Adv. Wars: Peacemaker

I do Not own Advance Wars, Nintendo, nor it's offshoots, sequels, prequels and such.

I DO own this fanfiction though, and it's original characters.

R&R would be much appreciated. No flames though, they can crush an unprepared heart faster than most cardiac arrest's


Silence filled the ranks as the two distinctly colored forces stood not a hundred meters apart from each other, heavily entrenched and waiting for the enemy to make their first move. Row after row after row of trenches lined with the occasional anti-infantry or tank turret stood in ominous silence as each of the commanders stood and observed, waiting for the move that the enemy will condemn themselves with. An hour passed with nothing even remotely looking like action appearing near the horizon, as did the second hour, and the third.

Back at the mobile command post, a distraught commander looked with some wariness at the opposing enemy trenches; Lash wasn't that sort of a commander to sit tight and wait for superior numbers to bail her out of a dilemma.

And she was not, as right about then, artillery fire flashed and the distinctive boon could be heard instantaneously. The commander swore and ran back to her command APC, deciding that today is not the day she would like to be ripped apart by a million superheated pieces of flying shrapnel.

"Well?" she said as she climbed into the carrier compartment of her APC, "Pull back! You need an order for that?" The driver was more than willing to comply, and the tracked vehicle quickly zipped to a more well-fortified position, even as the rounds started landing with explosive thumps. Screams were heard as the occasional greenhorn infantrymen caught out in the open was torn many new gaping, leaking holes, some with so much of them that their corpse was unidentifiable except for the dog tags. Medical assistance would come later; it would not do to have their medic's die of the very wounds they are trying to patch up.

But what to come was worse. As the enemy leaped out of their own trenches the second their support fire stopped and, in a move reminiscent of the infantry charges commanders ordered when the ranged weapon was a inconceivable idea, the mass of black started flooding the trenches, as the men inside just emerged to regroup. What perfect timing indeed.

Chaos ensued as the mounted emplacements and men manning the upper tiers of the trenches started firing down at the sea of humanity themselves fighting for their own lives. Friendly soldiers were shot accidentally by their comrade's support fire because they were too close to their original target, and the anti-tank rounds were creating craters deeper than the length of a standard assault rifle, the laws of physics ignoring the pleas of the dying and flung them up, alongside with their much healthier fellow soldiers/enemies, at impressive speeds. Medical personnel at the lower tiers were stampeded upon as soon as they crouch down to properly position themselves and their medical equipment, fellow soldiers caring only for their lives as they madly tried to scramble to higher ground, and each and everyone of the participants dancing their part in the well rehearsed play of war.

Back up on the ridge, well trained Pathfinder squads did their deadly work, picking off the enemy blacks with their superior height and range advantage. Rich were the pickings as they expended round after round after round, each of them engraved with their target's name, none of them missing their target, regardless of whether they were already dead by the time the bullet reached them.

All in all, it was a massacre, a traditional ten centimeter standoff between two opposing forces and a heated match where the individual soldier either finds the will to fight for their living or eternal peace. There was no quarter asked and none given, such was the amount of brutality shown between the warriors of each side.

Somewhere between the ridge and the fast-paced melee of the ground, the men giving fire-support and the command APC stood, the red-haired female commander looking down at the battlefield with obvious disdain in her eyes, this was not going well at all, within a few minutes they would unleash their neo-tank flanking force and end this joke of a massacre, already the ominous black spots in the darkening horizon signaled the near-doom of her fellow soldiers-in-arms.

"Sound the retreat; we fight them as they go uphill, tell those people at the ridge to force a gap between our troops and theirs as our own soldiers crawl uphill with their remaining strength, we will attempt to render their tank force useless." The soldier saluted as he turned and ran back into the APC.

At the other side of the battlefield, another female stood, and with a grin on her pale face, as she scrutinized every single aspect of the lone APC lying at the hill, no doubt about it, it is the one they need to surgically destroy in order to end this farce of a battle quickly. She turned and, after wondering if her new plan would actually work, strictly spoke to the artillery crews, radioing specific co-ordinates to them and warning them that failure would end in untold suffering. The men cringed at hearing this, knowing that their mistress has the capability-as well as the equipment- to back up her words.

Now all Lash would have to do is to sit back and watch the fireworks.


The red-haired young adult heard the flashes and booms once more, and this time she has no qualms about where the shells would land. Lash has some very precise laser-rangefinders in her armories.

Shouting back at the officer running back to the APC, the commander desperately hoped that the man would not be as single-minded as most others. "Move! Get away! It's going to-!" A large explosion (Well, multiple small ones) cut her off as a wall of energy forces her onto the ground, where she heard the distinct sound of her shoulder blade cracking, as did her shoulders and shins. Pain wracked her body as she felt her skin burning under the immense firestorm created by the explosives, try as she might, but the officer was incinerated and her only link back to friendly lines were cut off, damn Lash! Now all she could do was to lie still, waiting for her men -and eventually, her- to die horrible deaths under the iron fists of the Black Hole army. Already she can hear the sounds of the middle trenches being breached, as well as the sounds of neo-cannons firing their deadly drumbeats of doom. Now they would probably only have about a few moments before the enemy's momentum carries their forces to the upper trenches, and to the last few soldiers under her rapidly dwindling army. It is time for her to make peace with whatever God was out there and shed all earthly thoughts, as she then heard the first of the upper trenches being overrun, men screaming with their last breath, desperate to cling onto life as badly as the other soldier, unwilling to acknowledge the fact that death was fast approaching.

