Gears of War: A.E.

[Lilam]

((Aww, you're writing this for lil' ol' me? Whooo! Yay me! =^_^= Although, initially, I was totally psyched 'cause I thought you updated only to find out that you were only responding to Kaez... but I guess I can curb my fangirlishness for now. *goes back to stalking the story*))

[tamwyn]

((SECOND PAGE, AMG! K...I'm halfway through with the chapter, but I haven't been feeling it lately. I need inspiration! TO GEARS 2!

Edit: Due to unforeseen problems (cousin and a friend staying over ><) this won't be updated until tomorrow.

Edit 2: Disregard that. Updated.))

[tamwyn]

((Lots of character development, no action. However, the next chapter might please those of you that thirst for blood to be spilled.))

Chapter 4: Downside Up

Hey sis, it’s Ty. Thought I’d write you a letter from the field, just in case, you know, something happens. Never been big on long goodbyes, you should know. Remember when we moved from Landown to Jacinto and we left all our friends? Yeah. Anyway, I’ve been thinking really hard about everything, like what’s going to happen after we win. Yeah, I’m not worried about losing at all – we’ll win, no doubt at all in my mind. I just want you to know I love you and Michael if I’m not there when it ends. Just be happy, alright? Oh, and one more thing, I never told you, but I read your diary when we were twelve. Sorry.

Love to you both,

Tyler D. Fais

– Unsent letter in Private Tyler Fais’ possession.

Border of Ephyra, Stranded Convoy;

1745 hours.

Marov cursed again, sparks flying into the air as he worked on repairing the ‘bot with the parts Parker had given them earlier. The constant, unsteady motion of the APC’s tires running over loose stones and bushes was causing the man to scorch the skinny, yet armored, mechanical gloves he wore for the delicate task. Ty watched as he held out tools and parts for the senior member of Echo-Three.

The young recruit’s frame was a little smaller and less muscled than the rest of Echo-Three, but he made up for it in quickness. His hair was a rich, dark brown, a little longer than regulation length – though it wasn’t like regulation mattered that much anymore with humanity caught on the brink of extinction. Yet, the young man kept a positive attitude through it all, a far cry from the nervous recruit he had been when they’d sacked Nemaria seven years before. Nyvar had promised Ty’s only living relative that he’d keep the man as safe as he could.

Ty had a twin sister, whom Nyvar only met once when he made the promise. She’d been a thin little thing, then, with a small tell-tale hint of a curve on her abdomen, her face radiant against the long, brown hair that framed it. Ty always made time for his twin and nephew these days, returning happier and more cheerful after each meeting. Nyvar was glad the man had kin to fight for – most Gears only had each other, like Ven. Still, the squad tried to provide as much a family to each other whenever they were out on a mission.

“Damn it, Ven, would you stop running over every rock in the goddamned desert?” Marov asked with frustration evident in his tone. Nyvar grinned at his friend, glad Marov was back to normal as could be expected, given the circumstances. They were currently following a Stranded caravan destined for some refuge over the border – and as an added bonus, the camp was only a couple of hours away from the Imulsion Factory they had been sent to capture.

Nyvar looked over to Ven, seeing the man unaffected by his team member’s harsh tone, staring out of the viewport with a little more sadness than what usually graced the tanned, sanguine face. The man’s wealth of tattoos seemed to markedly add to the emotion coloring his face; specifically the two curved triangles pointing downward from both ends of his lips seeming to reinforce his miserable mood. Typically, they only made the man more fierce looking – as if the man had fangs ready to tear into any enemies in his way. Nyvar had always seen it that way, at least, but now he questioned if that was really the purpose of the two tattoos.

Shrugging, he looked back to the two on the floor of the APC, trying to repair Sparks’ damaged insides with the parts they’d traded for with Parker, the leader of the Stranded Caravan. Nyvar didn’t know what to think of the man – on one hand, he was looking out for his people and doing what he could to help them. On the other, however, he was still a tremendous liability to leave out here in the middle of nowhere and a possible asset to the COG if he could be persuaded to rejoin.

“Here, hold the bot a second, Ty,” Marov said, drawing Nyvar’s attention back to the task at hand. “Right there, good. Let me just get this thing in there and. . .” a small electric pop sounded as Marov stuck a pair of pliers into the bot’s insides. Static hissed from the speakers, blue lights flickering on and off Sparks’ screens, one of its “eyes” cracked and broken.

“Alright, set him down, Ty, and give him some room. Let’s see if his repulsorlift works right,” Marov said, backing up to sit in one of the chairs that lined the APC’s interior, Ty doing the same thing and watching the bot with hope in his eyes. The man’s green eyes looked up to meet Nyvar’s, smiling around a scar on his lip he’d picked up in one of their many engagements. The other man’s face was blocked as Sparks rose into their line of sight, clunking against the ceiling and losing a bit of altitude. It seemed to almost shake itself off as it did this, its front facing camera lenses no longer flickering.

“Hey, Sparks, glad to see you working again!” Ty said from across the tiny room. Sparks chassis hovered in the air, moving in an arc to the sound of the voice, its head cocking quizzically when it looked at the young recruit. A buzz of static and beeping sounded out from the speakers, as if it was greeting Ty in return. Marov stood up then, moving to the ‘bot’s side and pressing a few buttons, one of the lights slowly pulsing red while the rest cheerfully stayed green.

“Well, ‘Seph, looks like the transponder’s working. Matheison knows where we are if he’s still looking,” Marov said, stroking his beard slightly, an expression of thought on the man’s face.

“What about communications? Can we radio Matheison?” Nyvar asked, wishing he could report the Wretches with cloaking fields attached to them.

“We have limited communications, at the moment. I don’t think we’ll get anything better than short-range radio.”

“Good enough,” Nyvar grunted, moderately pleased by the news. If Matheison sent a Raven like Nyvar thought he would, they’d be able to report the threat and send it back with the message.

“I still don’t . . . trust those Gearheads, Parker. They’re . . . bring more Locust to us!” a voice whispered out of Sparks’ speakers, static interrupting the sentences. Nyvar looked quizzically over at Marov, who shrugged, a look of annoyance mixed with surprise on his bearded face.

“Riddley . . . hell up. I know what I’m . . . them, for now. Just follow my lead . . . pie hole shut.” Parker’s voice, Nyvar thought, wondering what was going on as the static vanished.

“What was that?” Ty asked, walking around the bot, gripping the handholds so he didn’t fall down as Ven guided them into another dip in the road.

“Looks like Sparks, here, has been hiding some capabilities,” Marov replied with a gleeful tone, his annoyance at hearing Stranded no doubt outweighed by the new discovery. “I’d heard some Black Ops ‘bots had been rigged with communication intrusion software, but I thought they’d all been destroyed after the Pendulum Wars ended.”

“Officially, they were,” Nyvar replied, a grimace on his face as he leaned his head back against the cool metal of the APC’s chassis, trying to remember something from years ago. “I saw some papers on Hoffman’s desk a couple of years back when I requisitioned a ‘bot for our team. He put them away as soon as he noticed me looking at them, but I noticed the same emblem Dom has on his knife as well as a few serial numbers.” He got up and traced the numbers on the side of Sparks’ frame, remembering the numbers from the papers. “Haven’t connected the dots til now.”

“So we can listen to the Stranded conversations? What good is that?” Ty asked, disappointment written on his wrinkle-free face.

“At the moment, not much, but it always pays to make sure your allies are really your allies. They don’t know we’re listening in on their communications. Maybe we’ll hear something they’d rather keep secret – or at the very least, we’d be prepared if they decided to betray us,” Nyvar replied, sitting back down and looking at the Imulsion plant’s schematics, trying to plan out the assault on the factory. There didn’t seem to be too many entrances and most of those were probably going to be heavily defended given that the occupying forces were former Gears. The twisted screech of metal on metal skittered across Nyvar’s eardrums all of a sudden, causing him to grab his Lancer instinctively.

