He took a deep breath and moved on. He had seen a lot of friends die over the past few days, what could he do. Nothing. LV-426 was supposed to be a "big step forward for outer space colonies" or so the suits at Weyalnd and Yutani had told them. Bullshit was what it was. The colony had become another sweaty cramped box town on the outer reaches of the galaxy. Friends were hard to come by, people would stab you in the back and gladly twist the knife if there was the slightest chance of getting a promotion, or anything to get them out of the accurately dubbed "Armpit quarter" which is where the majority of the working class had been stuck to live. He fucking hated the place. He always pictured himself growing old and fat surrounded by chubby grandkids in Wisconsin, and have retired from the stellar construction business. Just so that when he died his epitaph would read "Andrew Rochester- Beloved Husband, Father and Grandfather. He made the universe a more stable place to live". Now it would read "Andrew Rochester he drank to much and pissed his life away at 35, and he didn't give a shit"
There was a metallic thud behind him, Andrew whirled to see that a broken piece of pipe had dislodged itself and hit the metal deck.
Yep Andrew hated the place and all the people, but he never would have wished death on any of them. Well maybe the fat greasy fuck who ran the only decent mess hall on the colony. Andrew had had a fight with the obese cook, once after Andrew accidentally on purpose dropped a glass on the floor after a bad shift at the atmosphere processor. And ever since then he'd harboured bad feelings towards the tubby son of a bitch.
Andrew took a right turn around the dimly lit corridor, trying where he could to keep to the light. But the lighting was painfully dull red bulb that barley illuminated the tip of your nose let alone 5metres ahead of you.
So yeah he pretty much hated everybody there. But apart from the fat boy he would never had wished death on any of them, certainly not to this extent. He was among a handful of people left alive on the colony. They had been ordered to stick to groups and to well lit areas. Fuck that was Andrews attitude. If Andrew's life was in danger he wasn't gonna die sitting next to a bunch of middle class twats who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. Besides if one of those twisted things decided to attack them he would rather make his decision to run or die himself. Those middle class dicks couldn't decide on the colour of shit if given a week to do so. So here he was wandering around on level5 the "middle class" living area, trying to see if he could scrounge anything to drink from one of the quarters. He could murder a glass of whisky now. Real whisky from Earth, not that soy shit they served everywhere.
Another thud behind him. No pipe this time though. He turned to be confronted by a 7foot black creature with an elongated head. Its devil like jaws slid open to reveal another set of jaws mounted on a black rod. The rod shot out and smashed through Andrew's face before he had the chance to move. His blood and brain tissue splashed over the floor and he was thirsty no more.
Yep Andrew Rochester hated this place. He drank too much and pissed his life away. But in those last few moments before his life ebbed away Andrew Rochester gave a shit.
