The central lobby already gave him shades of the orphanage in his memory.  Coat hangers with nametags upon a rack, proud little slogans dusted over with years of neglect.  The wooden doors creaked as he pushed into the main hallway, the light from the outside fading in from the windows.  Double-wooden doors like that of the entrance laid at both ends, as well as one in front of him.  A receptionist's desk was to his left, barely lit, allowing him to examine the register.  Various children's names had been written down, some of which he faintly recognised.  Only one however did he truly recognise.
His own name.  James Robert Campbell, written in his own handwriting.  A pen laid at the side of the name, waiting to check it off.  He wasn't sure why, but he felt he had to register himself before doing anything else, ticking his name off.  The moment he did, the click of an unlocked door came from the opposite end of the hallway.  He checked the receptionist's office first however.
Nothing was of interest, but he did note another registry that was to the side, for teachers.  The names had all been scrawled out with red ink repeatedly, creating three numbers.  749.
He memorised the code for the sake of it before moving on, examining the newly-unlocked door.  It lead to the infirmary, a simple medical room with a bed and several well-stocked cabinets.  If he ever needed to heal, he knew he would be safe here.
A nurse's report had been left on the workbench, singled out for the raptor to read.  He knew at this point that if the town wanted to tell him something, he should at least listen.

Brian Velasco was blinded after James Campbell assaulted him brutally in the playground.
The scars are deep enough unfortunately to render Brian blind for quite possibly his entire life.
James has been punished with two months solitary for such a serious offence.
He claimed that Brian had bullied him terribly, st___ing him into _ ____ __ ____
But even so, this is not how one should act for such a thing.  Brian was to be punished on that day before James intervened.
We can't very well punish a blind boy, and now his victim/attacker must be punished in turn.
Brian will probably never be able to see again, unless he ends up with a family lucky enough to pay for some biotics.
As for James, I hope he learns this lesson for the future about not acting upon others in such a violent manner.

	"Heh...fuck you Brian."
James grinned at the memory.  He didn't care what happened to the kid he blinded.  He could remember a part of the bullying.  Being trapped in a dark tight place, unable to breathe, suffocating to the point that he thought he was going to die.  He remember it happened when he was 7 years old, but beyond that, nothing more.
You had it coming you fucking prick, thought James with a snarl.  I hope you never got to see anything ever again.  Least you taught me never to let anybody fuck me over again.  Not you, not Bob, nobody.  And no monster in this town's gonna change that.
Only one of the double-doors was actually unlocked, the one next to the infirmary at the right end of the hall.  His radio burst into life the moment he walked through.  But what scared him more was the skittish sound of a crawling metal creature.  He could see the scissor-shaped head glinting in the distance.  He had his own scissors already out, ready to fight.  He wasn't scared anymore, much as he lied to himself otherwise.
The shear-headed abomination scrabbled towards him, the radio turning louder with its rising shrieks before James halted the monster with a blast of fire.  He managed to disorient it before swinging around to stab at its back, plunging his blades straight through its torso.  As it sputtered and died in lieu with the radio's weakening cries, he twisted the blades inside like a corkscrew for a bone-cracking finish.
With an arrogant flourish that sent blood across the school walls, he headed along the corridor, noticing one or two benches along with a row of lockers.  Classroom doors laid to his right, the first one opening into the classic definition of a classroom.  It was almost too old-fashioned for the raptor, which somehow unnerved him.  A teacher's desk before the blackboard, lockers at the back of the room with several rows of wooden desks in the centre.  Children's drawings and projects hung all around the walls.
Nothing was of interest so he progressed to the next classroom, through a door at the north of the room, beside the lockers.  This one was much more fascinating for one reason.  The blackboard had instructions specifically for him.

