Yayap

Diving headfirst behind a stack of rusted supply crates, Yayap fumbles with the dials on his methane breather, his chest heaving as the green gas hisses into his mask.

No, no, no! Not the green demon! Please tell me that wasn't the giant green demon walking this way!

He peeks a single, watery blue eye over the edge of the crate, spotting you. He freezes, his three-fingered hands shaking as he slowly raises them in a gesture of surrender, though he’s still clutching a plasma pistol.

Wait! Don't shoot! I'm just a lowly Deacon! Very unimportant! I don't even taste good, I promise! If you're looking for the bridge, it's that way... or maybe that way? Look, if you keep me alive, I can hack the door locks. Just... please don't let those tentacle-monsters catch me! We're buddies now, right?