A/N Welcome and enjoy the story. It takes place during the pendulum wars, about seven years before E-day. It is rated for brutal violence, harsh swearing (albeit censored), and adult themes. Please, understand that this isn't for you little fan kids out there. I am very serious. And while it doesn't really start till chapter two, it bears warning before you get into the story.

It is also a part of the Pendulum Wars Writers Compilation on the Epic games forums. Head over there to find some more (coming forthwith).

Chapter One: Shades of Grey

Camilla Duval walked through the high cornstalks that made up most of her family's old farm smack dab in the middle of nowhere Tyrus. The farm was located on the western plains, and was one of many such farms dedicated to feeding the vast majority of the Coalition.

Camilla had come home for the summer to help with the farm while she waited for the woman's Academy to begin again in the fall. School had been fun, though strict. The Coalition teachers preached the party values incessantly, and while Camilla followed them to the letter, she didn't believe them. The COG spoke of unity, yet in the collective unity, the individual was swept away. There was no room for happiness, only good. The good of the many, at the cost of the few.

No doubt she would have believed everything they had told her if she had lived anywhere but where she did. But nothing important ever happened, or came from, the plains. It was an area of fertile plains and nothing else. Farmers would grow their crops and sell them to the COG at a "fair" price, one that left most of the farmers hungry in the winter, not to mention their families.

And so there was no room in the small villages for Coalition indoctrination centers, or "schools" as the fascists liked to call them. Everyone was taught at home or in co-operative groups of villagers working together to provide a good education. Because of this there was a curious bent towards individualism and critical thinking. One which many professors were not prepared to handle, and one which landed many of Camilla's friends in serious trouble.

Camilla herself had been quiet throughout her classes, speaking when called upon and keeping to herself. She had become fast friends with a few others, most of them farm kids like herself, with whom she could share her feelings about the COG. Apparently the professors had gotten wind of their little group, and out of the seven or eight who would all hang out regularly, only four were still in the group.

Three had dropped out of Woman's Academy, while two had gone home from the Men's Academy, all of whom where never heard from again. Dazerius Holcomb, one of Camilla's best friends during Academy, and the most outspoken of the group, was caught in a dangerous imulsion explosion outside a fueling station.

Camilla had cried when the Academy newspaper interviewed her, telling them about how horrible an accident it must have been, and how she hoped it was painless, yet while the tears had been real, she knew it had been no accident. She even went to the station later to see if the accident had been as bad as the news had made it out to be.

It wasn't. Not by a long shot.

Dazerius had been murdered. And while Camilla hated the COG for it, she wasn't entirely surprised by it either. In their private conversations they had all talked about doing what they could to change the COG. Yet more and more, despite their allegiance to the COG, and their home countries, the UIR was more consistent with their views, and this had caused quite a bit of dissonance within them.

And so Dazerius had opted to remove this dissonance, choosing to study even harder, to refute his professors whenever the occasion determined, and to engage in open debates with his professors on the merits of capitalism over socialism, freedom versus "unity", and the rights of the individual.

He had rocked the boat, and the boat had rocked back. He was dead.

Even now, three months after the fact, it still managed to bring tears to Camilla's eyes. She wiped her cheeks clean as the rows of corn gave way to sweeping fields of grain. It had always filled her with wonder, this view of the plains, stretching out before her in a sweeping blanket of gold. It took her breath away even to this day, seventeen years after she had first entered the world not three hundred yards from where she stood.

"Camilla? Cami dear!" Her mother's voice rang out from behind her. She turned to see her mother, driving the family tractor toward her as it sprayed pesticides out the back. She was smiling.

This was home, and Camilla was happy.

* * * *

"Sir, they're not ready yet." Captain Curtis Martin spoke emphatically, his large dark face nearly blending in with his black armor. His helmet was tucked under his left arm while he held a silenced Lancer assault rifle in his right, the honed metal bayonet gleaming wickedly.

"I don't care what you think your squad can or can't handle. This will separate the wheat from the chaff." Martin's CO, colonel Henry Darius stood straight and tall, the red UIR emblem gleaming on the front of his black commanders uniform.

"Their bodies may survive, but their minds are fragile!" Curtis Martin was an imposing man no matter what he was wearing, and in his full UIR armor he was a behemoth, "They've been indoctrinated with this hatred of the COG that is problematic at best."

"I'd watch your mouth soldier." Darius tried to raise himself up to Martin's height, attempting to be imposing. The attempt nearly made Curtis laugh. "Men of your rank are paid to fight and follow orders, not think."

"Bullsh*t! If we weren't supposed to think then we'd just fight for the COG now wouldn't we?"

