fluttering heart, he chose to ignore the way that Phantom rolled his eyes.
Perhaps it was a trick of the light.
His imagination.
But he hadn't rolled his eyes.
Nope.
That never happened.
"...and I just can't thank you enough. I...I really can't you know? You're always so helpful,-" A spirit only just seemed to notice him, and began to make its move towards him when Phantom kicked it away, sending it into a way before blasting it with a beam, causing it to explode, so of it splattering on Dash's face, but his smile never faltered.
Not once as he gripped his chest harder, and noted the small bulge that rose in his pants.
He didn't need to speak for him to show him, did he?
No, no he didn't.
The tightness of his pants grew.
Just a bit as he thought...things.
Felt things.
Unspeakable things as he began to close the gap between the two of them.
He just had to touch him, to feel his skin under his fingertips, to show him his appreciation for what he had done.
He wanted it, too.
His eyes said everything.
They screamed at him to touch him.
'He so wants you~'
'Go ahead, do it, you dirty bitch.'
'You just can't help yourself, can you?'
Easing his hands down to the buckle of his pants, Dash motioned to unzip his pants when a strong pair of hands grabbed him from behind, forcing him toward the door even as the teen struggled against its hold.
Tetslaff didn't mind it, though, her much larger, stronger form making easy work of restraining the boy as he tried his best to twist away, but it was no use, the halfa growing further and further away until the noise of battle faded from his ears and the former drifted out of sight.
"Look, Baxter, I'm gonna need you to stop trying to get yourself killed, you got that?! That was incredibly stupid; just what were you trying to do?" The older woman set him on the ground as he jerked away from her, looking longingly at the place from which they'd come until he deflated, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to make it, not with her on his tail.
But the tightness of his pants begged him to, demanded that he finish what he'd started, but that would have to wait, the boy chided himself as he re-buckled his pants and turned towards the wall, facing away from the student body and to the dark halls from whence they come, and absently, he noticed that Danny was missing.
The attack was resolved, and the body counts came. Forty-seven casualties and fifty-injuries proved to be plenty of reason for the students to be let out of school early for the summer, the entire West Wing shut off as repairs were to be made, but it didn't look terribly different, the boy noted, and if he hadn't looked, he surely would have missed the puddles of dried blood that still caked the floors.
Of course, many didn't mention to events that happened here, silenced into a sort of coveted hush that forced them all to pretend that it had never happened, and in a way, it was easier, wasn't it. It wasn't everyday that ghost attacks would claim so many lives, and scar so many more.
There was a sort of code that made it so any word to the event would be swiftly silenced, and even more so, no would that remembered would make any mention of how he'd nearly perished, and in some part, because of them.
Even Kwan wasn't immune, oddly losing complete contact with him over the summer, and the others, too, as they went about their own lives, never speaking of it again, and neither would Dash.
It was easier, see.
In a way, he could sort of understand where they'd been coming from, leaving him there.
He couldn't even say that he was particularly mad or anything.
He'd won regardless.
Thinking back to the hallways, perhaps the adults were too spooked to come here to clean up the mess, maybe the memory of what happened here was too sickening to see again.
That didn't stop him, though.
There was someone that he had to see.
Coming to a crossroad in the corridor, Dash took a sudden left, smiling as he could still hear the distant rumble of action as he came closer and closer to another entrance, boarded up like many classrooms were in this, and under his breath, Dash could feel a curse building as he began to try to wrench the boards free but to no avail as his fingernail was pulled a bit too far as it hooked into a portion of the exposed wood, forcing him to let go.
Inside, the noise began to subside, and Dash's stomach sank.
Was he too late?
'No! Not after all of this, not after all of this effort! Come on, you stupid fucking door; open UP!' Again he pulled, and yanked, and prodded, but it wouldn't give.
Not an inch as his strength began to wane and his arm ached, but he couldn't give up.
Just a peek, a glimpse was all he needed.
Was that so much to ask? Was that so big that even this couldn't be afforded to him?
God, why did his life have to...
Ugh, this isn't the time for self-pity, the boy berated himself, easing his sleeves up to his elbows, the fear of his arms being seen dissolving as no one was around to see the ocean of red, old, and angry scratches and scars covering the length of his arms, budded and tingled from the air, but he paid it little mind as he gave one last heave, and from the other side, pulling and pulling until something on the other side gave and he fell flat on his bottom.
Just as he had fixed himself to stand, his eyes fell forward, and in his view, there stood Sam, Tucker, Danny.
