[center][h1][color=808080]ALAN FOUREN[/color][/h1][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/51fc61ac770a524e9468f174afa94d7f/tumblr_inline_n1xc79Kcic1rb3m8r.png[/img][/center]
[b][center]Corridors, New Anchorage 
[color=gray][[ Around 0200 Hours  ]][/color]
[sub][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JsaOfAF6df4]M O O D M U S I C[/url][/sub][/center][/b]

Alan’s eyes locked with glowing red eyes as he leapt from cover. He accepted this: he would most likely die. But he could give Jingo and Josh a chance to fight back or escape. It would be his last act as a leader. A good sacrifice for his squadmates. “AAR-” 

[color=cccccc][h3][b][sub]*CHUNK, CHUNK, CHUNK!*[/sub][/b][/h3][/color]

The sudden flash of light from behind the two soldiers aiming at him came as a godsend; and there on her wings of fury was one Tahlia Styles: a valkyrie of vengeance that came from the heavens to deliver the three men (and robot dog) to safety. For that moment, Alan fell madly in love with her for that split second; a mix of emotions from relief that someone was there saving their collective asses, and the fact that she looked amazing holding a laser rifle killing the men that wanted to kill them. 

The first man she gunned down hit the floor hard; if he wasn’t dead he was hurt, but the second soldier seemed willing to return fire at the woman. It was enough to move his gaze towards Tahlia instead of Alan, and that split second was the chance the man had to take; he leapt over several downed bodies, bringing his metal pipe up and against the jaw of the second soldier, bringing the man down onto the ground. Alan didn’t stop there, however. 

[color=808080] [b]”DIE. YOU. FUCKING. BASTARD.” [/b][/color] He brought the metal pole down on the man’s hand with every punctuated curse. Blood began to erupt from his targets skull, and soon Alan was stained with the splatter, covering his undershirt and pants. 


Alan continued to pound until the sound of metal filled the corridor, with the rest of the pilots quiet at his sudden violent actions. In that moment, he wasn’t in the corridor; he was in a raider camp. He was getting revenge. For that moment the only way he could assert that he was alive was to take the life of someone else. The soldier sufficed for now. 

[color=75906C]“I think they’re dead. Huh.”[/color]

Josh’s words snapped Alan back to reality. [color=808080]“F-fuck…”[/color] he muttered, before falling to his knees. He felt light headed. [color=808080]“We’re alive.”[/color]

Jingo watched Alan as he beat in the assailant’s skull, his lips pursed thinly in reaction to the gorey sight. The man knelt down to pick up a plasma carbine that laid on the floor. He wracked the lever open slightly to check the condition of the energy cell. Looking satisfied with the weapon, Jingo appeared ready to carry on.

[color=75906C]“Thanks to the Australian Sensation, yeah.”[/color] Josh’s comment seemed like an attempt to lighten the mood after Alan’s…[i]display[/i].

[color=8f735b]"Keep trying those flirt tactics and I’ll send you out to the front lines,"[/color] Tahlia rose from out of the alcove, checking the rifle in her hand to see how much ammunition was left; not much apparently. She strided toward the group, keeping her ears open in order to ensure that they were in the clear.  Her first point of interest was their Datatools on their wrists as it was an easy way to find out who they were and what their main objective was. She tapped the unit and waited for the display to appear. 

As Tahlia went about her business Alan crouched down at his recent kill, rifling through the corpse’s pockets, checking if his armor still had enough integrity to be used, and of course; he armed himself. This wasn’t the first time he’d looted a corpse, and he doubted it would be the last. His greatest belief was of survival at all costs. A corpse wouldn’t miss their belongings, after all. And he’d looted enough corpses without a karmic backlash to keep him from this task. He wrested a clean datatool from the body, and peeled off the outer cover of the synth weave armor. He set the armor aside for now; it wouldn't make them tanks but it would keep them alive in the off chance a stray blast hit them in the torso. He was surgical in his work; producing a credit chit, a spare power cell, nothing that gave credence to who this man was before. Alan preferred that. It allowed him to rationalize his brutality as some aspect of protection, both for himself and for his comrades. It didn’t stop the pounding in his ears, however. When he was finished with his body, Alan stood up and shined his light over to the other corpses, walking to a fresh one and began his process again. Seeing the fresh body under the light, Alan let out a single word: [color=808080]”Motherfucker.”[/color]

He was dressed as a New Anchorage guard— they [i]all[/i] were.

