Name: Alan Grey
Role: Guard
Age: 31
Inventory: Pump Shotgun, Armored Riot Guard Uniform, Canteen, Badge, Laser Revolver
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Alan awoke to a wall of darkness. "forget, where am I...?" He thought drunkenly to himself. He tried to move his legs, but for some reason all his feet were hitting was air. His arms were pinned to his sides as well. "What the hell happened last night?" Straining his eyes in the dark, he couldn't see anything. Thankfully the re-breather tank built into his armor had come on or he'd have suffocated. He spoke into his visor, "activate helmet light" and the inside of his viewscreen was illuminated by a few LED's. He couldn't quite tell what he was looking at at first, but then he realized which way gravity was going. He was staring into a wall of dirt, and had somehow managed to get sunk up to his navel in the ground. "Well, I bet I look like a right loving smartass right now." he growled.
Suddenly he felt something yank at his leg. He felt the soil around him give as he slid out of the hole. "About damn time guys, I was beginning to- forget ME." Then he realized what had yanked him out wasn't some jackass from the ship about to tell him about the absolutely raucous party he'd missed, but a ravenous space wolf thing that was trying to gnaw through the steel plate armor on his leg. He kicked violently twice with his other leg, making a significant enough contact to dislodge the thing on the second strike. The riot guard rolled a few feet away from the reeling wolf alien and patted his holsters for his weapons, but only came up with dirt. "Well stuff." He thought, before noticing a pump shotgun lying near a hunk of steel embedded in the earth near him. "Oh there you are." He dove for the gun right as the wolf got a bead on him again. It jumped right as he snared the black fiberglass stock and flipped over, cycling the pump once before ripping a round of double-ought buckshot into its chest as it landed on him.
He shoved the still twitching corpse off and took a breath. "Re-breather cycle off" He muttered, hoping for a big lungful of good oxygenated air. The off-smelling weak atmosphere that came through his filters left him gasping. "Re-breather cycle on!" He stood there, huffing a moment before he straightened to take stock of his surroundings. He seemed to be standing in a small crater, several jagged chunks of steel thicker than his body jammed into the ground near him. A large munitions crate was also present, though upon searching it the only functional weapon was a single laser revolver. Not bad, but he missed some of the bigger, more powerful weapons the seven other riot guards and he had shared. It was obvious the world was alien, that much was certain, and the ship was most definitely not going to be in working order for a damn long time, or at all. He heard more shooting, and turned to look in the direction of the sound. Seemed like other survivors were beginning to amass. He grimaced, realizing that since he was probably the only other riot guard alive he'd be responsible for keeping the peace if people started to get really rowdy, and he wasn't going to look half as intimidating as he'd need to to stare down an angry mob with just a revolver, a shotgun, and a damaged set of armor. Really that was the only reason the crew bothered keeping heavier weapons on board, simply for intimidation factor. Most of the bigger guns didn't even have ammo, or the guards weren't ever trained to use them.
Alan turned to check the crate one last time, grabbed a few boxes of shotgun shells, took one last forlorn look at the absolutely ruined minigun, rocket launcher, and heavy laser that had somehow become a Gordian Knot of steel, holstered his revolver, then leaned the shotgun on his shoulder, turned and trudged toward the encampment on the bridge.
