The lights came back on one at a time across a string of seconds; and once this was complete the thunderous noise of wild, panicked feet poured out into the hallway beyond.

"What was that?" – "What's going on?" – "Those were fireworks, right?" – "But who was shouting?" the multitude of voices poured out all at once.

Godric sprinted to the broken door and threw the remains open and almost slammed into MacLeod as he rushed to the cameras. The tie of his blue paisley suit was disordered from running—as was his collar—and his eyes went wide when he saw Godric. Took in the dirtied uniform and cut chest before his eyebrows screwed up, glancing at the broken door and the gruff, sad exclamation came:

"What's all this about, lad?"

His eyes were almost desperate for an explanation in the way they seemed to wrinkle and age. It was almost accusing save for its defeatism.

"Men in the museum!" Godric spat. "Armed! Don't know why. Maybe a robbery. Got to get everyone out!"

Any hope that this might be taken out of Durst's hands faded as two ancient, tired eyes stared back at him.

"Davis!" Mary shrieked and appeared at his arm—tugging with one hand and pointing down towards the end of the hall.

A man in a brown ski mask had appeared, jogging suit parted in the middle to reveal a large and gaudy medallion on his chest. Both hands were shoved into the jogging suit's pockets. He was walking slowly and with a casual gait, as though he were exactly where he belonged in life.

Davis's back went straight when he saw him and his eyes lighted somewhat. The intruding mans eyes glinted beneath the mask, and he glanced over his shoulder. Words could almost be heard on his lips; "Who? Me? But I've got my train pass right here?"

He took a step back when Davis stepped forward.

"He's got a gun!" shot Godric before turning back to the security room.

"Stand back—get low!" he whispered to Ada, and then made for the bust where it smashed the computer.

"Who are you?" began MacLeod—he sounded legitimately intimidating. "What is this? Bring your hands from out from your pockets! Do it slowly."

Durst stopped as he listened to this—terror welling up—and wrapped his hands around the alabaster bust. Wanted to tell Davis not too—but what would that do? Bent his knees and lifted—the bust didn't move.

"What?" Godric gasped. It didn't even budge when he tugged at it. Ada rushed over.

"I was gonna throw this," he whispered and grabbed at it too and he heard her gasp in confusion when their combined strength couldn't make it wiggle.

"The skull. We need the skull."

"You've got to leave now!" MacLeod shouted.

Godric whipped his head back to him. He'd already advanced past the door. Behind him Mary stood with worn, frightened eyes. Her hands clutched together.

"Stay there!" Durst hissed and moved to the door.

"The police are on their way!" MacLeod shouted. The man in the jogging suit turned around—as though about to retreat. There was a pounding of feet drifting up the stairs then, and he wheeled back to face Davis.

"Shit!" cried Mary. She butted past Wexler and Valarie and the other onlookers as they crowded in the hall. A door slammed once she was out of sight. It was then that the reply came.

The ski-masked man seemed to smile at the noise of charging feet—glanced with wide pretend-surprised eyes—and then fixed Davis in sight, and said in a husky, elated voice, "No. They really aren't man."

It came then.

There was a twitch of fingers in his pocket and something was shoved up against the fabric before exploding. A bullet tossing stuffing aside and burning it's own path through.

Hit Davis in the stomach in a ripple across his suit, and he groaned while the ski masked man pulled the pistol out and then fired at Godric.

But Durst withdrew and it slammed into the doorframe as the crowd shattered behind them and flooded towards the West stairs.

"Fuck!" Godric roared and with a flash of realization ran for the smashed computer monitors—ripped one from the wall. The thing wasn't heavy, though the strain of holding it lit the cut line of his chest on fire.

MacLeod still stood—his white moustache filled with sweat and doubled-over, pressing a hand against the doorframe for support; groaning and wheezing. Blood dripped from where he pressed his stomach, flowed down his leg too.

More running feet and a shoved the pistol up against the top of MacLeod's head and fired after an almost bounding step. Blew MacLeod's balding head down and his body collapsed.

The Ski Masked Man side stepped around the corpse to fire at Godric, but Durst brought the already broken PC monitor down on his head—felt the man crumple beneath it as the strike reverberated up his arm and a shot that scraped against his calf exploded. Durst groaned and darted back, letting the monitor slide out of his fingertips.

"Godric!" shouted Ada—her eyes were locked on the bleeding tear in his pantleg, but he grabbed her hand and started running despite the pain.

They leaped through the door and over Davis's dead body along with the writhing form of the Ski Masked Man.

A hand clamped his wounded calf when they did—two fingers dug into the wound left by the bullet—and Godric lurched forward and fell to a knee. Ada spun and kicked at the man's face when he threw the monitor off of himself.

The broken screen smashed and bounced from the wall, and groaning brought the gun around to Ada's chest—but the thing only clicked when he pulled the trigger.

With a shout she kicked again—this sent the pistol tumbling from his already loosened grip—before turning to run with Godric towards the West stair. However, by the time they reached it Durst was increasingly limping, and worse yet—more masked men were waiting on the far side of the hall.

Two men in stocking masks with strange rabbit pendants around their neck in all-black clothes. A crowbar gleamed and a hatchet rested in either pair of hands. The man in the suit stood behind them. Godric stepped painfully onto the stairs and began to jog down as best he could.

They ran into the crowd at only the first bend on the stairs—forgot to slam and lock the blasted door. Valarie was standing back from the rest—her face red and leaning on the bannister, hyperventilating. A blur of people Godric only half knew stood in their way, and he crashed next to her on the bannister. Groaned when he saw what blocked their downward progress.

A large statue sat on the stairs. This one was of a tall woman of marble carrying an amphora on her head. Wexler was at the deciding end of the stampeding crowd and he moved toward the third-floor landing.

"Not the third floor!" Durst yelled. "We'll move the statue!" Durst shouted but the human flood did not heed. He pressed against the blocking marble and pushed. But like the bust before it, it did not budge no matter how hard he forced it.

"Fuck!" muttered Durst, "The skull... We've got to try!"

But it was still in the security room. Ada merely glanced at him, nodded. They turned to look back at the path up.

"Come on!" Valarie hissed behind them and fled with the rest of the crowd onto the third floor.

Godric glanced at Ada, and her eyes were tormented.

"Where else can we go?"

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1250 words.

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