This is by
This fic will be for mature audiences only. It will contain swearing, violence, blood and gore, and basically everything else you've come to expect from the Gears of War series.
" (In Locust Language) We've been at war for 53 years now. 53 long years of death and destruction. Yet we've barely made a dent in their numbers. The queen says that it'll all be over soon, and that if worse comes to worse, we could go to the surface for refuge. She says that no one lives up there. To think, this all started for the stupidest of reasons..."
-Raam, a Locust Drone at the time
"About 60 years ago, a couple of Locusts decided to leave the saftey of the Inner Hollow to explore the Outer Hollow. Because they were leaving civilization, they would never be allowed back. For 3 years, no one heard from them. When they came back, they explained how they had found a nearly limitless energy source, Immulsion. However, the Queen cast them away and told them never to come back, unless they wanted war. 4 years later, they did come back. And it was war they wanted. At first, these Locusts seemd to be the same as us. We soon began to notice, however, that they bled Immulsion. Thus, we called them the Lambent, an Old Locust word which means "Plague Spreaders." Unfortunately, several of the non-Lambents decided to join what they believed was the superior side. To think this war is still going...all because of a bunch of crazies who went into the Outer Hollow decided to break the rules."
The Story BeginsEdit
I had finally gotten a nice night of sleep. No gunfire, no explosions...just the sound of my radio playing my favorite type of music. I had dreamt of us finally crushing the Lambents once and for all, ending this war that had been going on for 53 years. That wasn't unusual, as I have had the same dream since I recruited in the Locust Army 3 years ago. That is, when I did get to sleep, which was unusual; I was lucky if I wasn't providing cover fire with my boomshot for the rest of the troops for even three hours. Being a Boomer had its advantages: you got respect from the Drones. You did get a lot of crap from the Kantus Priests, however. They were always talking about how they could do our job in half the time. One time, one (Skorge, I think his name was) was saying about how he could easily hit a target with my boomshot better than I could. I proceeded to hand him my boomshot. Pompous ass couldn't even pick it up. Showed him who's boss. He still pointed out the fact that I had the easiest job. I then pointed out that he was wrong; he had the easiest job.
As I was thinking about that moment, half asleep, one of my squad mates, Raam, woke me up.
"You ready, Xael?" asked Raam.
"Damnit. Raam, I was sleeping, for the first time in a couple of days...ah well. Yeah, I'm ready."
Today we were storming a Lambent stronghold. I would not only be providing cover for the troops, but I would also be bombarding the enemy's fortification. If all went well, the base would be captured within a couple of hours. However, we were fighting Lambents, so something was bound to go wrong. Thus, it would prbably take a day or two, at least.
So I grabbed my Boomshot and began marching. Raam was standing right next to me, carrying a Mulcher.
"Lucky you," I said. "You get to see the damage you cause. I'm lucky if I can even see the damage I cause."
"Yes," said Raam, "But you cause more damage. So it evens out."
"Raam?" I said.
"What?" responded Raam.
"You think this will ever end?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't it?"
"Well, at this rate," I said, "it could go on another 50 something years. I mean, what will you do if you're still fighting 20 years from now?"
"Well," said Raam, "hopefull I'll be a general at that point..."
"Yeah," I chuckled, "...and that Skorge guy will be the leader of the Kantus Priests!"
Raam laughed along, and we kept moving. We would stop every so often along with the rest of the troops to get a bite to eat (unfortunately, I do owe the Kantus for that), or to get a drink, or just to rest in general. I mean, the weapons we were carrying weren't exactly light. After about five or six hours of marching, we were at our CP of the battlefield. Our commander, Ris, yelled commands at us while trying to motivate us at the same time. Unfortunately, Ris was far from being a motivational speaker; he tried to make us feel better by saying that if we did die, we could take comfort in knowing that our equipment would go to other troops in need and our bodies would be piled up to make nice, if not somewhat grisly, cover.
After about 20 minutes of orders/speeches, we finally were given the order to attack. The battle had begun.