“Ahhhh!”

“Parker,” a female voice said quickly, “we’ve got an emergence hole in the back end of the convoy, two cars ahead of our new friends!”

“Shit.” A clicking sound followed soon after Parker’s words. “All cars, we’ve got possible Locust contacts near the end of the Convoy. All cars ahead of the emergence hole move to the side of the road as best you can. Naleena, grab some weapons and try to see what the problem is!”

“Alright guys, let’s move. Marov, Ty, you’re with me. Ven, get as close to the E-hole as possible and hop in the gun,” Nyvar said, palming the hatch button and moving out into a canyon of some sort, high cliff walls towering over him. He hadn’t realized the scenery had changed so dramatically. A slight smell of humidity caused him to look up to see dark, forboding clouds roiling in the sky – it was going to rain soon. When he looked back down, he saw Sparks obediently following the three Gears out of the APC, cloaking as soon as he looked around at the surroundings.

“Yes sir. What about the Gears?” the female voice said from thin air, Sparks’ speakers still picking up the signal.

“I bet they’re already moving, Naleena,” Parker replied, his breath coming in fast over the radio, as if he were running. Another pop echoed over the radio, Parker probably trying to contact them with an all range band signal. “Hey, Gearhead, we’ve got some trouble a few cars ahead of ya. Make yourself useful, would ya?”

“Roger that, Parker. We’re already on our way,” Nyvar replied, his fingers pressing against the small comm nestled in his ear canal. He let go, turning the radio off and looked to Marov. “Hey, any chance you could turn that tin can’s software off? We don’t want them to get suspicious and start shooting.”

“I’d like to see ‘em try,” the other man mumbled to himself, looking around and holding his Lancer at his side in a relaxed manner. “Sparks, uncloak for a second. I need to see you.”

A bubbling hiss of static and mechanical beeps sounded as the ‘bot uncloaked, directly over Ty’s head, losing altitude and waiting for Marov to walk over and press a few buttons. Sparks booped sadly as the Gear touched a button on its side panel, turning off the communication intrusion software.

“Done, let’s move. Gotta go save some rabid animals,” Marov griped, shrugging slightly as he pulled his Lancer to his chest and started running to the source of the trouble.

Nyvar shook his head, following the path Ty had taken past one of the Junkers pulled over on the side of the road. The people inside, from what he could see, were huddled together, frighteningly staring outside the armored windows.

“Damn,” Ty said slowly, dropping his Lancer to his side and staring at the back end of a Junker sticking out of the ground. He turned as Nyvar came up, gesturing with his Lancer at the hole in the ground. “Doesn’t look like there’s any Locust activity, sir. Might be an old tunnel that just caved in from the weight.”

Nyvar nodded as he walked up to the hole, staring down – it wasn’t particularly deep, but it was enough to take most of the Junker down into the earth. There were a few people already dropping down into the hole to pull out some Stranded with small rivulets of blood running down the side of their heads or other places. He looked up then, watching as Parker and the dark-skinned woman with the Longshot came to a stop on the other side of the crater.

“Alright, Ty, you come with me. Marov, tell Ven to drive up here so you can get the winch and tow the thing out. I’m going to go talk with Parker,” Nyvar ordered. Marov nodded, his eyes blazing with hatred as he glared at the opposite end of the hole where Parker was talking with the woman.

The hole was about the length of an APC long, so it didn’t take but a few seconds to reach the other side, Ty following him, his heavy boots clumping against the gravel. As they reached the two Stranded, they slowed down, Parker looking up and holding his shotgun to his chest in a two handed grip.

“Shit, Locust’re taking us out without even being here,” the Stranded man said angrily, kicking a small rock into the hole. “Junker’s probably busted with our luck and we don’t have anything to take it out with!”

“We’ve got a winch. I told my team to try to tow it out,” Nyvar replied, letting his Lancer drop down to his chest, his gloved hands fitting through the grove between the chainsaw and the main part of the gun. Parker looked at him and nodded, digging around in one of the many pouches lining his belt, and pulled out a cigarette. Naleena, strapping her Longshot around her shoulder, quickly came up and lit a beat up lighter for the Stranded leader. Parker leaned down to get the end to combust, puffing appreciatively, the fire quickly igniting almost a quarter of the cigarette. Nyvar noticed Ty wrinkling his nose at the smell when the smoke wafted near him.

“Do it. We need to move, quickly. I don’t like stopping out here, especially if the Locust get smart and start dropping rocks down in the gorge,” Parker said around the cigarette, grabbing it between two fingers and letting out a long line of smoke as he took it away from his lips. His dark, gray eyes peered up to the top of the cliffs, darting from ledge to ledge, as if he expected something to come crashing down on them.

Nyvar nodded, turning around to watch Marov hooking the winch clip to the exposed end of the mobile trash bucket, turning around and waving to the APC Ven was driving. The ‘Dill moved back slowly at first, until the line became taunt enough for the Junker in the crater to start groaning as the tortured metal was pulled in an unnatural direction - Nyvar was surprised it didn’t fall apart right there. Ven sped the vehicle up, fishtailing a little bit as it tried to get traction on the rocky ground, moving forward slowly and pulling half of the Junker out.

A white flash lit the area, which was growing darker by the second, followed quickly by a peal of thunder. Nyvar saw Ty’s normally cheerful face frown a bit as the first bits of rain pattered down onto his armor – the kid never did like the rain much.

“Shit…it just keeps getting better,” Parker said as the rain hit his bald head and dribbled down into his face. The man grabbed the cigarette again with his left hand and wiped the moisture off of his face with the dark, leather glove he wore on the right.

“At least it isn’t razor hailing, yet,” Ty replied, staring at the Junker’s crushed front end as Ven finally pulled it out of the hole. Clumps of dirt and small rocks fell from the face of the grill, the axles underneath the chassis bent at odd angles.

“Don’t say that, son. Tis bad luck,” Parker said, putting the cigarette back into his mouth and moving over to the other side of the crater, followed closely by the girl, Naleena, Nyvar thought he heard. He gestured at Ty and waltzed toward the broken Junker in the comical pace the armor forced him to take in order to move, looking up into the sky and wishing it would just go away. When he looked back down, Nyvar noticed Marov hadn’t moved very far away from the Junker, just starting to turn around. That wasn’t good.

Nyvar’s best friend stood in the way of the Stranded for a moment, his hand balling into a fist as Parker said something to him, his voice inaudible over the patter of the rain. Marov replied too quiet for Nyvar to hear, his jaw clenched and his face coloring to red – and then, surprisingly, Marov unclenched his fist and moved aside to let them go by. The girl glanced at him sideways as they passed, a suspicious look on her face.

“You okay, man?” Ty said worriedly, reaching up to grab Marov’s shoulder. The other man shrugged it off, muttering under his breath a quick ‘yeah’ and walking away toward the ‘Dill. Ty looked after him with a frown on his face, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, and started to move before Nyvar grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, shaking his head.

“Leave him alone, Ty. He’s got a lot on his plate,” Nyvar said with a tired tone in his voice that matched his drooping shoulders. A long moment passed by as Ty stared through the thickening rain at his squad mate, the rain running down the light teal-green colored armor. The death’s head emblem suddenly seemed to brighten, as if it knew misery was about and delighted in it.

“Yes sir,” Ty said slowly, sighing and dropping his Lancer to his side in a frustrated manner, annoyed at not being able to help someone in distress. Nyvar knew it was one of the reasons the man was a Gear – to help people who couldn’t help themselves; specifically those like his sister and nephew.

