<span style="color: #00FF00">Ray had heard the shrieking, the gurgling moan that to an experienced gamer only meant one thing. Fucking zombies. She shook her head, Thereâ€™s no way in hell, she thought. She turned into the next aisle quickly, looking through the kitchen supplies and found a cast iron frying pan and grabbed it. She made to walk away but the set of kitchen knives caught her eye. She grabbed the whole block of them and put it in her basket, staying unusually alert as she made her way up to the crowd at the front of the store. The closer she got, she heard whispers around her from the customers.<br/><br/>â€œMy God, did you see that man beat that poor old woman with his helmet?â€<br/><br/>â€œSomeone should arrest him for such a thing!â€<br/><br/>â€œNo, you didnâ€™t even see it, that crazy old bitch fucking attacked that other chick and ripped<br/>her fuckinâ€™ throat out, then made to go jump the big motherfucker!â€<br/><br/>â€œHe totally fucking owned her.â€<br/><br/>Ray smirked at the peopleâ€™s comments, and from what she heard she assumed Mr. Army Man was the one who ran to the ladyâ€™s aide. She sighed. What was it with these guys? She pushed her way through the last line of people to see Mr. Army Man backing away from the woman as she lay on the floor, dead. Well, re-dead. Everyone was inching closer to the woman the batty old lady/zombie had attacked, seeing if she was going to make it. Ray knew better and made her way towards Mr. Army Man, the only person who seemed to notice that something was going on beyond what was seen.</span>