Phalanx: a Gears Of War fanfiction
Summary: Gears are tough, but when about when they're not tough enough?
Setting: The story is set four days before the start of Gears Of War 2. I came up with the idea while playing horde after starting the campaign.
Disclaimer: I don't own Gears Of War, and I don't have anything worth taking, so don't sue me! I own the Original Character, Gordon, and the facility. Other than that, I'm just renting.
The locust began the assault on the Lemertza Arms Production facility four hours ago. Sergeant Marcus Fenix, along with Dominic Santiago, and two unnamed guards were putting up quite a fight.
"Scratch one grub!" Roared Marcus as he sank a drone to its knees and curb stomped him.
"I'm glad that's over," sighed Dom as he put down his gnasher. "Damn grubs, they just won't stop coming."
One o f the two guards, wearing the older style blue armor said, "Ditto."
"Damn straight," said the other. This guard was wearing the newer style green armor. Both of the guards wore helmets. Both of them were obviously relatively new to the war. They had taken a short while to get their bearing when the locust attacked at the crack of dawn, and were awestruck when Marcus and Dom appeared to hold down the facility.
"Take five everyone," Said Marcus. "Get a drink, tend to your wounds, get some ammo. We can't be caught with our pants down." Needless to say, no one grumbled about that.
"Hey Marcus." He looked behind him and saw his friend, Dom standing there.
"Do you think that's the last of them?" He sounded worried.
The reply came: "Oh, I don't know. I hope so."
"Is it just me, or did that attack seem a little, half baked?" asked Dom.
"Yeah, kinda. The locust usually attack with more than just drones. Listen, Dom, you know as well as I that the locust can come up at anytime, and from anywhere. We just gotta fight 'em when they do. Keep in cover, never volunteer for anything, and you'll come out alright." finished Marcus.
"Thanks, man." said Dom.
"Hey, no problem."
Everyone did as Marcus suggested, not that they had any reason to complain. Well, Baird probably could, but then again, Baird could bitch about anything. They had not received orders to leave Lemertza, and just as Marcus was to wonder what would be for dinner that night, an earthquake shook him and everyone else from their reveries.
"Take cover!" he shouted as the first bullets began to fly. Marcus dove behind a shelf. Dom hid himself behind a column, while the guards hastily ducked behind some inactive machinery.
The volume of incoming fire was intense. The locust were really giving it all they had, and they had a reason to: The Lemertza Arms Production Facility produced all the weapons and bullets needed by the COG. Lancers, Gnashers, Longshots, Snubs. You named it, they made it. Destroying the facility would cripple humanity and everyone knew that failure was not an option. "Grinders!" yelled Dom as he spotted a group of machine gun toting boomers. A bullet stray bullet grazed the right temple of the blue-armored guard. He was dazed, but forced himself back up. Then, Marcus saw a sight that made everyone's blood run cold: flamers.
In such close confines, they wouldn't stand a chance against the hot flamethrowers, and a stray bullet would set the tanks to explode, killing everyone and wrecking the factory. Marcus got on the radio and howled: "Control, this is Delta. We are defending the Lemertza Arms Production Facility, and are under heavy locust attack! The enemy is too numerous, requesting reinforcements! Be advised: The enemy is using flamethrowers!"
The lead continued flying in both directions for what seemed like an eternity, until Anya said the most welcome sentence that Marcus had ever heard: "Roger, Delta, reinforcements on route." Marcus felt a surge of elation as he turned off the radio and began to fire his lancer into the oncoming horde with reckless abandon.
"Take that, you bastards" yelled the blue guard as he dispatched a grenadier with his Snub Pistol. His vanquished foe fell in a bloody heap and dropped his shotgun. The weapon went off and the blast went into an advancing boomer, decapitating the monstrosity.
The other guard poked his longshot around the corner and took aim. The green-clad sentinel squeezed the trigger. The rifle gave a resounding crack as the lead projectile exited the barrel and burrowed itself into the skull of a drone. "Boom, headshot!" clamored the victorious defender. Things were going well, Marcus was beginning to consider canceling the reinforcements when a new creature appeared in his sights.
This new beast was short and squat. It walked n two legs, yet was distinctly bestial. It wore a helmet on its head with a single shining light in the middle. It had two scythe-like clams and on its back, was mounted a drone. There wasn't just one of these gruesome-twosomes, there was a pack of them.
"What the hell is that?" remarked the green-clad guard. He hesitated with opening fire and then, a bullet from one of the riders landed in his left leg in his thigh. He screamed in pain as the beast advanced and fired his pistol desperately as the charging enemy while hurriedly dragging himself away. His counterpart felled the animal with his sniper rifle.
"Come on, get up" he exclaimed, while Marcus and Dom provided suppressing fire against the locust. The wounded man tried to rise. He got his right leg up, then moved his left. A scream of true agony escaped him and he collapsed clutching his limb.
"I can't do it!" he sobbed.
