Music Room, and here we go: At Mr. Schue's invitation, Coach Beiste arrives to partake of what he calls their "First Annual Thank God The World Isn't Ending Glee Practice," and although she's more than a bit reluctant to play along at first, Coach Beiste eventually agrees to stay. Pretty Kitty scampers in at the last minute to join most of the other children up in the cheap seats -- noticeably absent are Brittany and Single-T Tina, though New Finn's evidently recovered enough from his earlier tizzy to grace us all with his presence -- and as Mr. Schue claps his hands together to get things started, a gun goes off somewhere very close by. Off screen, a woman screams and starts clattering down the hall atop a pair of audibly chunky heels just as a second gunshot hits the soundtrack, and Coach Beiste -- God love her -- immediately leaps into action, slamming shut doors and switching off lights while a much-slower-to-react Mr. Schue takes his sweet time shouting for the children to hide. Dreamboat Blaine tries and fails to shove the piano against one of the doors, knocking a rather convenient metronome to the linoleum in the process, but he quickly gives up on that idea and instead helps Artie to the floor against the cabinets. Joining those two on that side of the room are Pretty Kitty, Stupid Boring New Idiot Rachel, and New Puck, while Lady Lips Von Bieberhausen, New Finn, and New Finn's Secret Internet Lover hide in one of the corners opposite, beneath the exterior windows. The camera cuts briefly outside the room to watch as a herd of thirty or so mouthbreathing extras stampede for the exits while other supernumeraries loudly slam shut classroom doors of their own, and twenty seconds after The Incident's begun, the entire school finds itself in a mostly-quiet lockdown. I say "mostly," because that convenient metronome Dreamboat Blaine so clumsily knocked to the floor is now tick-tick-ticking away in a manner most obnoxious because SYMBOLISM! Or something like that. Just assure yourself that well before the next nine and a half minutes are done, that fucking metronome will become the most reprehensible element of this evening's entire goddamned presentation. WHY WON'T ANY OF THEM SHUT THAT FUCKING THING OFF?
Ahem. Sorry -- just a bit of anticipatory screaming, there. Anyway, after another thirty seconds of jerky, hand-held camerawork underscores The Desperate Situation In Which Our Heroes Have Now Found Themselves, Mr. Schue gets the brilliant idea to have the children Tweet what's going on to the outside world, though he cautions them against revealing their current location, because "shooters have smartphones, too." Which is -- you'll pardon the expression, I'm sure -- FUCKING STUPID. Here's an idea, dickhead: Why don't you borrow one of the kiddies' phones, call emergency services, and tell the goddamned police what's going on instead of having the nitwits in your charge blast pointless and unhelpful text messages out onto a pointless and unhelpful social media platform? Huh? HUH?