Last night: Zombies attack!
She'd had no personal visitors for which she supposed she was grateful. But when news spread that the zombies were beginning to attack and attack the Arches complex, she grabbed her gun, all the salt from her kitchen and waded in, thanking Jos silently for his training.

Mazikeen had no compunction killing people -- or, in this case, zombies -- when it was needed and she soon found a rhythm in the battle. Shoot their brains off, pour salt in their decapitated head. Shoot. Pour. Shoot. Pour.

She didn't even realize that somewhere in the midst of it all, she'd transformed, become Mazikeen. Half her face was not much of a face at all.

It was no wonder, then, that someone mistook her for one of the zombies. And it was only by the grace of god -- or maybe Tampa -- that they were a bad shot. Pain seared through her arm and she dropped to her knees, figure flicking through several faces before ending on her own. The shooter approached, throwing salt randomly toward her.

"I'm not a zombie, you fucktard!" Mara screamed, hand clamped over the wound. But he was already running back through the crowd.

Mara winced as she was jostled and slowly got back on her feet. Nothing for it, she had to try for the medical center. She rested the gun on her hip, checked how many bullets she had left and took a deep breath. She wouldn't be able to salt and her aim was going to be as bad as the guy who had shot her, but she didn't see any other options.

"Out of my way assholes!" she yelled and waded in again.