“Come on; let’s go see what the damage is,” Nyvar ordered, trying to get the lad’s mind off of Marov’s predicament.

Nyvar moseyed over to where Parker was kneeling in the thickening mud, his second-in-command hovering like a shadow over him, handing him tools from the heavy belt that hung from around her shapely waist. He glanced sideways at Ty, noticing the younger man’s eyes linger a bit longer than necessary on the woman’s waist, and smiled when his face flushed a little red.

“What’s the word on the old girl?” Nyvar asked when the two Gears reached their destination, his heavy boot splashing into a puddle that had just recently formed.

“Not good at all. Axle’s all fucked up. Don’t think she’ll be going anywhere,” Parker replied, running a hand across his bald head as he stood up, shaking out the water that clung to his glove after he did so. With his other hand, he flicked his finished cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, squishing it into the mud with a soft squelching sound.

“How many people were riding in it?” Nyvar asked, looking to the left side to stare at the small crowd that had gathered under a small overhang on the side of the gorge, huddled together, a few of the children staring out from behind their mother’s dirty rags.

“Eight, plus some possessions. We’ll have to space them out across the rest of the convoy,” Parker replied, kicking the damaged Junker’s tire in frustration. “I hate to ask, but d’ya think you can fit a few in your car?”

“I think we could cart them all around; we have enough space.”

“Nah, I don’t trust you that much. Me and Naleena plus a couple others’ll ride with you. I’d like to keep the civilians away from yours as much as possible,” Parker said, squinting in the rain at Nyvar and gripping his shotgun. “Just in case you get any ideas, we’ll all be armed, Gearhead.”

“That’s fine. None of you will be hurt. I don’t go back on my word.”

“Hurt’s not what I’m worried about,” Parker replied cryptically, walking away to the group that was destined to be spread out amongst the remaining vehicles. Naleena, for once, did not follow him – instead, she stood next to Ty, staring at him up and down, her face uncovered now. The now sodden white bandana she had been wearing earlier was around her neck, dripping slightly into her cleavage.

“Eyes up, fossil,” she said, forcing Nyvar to meet her dark, green eyes; flecks of gold scattered around the pupil.

“Unless you’d like another hole in your head to stare out of,” she continued, patting the Longshot sniper rifle slung across her back. He shook his head with a grunt of bemusement, turning around and heading toward the APC. Nyvar heard Ty snickering behind him as the boy followed his mentor, but he ignored it – there wasn’t much to laugh about these days.

When they reached the APC, which had by then had its winch pulled back into the casing, Nyvar turned around to see Ty and Naleena slowly come to a stop in front of him, silent. The rain was getting stronger, turning the ground into a soupy mess – they needed to move before it became too swampy to even drive around in the heavy vehicles.

“Naleena, I need you to warn you, keep away from Marov as much as you can. He’s got a few,” Nyvar paused, considering his words with care, “issues with Stranded.”

“If he’s got issues he can deal with them. Not all Stranded are animals,” she said violently, glaring at Nyvar, who stared at her back steadily, before looking away her expression softening.

“But I will do as you say,” she finished, shouldering past him, not even wincing as she impacted his tough armored form, and striding up the open ramp. Hearing no sound of gunfire or explosions after a few seconds, Nyvar assumed she did as she was told. Glancing at Ty, who just stared at the ramp with a confused expression on his face, Nyvar blew out a heavy breath.

“You keep your distance from her, too, Ty. She’s not your type,” Nyvar admonished, grinning as the boy’s face flushed with embarrassment, getting him back for the earlier comment. He strode up the ramp, noticing Marov sitting on the left, looking everywhere but at the woman who was sitting across the small space. At least he was behaving himself so far, Nyvar thought, though it’ll probably be strained when the rest of ‘em show up.

“Ven, Marov, we’re going to be entertaining some passengers for the rest of the way. Be nice,” he said, noticing Ven’s expression back to its normal, serene form. The two Gears nodded their assent, the South Islander turning around and starting the APC’s motor while Marov set about cleaning the tools he’d laid out earlier to fix Sparks. As if summoned by his thoughts, the ‘bot decloaked and stared at the woman who widened her eyes in surprise and reached for her side-arm.

“No, no, he’s a friend,” Nyvar said, stepping quickly to Naleena and putting his big hand on her small, slender ones, keeping her from drawing her gun the rest of the way. “Naleena, this is Sparks. Sparks, Naleena. Say hi.”

Sparks booped cheerfully, unaware how close to destruction he had come, turning away and sliding into the slot in the APC’s wall to recharge itself. As it powered down, Nyvar let go of Naleena’s hand and watched as she angrily thrusted it back into its holster – he didn’t know if she was mad because she’d been surprised or because he had laid a hand on hers.

“. . . in here for the rest of the trip, alright boys? Behave yourselves. We’ll be done with them soon enough,” Parker’s voice drifted through the rain into the small compartment as Nyvar and Ty sat themselves down on either side of Marov.

“Glad you could make it, Parker,” Nyvar said, gesturing to the seat across from him, right next to Naleena. “Take a load off.”

“Shit, I don’t see why we have to make nice with these bastards, ‘Seph,” Marov muttered angrily, shaking as he tried to keep himself under control.

“Just go to sleep. We’ll be there in a couple of hours,” Nyvar replied, settling himself in as comfortably as he could, with the armor. The smell hit him first; the stomach churning odor of several unwashed bodies, rust, and dirty cloth causing his nose to quirk in disgust. However, he quickly masked the reaction with a fake cough, bringing his hand to his face. Riddley, the ugly man in the cowboy hat and patchwork armor, noticed the action and grinned, like he was glad the Gears had to suffer the stench. It was going to be a long ride.

[Lilam]

((Gonna' try to read the new chappie tonight. Just letting you know I haven't forgotten. ))

[Lilam]

((*sighs* Tam, Tam, Tam. You should be ashamed of yourself. Making me feel all inadequate as a writer and stuff. SHAME ON YOU! *cry* But seriously! This is really, really good. And it could just be the Gears fangirl in me but, I'm really loving this. The way you write really draws me into the story. I was sitting here at the computer totally engrossed in reading, practically seeing the scenes play out in my head. It's weird, but I almost forgot that I was reading and not -seeing- it happen.

Weird right? But I think you're an awesome storyteller! There were some parts here and there (mainly in the beginning of this last chapter) where I think the flow of the story was interrupted because there seemed to be too many adjectives or excessive descriptions that bogged down the pacing or seemed forced, but nothing that really takes away from the story. Sometimes it feels like you're trying to describe everything, down to every little detail. Just my personal opinion (which isn't worth much, I admit) but I think it's okay to leave some things out or to the reader's imagination. Or maybe save some descriptions for later, so that they are spread out a bit more.

That would be my only "critique"... though it's more of an observation. And, again, it's only my opinion and it definitely doesn't change how much I enjoy reading this story. Rambling aside, I think I'm gonna' like Naleena. ^_^ Though I did want to jump through the computer and strangle her when she was about to shoot Sparks! And when Sparks "greeted" Ty, I just about squee'd my pants. <3 Sparks. Anyway, gonna' shut up now and sulk until the next chappie. ))

[tamwyn]

((Due to the Arena and me going up to my cousins for the next week, there's a possiblity this won't be updated on the regularly scheduled Monday. Sorry if it isn't, Lilam, and hope you enjoy it if it is!))

[tamwyn]

((Will update on the regularly scheduled Monday next week. Or sooner if I finish earlier. Things are getting in the way. Sorry, Lilam!))

[Lilam]

((*continues to sulk*))

[tamwyn]

Chapter 5: Tactical Sacrifice

“The world isn’t black and white; as I’m sure you’ve seen and heard, sir. Shades of gray mix in with the two obvious choices, causing a whole lotta confusion during a combat situation. Of course, can you really blame a soldier for making snap decisions like that? I sure as hell can’t and you shouldn’t either. We’ve made too many decisions like that to damn them without damning ourselves, too. Still, I hope the choices my Gears make will never be as terrible as our own.”

