"Sarge" O'Shay<br/><br/>O'Shay got up out of cryo sleep as quick as he could.  Age had refused to slow the Devil Dog down, mostly because he wouldn't let it.  He walked back and forth between the cryo pods of 1st Squad.  He still had most of his old outfit, except for Mengsk, Widow, and Reaper.  '1875' as he referred to it, had been a total shit storm.<br/><br/>Nightmarish aliens.  Acid blood.  Their young bursting out of the still living bodies of anything they could cocoon, including people.  He was still having nightmares about it all and the people he lost.  Widow had been killed saving Rome's life.  She had knocked him out of the way of a charging alien the size of an elephant.  Reaper had sacrificed his life by staying on the ramp to buy time.  Unfortunately, it was a few seconds too late.  He died impaled by a flying alien and covered in acid burns.  He and the LT had requested they both be given medals and rank posthumously, but the suits at W-Y had seen the whole thing hushed up.  The deaths were called 'accidents'.  Fuckin' suits.  Speaking of the LT, he had been transfered to another outfit suddenly.  Who knows why, but it's easy to guess.  At least, he still had the rest of the unit.  He had gotten a new LT fresh out of Annapolis.  He was green as green got, and he hadn't had the chance to learn his name.  He hadn't had the chance to even learn his name.  He at least still had Gizmo, Rome, Zippo, and Senjo so he had people he knew would keep it together.<br/><br/>O'Shay quickly ate a ration bar as he pulled on his gear.  He always kept a few extra with him for situations like this.  God knows they would last through the Apocalypse.  "Stow your gear! Get strapped in! MOVE IT!" Now they were about to hit the shit again.  LV-6329 had fallen off the grid.  "How familiar..." O'Shay sarcastically thought.  He couldn't help but wonder if it was more of the 'dickhead' aliens as Rome called them.  It wouldn't be too shocking all things considered.  He knew his Marines could solve the problem, but if they became alien chow, W-Y still gets a loose end tied up.  They win either way.  "Fuckin' suits...," he thought again.  Innocent people were losing for their lives so they could make a buck.  Yet, they always came out just saying that it was 'unforeseeable' or some shit and come away from it like nothing happened.<br/><br/>"We're taking fire! I repeat taking fire, expect a hot LZ!"<br/><br/>"Aw,fuck me...," was the last thing O'Shay could say before being jostled and banged around.  The FUBAR drop had happened so quickly he had no time to even bark to 'brace for impact'.  He wasn't sure how much time had passed before they took incoming fire and when they finally landed.  He wasn't sure how long he had been out or if the turbulence had simply screwed with is sense of time, but he had to take action.<br/><br/>The scene around him was a mess.  The drop ship inside was a mess.  Sparks flew and lights flickered.  He could see his Marines all around him, followed by weak groans.  O'Shay had a job to do still.  They were in a hot LZ, but at least the pilot had managed to land them as beast as she could.  With a great strain of effort, he pushed the restraints off of him.<br/><br/>"Shit, Marines are you with me?!" he yelled, but didn't get much more than groans.  He began to check on the closest member.  It was Gizmo.  Who had been strapped in right next to him.  His eyes were wide open, looking at him.  "Gizmo! You all right?" Nothing.  Just blankness.  "GIZMO! Damn it! Snap out of it!" It was only then O'Shay noticed something was off.  He waved his hand in front of his eyes.  No response.  He felt his neck and confirmed what he hoped hadn't come to pass.  The sudden impact had snapped Gizmo's neck.  He hadn't even had a chance.<br/><br/>There was no time to mourn the dead just yet.  There were still people he could save.  "1st Squad! Talk to me!" he yelled as he began to check his men.