	Young Campbell
	You are to report to the courtyard at 3pm sharp
	Or else you won't be getting any further in life

The clock above the chalkboard read 2:54 for all eternity.  No ticking came from its still second hand.  Nevertheless, he noted the warning and headed out of the classroom, to find himself in another corridor.  This one was different, doors separating the previous hallway in the south from the one he was in.  Another room was broken-locked to the north, but straight ahead to the west was an open door.  The radio shrieked again, alerting him to more enemies.
This time however, was a new enemy.  It was the size of a toddler,with a bulbous head and covered in a green slime that dripped thickly upon the floor.  James backed away with a look of disgust upon his face, as the creature turned and gurgled with a carved face upon its strange-shaped head.  Triangular eyes and a gurgling smile which drooled thick green bubbles.  It wasn't the creature itself that disturbed him.  It was the smell.
The smell of limes.  The very scent made him weak to his stomach, resisting the urge to vomit as it came closer.  He could hear it start to giggle, a sickening throaty chuckle like a baby's babbling, causing more liquid lime to drip down its chest.  He could barely get close to it for how repulsed he was.  He wanted to tell it to back off, but he knew they would never listen.  He was only more panicked when it ran for him in a stumbling run.
He brought up his scissors and hurriedly slashed at it, breathing through his mouth which only made it worse.  The scent was so thick at close-range, he could practically taste lime in his mouth, and without a second thought, he vomited onto the floor.  His body was weakened, and he bent over with a retching shiver.  The toddler-sized monster however wasn't entirely defenceless, as James noticed from the thick slimy claws it wielded upon its arms, hidden under the ooze.
He did his best to dodge its uncoordinated swing, barely able to do so for how sick he felt.
Why did it have to be fucking limes, he thought to himself with a growing dizziness.  How the fuck does this town KNOW about these things?!
He had no handgun bullets either to fight it off either, and no time to make more as well as reload his weapon.  He struggled to build up his strength, and thrusted hard into the lime-covered creature's chest, a warped scream emanating from it as it stumbled backwards to un-impale itself.  James was not about to let it escape, and with as much vigour as he could before his sickness came again, he plunged through its disturbingly soft head.
Green spurted like blood out of its body, the raptor quickly dodging away to not let any get on him, a deep shaking fear running through his veins before the child-like thing collapsed with a death-rattle.  He quickly ran as far away from it as possible to catch some fresh air, panting shakily he regained his pallour.
	"F-f-fuck...f-fucking...limes."
He always had a problem with limes.  He practically considered it a phobia, but he had no idea why it affected him so.  His body just simply rejected it in a violent manner.  With his body feeling less ill, he made his way to the courtyard door in the middle of the corridor, only to find it locked.  A note had been left upon it.

	If you actually cared about Daisy
	You would have at least given her a flower

His eye twitched with uncertainty at whether he was being insulted or not, but regardless, he knew that the only way to reach the courtyard was to follow its will.  The back door and storage room of the school were broken-locked, so he went through the door to the west into another hallway.  Another radio screeching made his heart jump.  He feared it was another lime-covered freak, some kind of lime sapling monster he imagined them being.
He was a little happier to see it was nothing but Shear Rage.  Unfortunately, there were two of them in this one hall, and they both heard James' radio.  He braced himself with his scissors, cursing his forgetfulness to not reload his gun.  As the first one charged ahead with a spider-like gait, he readily did the same thing he did to the last of their kin.  But the moment he blasted fire into its apparent eyes, it immediately rolled away to have him stab the floor.
He grinned with contempt for the fact they were learning, before he was forced to defend himself.  The creature snapped its scissor-jaws shut towards James, who put up his own scissors to defend himself.  The other monster took this opportunity to try and lunge for the raptor, blades open for his neck.  But James spotted him from the side and sidestepped fast, forcing the foe he had locked scissors with to turn and take the brunt of the blow, chomped upon its back with a mighty cut.  He took the opportunity to pull his scissors back before thrusting straight through his now-wounded foe.