-Colonel Hoffman, talking with Chairman Prescott about moral ethics on the battlefield

Over the border of Ephyra, Stranded Convoy, Arriving at Stranded Shantytown;

2140 hours.


The ride to the Stranded Camp was uneventful, surprisingly, given the passengers that shared the small space of the APC. The smell had been a problem at first, making Nyvar’s eyes water, but eventually his nose got used to the smell, even if it felt like there was a lining of trash covering his throat.

Slowly and without any rush or alarm, Nyvar felt the APC first slow and then come to a complete stop. Nyvar looked over to the Stranded that sat across from him, giving a questioning look toward Parker. The man brought his wrist up to his mouth and pressed a button on the small device strapped to it.

“Parker here. Why are we stopping?”

A buzz of static washed across the channel in lieu of response, causing Parker’s face to redden in a rush of anger.

“Hank? You there? Answer your god damned comlink,” the Stranded leader said, frustration evident in his tone. Receiving nothing but the hiss of static back, he sighed, looking like he was trying to calm himself. “Mind driving our asses up to the front, Gearhead?”

“Sure thing,” Nyvar replied, patting Ven on the shoulder. The South Islander Gear grunted and shifted the APC into drive and moved around the car in front of them. Looking through the windshield to try to get his mind off of the smell inside the small compartment, Nyvar saw a line of red lights in the thickening rain. Thunder rumbled somewhere over their heads, rattling anything loose on the inside of the ‘Dill.

“I hate rain,” Marov muttered, looking down at his shoes to avoid meeting the gaze of the woman across from him.

“I dunno, Marov,” Ty replied with forced cheer, a grin plastered on his face. “The rain’s relaxing, ya know?”

“What about the rain is relaxing? Can’t see but two feet in front of you, it’s cold, and most of all it’s wet,” Nyvar’s second in command said, sighing as he looked dolefully out of the window. “Damn rain. Rustin’ my gear and shit.”

Nyvar just smiled, glad Marov was taking out his frustrations on something other than those near him. The men across from them were also grumbling in dismay at the sound of water pattering on the roof of the vehicle – Nyvar thought he heard the words “annual bath” somewhere in the mumbling dialogue, but he couldn’t be sure.

Another rumble of thunder drew his attention back out into the rain washed landscape outside their car. Every now and then the APC fishtailed as it ran through a particularly slippery puddle of mud, but the massive treaded tires were more than up to the job.

Presently, they sallied up to the front of the line, coming to a stop parallel to the lead vehicle, a rusted hulk of metal with a bit more scrap bolted to its front than the others in the convoy. Nyvar nodded in respect, glad Parker was able to drill some sense into the feral humans – protection on the lead vehicle was vital, especially across Locust infested land.

“Try ‘em now, Parker?” Nyvar asked, his eyes scanning across the huge hunk of metal that served as a gate in the small canyon. The hinges were covered in a reddish-orange color, rivulets of the same color running down the side of the gate reminding him of blood. He had a bad feeling about this place.

“Hank? You there, boy?” Parker asked, bringing his wrist back to his bearded mouth. Nyvar noticed the man’s other hand was drifting down to the side-arm pistol belted at his waist. So it wasn’t just him that was having an uneasy feeling about this business. “Damnit, boy, if this is a joke; I’m gonna skin the hide off your ass when I get in that overloaded piece of shit you’ve been driving in my convoy.”

Grunting with annoyance, Parker unlatched his seatbelt and drew his sidearm as soon as he got up. A click sounded to Nyvar’s right and he looked over to see Marov with his Lancer aimed directly at the Stranded leader. A dozen more clicks sounded out in the small space as Ty and the Stranded in the APC also drew their weapons. Out of the corner of his eye, Nyvar noticed Ven slowly reaching for the Gnasher shotgun clipped to the side of his seat, out of line of sight to the non-COG personnel.

“Boy, you better put that gun down if you wanna live another day on this hellhole,” Parker said, his face turning red as he stood motionless, his pistol dangling from his hand, pointed at the ground.

“You first, old man,” Marov replied, steel in his voice, not even seeming to notice that they were outnumbered by the Stranded.

“Marov, stand down. You are out of line,” Nyvar said calmly, a bead of sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades. He didn’t want this to end up in a firefight they’d only lose. Ty obediently lowered his weapon – Nyvar was glad someone in here trusted him.

“Listen to your Sergeant, boy. Your behavior’s startin’ to test the limits of my civility,” Parker said dangerously, his eyes glinting in the light provided by the Dill’s interior.

“Stand down,” Nyvar said through clenched teeth, resting his hand on Marov’s gun and pushing it down slowly. His second in command only minutely resisted, the vein in his throat throbbing as he bit down on his anger. “Now we’re all neighbors here, alright?”

At a twitch of a finger from Parker, the Stranded, including Naleena, lowered their weapons, their demeanors suggesting they were prepared to bring them up and fire at will if they were given the chance. The same hatred Nyvar had glimpsed in Marov’s eyes was echoed in three or four of the Stranded’s.

“I’m gonna go over and press the hatch button, alright?” Nyvar said slowly, unbuckling himself and hauling his armored form out of the seat. He crab walked over to the button and hit it, the hydraulic hiss accompanying the intensifying sound of rain. The bottom ramp plopped into a mud puddle, the end of it disappearing into the soupy earth.

Without a word, Parker and the rest of his goons filed out of the APC and into the rain, gathering in a semi-circle around the scrap metal reinforced Junker. Nyvar heard some banging and harsh words before he ducked back inside the ‘Dill and motioned for Ty to join him out in the rain.

“Hope you get some relaxation out there, rookie,” Marov jeered, his mood already uplifted by the absence of Stranded in his proximity. Nyvar looked away as Ty returned the comment with a one fingered salute and waltzed down the ramp. Ty’s boots sank a few inches into the muddy ground as he stepped outside, yet even that small fact did not seem to diminish the playful smile on his face.

“Marov’s in a better mood, huh Sarge?” Ty asked, his Lancer held against his chest in a relaxed manner. The status lights flickered as particles of rain smashed through them, their blue light eerie in the dark, rain swept landscape.

Nyvar just grunted in response, gesturing for the kid – no, a man, now – to follow him over to the other APC, where Parker was yelling inside the cabin at an unfortunate soul. As he strolled up, a few of the Stranded looked at him with their hands hovering near their side arms, mindful of what had transpired only a few minutes ago.

“What do you mean the radio isn’t workin’, boy? It was workin’ fine a few minutes ago when Johnson was chattering away with some floozy on my command channel!” Parker yelled, spittle flying from his lips, some getting caught in his scraggly beard.

“There’s just static, Parker, nothing I can do. I’ve tried to raise the camp, but they won’t answer!” the Stranded, Hank, replied with a petulant tone of voice.

“Well have you tried getting out and knocking? Or are you afraid of a little rain, Hank?”

“Uh, no. I haven’t tried that yet,” the man replied, his eyes darting to the radar. The bar of light was circling, but there was only a static-esque feature to it. Nyvar’s eyes widened as he saw that, remembering where he’d seen it before. Before he could mention anything, Parker kicked Hank down the ramp and forced him to walk over to the gate.

The massive doors loomed over the man, the rusty orange near the hinges glistening with what seemed to be sick delight. Thunder rumbled, drowning out the first knock Hank performed – at least, it drowned it out to human ears, anyway.