"The point is inconsequential. What matters is whether or not you will obey your orders and carry out your mission." The colonel stepped back and gave the Captain a questioning look. "Or will I have to add a second count of disorderly conduct to my already brimming report?"

Captain Curtis Martin snapped a crisp salute in reply, then stood silently as the Colonel flipped through a file.

"It says here that this is your first training mission. Is that true?"

"Sir, yes sir."

"You are to facilitate the traits necessary for excellence within the Black Mist. If the men are brutal, let them be brutal. Your personal objections to the UIR's more "dubious" tactics are of no consequence. Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Then you will accompany me to your briefing." And with that the colonel turned on his heel and led captain Martin into the briefing room that housed his squad.

His men stood up and saluted them as they walked in. Both he and the colonel saluted back, then Curtis sat down in the chair he was directed to.

Before he sat down, Curtis looked over his young men. Tesla, the heavy gunner. Squints the sniper. Black Jack the close quarters expert. Boom Boom the explosives expert, or BB as they called him. Legs, was their scout. Gabber, the communications man. And then Reaper, the lieutenant and second in command.

While these men had names, Curtis preferred not to think about them. He hated every one of them with a hatred he didn't even feel towards the COG. They were brutal, evil men, and though he trusted them with his life, he would just as soon never see them again.

Captain Martin had been assigned as their squad leader after they had signed up for commando training. Out of the fifty that had been assigned to him at the start of the course, only these seven had made it through, the rest washing out–through choice or death–and back into the rank and file "Innies," while this select few had become part of the Black Mist.

Curtis had been their combat instructor, had taught them how to shoot, how to take cover, and how to kill efficiently. Others had taught them how to think. For all the freedom that the UIR preached, they were just as guilty as the COG when it came to shaping the minds of their youngest generation. Only the most independent and discerning minds survived the commando training sessions, sessions that sought to make the COG into an inhuman beast, one that deserved no mercy, even to it's weakest parts. And yet the hatred was made to look patriotic.

Because of this, The Black Mist became both the best and worst kept secret in the Union of Independent Republics. Their methods, their soldiers, their missions were all kept secret from the public, yet their accomplishments always seemed to be at the forefront of war effort newspapers. They were legends, and so they had many recruits every training cycle, though few would ever attain their dream.

The Black Mist was set apart from the standard UIR special forces. They did the jobs that other soldiers weren't equipped, or even mentally prepared to handle. They were spies, saboteurs, and brutal killers, looking to destroy the morale of their enemies before they destroyed their enemies themselves. And they were extremely effective.

"Alright men," Colonel Darius stood straight and still at the front of the room, looking at the map of Tyrus that had just been brought up on the screen. "You men will be deployed into the middle of the Western Plains with three days rations and a small drop of ammo and supplies. Your mission will be to disrupt Coalition farms and food production by any means necessary, and to instill terror into the farmers."

"What fun is that sir?" Curtis's Lieutenant, Reaper asked impatiently, tapping his foot on the ground. "Aren't there any Gears to kill?"

"Yes, and I've had a map of the area uploaded to your navigators. There are waypoints marking primary objectives and secondary objectives. Just know, it'll be out of your way about ten miles to the nearest Coalition outpost. Though you never know," Darius' eyes twinkled, "Maybe you'll be able to make enough noise to get a reaction from the Cog?"

"F*ckin' better..." Curtis heard Reaper mutter under his breath. He shook his head slightly. If there was anyone he couldn't like less in the world, it was Reaper, well maybe the Chairman, but otherwise Reaper. War, death, and violence were his first loves, and nothing Curtis could say would deter him.

"Well men, you have your assignment. Get to your Khimera." Darius saluted the men as they stood up. They saluted back, then left the room.

Curtis sat in the chopper as he and his squad were flown to the drop point. His was one of three squads that were being deployed into the farming region. They had the others squads com channels and would be able to contact them if needed. Curtis doubted there would be any need.

He looked over the side of the chopper and through the darkness at the ground below. It was no more than thirty feet away, slipping along like water in a river, only it was moving much faster. They were avoiding radar contact, and that required a very delicate pilot.

"Man, I wonder if we'll get some while we're in Tyrus," Reaper was attaching a special weapons tube to the underside of his Lancer as he talked, "I hear these farm b*tches give ya some good head!"

"They'll just as soon bite your d*ck off." Curtis muttered.

"A mistake you wont make twice eh Craps?" Reaper laughed at his own joke, then sobered up slightly. "Now see me, well we'll see if they got any power left after I break their jaw going in."

"Can it, Reaper. Get your mind ready for the mission, drop is in five minutes."

