Gears of War - Pendulum Wars "A Day in the Life"

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Years before Emergence Day, the humans of the planet Sera are torn apart by the strife of the decades long Pendulum Wars. The Coalition of Ordered Governments and the Union of Independent Republics face off in Sera's equivalent of the middle east, fighting over a barren wasteland both sides affectionately call "the Crust."

This story is about a few Indies, the UIR's soldiers, over the course of a day in the Crust as they fight the heat, Gears, and the sinking suspicion that they may be on a suicide mission.

Submitted: July 17, 2010

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Submitted: July 17, 2010



Straight to his heart the bullet crushed;
Down from his breast the red blood gushed,
And o'er his face a glory rushed.

A sudden spasm shook his frame,
And in his ears there went and came
A sound as of devouring flame.

With naked, trembling fingertips, I pick the tarnished bullet casing out of the dry dirt. It's warm with the sun, and hot sand spills out of it onto the ground, stirred by the quickening wind. I stare at it, attempting to work out a conclusion as to why this particular shell has come to rest here, in this long-dead desert.

There are untold millions of these old shells littering the ground as far as the eye can see, a fortune in brass spent by war and buried beneath the gravelly sand of the region we so affectionately call the Crust. How many metric tons of resources have been consumed in this vast desert where for so long millions of men have gone to their deaths? The numbers are unimaginable.

Every hill, every plateau, and every gulch in the Crust is a cemetary. The rocks here are stained with the blood of generations of soldiers, and those soldiers have made their mark on the land more than the land has made a mark on them. The Pendulum Wars have left this place more desolate than any mere desert; seventeen thousand miles of trenches, decades old minefields, more craters than Risea and hardly enough vegetation to support the lowliest animals.

All of that over Imulsion reserves. The very same Imulsion reserves that this place is completely devoid of. Because all the Crust is is one giant no-man's land for the UIR and the COG to let off steam. Maybe it used to be full of roads and camels and goat herders, but that's all gone. The only use this place has is to serve as host to all the battles of the desert countries. It's like the scraps of bread the starving dogs rip each other apart for.

A Khimera attack helicopter tears by overhead, searching out survivors of the battle that just rocked this devastated hinterland. I cast the spent shell casing aside and look around me.

Everywhere, the dead bodies of Indies and Gears, shattered trenches and blood-stained sand. An armored Asp lies smoldering, overturned in the nearest crater, a dead man being vomited out of the massive hole shredded through its underbelly. Here and there, soldiers move through the bodies, taking dog-tags and guzzling water in the brief moments they have before they must return their helmets to their heads.

I swing my Lancer off my shoulder and look to the sky. In the distance, rising columns of smoke and flashes of light mark our objective. Explosions rattle the rocks at my feet, and the shriek of incoming artillery tells me this battle isn't over yet.

My squad, what's left of the platoon, gather their weapons. It's time to fight.

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