[ Natasha assesses her environment before she assesses the man alongside her, her eyes distant as they dart from desk to chair. ]

How much ammo do you have?

[ Her voice is as clipped as her walk as she walks through the room, semi-automatic out and scanning and her other hand dragging out drawers, pulling at cupboards, paper flying from filing cabinets as she wrenches them open violently only to flutter down to the stained carpet with the rest of the detritus. Anything. Anything useful. ]

If we can make the roof, we might be able to cut ourselves a path. Otherwise I'd say hit the basement on full lockdown, see if we can find some vents or piping.

[ Up or down. Both could be trapping themselves in a corner once the horde of undead outside make it inside the building. ]