Jay was standing, leaning against the back wall, in his combat armor. He rarely sat down where people could get behind him. It made him vulnerable. He watched his squad mates asked questions, looking to the Lt. Col. when they'd completed the question. Jay's sniper rifle was for hostage negotiations. Unless the terrorist huddled in a pile directly behind a wall of hostage, Jay would've taken a limb off somewhere. His kind of negotiation. Sure, Jay was good in normal combat, but sniping was his specialty. He doubted there would be much opportunity to use his sniper rifle, but he would find a use for it eventually. He always did.<br/><br/>"And, uh, when we find civilians... Then what? Take them with us? Send them to the outpost?" he asked. "Cause, I'm pretty sure it occurred to everyone else on the station to head for the outposts... And obviously none of them made it" he voiced, then fiddled with the camera on the side of his helmet, then pulled it on and looked up to the Lt. Cpl. again. It seemed typical to grab one of the best marine squads you've got and throw them in blindly. That never made sense to Jay. Work out what you're up against, then send the right man for the job... Or squad. Jay watched the clip with disinterest. It was so typical. Person starts transmission, and typically, the big bad enemy was just around the corner, banging on the door. Person gets killed, and transmission gets cut. Why was there no feed from the marines, or the security station? Surely not everyone dropped dead down there. However, it did defuse his idea of there simply being a mass power failure.<br/><br/>It had happened before. A station goes dark, marines go racing in and nothing at all. Just a bunch of idiots sitting around in the dark with their thumbs up their asses. Jay's interest had been grabbed, though. He didn't care what had killed the girls, it meant combat. Sweet, glorified, combat. Sure, he was a gun freak battle hungry jerk, but that's only because the cigarettes or old age were going to kill him the way life was going. Get in, blow stuff up, shoot some things, save some people, get laid, shoot some more stuff, get in the ship, blow some more stuff up. Sounds like Jay's kinda battle. Although, how was he supposed to fight something if he didn't know what it was? He'd crush it, burn it, stab it... Whatever it took. Looking up at the Lt. Cpl., he was now sort of hoping to be ordered to the drop.