Scenario #1

Dan 'Metro' MacDuff had seated himself in the corner of the WalMart. From his viewpoint he could see everything, from the permanently jammed magic doors at the entrance to the thick blag hallway at the other side, a place he flat-out refused to go into. He wasn't scared of the dark, but he wasn't going to run into smothering darkness where some kinky fucker with a bondage fetish would take a bite out of his neck. Metro didn't roll that way. He was just kind of sitting right now, not doing anything in particular, flicking through an old copy of [i]Empire[/i] he had found. He was still mad that the shit hit the fan before they ever got a sequel to the [i]Dredd[/i] movie. But a quickening of the breeze, a faint sniff of odour, a quiet- Oh who the fuck was he kidding, he could see her head bobbing up and down the aisle. He slipped down from his Throne of Cafe Chairs and weaved his way through the debris, M4 levelled.

Metro had visited Glasgow a few times as a child. One time he remembered in particular though was his visit to Easterhouse, a ghetto of Glasgow. Chicago one year on from a zombie apocalypse had less shit strewn across the floor than Easterhouse did. 

The girl went up aisle three. Metro bent over and went up aisle two. The awkward pressure on his chest was irritating his lungs again, he could feel a ticklish cough rising, and the rough banging of the rifle on his spine was leaving bruises. But first things first was Zed removal. No movement was coming from aisle three, so Metro being the gentleman he is, decided to get rid of the metaphorical 'spider' in this already blooming relationship: he sprung up and heaved the corpse's head too the left, hammering down the tip of his beloved knife straight through it's cranium and thumping on the other side of the skull. He lowered the body down and quietly laid it out, searching the pockets. Nought but lint. Another Zed was in the vicinity though, he could hear it tripping over the rubble of a long ago war. He straightened out and padded his way forward. He swiped the sides of his blade on an old copy of [i]Fifty Shades of Grey[/i] (pretty ironic, considering it was now soggy with grey matter), and still crept forward until it retreated out of sight behind the book case again. An invisible Zed was as bad as a zippy Zed. Metro walked backwards and widened the gap between himself and the man-thing before turning the corner. He lunged forward stabbed the shambler directly on its spinal cord, severing it. A sickly thud harmonised the clanging ruckus of head on bookshelf reverberated throughout the store. The done fucked up, didn't it?

But nothing came of it. Or nothing of any immediate danger anyway. So he walked back to aisle three. Without saying anything, he cleaned the knife on a billowing paper bag (silly environmentalists) and sheathed it, then swung his M4 into a neutral position on his front. Metro glanced down at the crouched girl, kind of pretty actually, and waved, only the vague indication of glinting eyes showing from behind his mask.