As a veteran of the colonial marines, I know to always keep my smartgun close at hand. As a police officer, my chief wont let me do that in the station. Now the station has an xenomorph infestation

*Guns & Roses. That’s how they called me back in the day. I was a ghost. I could clear the room before you could say “Gunny.” I could clear a whole level. Small areas I’d go in with a shotgun. Larger areas I’d go in with a smartgun. Machine guns were my primary gun of choice. I could take it into an elevator, take it into a dropship, take it into a OP. I could take an entire parking garage down with a smartgun. Then I enlisted with them in the Office of the Colonial Police. <br><br>Farmers, construction workers, people who had a way with animals. These are the people who clamored to enlist in the Colonial Marines. What did I do?<br><br>I applied to be a cop. This was all before we received a distress signal from LV-426, before we saw all those horrors, before I was forced to fight. <br><br>I was dancing through a huge colony of xenomorphs on a remote planet when it hit me. This was our future. Things could change very quickly. One day we could be living in peace, working, our children could be playing outside, and then a colony of xenomorphs lay their eggs in a tunnel. <br><br>I thought we could prevent that. I thought that if I became a cop I could make sure that didn’t happen. I could make sure people are safe. I could protect them if anything were to happen. I could protect them if a xenomorph infestation were to happen. I could protect you. <br><br>You know what the OP wants you to do when you enlist? We are supposed to fight to the last man. We're supposed to fight until there’s no one left to fight. I wanted to go back to the days when we could watch out for each other. When we could protect each other. <br><br>But things don't always go as we would like them to. Now I sit in a block of cells. No windows, no doors. I think they knew we were expecting an infestation because of the strange allegations people had been making of seeing a xenomorph running around. It doesn’t matter why. <br><br>I'm in here now. Along with a dozen other people. "But I thought you had a smartgun?" The kid next to me said. He was scared. Shaking. <br><br>"I do. It's in a locker on the fourth floor where the other smartguns are kept. Doesn't matter. <br><br>"No, it's just us. I'm not going to call for backup. I'm going to look after my own. I'm going to look after you. <br><br>We're going to go up there, we're going to get my smartgun, and we're going to make sure that if there are any xenomorphs in this place, that they will be dead before we are. <br><br>You hear me? We're going to get through this. We will survive this." I told him. <br><br>“I understand." <br><br>He nodded. <br><br>*Ok we can do this.*