Greetings and welcome to another installment of my GoW series. The events that take place in this story happen shortly after Jacinto's Remnant, while the COG finds temporary refuge at Port Farrall. These events take place before my other fanfiction, Snowblind, however, it is not necessary to read Snowblind to understand the events that take place in this fanfiction.
Synopsis: With the Frost coming down hard on the civilians, freight rigs are deployed to transport desperately needed medical supplies, armaments, and rations. In the process, rigs are being taken down while on route, ransacked of their shipment, and the crew is slaughtered. In the wake of these dire circumstances, Hoffman dispatches two squads to help escort two rigs to their destination, using whatever means necessary to get the rigs, and their crew, safely to Fort Block. As the weather worsens, the rigmasters and the Gears are pressed for time to deliver these goods, before the road conditions make it impossible for the rigs to commute, but will they even get past the Stranded gang responsible for the hijackings?
Please note: This story is rated M for language, adult themes, violent acts, and sexual contact.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gears of War, nor do I preside over the GoW franchise. I only claim my OC's that are presented I this story. Any details, titles, names that may be similar to that of other fiction or fanfiction, is strictly coincidental.
Wild Horses
~Journal entry~
It had been nearly a months now, since we've been running consignments to the newly COG occupied base on the south coast of Port Farrall. I've been getting new shipment orders almost every other day, searching for anything and everything to be relocated to the base, but we're starting to run out suppliers.
Ever since Jacinto fell into the sea, the people have grown desperate, often waiting for the rigs to come in with supplies we would gather from abandoned facilities that have been longed ravaged by the Locusts. I've lost count the many times we had to call in COG personnel to help us unload the shipments, trying to shoo off the desperate civilians, ransacking the crate of rations before we could even unload it off the trailer…it's a pitiful sight.
Although I would have never thought I would be dragged all the way out here, there has always been talks about coming to Farrall, but things have changed, just over the past five years, while at the same time, some things stay the same. It has always seemed like an endless waltz of war, ceasefire, small skirmishes, and then back to war again. If it's not one thing, it'll be another…now, we're having to take routes to avoid certain towns that contain Stranded gang lords, Locust outposts, or areas that have been known to be occupied by the Feral. Every day, I would always inspect my rig, code name Pegasus, coming across a new dent caused by a ricochet bullet, or embedded pelts from buckshot. Now I wonder if the others regret their ambitions about coming to Farrall, and it's only been getting harder for all of us.
Fortunately, I've managed to run into some help, a couple of young girls whom lost their parents from some Stranded raids a couple of years back. I managed to take them in, cut their hair, and gave them names that would make a couple of believable thirteen year old boys, working along the Santa Fe, Mining Corp., to transport ammunitions, medicines and supplies to the military bases presently stationed at Fort Block. The last thing they needed was to be thrown into some, military sanctioned breeding camp, to be treated like a couple of phillies, bred to some Joe Blow stud, or dragged to some underground Stranded brothel, where virginity was sold for a handsome price.
So far, we have not run into any problems as long as I made the shipments on time and kept the consignments in check, following the usual protocol while keeping our profile low, concealing the identity that are all too common for the likes of us.
I had always hoped for better, a happier ending for the girls, but I never would have thought in a million years that these recent events, would ever take me there.
Jack Gembry
Prologue
…fourteen hours after rig deployment.
Of all the training Specialist Dante' Raphael had to endure during basic, nothing had prepared him for this. Staring blankly directly into the barrel of a forty-five revolver, he could feel the metallic taste in his parched, dry mouth, glaring at the cold, alloy metal revolver, staring right back at him as Jacque pointed the pistol directly into his face, while Billy and Tommy just stood back in awe, completely detached from the reality happening before them.
It hit Tommy the hardest as she watched helplessly from abroad, peering through the falling snow while Jacque held Raphael at gunpoint. She couldn't help to wonder…where is the Sergeant?
Dom slowly lifted his head from the snow-covered ground, catching up with the events that had transpired before he was knocked unconscious. Realizing what had happened, Dom reached into his left holster, but his Snub wasn't there, awe shit…bad timing there Santiago…very bad.
Looking dizzily from the ground, Dom could tell that Raphael was sweating bullets, succumbed under the tight spot Jacque forced them into, keeping everyone on a tight leash, including the girls. With Raphael being held at point blank range, while the two, unarmed girls huddled to the side, and the Sergeant nowhere in sight, Dom had nothing to fall back on…well we sure as hell didn't see this one coming…how the hell did we end up like this?
Chapter 1: The Riders
One week after the relocation to Port Farrall, at the shipping dock…four hours before rig deployment…
Walking along the snow covered, wooden deck, out in the icy breeze, that has been getting worse as each week passes, Sergeant Lucius Jacquin waits patiently for the supply rigs to finally come in for transfer.
One of Sante Fe's, old gunships, MacBeth, is docked nearby, waiting for the supply rigs to come in to pick up crates of medical equipment, blankets, ammunitions, and rations. Although Fort Block contained it's own infirmary storage facility, many of the equipment there have since then been seriously outdated and have become obsolete, or non-functional. With a sudden rise in a flu epidemic, many of Jacinto's remnant have been waiting out for anti-biotics, syringes, and ointments to treat external infections that were also on the rise, not to mention a growing number of cases of pneumonia.
To make the situation even worse, the rigs have recently been under constant threat of attacks by rebel Stranded, often robbing the trailer of their supplies, and in some cases, killing the driver and his crew. There has since been three major cases where the COG lost several rigs, resulting in a calamity that has cost lives due to the lack of rations and medicines. Since then, Colonel Hoffman had no choice but to take initiative to make sure their supply rigs were protected.