A long screeching howl rang up as soon as the thunder faded, joined quickly by dozens more of the same noises. The sound echoed in the small canyon they were in, sending a ripple of gasps and yells through the forces outside the APC. They all brought their guns up, scanning the sides of the canyon, looking for any traces of the Wretches that were making the awful noise.

Nyvar, however, was looking at the Stranded’s makeshift gate when the battle started. Hank, his ratty clothes offering no protection against anything deadly, was standing at the gate, his eyes wide with fear. The man’s body was paralyzed, like a deer in headlights.

“Run, you idiot!” Nyvar bellowed with growing anxiety, bringing his gun up to scan the ground. Did he spy a flicker to the left? He brought his gun there quickly, lining up his shot and pulling the trigger. Light sputtered and died, the corpse of a Wretch appearing out of thin air. The rest of the Stranded surrounding him started panicking, randomly firing at the canyon walls.

“Shit, shit, shit, where are they?” one of the Stranded cried in terror, dropping his weapon into the mud in his horror.

Another flicker drew Nyvar’s attention to the canyon wall to the far left. He fired, his bullets just sparking off of the stone. When he looked back to Hank, he watched as a flicker of movement appeared in between the man’s legs. Seconds later, the man was ripped open, long gore covered claws materializing in front of the man’s chest. Hank looked down and screamed with whatever air was left in his chest, silenced instantly as a bullet blew a hole in his head and ended his misery. Another bullet quickly followed, leaving another Wretch corpse in the muddy ground. Nyvar looked over to Parker, whose pistol was smoking with the shots he had fired. Nodding with respect, Nyvar ran over to the Stranded leader.

“These Wretches got their hands on our ‘bot tech, Parker. Light seems to work at shorting their cloaking fields,” Nyvar yelled over the din of the battle and the rain, firing the rest of his clip into another of the flickering shadows dusting over the mucky terrain. He noticed Naleena was closer to Ty than Parker, her Longshot echoing again and again as she picked off the Wretches.

“Light? That doesn’t make any sense, the ‘bots don’t flicker out when they get into the light!” Parker replied, his brows drawn down in consternation, reloading his pistol quickly and bringing it back up to shoot another shadow that was close to killing one of his soldiers. A petrifying scream rang out over the sounds of death all around them, chilling Nyvar to his soul.

“The women and children!” Parker yelled out with a hoarse voice, his eyes widening in fear. His face quickly filled up with red as he grew angrier, belting out a battle cry as he pulled out his shotgun and disappeared into the rain further down the convoy.

“Ty!” Nyvar yelled, looking around for the youngest member of Echo Three. “Ty, where are you?”

“Over here Sarge,” Ty’s voice replied over the sound of a Longshot going off.

“The Wretches are after the convoy. Get down there and secure the area. We can’t let them get the kids!”

“Shit. Yes, sir!” Ty said, his heavily armored form turning and running towards where Parker had vanished. Nyvar grunted as Naleena whipped past him, her eyes murderous, following Ty and her Stranded commander.

“Ven!” Nyvar yelled as he ran toward the APC, the main gun swinging back and forth looking for targets. When he ran up the ramp and into the APC, he saw Marov up the small ladder, his body twisting around with the big chaingun. “Ven, move us back down the Convoy. The Locust are hitting us hard down there!”

“But there’s only kids down there!” Marov yelled, his hatred of the Stranded momentarily forgotten in lieu of the situation. No doubt he was remembering his own daughters. Nyvar hit the hatch button, the rain somewhat muted.

Ven didn’t reply with words, but his hands quickly found the gear stick and shoved it into reverse, slamming the back end of the APC into the canyon wall in his haste. Shifting it back into drive, the APC fishtailed and started moving quickly down the line. Nyvar was hanging by one of the hand holds as the ‘Dill jumped and slid, his heart hammering in his throat.

Nyvar was staring out of the viewport, peering into the darkening gloom when the world went white. The armored car they were in skidded and flipped as Ven brought a hand up to his face to ward away the sudden light. Nyvar held onto his handle for dear life, his eyes squeezed shut as the APC flipped back onto its wheels, as if it knew it was needed for a future date and did not want to fail its occupants. His armor protected him from the worst of the tumble, his head a little dizzy when he’d smacked it against one of the seats.

When he opened his eyes, Marov was on the floor, his eyes closed and a thickening red splotch staining the man’s doo rag. Nyvar rushed over, yelling something incomprehensible, hearing the chatter of automatic weapons outside the APC. He brought his fingers to the man’s throat, checking to see if he was still alive. He felt a pulse and worked quickly to stem the bleeding – he reached up for the First Aid kit that was still latched against the wall, but Ven’s hand got there first.

Nyvar looked up at the man’s face, noticing nothing but a bleeding lip was wrong with him and held out his hand. Ven held pressure against the man’s head with a gauze after removing the doo rag while Nyvar wrapped a bandage around his best friends head, muttering ‘c’mon, man’ over and over.

Another explosion sounded out in the background, lifting their car on two wheels and causing Nyvar to fall over, catching himself on the seat beside him. Recovering, he looked up to Ven and the South Islander nodded.

"Go. Sparks and I will tend to Marov," the man said, his eyes reinforcing the message, leaving Nyvar the ability go back out into the field.

Pulling his Lancer from the magnetic clamps on his back, Nyvar ran to the end of the APC and waited as the ramp fell into the mud. As soon as he could, he ran back into the rain, his eyes widening with a horrible display. Two of the Junkers carrying civilians were burning, small bodies lying around it, some of them still aflame. He tore his eyes from the display, tears streaming down his face and mixing with the rain, and looked up. A comet of green was careening directly at them, hitting another of the convoy’s Junkers. Seeders.

Sickening screams sounded out as a teenager jumped out, his body covered in flames, flailing around and yelling. Nyvar knew there was nothing he could do for the boy, so he aimed his Lancer and hesitated, thinking of his own son, before pulling the trigger.

“Ty!” Nyvar yelled, running through the wreckage toward the muzzle flashes and five silhouettes he saw in the distance. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he jumped over a piece of scrap metal that once had belonged to one of the Junkers. The fires all around him were glistening, hissing with a savage delight at the carnage around them.

Nyvar stepped over a body of small child, its features unrecognizable aside from the expression of sheer agony evident on it. A charred dress attested that the child had been a female. Shuddering with disgust and empathy, Nyvar continued, another explosion lighting up the area where the muzzle flashes were taking place, followed by a thundering secondary detonation as gas exploded in a spectacular display.

Screams ripped through the night again, competing with the sounds of rain and the whistling of the Seeder’s rounds. As he raced toward the scene, he noticed only three of the five shadows were still standing, hiding behind an overturned Junker. With relief, he saw that one of them was Ty, the man’s normally jolly face turned ugly by the angry yell that was accompanying every burst of his Lancer, ducking down as returning fire peppered the position. Naleena, her eyes devoid of any emotion, dealt out death quickly and methodically. Looking over the defenses, Nyvar watched as Drones disengaged themselves from an Emergence Hole, their countenances hideous in the firelight.

A stray shot pinged off Nyvar’s shoulder, leaving an already swelling bruise as he ducked and slammed his armored form into the cover, throwing one of his bolo grenades over his shoulder blindly. Something splattered against the Junker as the explosion went off – Nyvar hoped it was grub blood. Parker broke cover and fired his shotgun into the stew of flesh and mud, popping back down as soon as Hammerburst rounds returned his ‘hello’.

“We need to get out of here, Parker!” Nyvar yelled over the din, blindly firing his Lancer over the cover.

“Fuck you, Gearhead, I’m not leaving my convoy. I swore to protect these people!”

“Well right now, what good are you doing them? They can’t move, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Nyvar replied, looking down the line. He and the other three were at the end of the convoy, the last Junker nothing but slag. “They’re sitting ducks. We need to cut our losses and leave. This isn’t a battle we can win!”