At least she had made a difference with her homeland, serving it with the fervor her father imparted into her. At least she can now meet her old man up there… Her world started blanking out, as she saw something impact near her, following by a hissing sound and rapid gunfire, strange, the noise signature was unfamiliar to her, who are they… … …?


Commanding Officer Kenneth was not a very happy man that dusk, as he stood up in the rapidly oscillating Osprey dropship. What an unlucky day, first having all his chocolate conned out by Matthew, then by having this small matter erupt just when his shift was about to end.

But to hell with it, not everything ran along with your script. The CO had seen firsthand the scale of destruction wrought by Black Hole forces, lands completely stripped of their life force, incapable of supporting life ever again. What a waste! What's more, he knew that their resource processing capabilities were very inefficient, so roughly sixty percent of the resources processed were wasted and thrown away. How very incompetent of them, Kenneth would have expected much better from a land who has survived over half a millennia on an island with severely dense population ratios!

Anyway, now that the odds were severely up against those orange-garbed soldiers, the foreign faction's dispatch force commander decided to even out the odds by dropping two whole platoons of ADSAT (Air Drop Shock Assault Troopers) onto the top tier of the desperate defenders. A bit of overkill some of his colleagues back at GSC (Ground-side Command) would say, but Kenneth would reason that that was all he was iven to work with, no reason letting half of them get massacred while the other half stayed up there to watch.

As his Osprey strike force ran the gauntlet of disparaged light anti-air fire, he immediately noticed something; a CO lying down on the ground, the only time where someone would do that in heavy combat was when he was dead or dying fast.

Then his eyes widened as he noticed something: The CO was a female.

Seriously, now his schedule had to be speeded up by thirty seconds. Keying his mike he radioed throughout the entire network, "Objectives are now changed; Secure the CO, you get me people?" Some grunts were heard, but it was mostly the air of acceptance. They must have noticed the woman down there too.

"Alright you mother Expletive Deleted> assholes! Stand at your pad and prepare for rapid exit in five! Four! Three! Two! One! Lights out and have a nice trip!" The Osprey pilot smiled as he slammed the activation pad on his LCD cockpit display. Back at the troop compartment of the –rather cavernous- dropship, the "Pads" the soldiers were standing in –tubes would be a more apt description- was sealed with a magnetic field, whose interior of each was immediately filled with impact gel. Each of the filled pads then wasted no electronic time in relieving its occupant of the stuffy feeling as the bottom section opened up and let the soldier, encased in gel, fall. Forty men fell and forty men hit the ground hard, semi-liquid impact gel softening their fall before dissipating harmlessly and without odor into the surrounding air with a hissing sound. Both enemy and alleged allies were too busy to be surprised, until a whole flank of Black Hole soldiers erupted in blood and gore, whole the defenders there were unharmed. Then all eyes were trained on the forty men standing there, smoking gel at their foots as each of them deployed into battle formation, front ranks crouching as the rear ranks stood, both positioning their rifles locking and loading them with metallic clangs.

Kenneth, on board of one of the circling Ospreys, then hammered onto the side of the hull twice, a signal for their airborne barrage to begin. Overlapping staccatos of targeted machinegun and cannon fire tore apart neo-tanks and Black Hole infantry alike, while on the ground the ADSAT soldiers fired an unerring barrage of armor-piercing rounds into the rapidly thinning mass of stunned Black Hole soldiers. Men were dropping faster than one can breathe as the mysterious helpers forced them back meter by meter. Five Ospreys's then dropped from their death orbit (A pathway where they can fire for the maximum effect while staying away from general AA fire) and hovered near the group. And three men, all in armor, dropped out. Two of them immediately took to their task of preparing the unconsciously, and no doubt severely damaged CO for the rigors of combat dropship travel. While the third soldier raised his opaque visor and started to speak to the group of Orange Star survivors, "I am Kenneth Jensen, I am your ticket out of here alive, I will not force you to come with me, so do you all get it?" No one spoke, the expression which Kenneth interpreted as "Yes".

"Good, now as soon as we load aboard your good commander, you all are to climb aboard this dropship "– He banged on the hull of a ship with the number "Zero-One" painted onto it- "and strap yourselves in, there will be seats for everyone, understand?" No response from this group either. Kenneth then lowered his head, acknowledging his lack in social communications skills, before slamming on the hull of the dropship three times, causing a ramp to lower. All of the survivors quickly climbed aboard, seemingly afraid that there will not be enough seats for all of them, much like their primitive T-copters, while Kenneth's own detachment climbed aboard their own ships with practiced ease. After ensuring that his priority cargo, the injured CO, in on board, he didn't bother to slam on the hull this time, instead just keying the mike to the cockpit and radioing a simple "Go".

The ramp slowly sealed shut as the ships lifted themselves up and back into their comrade Dropships' ranks, before they all regrouped and flew to the Uteri Mountain ranges in the background, leaving a very angry CO Lash with a smoking battlefield full of bodies that have just begin to rot.


I hope this one was better than the rest, And since I can't quite place nor compensate the COs and their many powers and attributes in real modern combat, I removed the Powers and made the CO's take a lesser role in battle.

Sorry if this turned you off, but in my point of view, it was a necessary evil.

If Hitler had even Sami, he would have won World War 2, see what I mean?