"Oh I'm ready sir! Blow up farms, kill entire families. I'm ready for this mission!" Reaper smiled at Curtis, his usual, sneering grin. "The question is sir, are you ready?"

Curtis turned away and made some final adjustments to his Lancer, before pulling on his helmet and getting ready with the fast rope.

Was he ready? Yes, he was ready. But after this he was done. He would enlist with the foot soldiers, get transfered to a different squad, anything to be away from these young barbarians and their insatiable bloodlust.

This was it. This would be his last mission with Reaper and any of this riotous group of miscreants. He was done.

"We're about to land!" The pilot shouted back. "Get ready!"

Curtis put the protective covering over his bayonet, then attached his lancer to his back and stood waiting. The sun was just starting to rise in the east, he could see the grey streaks lighting up the sky.

He heard the clank of metal and rustle of clothing behind him as his men finished strapping down their weapons and tightening up their armor. It was time.

"Alright, I'm dropping you in a field a mile west from the original insertion point. Sorry about the time constraints!" The pilot yelled back as the chopper slowed and began to hover over the dark ground. "The supply crate has been dropped by Zeta-two at the original LZ. Good luck men!"

Curtis gave the man a two fingered salute, then tossed out the rope and slid down it to the ground. He moved forward and waited as his men dropped down behind him. He covered the grassy field to the east, while he knew his men were watching all other directions. A tap on the shoulder from Reaper and they were moving quickly through the field.

They came to a stop at the edge of a road, lined on each side by thick bushes. Immediately, Legs the scout began scanning first to the north, then to the south.

"Clear." He spoke as put away the small set of binoculars.

BB, the explosives expert quickly rushed out into the dirt road and dug a hole with a small camp shovel. He placed a mine inside then set the detonator and placed it into the mine.

"Setting?" Curtis asked as they crossed the road and began moving through another field.

"Two hours and it'll be active."

"Good, now lets get to business. Legs, where we headed?"

"There's a granary about a half a mile out of the way before we get to the supplies."

"Target priority?"

"High sir."

"BB, you got enough explosives?"

"For one target? Sure, but anything else and I'll need more."

"Lead the way Legs! And Gabber, get on the com and tell the other squads to hold off till oh-eight-hundred. It'll be better if we're all together on this one."

"Yes sir." Both men said in unison.

"Good. Well, this is it boys. This is where your balls drop!" Curtis pulled the sheath off his bayonet and gripped the Lancer tight. The adrenaline was beginning to flow and he remembered why he loved being a soldier.

Maybe a little bloodlust isn't so bad every now and then. He thought as he fell in behind Legs at a crisp run.

* * * *

"Well look who's up early! I thought you'd be sleeping in till at least eleven, getting in so late last night and all." Camilla's mother spoke cheerfully as she stopped the tractor. "And aren't you looking lovely today?"

Camilla smiled bright. She was wearing a slight, airy dress, sunshine yellow with a small artsy pattern of white flowers printed near the bottom of the skirt which ran just below her knees.

"I thought you'd like it! And you're looking nice too!" Cami laughed as her mother scoffed at the statement.

"Pfft! This old thing?" She pointed to her old, dirty, pair of overalls, under which she was wearing a plain white shirt. "This is what I always wear when I'm doing chores."

"I know, and that's exactly why I like it! It makes everything feel right!" She looked around and smiled, then continued talking as she tied her long brown hair into a ponytail. "I just love being home. It's nice being able to talk and sing and be me without any fear."

"I'm glad you're happy dear. Now, head inside and help your sisters finish up breakfast." She paused and looked down at her watch, "Goodness, it's almost eight! Hurry up before your father and brother get back from the fields."

"Alright mom, see you later!" Camilla waved and then ran for the house. She came to the large old farmhouse and hopped up the stairs onto the porch.

She entered the house and made her way to the kitchen, only to find it alight with activity. A young boy was setting places at the table while two girls were engaged at the stove.

There was a general clamor as everyone was busy with what was in front of them.

"Sissy!" A young girl ran up to her sister and wrapped her knees in a big hug. Big being a relative term.

"Hey Abby!" Camilla reached down and picked up her sister, hugging her tight and planting a few kisses on her cheek. "So how have you been?"

"Good." Abby replied simply, the squirmed to be let down. "Guess how old I am."

"Umm...four?"

"No silly!" Abby giggled uncontrollably, "I'm only three years old!"

"Cami!" The older of the two girls set down the pan of eggs on the table and ran to her sister. She was fourteen and had beautiful blonde hair, unlike the rest of her family.

"Robin!" Camilla hugged her, then pushed her back and took a good look at her. "My goodness! Well haven't you grown up into a beautiful young lady!"