“God dammit,” Parker replied, breaking cover and running into a hail of bullets as Nyvar peeked over the Junker’s frame. Miraculously, none penetrated the Stranded leader’s armor or his uncovered head, Hammerburst rounds pinging off the COG-issued breastplate. The man was akin to a fiery angel of death, running over to a grub and hitting it in the face with the butt of his shotgun. The drone’s head kicked back, giving Parker enough time to turn his shotgun around and blow holes in his enemy’s chest.

Cursing, Nyvar took down a grub that was rushing in from behind the man, catching it in the leg and forcing it down to a crawl. Parker turned at the noise and swung his shotgun like a golf club, turning the drone’s head into paste, blood splattering his face. Fury danced in his eyes as he looked over to the remaining enemy, its mouth open wide as it spoke!

“Die, groundwal- urrk.”

A sniper shot to its shoulder spun it around, its gun falling into the mud beside it. Quickly, Naleena reloaded and stepped into the open, coldly shooting the Drone in the other shoulder, bone splintering and ripping out with the bullet through its back. She reloaded again, her face starting to betray her, an angry expression dancing across her face. If Parker was the angel of death, Naleena’s face turned her into an avenging goddess, white hot wrath dancing in her cold, blue eyes.

Another shot, this time in the thing’s throat. Blood gurgled out of the hole as it tried to speak, the thing’s yellow eyes widening as Naleena drew closer. It fell to the ground, staring up at her with very real fear evident in its corpse-white face. Naleena screamed at it, dropping her Longshot into the mud and bringing her foot up, a heavy boot coming down and smashing the drone’s head into the puddle, blood and brain thickening the muddy water. She choked on her sobs as she brought her boot down again and again.

Another explosion turned one of the Junkers near the gate into slag, forcing them all to turn around and look. Of the convoy, only a few cars remained, their wheels melted due to the heat all around them. Women and children tried to run out of the stationary vehicles only to be cut down by the approaching drones.

“We need to go, Parker! There’s nothing left we can do here!” Nyvar yelled, running to the man and tugging on his arm. The man just looked at him with shock on his face, nodding, his bald head reflecting the flickering fires all around them. “Ty, grab Naleena and let’s get back to our APC. It’s under a ledge over here,” Nyvar ordered, running back the way he’d come earlier.

A drone sprang from the wreckage, a Gnasher shotgun coming up to take an unfortunate down. Nyvar just yelled and shoulder charged the thing, hitting it and slamming it into a twisted hunk of what was a Junker. When he brought his Lancer up, he noticed the thing was already dead, a rod of steel puncturing its eye. Its hand twitched, as if even in death it wanted to kill and maim.

They made it to the APC without further incident, another Junker going up in flames and a crowd of refugees being slaughtered by a crossfire in the distance. Naleena seemed like she wanted to run and try to do something to help, but Ty held her in an iron grip as he pulled her toward the APC, his face conveying his concern over his charge. Tears were mingling with the rain running down the woman's face as she looked away and put her head on Ty's arm. Nyvar knew the woman probably did not have any family aside from the Stranded falling around her.

“Get us out of here, Ven,” Nyvar said brokenly as they entered the ‘Dill. His eyes flicked over to the right side of the APC, most of the seats taken by Marov’s form. Above him, floating gently on his repulsorlifts was Sparks, a bloodstained gauze in it's metal appendages. The machine's 'eyes' focused on Nyvar and it booped softly, a long, mournful note. The second in command waved groggily, a grim expression on his face.

“What about survivors, sir?” Ven asked, his eyes looking toward the last remaining Junker, able to see a kid cradled in his mother’s arms looking out of the window. The display vanished in a white explosion, the whistling sound of the Seeder round ripping through the air a death knell.

“There are no survivors,” Nyvar whispered as Ven slammed his heavy boot into the pedal, the ‘Dill racing away from the carnage. The sound of screams followed them, even through the metal plating.

[Kaez]

It wasn't -quite- as emotionally packed as usual. Still more than most writing, but not what some of the earlier chapters were. That may have been intended, to mix with the heat of the battle, but it may just be that you've gotta knock a bit of rust off after not writing for a while. But really, it's minor at the most. Still really great stuff -- and an epic ending. Keep it up.

[tamwyn]

((Edited to include a few minor corrections, add in Sparks, and a line of dialogue from Ven.))

[tamwyn]

Chapter 6: I Flew Too Close to the Sun

“Flying a King Raven requires a touch of bravery, a pinch of skill, and a whole lotta insanity. Luckily, our pilots have the insanity part down.”

-Corporal Damon Baird discussing the mentality of a pilot to a new recruit moments away from liftoff

On the Border of Ephyra;

0915

The Armored Personnel Carrier had traveled through the entire night, trying to get as far away as possible from the horrible atrocity that had just been committed. None of them spoke, their very souls exhausted by what happened. Nyvar had tried to get some sleep during the long journey, but every time he slumbered; soft echoes of the screams woke him up.

Eventually, the morning light peaked in on the occupants through the trees they were driving parallel with, the compartment shaking every now and then as Ven ran over a pothole or a rock. Marov was still lying down, fast asleep – he had been spared the gruesome sights the rest had experienced. Sparks was no longer active and tending to Marov; the ‘bots frame was tucked into the wall near the hatch, his status lights dark. Nyvar’s eyes shifted over to the two seats next to his second in command, alighting on Ty and Naleena.

The dark skinned woman’s eyes were closed, pink and puffy from the sorrowful night; leaning on Ty’s armored shoulder as best she could with the harness she was buckled in. Nyvar doubted she was asleep, but he hoped just the same that she was. Ty had one of his gloved hands on the girl’s thigh, slowly stroking it back and forth unconsciously, his eyes facing down toward his boots. The man had been melancholy since they left, not even speaking a word to the rest of them.

Sitting beside Nyvar, Parker was looking out into the viewport with a blank expression, his shotgun in his lap. A filthy rag he’d pulled out of his pocket was running the length of the weapon absentmindedly, just an excuse to avoid conversation. Everyone was in shock, aside from Nyvar and Ven.

They had seen much worse during their tours during the Pendulum Wars, gruesome sights as mankind thought up increasingly terrible ways to kill each other. Whole villages with bombed out buildings and bodies littering the ground had greeted the Gears as they strode into ‘conquered’ towns. Any survivors were quickly rounded up and sent to the medics, given fair treatment, food, and water. However, there were rarely survivors.

“We’re almost out of fuel, my friend,” Ven’s voice broke the quiet, almost a whisper. Nyvar looked over to the big man, sighing and grabbing a hand hold to stand himself up. He peered down at the driver’s display and noticed the slowly blinking ‘E’. Turning around, he spoke to Parker with a soft voice, handing the man a map of the area, pointing toward where they were on it.

“Any chance you have some fuel caches out here, man?”

Parker looked up at him, his hand now motionless, the rag clutched in it tightly. A few seconds passed by as he scrunched up his forehead and ran a hand through his scraggly beard, staring at the map. He pointed one dirty finger at an area a couple of miles away, near the edge of the forest.

“Got a cache there, Gearhead. Take it. Not like I’m going to need it anymore,” the man said, staring at Naleena with an almost soft expression on his face. “Naleena’s all I got left out of all of ‘em. I need to get her someplace safe and-‘”

“Hell no, Parker,” Naleena said, her eyes opening with the same fire from last night still in her eyes. She brushed Ty’s hand off her thigh and crossed her arms. “I’m going to kill those Locust bastards for what they did.” Nyvar was surprised when the girl turned her eyes on him. “I want to join the COG.”

“What?” Both Parker and Marov said at the same time, anger and surprise warring across their bearded faces. Nyvar looked over to his second in command and raised an eyebrow that said ‘how long have you been awake?’ Marov just shrugged and shook his head, letting Nyvar know the man’s opinion.