"I can't leave you here." Countered the other and grabbed his free hand. The blue-clad guard dragged him away from the fighting behind a shelf. "Stay here," he said and returned to the battle.
"What the?" cursed Marcus. His lancer jammed halfway through a magazine. Without thinking we warned: "Kid, watch out!"
One of the beasts had lost its rider and charged him. The gunman dived out of the way, but he was too late. As he evaded its strike, the scythe-like limb came down, severing his right arm off.
"No," shouted Marcus and Dom in unison. Dom charged right into the line of fire, brandishing his shotgun.
"Get off you freak!" He yelled and discharged a full tube into its head. The animal's skull exploded all over the two warriors." Dom grabbed the downed guard and his limb over his back in a fireman's carry and hustled back to where the first guard had been lain just seconds earlier. Dom deposited his cargo and ran back to Marcus. "We're screwed," he stated disheartenedly.
"Shut up and fight!" countered Marcus. Dom rose and leveled his shotgun, right into the face of an oncoming mount. He pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
"Damnit!" he swore. Suddenly, a shot rang out and the beast fell limp. Dom checked to his right at Marcus. The sergeant was reloading. Then where did that bullet came from? Who was their savior?
Immediately, a follow up shot flew into the body of a drone. Dom was the tracer and looked back behind him. Another soldier stood there. He was wearing armor unlike anything he had ever seen. His helmet looked like something out of a classical civilizations museum exhibit. It was pot shaped and had an open faced design except for the nasal guard. The rest of the combatant's clothing was obscured behind a huge shield. It was three feet wide and circular. Both the helmet and shield appeared to made of bronze.
The figure was crouched behind the shield and holding a Boltok Revolver in his left hand. With a devilish grin, the figure reloaded the revolver perfectly and threw up a screen of lead. A second shot caught the same drone in the heart and killed him. The man was not yet finished. He emptied four shots into the crania of four other enemies. Their heads exploded as the high energy bullets made their mark up the targets. The man reloaded as a grinder stepped into view. Before any could do anything, the giant began shooting at the shielded man.
Rounds from the Mulcher Heavy Machine Gun tore into the shield, yet it held. Its holder grunted under the strain of holding it as the barrage of lethal anti-armor projectiles thudded against his aegis. The grinder ceased firing as the weapon over heated and began to cool down. By now, the pistoleer had finished reloading and emptied three bullets into his foe's face. The last one blew the head to smithereens. For the next hour, the three of them repelled the locust onslaught, fighting like berserkers. They held through waves of drones, bolters, boomers, flamers, grinders, bloodmounts, and grenadiers. At last the enemy forces stopped coming.
The pistoleer immediately said: "Get those two to a hospital!" He was referring to the guards who had been dismembered by the horde. Marcus and Dom quickly ran over to the back where the two wounded men were lying. The green-clad one was hoisted up by Marcus and Dom took the blue-clad one and his arm. They ran out of the room at full speed.
The pistoleer was not yet done. He removed his helmet and radioed: "Control, this is Gordon, the attack on Lemertza is over. The area is secure. All wounded are being evacuated. No soldiers KIA. The guards were both WIA. I am fine, just tired.
"You did it," breathed Anya, her voice heavy with relief. "Hold your position, you are to remain until more guard arrive."
"Understood, Gordon out." He switched off his radio. Gordon began scrounging around looking for ammunition. His shield was slightly scarred from the battering it had received, but not significantly. He waited there for hours, until a watch of another two guards escorting a third man came. This man was Colonel Victor Hoffman. He was in his fifties, and tougher than course sandpaper. Gordon saluted, his revolver was in its holster.
"At ease." ordered the Colonel. "Are you Specialist Gordon?" he inquired.
"Remove your helmet."
Gordon complied. His features were remarkably similar to the old Lieutenant Kim's with one big difference: Gordon's eyes were more squinted in appearance. He asked: "Is there something you wish to say to me, sir?"
"Cut your jabber, I'll get to it." replied Hoffman. He began: "First off, I would like to commend you for your admirable actions here today. You prevented a crippling loss to the COG and saved the lives of our fellow soldiers. I ran into Sergeant Fenix as he and another gear from the same squad were carring a pair of injured guards. I promptly stopped them and found out what was going on. I then took a pair of sentries and made my way down here."
He continued: "Secondly, I am offering you an opportunity to transfer to Delta Squad. The other gear with Fenix seemed quite eager to see you in the squad. Thirdly, I inform you that I have put you in for commendations. In three days time, you will be receiving the Steel Gear medal for your actions here today. Next, there is the matter of the creation of a phalanx unit. Because of you, the plan is sure to succeed. Finally, I relieve you of your post. You may now go."
"Thank you sir." Gordon said earnestly. And sir, "I would like to accept your offer of a transfer to Delta Squad."
"Very well then," came the response."Dismissed!" Hoffman turned and walked away with Gordon behind him.