[color=8f735b]"God damn it!"[/color] Tahlia cried out in disapointed frustration. She had cycled through the contained details and noticed that much of the key information was simply gone. Mission logs, radio frequencies, even the individual’s personal details. [color=8f735b]"It looks like the device has gone through a complete wipe."[/color]

Joshua sighed as he holstered his handgun before kneeling down to pick up one of the assault rifles lying on the floor, [color=75906C]“Well at least they weren’t rigged up outside of a memory wipe protocol. We could be all human paintings right now.”[/color]

[color=khaki]“Le’s go.”[/color] Jingo uttered.

Alan nodded, pocketing items he could carry for now. An extra Datatool and another power cell.[color=808080]”Shouldn't be a difficult walk to the armory now.”[/color] He checked the rifle in his arms, happy to have something of use— at least with more range than a pipe. [color=808080]“I hope the others didn’t run into these guys.”[/color]

[color=75906C]“Well, not [i]these[/i] guys.”[/color] Joshua kicked one of the bodies to check them for signs of life. [color=75906C]“They’re kind of dead.”[/color]


[center][color=black][h1]‖ ‖ ‖ ‖ ‖[/h1][/color][/center]

[color=green]”Holy shit, they’re dead.”[/color]Elicott’s reaction to the aftermath of their first battle resonated in Alan’s head. He still could not get used to the comm channel. [color=green]”Do you think we could have solved this...peacefully?”[/color] Elicott and Alan had deployed together, but this had been Elicott's first real battle. The first few times fighting bleeder worms in the Alabama wastes, Elicott had remained at their flank, protecting the cargo transport. This time he'd been up close to the action. He'd seen death. And now the boy was looking at shredded metal, charred earth and the remains of a corpse that had failed in an attempt to eject his NC. 

[color=FFFF00]”With raiders? No.”[/color] Dicer’s voice took command over the group at least. The older boy always seemed to exude confidence and wisdom; even if he was only 19 years old. Dicer was a true commander, a man who should have been born in the megacity. There he really could have made a name for himself as a great pilot or commander. Instead, he was born into one of the poorest families at The Mound. His mother was a maid at a brothel, and his father had died of sickness years ago. For Dicer, it was fight for the towns or die destitute. He chose to fight. He was the kind of guy that anyone would be glad to follow into the mouth of hell, without a second thought. He got them into more trouble than it was worth, but it always worked itself out in the end. Hell, Dicer’s stupid ideas had gotten them some of the town’s most lucrative contracts. The four of them together? They could beat anything. Mutant beasts, raiders, storms. They were going to be great. 

[color=FFFF00]”I gotta say though, Al. You went hog wild on them, didn’t ya? Tore the bastards to shred in that Wolf of yours. Hell, we need a new name for it. The Wild Wolf! Sound good Al?”[/color] 

[color=FFFF00][i]Al?[/i][/color]


[center][color=black][h1]‖ ‖ ‖ ‖ ‖[/h1][/color][/center]

[color=75906C]"Al!"[/color] Alan felt Josh push against his shoulder. [color=75906C]”Come on man, let’s get to the armory before more of these guys show up.”[/color] 

[color=808080]”Right. Let’s move.”[/color]Alan felt lost in that moment. Lost in his own memories, and lost in the darkness of the corridors. In that very moment, as they began to move deeper into the darkness, Alan felt a pang of loneliness and pain that he’d buried years ago. [i]He felt homesick.[/i]