“Girl, you don’t know what those monsters do to women like you, do you?” Parker said before anyone else could get a word in, his arms up in the air and his face livid. “They put you on a farm and keep you pregnant until you can’t bear anymore children! I’m not gonna’ to let you make that mistake!”

“That won’t happen to me. Not if I’m barren,” Naleena replied hotly, her eyes falling to the ground and her face darkening with embarrassment. She looked back up at Nyvar with the anger still in her eyes and continued, “Am I right?”

“Yeah,” Nyvar said, returning the woman’s blue eyed stare with his one of his own. “They’ll check you out to make sure before you join up, but if it’s true, you’ll be put through training just like anyone else.”

“It’s true,” she insisted, wistfully, sitting back down to lean back against the metal wall. She crossed her arms and glared at Parker. “And if you cared about any of us you’d be joining with me. Your flock is gone; you’ve got no other excuse to delay it.”

“It’s because of these assholes they’re dead! Can’t you see that you blind, little bitch?” Parker yelled, unbuckling himself to stand up and point at Sparks’ frame. “They were here for that thing!”

“What?” Naleena said, surprised, her eyes wide. “How do you know what the Locust are thinking?”

“Didn’t you see those invisible Wretches we littered across the damn canyon back there? Where else would they get a cloaking device except from the COG?” Parker said, the man’s eyes’ glancing down at the deck in what Nyvar assumed was his way of calming himself down. When he glanced back up at the girl, he sneered, his yellow teeth showing through his messy beard.

“The COG aren’t to be trusted with our lives, girl. They’ve already shown they’re prepared to sacrifice the lot of us.”

Ty had sat through all of this quiet and controlled, his face turning red whenever Parker had started yelling at Naleena, but now he seemed no longer able to control himself. He stood up and swung his fist, impacting Parker’s chin enough to knock the man’s head back.

“I’ve had enough of you, old man. The COG is trying to save lives, or hadn’t you noticed?”

The Stranded fell against the wall and into a seat, rising back up swinging his own punch, hitting Ty in the gut, knocking the wind out of the kid even through the armor. By then, Nyvar was in between them, pushing them as far apart in the small APC as he could.

“Enough! We have enough lost lives on Sera to add two more fighting amongst each other. Save it for the goddamned Locust. Ty, stand down,” Nyvar yelled, feeling both of the men shaking with rage and almost straining against his arms. He didn’t know if he could hold them off if they decided to keep swinging – they were both younger than he was.

Abruptly, the ‘Dill crashed into something and throwing all three men forward, forestalling Parker’s reply. Nyvar didn’t see where Parker or Ty landed as he flailed around looking for purchase, but judging from the sounds, they landed on top of each other. His hands grasped the edge of the chair Ven was sitting in, hearing and feeling it clang off of his armor dully. Ven had a hand up to his head trying to stem another cut that appeared on his forehead.

“What the hell did we hit?” Nyvar started before looking out through the viewport. In front of them was what they had run into, the early morning light showing the Beserker in all of its horrible glory, looking like a skinned gorilla. It was on the ground, trying to pick itself up, obviously stunned. It recovered quickly, its muscles bulging and its head sniffing the air around it. “Shit. Hit it again, Ven. Step on it!”

The APC moved forward, skidding slightly as Ven stepped down hard on the accelerator. The Berserker had, by then, managed to stand up and bring its shoulder down and charge directly to them. Nyvar spent one second cursing how stupid the Locust could be before the APC hit the Berserker and stopped, the back end flipping into the air, sending Nyvar into the ceiling as they came down hard, glass shattering and metal groaning in protest. He must have blacked out, because when he came to, Ty was over him, shaking him hard enough to bring the dead back to life. Nyvar thought he heard incoming fire pinging against the hull.

“Sarge! Get up, dammit!”

“Report,” Nyvar said, coughing as dust rushed into his lungs, filling his body with pain. He felt like one big bruise as he picked himself up slowly. He tested out his limbs, not feeling anything broken.

“We’re under attack. Ven and Parker are outside giving the Locust something to think about. Nal’s with Marov over there,” Ty said, pointing over to the relatively undamaged section of the APC, the back hatch open with Ven in view firing a Longshot. Marov was lying on the ground, his eyes closed, with Naleena and Sparks tending to him. When Nyvar looked back toward the front, all he saw was a massive hole and blood covering everything; he hoped the Berserker was dead.

“Let’s get out there then,” Nyvar replied, spying his Lancer, picking it up off the ground, and rushing past Marov and Naleena to get outside. When he ducked through the hole, coming up into air filled with bullets, he noticed the forest they’d been running parallel to off to the side. If worst came to worst, it offered a good retreating position.

“’Bout time you showed up, Gearhead,” Parker yelled over his own Lancer fire, blood dripping from a cut on the side of his head. Ven moved to the far side of the APC’s back end to make room for Nyvar, looking around the corner and cracking off a shot of his sniper rifle.

“I figured I’d take a nap, seeing how well you did in the last engagement! What’s the situation?”

“Fucked. We’ve got around five Drones and a Theron taking cover behind some rocks,” the man paused, aiming and firing at a drone that had poked its head out too far. The thing’s face blew away in a cloud of red, its body falling from the rocks. Parker continued on as he fell back into cover. “I think the Berserker’s still alive, too, seeing as how I don’t see it lying on the ground anywhere.”

“Holy shit, do those things ever die?” said a voice from behind Nyvar. He looked over to see Ty crouched and blind firing his Lancer around the APC’s frame at the rocks. Return fire started peppering his side and riddling the ground with holes.

“Fucking hell, I think I see it,” Nyvar replied, his eyes picking out a massive form far behind them throw off a piece of the APC’s plating and stand up, blood running from dozens of cuts. One of its arms was slashed to the elbow, thick blood falling to the ground as it flailed around in an insane rage. Suddenly, it faced them, its nose sniffing up into the air – Nyvar didn’t like that at all.

“Aw, shit, shit, shit. It’s going to smell us,” Ty said, his Lancer aimed at the thing. His words seemed to have an effect on the monster, causing it to roar and start to move toward them, picking up speed.

“Echo, focus fire on the Berserker! We need to take it down before it charges the APC!” Nyvar yelled, aiming and firing at the Berserker with his Lancer, hoping against hope the thing would drop dead before it hit them. A Longshot round rang out, a yellow line following the slug as it flew toward the charging behemoth and blew a hole in its head. However, even that only seemed to slow it down, the creature’s body not even knowing it was already dead.

“Fuck, where’s the Hammer when you need it?” Nyvar said, reloading his Lancer as it clicked empty. He slammed a clip into it, but something caught inside it and cost him precious time as he fought to fix it before the thing got any closer. Next to him, Ty clicked empty, too, slamming a cartridge in and letting loose another burst without any difficulty. Before Nyvar could finish his reload, a crackle of static burst into his ear, causing him to wince.

“This is KR Two-Three. Sergeant Nyvar, is that you down there?” Nyvar faintly heard the chop-chop-chop of the Raven’s blades over the battlefield’s din.

“Affirmative. We’ve got a Berserker right on top of us! Take it down!”

“Roger that, firing!”

The sound of a chain-gun going off pierced the air, streaks of fire slicing the air in half as it opened up on the Berserker walking toward them haphazardly. The monster roared once before the bullets cut it in half, spraying the surrounding ashy dirt with gore.

“Whoo!” Ty cheered loud enough to hurt Nyvar’s ears, a grin on his young face. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

“Anything else you need help mopping up, Sergeant? I’ve got a team of Gears in here itching to riddle some grubs with holes,” the pilot said in Nyvar’s ear with a debonair tone. A burst of fire sparked off the Raven, coming from the rocks. “Oh, I guess so.”