"Much to Dad and John's chagrin actually!"

"They been having to beat the boys off with a stick?" Camilla smiled and pulled her sister in close again. "I missed you a lot!"

"Me too, but you'll have to tell us everything while we eat! There are John and Dad."

Camilla went through the ritual again with her two other siblings, Ben, thirteen, and Elise, eight, before everyone sat down. John gave her a playful ruffle on the head as he passed by, as did her father. John was twenty-one, and had been up when she had gotten home late last night.

"So, are there any cute boys at the Academy?" Robin asked as they waited for their mother.

"Like you wouldn't believe!" Camilla settled into the telling of how many soldiers there were always running back and forth, and how they were so strong and handsome. Her stories elicited goodnatured groans from the men of the family, while the girls listened with rapt attention.

"Wow, I might need to go!" Robin shot a sly look at her father, who only shook his head good-naturedly. "But I was really wondering if there were any cute boys. Any ones you like?"

"Alright, enough!" Cami's father laughed a deep hearty chuckle. "You girls can talk about that all you want tonight, just leave me out of it! Cami, why don't you go get your mom."

"Okay. Be right back." Camilla hopped up from the table and went to the door. She stepped out into the bright summer air then jogged off towards the wheat field where her mother had been last, enjoying the warm sunshine.

* * * *

"We're coming up on a farm house sir, level three priority," Legs, the scout looked at his small navigation screen, "The town itself is three miles past it."

"Here's where the terror part comes in boys." Curtis stayed crouched in the long corn stalks as his men sat hunched about him. They could hear the chugging of farm machinery in the distance, as well as the more subtle sounds of small animals rustling through the crops. "BB, Tesla, and Reaper. You'll rig the equipment with explosives and lace the feed with poison. The rest will come with me. Rough up the family a little bit."

"Rough up?" Reaper was incredulous. "Sir, lets slaughter these fascist pigs!"

"You'll do what I tell you, now get..."

"Sir, that tractor is headed this way!" Legs interrupted quietly, motioning the others back. They all retreated quickly through the corn as they saw it come into view.

It was driving through the wheat field towards them, spraying something out of the back. Most likely pesticides.

The driver, a woman of about forty or fifty, with long brown hair, blue overalls and a white shirt, stopped and began talking with someone who was obscured by the corn.

"Who is she talking to?" Reaper asked quietly. Legs moved around through the corn to get a better view. Suddenly a video feed popped up inside Reapers helmet. He gave a low whistle. "Damn."

"What is it Reaper? And would you mind getting me that feed already Legs?" Captain Martin asked curtly. The video popped up and he found himself looking at a beautiful young girl with long brown hair and a pretty dress that danced about her knees in the wind. He swore under his breath as she turned and headed for the house.

"Hey Craps, can we get a little of that sweet ass before we go?" Reaper pointed towards where the girl had disappeared. "It'll only take a few minutes."

"More like seconds!" Tesla gave Reaper a shove, who returned it markedly more violent than before. "But Reaper's right! Let's have some fun with this!"

"We'll do no such thing." Curtis glanced at the time. "It's nearly time for the explosives and the attack on the town. The other squads will be moving in at oh-eight-hundred exactly."

"Like they'll need us!" Reaper had stepped forward now and was standing in front of Curtis, Lancer held loosely at his side. "We were trained to be killers, let us do our job."

"You'll do what I say!" Curtis had to be careful to keep his voice down, yet a seething anger was burning within him. He turned back towards the house. "Take Tesla and Boom and rig up the explosives. Now!"

"F*ck that sh*t!"

"The hell did you say..." Curtis started to turn, then felt a sudden weakness in his legs and a searing pain from his lower back.

"Colonel Darius says hi." Reaper whispered as Curtis fell to the ground. There had been a general start of surprise from the other commandos, yet none of them moved to help now. "He told me you'd p*ssy out. That you wouldn't let us do our jobs. Well look where it's gotten you."

"You, you son of a b*tch." Curtis stammered as he was taken by a fit of coughing. The inside of his helmet turned red with blood. He popped off the face mask and continued coughing.

"Shh..." Reaper hushed the Captain as he stepped forward and unceremoniously slit Curtis's throat with his knife.

Captain Curtis Martin lay in the dirt, his own blood pooling about him as he clutched at his throat. His lifeblood poured out of him and he died.

"Well boys!" Reaper turned to his new squad. "Let's party! Squints, take out that old b*tch on the tractor!"

"My pleasure, sir!" The sniper sighted down the scope of his silenced E-Twenty-nine carbine, then pulled the trigger.

A single, high pitched hiss rang out in the still summer air.