Shattered glass lay upon the floor, crushed to bits over and over again. The tiled floor is stained with blood garnered over the years. The machinery is broken. One would think it's an abandoned hospital, or a labratory post-heist. But no, it was a supermarket, with the name of the sign completely torn to bits. Unnamed, lost, yet still active in produce somehow: But never to buy, of course. Why would you buy in a place so filled with violence? Clearly, with money torn behind the cashier counters, cash is as meaningless as the asphalt.

So, how'd you get here? You're holding an item from the store in your hand, with the jacked-up light over you flickering. You hear footsteps sourcing behind the shelves—With the information you already have about this place, clearly it wasn't someone you can seek assistance from. There seems like there's multiple footsteps, a group of people. Calm at first, yet with no voices attached, just grabbing what they need to leave after. But then the sliding doors at the front drag open agonizingly, with footsteps clicking the floor. There was a deep hum, and immediate breakout ensued.

The footsteps started to run, towards the newcomer. Seems like their presence isn't appreciated. Gunshots began to blare back and forth. As you find a place to take cover, despite your lack of association in this fight, the only sound sourcing from those people are screams of pain. Eventually the gunshots calmed down, and a new metallic smell started to fill the air.

The footsteps, just one pair now, was strolling along the building. Aisle by aisle, the thing checked, approaching you slowly whilst gathering what it needed. The figure came to your aisle. A purple figure, tall and muscular, locked it's three eyes with you, and immediately drew out his gun. But... you made a noise beforehand. Whatever it was: A quiet hum, an actual word, or a squeak of fear, it's eyebrow raised. It's not familiar with a beforehand noise. It's suspicious still, and it says, “You're different. Unless I'm hearing things.”