Before it could unleash another batch of withering chain-gun fire, something green and nasty flew by it, the slipstream it brought with it causing the chopper to spin toward the ground. The pilot managed to right the Raven before it crashed, but it didn’t look like they were going to get anymore air support.

“Ah, shit. Nemacysts! Hang on back there!” the pilot yelled into his mic, probably to the Gears loaded in the hold.

Nyvar grimaced as the chopper roared over them toward the forest, followed quickly by five Nemacysts, green, flying suicide bombers made especially for taking down choppers. Nyvar fired at one with his Lancer as it whizzed by, hitting it and causing it to explode in a green cloud. Another fell out of the sky as Parker filled the air with bullets, the thing detonating when it hit one of the trees. The tree it had hit fell down a few yards away from the APC, its huge trunk almost completely devoid of branches.

“That’s our ticket out of here, Echo!” Nyvar said, pointing at the tree. “Ty, get Naleena and help her carry Marov. Parker, you go with him. Ven, you and I will give them some covering fire! Go!”

As Parker and Ty ducked into the APC to follow his orders, Nyvar moved over to Ty’s previous position and crouched, his back against the ‘Dill’s massive wheel. He peeked out to the rocks, spotting the tell-tale yellow of a Torque Bow’s arrow glowing amidst the rocks. Nyvar lined up his sights and fired, knowing if the bow hit them it could possibly blow a hole in the APC and harm the people inside.

His bullets rammed home into the Theron’s armor, knocking the arrow off course and into the rock next to it. The thing scrambled away as fast as it could, but one of the Drones next to it was not paying attention. When the arrow exploded, the grub went with it, showering the rest of the hostiles with its blood and organs.

The Locust all ducked back into cover, leaving an opening for Ty, Naleena, and Parker to carry Marov toward the forest, a shimmer in the air behind them floating above the ground – Sparks. Nyvar was glad the ‘bot was still functioning; it had probably been the only reason the Raven had even found their position.

The brief lull in fire fell away as more bullets flew through the air, directly at the four running for cover in the trees. They all took cover as best they could, but not before one of the bullets hit Ty in the shoulder. He went down, dropping Marov’s legs into the dirt and forcing Parker to drag the unconscious man by himself. Before Nyvar looked away and started firing another burst at the grubs in the rocks, he noticed Naleena next to Ty, checking his pulse.

Nyvar hoped the kid was okay, but he could not worry about it at the moment. Returning fire peppered his position as he crouched back against the wheel, blind firing his Lancer around it. His weapon clicked empty again, so he clacked in his second to last clip, this time perfectly and without any problems. When he looked back over to Ty, he saw the man crawling behind the big trunk with Naleena leading him by the hand. Parker had already managed to bring Marov far enough into the woods, so he was crouched behind a tree, firing into the rocks.

Another drone fell from a Longshot round, the rock behind it covered in bits of brain. Two left, plus a Theron. Nyvar didn’t like the odds, especially with the grub’s superior position. They’d have to make a run for it in the forest. He patted Ven on the shoulder, pointing to the woods.

“Go, I’ll be right behind you!”

“I will hold you to that, my friend,” Ven replied, tiredly, bags under his eyes. Nyvar remembered the man had been up for almost two days already, driving the APC. He felt suddenly ashamed for sleeping while one of his Gears went without, but he pushed it aside for later and nodded, firing into the rocks while Ven ran toward the forest. A crackle of static sounded in his ear again as the Raven made contact again, the pilot’s voice harried.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to drop off these Gears without going down, Sergeant. There’s too many-,” the man grunted as something exploded in the background. “Aw, shit, the tail’s on fire.”

Sounds of the pilot struggling with the controls over the open line were almost drowned out as a Torque Bow blew up one of the tires above Nyvar’s head, his hand up to his ear and yelling over the sound.

“Try to set her down, pilot. We’ll come get you!”

“We’re going down, I repeat, we are going down. We’re about twenty clicks northeast from your position, Sergeant,” the man said, his voice strangely calm as his bird fell apart around him. “Shit, jump for it, jump!”

The line went dead, just a buzz of static in his earpiece. He clicked it off, standing up and running toward the forest. Parker and Ven were ahead of him, firing into the rocks to cover him; even so, a few bullets ricocheted off the bark of the tree and flew past him by centimeters. He raised his hand in the air and brought it down several times in a swiping motion.

“Go, go, go! We need to get out of here! The Raven went down and we need to see if there’s any survivors, get some reinforcements.”

They nodded, Ven grabbing Marov around the middle and hoisting him onto his back, leaving Parker free to help Naleena carry Ty into the forest. Nyvar ran with them, firing behind them with the rest of his clip. They ran as quickly as possible with two injured being carried, Nyvar covering them from behind while Ven lead them with one hand holding his Lancer out in front of him.

Pulling his last grenade from his belt, Nyvar started swinging it, gathering momentum until he let it go. It sailed into the air and stuck to a tree, detonating a second later with enough force to bowl over one of the grubs chasing them. The tree tipped over and smashed the Drone as it struggled to get up, sending blood splattering into the undergrowth. With a screech whistle, the Theron yelled out as it retreated, the remaining grub following it. Nyvar sighed with relief as the things left, glad they now outnumbered the Locust forces enough to stop a pursuit from occuring.

“Echo Three, this is KR Two-Three’s pilot. Do you copy?” A voice said in Nyvar’s ear, wheezing and coughing, fire crackling in the background.

“This is Sergeant Nyvar, I read you. What’s the situation?”

“Bad, sir. We landed in one piece but a Boomer and a couple of Drones took us by surprise. Two of the Gears are dead, but we fought ‘em off. I don’t know how long we can last if another attack comes.”

“Alright, sit tight. We’ll be there soon. Who’s the ranking officer over there?”

“Sergeant Hemmins was, but he’s dead, sir,” a new, familiar voice came over the comm.

“Who is this? What’s your name soldier?” Nyvar said, fear clawing into his throat, hoping it was not who he thought it was.

“Private Jason Nyvar, sir.”

“Shit,” Joseph Nyvar muttered; worry bringing bile up into his throat, his chest going cold. It did not sound like his son knew who was on the other end of the line. “Hold position. We’re on our way, son.”

[Lilam]

((Grub guts, Parker finally getting punched and Nyvar's son? Not much to say except loooooving it! Can't wait to see what happens when dad and son meet up. *squirms with suspense*))

[ASGetty ((Zovo))]

Tam, I've been working my way through and I gotta say, I'm really impressed. You got a good story going here with believable character's each of whom possess a unique depth and personality which is sometimes hard to do, esspecially when all your characters share the same occupation and similar life experience.

From a non-GoW fan's perspective, I would really appreciate a little more explanation regarding your poper nouns. Did you know that you never actually express that a Lancer is a gun until like Chapter 3? You imply it by mentioning that the chainsaw is a bayonette, but if I didn't already have a very rudimentary grasp of the concept I'd never have known. That said, more description of "grubs" "Sweepers" "Bloodmounts," and pretty much anything else you see in the game and just assume everyone shares the same visual experience with you, needs a bit of elaboration.

I'm really enjoying reading it, though, and really looking forward to writing with you.

That said, while there a number of errors throughout there is only one that I feel just -has- to be mentioned. Chapter 4, where they are towing the Junker out of the hole; the word you want is "winch" not "wench."

[tamwyn]

Thank you extremely for reviewing this, Zovo. What you say swells my head to grand new heights

As for the descriptions, thank you for letting me know. I tried explaining some of the stuff, but I suppose I just forgot to met ion some things, haha. It's funny, now that you mention it all. I'll have to go back and edit those with more information.

And about the wench thing.../facepalms self