Fan fiction based on Gears of War. Features original characters.
Storm clouds gathered overhead as Sev, Ulysses and I sat near our Centaur assault vehicle, awaiting orders from command. We were twelve-year veterans in the army of the Coalition of Ordered Governments, better known as the COG. Twelve years ago, on what was called Emergence Day, a nightmarish race of subterranean monsters emerged from the underground, beginning an immediate genocidal war against humanity. These creatures, known to us as the Locust Horde, had taken a catastrophic toll. Most of the planet Sera was a barren wasteland, and the human race was on the brink of extinction.
Sev, Ulysses and I had known each other since before the war. After Emergence Day, we banded together and enlisted in the COG military. Since then, we fought for our survival as Gears.
Ulysses took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaled, and looked up at me.
“So, Dmitri,” he said. “Finished that engraving on your shotgun yet?”
“Yep,” I said, holding my Gnasher shotgun in my lap. “I’ve put a seal on it so it doesn’t chip off or fade.” I held up my shotgun so Ulysses could see the side of it. I had engraved letters into the side of it, and stained the letters with locust blood. I finished it by putting a wax seal overtop of the blood, to prevent it from chipping. The letters read “Mr. Splat”.
“Hehe, that always cracks me up,” said Ulysses, scratching the back of his head through his dreadlocks. “Just how many grub heads have you blown off with that thing?”
“More than I can count,” I said to him. “What do you think, Sev?”
“Quite comical,” he said in his usual grim tone, not looking at us. He was busy polishing his Longshot sniper rifle, the one he had used since the day he enlisted. Sev was the quiet one in our group, the one whose only wish was to kill as many locust as he possibly could. He almost didn’t value his own life, believing it to be expendable and meaningless, now that humanity was near extinction. Still, he recognized that he was a valued member of our team, and did all he could to survive, to play his part as our sniper; though he didn’t hold much hope for humanity’s survival.
“You didn’t even look at the damn thing,” Ulysses said to Sev. Sev looked up from his Longshot, a blank look on his face; one that had caused many recruits to piss themselves. Ulysses, on the other hand, was not intimidated. “You know that look doesn’t work on us.”
“It was worth a shot,” said Sev. “Maybe it will work on the recruit.”
“Who?” I asked. But before my question could be answered, a transmission came from our terminal. It was Lieutenant Anya Stroud, from command.
“Bravo team, come in,” she said.
“We’re here,” I said. “What’s our assignment?”
“A locust command post about ten miles from your position,” she said. “Intel says there are an unusual number of locust going in and out of it, but nothing overtly suspicious.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “What’s this I hear about a recruit?” I asked.
“Ah, yes, that,” she said. “You’ll be joined in your mission by a new recruit, take him out on a basic mission to help get his feet wet.”
“If it turns out well, his feet will be soaked in locust blood,” Sev muttered. Ulysses grinned in response. The noise of a rotor sounded behind us, becoming gradually louder, until we turned around to see a King Raven helicopter approaching our position.
“That’ll be your recruit,” said Stroud. “You have your mission, Bravo. Good luck and Godspeed.” She disappeared as the terminal flickered off. The Raven hovered overhead, slowly lowering itself. The smoke from Ulysses’ cigarette blew into his face, forcing him to put it out. The Raven touched down briefly, long enough for a Gear to step out, then took off just as quickly. The soldier was dressed in full Gear armour, helmet and all, proudly carrying a standard-issue Lancer assault rifle. I stood up from my seat and walked towards him.
“And who might you be?” I asked him. He stood up straight and saluted.
“Sgt. James Wilson, reporting for duty, sir!” he said eagerly.
“Kid, we’re a couple of rude, bloodthirsty, near-heartless pricks,” said Ulysses as he re-lit his cigarette. “No need to be so polite.”
“Sorry sir,” he said. “I was just taught to address my superiors that way. My friends call me Jimmy.”
“Well, we’re not your friends,” I said to him. “For now, you’re the rookie.”
“Sounds good, Sarge,” he said.
“You haven’t killed a locust before, have you?” asked Sev.
“Well, no,” said Jimmy. “But I’m sure as hell ready to!” He went to rev the chainsaw bayonet on his Lancer. I stopped him.
“Don’t get enthusiastic about that thing,” I said. “Last rookie we had got his hand mutilated.” I couldn’t see through his helmet, but I could tell the rookie had a nervous look on his face.
“Alright Bravo, let’s move out,” I said to them. The four of us packed up our gear, fired up the Centaur, and drove towards our mission.