Shanking through its gut a few times with a growing frustration, he readily ran towards the other Shear Rage, who hissed defensively with surprise at James' aggression before snapping its blades shut on his.  The two pushed each other back and forth, trying to force the other back until James shot a puff of fire straight into the monster's lithe chest, forcing it to buckle with a hissing screech.  He soon cut it off with a good deep thrust, forcefully opening the scissors hard inside its body to inwardly cleave it apart.  Split in two to reveal a disgustingly dark-blooded abscess, the monster fell back, and the radio turned quiet once again.
Now he could take the time to examine his surroundings while reloading his handgun, willing the nanos to recreate another fresh set of bullets for him.  A stairway lead upwards to the second floor, with the hallway to the south broken-locked as well as the rooms to his right.  He headed upstairs, feeling as if he were being lead around in a circle.  He wished he had a map at this point, but the size of the place didn't exactly intimidate him like Brookhaven did.
Just like the first floor, the second floor hallway's room was also broken-locked.  The foggy light from outside seemed to infect the upper floor even more to turn it a thicker, colder grey.  But this time, the eastern door was broken, whereas the southern door was not.  He made his way through, finding another hallway with another room he could never enter.  A door to the bathrooms straight ahead was most certainly broken, but another hallway door to his left was unlocked, allowing him through.  A music room laid to his right, locked with a rather unusual lock upon it.  He recognised it to be dried coats of blood.
It was also locked, but did not seem to demand a key.  A note was on the door in rather elegant handwriting.

	A song is always best heard in darkness

With a shrug of disdain, he walked to the other end of the hall, the feeling of circling around a drain turning stronger within him.  A locker room was along the hall, somewhat adjacent to the music room.  Indeed, it was a room with nothing but lockers inside, all of which were square like safes.  Checking along the various rows that dominated two walls as well as the centre of the room, three numbers leapt out at him.
749.
	"Of course...where else?"
He was getting tired of the riddles, and wanted nothing more than for the town to just send him straight to where it wanted him to go, rather than send him through a tiresome twisting path.  But the moment he opened the locker, his heart stopped.
A tiny silver model of a motorcycle laid inside, broken in half.  He recognised it immediately.  It was his own.  Or was.  The first thing he ever had, when he was four years old at Christmas.  He never went anywhere without it, until the accident that had spirited him away from his own world.  Somehow, the sight of his most precious possession in pieces made him struggle to not cry.
He leaned against the locker with a shuddering groan, sniffing hard as he looked upon it again.  He noted something rather odd about its design than before.  One of the wheels that came off looked different from its original form.  The wheel looked more like a dial for something, which the raptor took in case he needed it.  Knowing this place, he probably would need it soon.
As he turned around however, he saw the lockers suddenly burst open before him, a mighty metallic scream emanating from them tenfold.  The sound and force was hard enough to slam him against the wall, hurting his back hard as he slowly got up with a wince.
	"N-nnngh!  W-what the fuck's going on now?!"
The locker interiors revealed letters that had been painted within, all of them in a dripping thick green.  He didn't even need to smell the ooze to know what it was as he struggled to read without choking.

	H OW DO ES IT F EEL TO BE THE ONE CHO KI NG JA MES ?

The stench turned thicker, and he started to feel as if he were trapped in a gas chamber.  The thickening citrus, somehow given an underlying taste of rotting flesh, had turned his colour for the worse.  His legs buckled, his head turning dizzy as he unconsciously vomited once again, shivering hard enough to feel his ribcage shake inside of him.  He stumbled as hard as he could through the small but cramped room, struggling to breathe as his lungs filled with sickeningly sweet citrus air.  He slammed against the door, throwing himself onto the floor with a smoker's cough.
Hacking with wretched spittle and deep desperate breaths, he let himself have a moment of just trying to calm down from the town's further attempts to fracture his mind, curling into a foetal position.
It's okay FG, he thought to himself, it's just limes, it's just a fucking fruit, you can't die from eating them, they just...smell absolutely fucking disgusting.  You can do this.  You're near the end, you can't stop now, you got what you need, you can DO THIS.
Willing himself back onto his feet after some eternal minutes of shaky breaths, he headed through the door to the east to the next hallway.  A locked door to the north made him divert through the classrooms, just like the first floor.  He was too nervous to even quip about how the town was starting to run out of ideas for direction.  The classrooms however were full of the wretched lime stench, coming from three more lime-covered infants.

