Miss Mari-Mei

Ah...crap. Being called to the college Dean's office for showing up late. Not always a bad thing, Miss Mari-Mei, the mature woman had a pleasant and professional and with her curly amber colored hair, intense oceanic blue eyes wearing her usual tight fighting blouse offering glimpses of soft, tender skin between the spaces of the buttons, she made all the men flustered and intimidated because she stood heads over most men at 6"4' with a build that would make you believe she spends her evenings powerlifting a Kia. She carried a aura that demanded respect. Lately things have been feeling strange Choosing to stay home most days. The conversation was productive. Finding solutions to problems. Trying to figure out how the buttons on her blouse were holding together. The public announcement system on the campus cut things short. Inhuman blood curdling screams and muffled cries for help. In less than a moment a hell descended upon the college campus. The Dean acted, moving quickly to a storage cabinet, fingers hesitated over the buttons of the keypad as she steels her resolve, punching in the code it hissed open revealing a strange alienesque armor, piece by piece she donned it, mag-locks clunked, micro-hydraulics hissed as servos wound up as she easily heated the strange weapon, made similar as her armor with the same glossy white metal plating before she grabs the smaller handgun with the same white metal.