This article, GOW: Last Stand, was written by Jacen Fett. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission.

This article, GOW: Last Stand, is currently under active construction.
The author, Jacen Fett, apologizes for the inconvenience.

SGhalftrans This article, GOW: Last Stand, was written by Jacen Fett. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission.

Section IEdit

Section ?Edit

"Corporal Samuel D. Byrne at your service, Colonel Hoffman." Sam thought back on his decision to go on a supply run.
Sam popped off a few shots with his Mark One Lancer assault rifle from behind a stone slab, popping a drone's head like a cork, spewing brain matter and blood all over the concrete.
"What the fuck was I thinking? Volunteering for a supply run?!"
Suddenly the return fire from the Locusts ceased and the female Gear soldier on his right flank gestured for him to advance. Sam peaked over the slab only to find one Locust attempting to dislodge a round from his rifle, luckily to no avail. He smiled and hopped over the slab; “I got ‘im.”
Sam hopped over the slab and ran toward the vulnerable Locust. “Come’ere you garayaz. I’m going to teach you the proper etiquette of dyin'.”
The drone attempted to strike Sam with a clawed hand but he grabbed the attacker's hand and broke off the index and middle finger with a flex of his thumb and ran his right hand upward; Sam grabbed his Snub pistol off his thigh and put it up to the drone's lower jaw and pulled the trigger. Blood and brain matter spewed out, some getting on Sam's armor, he kicked the drone away and watched it lay dying on the ground.
He bent down and tore a piece of cloth off the it’s corpse and wiped the blood off.
“Thanks.” He said tossing the bloodied rag away. Sam walked away and back to his accompanying squadmates, where they were already celebrating their victory over the Locust; Erica and Troy were exchanging words, Lena was giving first-aid to Logan—a bullet went clean through his right shoulder, Benita cleared her rifle and Manuelle munched on a dry biscuit.
Sam could still feel the gooey texture of the grub's blood on his fingers and grimaced in disgust. "Gross, that's what I get for wearing fingerless gloves."
One of his squadmates, a female, young and only slightly thickened compared to her burly male counterpart, brushed her Mark Two Lancer against Sam’s vambrace in celebratory embrace. “Damn! That was beautiful.”
“Thanks, Cris.”
"Cristina, too many people call me Cris, you guys really shouldn't get too attached, I could die at any minute."
Sam smiled and stepped closer to playfully caress her cheek. "Don't be a pessimist, Cristina."
Sam let Cristina push his hand away and he backed up and sat on a pile of rubble; he watched Cristina walk away before he removed the Lancer from his back and laid it down in his lap, he released the cartridge from the slot, tossed it and opened his thigh-pouch to pull another out, he blew into it before shoving it in. Byrne could feel the joy in his mind as he brought the rifle to his eye and from underneath his helmet he smiled while looking down-sight at Lena.
She was stitching up Logan but she looked up at Sam and smiled. She mouthed the words, "Nice job." He couldn't help but feel a little pride at their minor victory, the red of Locust blood soothed all that was wrong with the world in his eyes. The day he lost his mother is when everything went to shit.

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