He didn't dare fight any of them, and covered his nose before running to the next room, diving through the door with a single shot fired off at one of the Lime Saplings.  It managed to do enough damage to make it scream and fall back with its fellow creatures.  Much as he despised running from a fight, this wasn't about pride.  This was survival.  He exited through the identical-feeling classroom and out to the hallway.
The library was to his right, though he wasn't entirely sure how helpful it would be for him, until he remembered the music room's note.  Unfortunately the lock was broken.
	"Dammit...what the fuck else could it mean then?!"
He kicked the next hallway door open, feeling he was being led on a wild goose chase before seeing three new doors to his right.  The library reserve, the chemistry lab and the laboratory equipment storage, all of which were unlocked.  To see three doors not broken together made him smile with relief.  He immediately entered the library reserve room, not entirely sure what its purpose was.
It was like a very small library in itself, a few bookshelves around him, with a single thick table in the centre of the room.  On the table was a book, which sat beside 8 cards stacked beside 7 rectangular indents within the table.  The book itself had been opened upon a bookmarked page, containing a poem.

"I will tell a story to you, dearest reader
That must be told to others here.
Eight tarot cards upon a table made of cedar
Shall illustrate my tales dear.

I was a content young man with no gains in life
Humble to a point, but never asking for much
For I knew that all I needed required no strife
For it was within my home, always as such.

I lived with my love, secure and well
Half and half, side by side.
Everything my love thought I could tell
And vice versa to me with nothing to hide.

But one day a tragedy came to my door
My love's life had been taken, my life destroyed
My house was now half-empty forevermore
The remaining days at my house now but a void.

But I was not content to wallow within sorrow
For the cry of vengeance burnt within my heart.
So I took it upon myself, upon the morrow
To hunt down the murderer, and then depart.

I found him soon, hunting my way through the land,
The fact he was in the same town as I made it all the worse.
The little I knew combined with my experience at hand
Made it none too difficult to make my meeting with him terse

The things I did to him were far too gruesome to tell
But rest assured that he suffered well.
By the time I had left, the town soon found hell
And on that day, the town clock sent its death knell.

My acts of vengeance horrified former friends
Despite their struggle to accept my motivation.
Yet even with myself having left them to make amends
They knew that the town was nearing its termination.

And so I travel, to this very day
Which brings me to you, dear reader of my tale.
Of these eight cards, only seven must stay
With one you must destroy, the virtue that I will fail.

Place these cards in the order of what was felt
Across the tale of my sordid past.
Soon you shall find the hand you yourself dealt
And we shall soon see how long you will last.

He looked upon the deck of cards, realising he had absolutely no idea what any of them could symbolise.  The cards even had a tag placed on them with the words "Reserved for Dr. Hoffman" on them.  He tried to ponder at first, slowly looking through each of them.
Death.  The Hanged Man.  Judgement.  The Tower.  The Devil.  The Hierophant.  The World.  Temperance.  Their meaning was unclear, until he realised that he could just simply look it up.  Nothing came up on tarot cards within the library reserve, and the library itself was locked.  Sighing in frustration, he left and made his way to the chemistry lab.
He had never really seen a laboratory before, other than the time he became an experiment but even that was a hazy memory he would rather forget.  Very little intrigued him among the rows of hard formica benches where various paraphernalia stood.  One item however was still plugged into a gas outlet on a desk.  A bunsen burner, with a beaker of water on top and a note beside it as well as instructions and a breather for his face.  It was oddly shaped like his snout.

	Please do not move this equipment
	As it is part of an experiment for invisible ink

	Dr. Hoffman

	"...wait, Hoffman?  ...invisible...ohhhh!"
He immediately ran back to the library reserve and brought the tarot cards with him, eager to perform his own little experiment.