Story Starters for Starters

Hello kiddies, I have been asked to create some potential story starters. I don't mind doing this but... It is up to you to supply the characters' emotions, characteristics designed to face whatever "problem" they encounter and advance the story. Also, the setting that I provide can be fluid. The rising action, climax and falling action leading to whatever conclusion or inconclusion is yours to include.

Hey- It's like having a party. You are providing the food, the music, the games and the guests. I am simply providing the hall...

#1. Of course Blitney knew how to handle the Straussman 88. Fully loaded, it could spray a cool ninety seven shots as steady as the shooter was steady; right to left, left to right, above the defender, below, if the attack came from downhill. Heck, the patented seismic sensor would even whip the base around and flatten any threat sneaking or slithering from behind. Even miniscule change in the air pressure within fifty feet- a slight disturbance in the earth's harmonics caused by footsteps of an average-sized human would shock the Straussman into action. And God help the man or woman in the path of the weapon's splattering apocalypse for it did not differentiate friend from foe... only live from dead. No, Blitney knew how to make the corridor all red and slippery in the space of seconds. He'd done it before and had not wavered. Only this time, this moment he paused, mouth dry.
"Hesitate is death, hesitate is..." his thoughts raced. For the shadows approaching Craig Blitney were half-sized, child shapes and their hypnotic moans quivered in high ranges. No training, no experience, no emotion had taught him to gun down...
Out of the shadows skimmed the first of the child-shapes. Pint-sized it was, with baby-like legs wobbling. Blitney was almost taken with the baby fat calves and thighs waving to find their balance. First one, then another staggered closer. A slight smile crossed the hardened commando's lips as he remembered the futive first steps of his own little ones. His smile froze sharp when he glanced the faces of the half-sized attackers. For they all had, frozen on their baby faces murderous, snarls. Sharp teeth protruded from each soft lip. Snorting sounds gurgled from each rictus mouth. Still... all at once, as the dozens of others came into the half light, it struck him. Every last one of the baby bodies supported a fully grown head- each head a dead ringer for a dead singer... "NOOOOOO ELVIS!" Craig bellowed. He opened fire...