Hoffman soon assigned Lucius to the job, along with four other men from Epsilon one, Delta one, and Beta five. Captain Miller was generous to assign some members of his squad to assist the Sergeant while convincing Lieutenant Stroud to coerce Sergeant Fenix into also contributing some of his men to the menagerie.
Although many of the Gears loathed the idea of babysitting a handful of supply trucks, Lucius managed to convince some, of the importance of making sure the trucks got to the Block with their shipments in place.
Since the remnants of a once prosperous society, now taking refuge at a cold, long abandoned facility with little food, medicine, and heaters, the death toll among the elderly and infants was staggering. It was a cheerless forethought that people were dying, despite efforts being made to try and get the supplies into the COG storage houses, before the Frost worsened to the point the rigs could no longer ride the icy roads to Fort Block.
Looking out to the road nearby as the gray, overcast sky loomed over the terrain, Lucius couldn't help but to wonder how much longer the rigs can last this hard weather. He could recall in the past, that the supply trucks were, for the most part, indestructible. Designed to withstand the wind capacity often delivered by typhoons, the big rigs held there place on the road well, without wavering, while their tires were sheltered with armored plates that hung from the chassis, shielding them from flying debris.
As of late, Lucius read up on some reports, giving some detail about how the Stranded insurgents were taking out the back tires, where the armor offered little, if any, protection. In one incident, a few Stranded followed the rig on motorcycles, taking turns shooting with Gnashers at the back of the rig, while a passenger in a lone pick-up, would make the final blow with a armor piercing round from his rifle, causing the back two tires to rupture, as the trailer would buckle, causing the rims to drag on the road, decimating the rear axle from the unstable force from the weight. They're becoming more, and more proficient…this has to be the orchestration from some, hierarchical posse…they are way too organized to be just a handful of drifters, trying to get by from freezing and starving. This is a covert job.
Looking up from his thoughts, Lucius could hear the familiar sound of a Dill making its way towards the dock site parking lot as it moved up slowly before coming to a halt. As Lucius made his way to the Dill, he could hear the parking break valve, compress from under the hull as the latch to the door turns and opens up from the front. Familiar voices could be heard coming from the cabin, a sound that Lucius welcomed after being isolated from headquarters for two days,
"…where the fuck did you learn to drive, Spades?"
Lucius instantly recognized the voice as that of Corporal Damon Baird, grudgingly stepping out of the Dill while moving around, dropping to his hands and knees, inspecting the suspension on the driver side tire,
"…when you see a pothole, you drive around it, shitbag!"
"Yea, yea…bitch, bitch, bitch…just for that, D, I'll be sure to drive right through it next time…" Corporal Hades Bjork yelled over the driver side console while Private Dante' Raphael was the next to step out of the APC.
"…you break my Dill numbnuts, I swear…"
"It's not your Dill, Damon, it's taxpayers' property," said Captain Miller as he followed Raphael, stepping out into the slushy snow and turned over to see Sergeant Jacquin waiting patiently to the side while Baird continued to rant,
"…and most of those taxpayers are dead, Captain…"
Shortly after Bairds' comment, another APC pulled up and parked next to the first one. The front hatch opened up, as the warm air from the inside of the cabin quickly seeped out while Epsilon's medic, Corporal Grimes stepped out, shuffling his short blonde hair after sleeping in the shotgun seat, while Corporal Dominic Santiago was the next to follow, bringing his hand over his face to shield his sober eyes from the light, after sitting in a dark Dill for awhile.
Captain Miller was the first to greet the Sergeant while the others were still getting situated,
"So what's the word, Lucius?"
"The rigs should be here shortly…I have schematics of the route we're taking to the Block," Lucius responded, holding up a bonded book that mapped out the roads and terrain of Port Farrall, "…so who's coming?"
Shortly after Lucius asked the question, Miller walked up to him, scratching his forehead while joining up with the six foot, four, Sergeant, whom towered over Jon as soon as he joined him.
In the distance, the Gears could still be audibly heard as the group mingled next to the parked Dill's, making small talk or ranting about one thing or another, mostly from Baird's assessment of his prized APC.
"This is the last time I let you drive my ride, Spades…"
"Pfft, that's what she said," Bjork retorted while laughter followed shortly afterwards.
"For crying out loud, Baird, it's just a Dill…" Dom could be heard, while Baird stood back up from evaluating his precious baby,
"…and it's one out of eight, functioning Dills that we have left, Santiago…out of twenty from a month ago! Do the fucking math on that!"
The argument continued as the Captain sighed, turning his focus back to the Sergeant, reevaluating the squadron's placements.
"I got you teamed up with Raph, Dom, and Welche…you'll be riding on the Pegasus…and from what I can gather, the driver goes by the name of Jack Gembry, and has a two man crew…" Miller elaborated as he looked up at the others briefly, making sure their little spat doesn't go beyond just talking trash, "…and then I'll have Sergeant Fargaus, Gaiman, Bjork, and Grimes, escorting the Appaloosa…and the driver is actually the company frontman, Henry Dalquist."
"Dalquist? Now why is the manager sticking his neck out on this one?" Lucius questioned.
For years, Santa Fe had renewed their contracts with the COG, year after year, often supplying their resources because they had the means to provide the better bid. However, what they made up for in dollars, they lacked in efficiency in the management dept. It wasn't uncommon for the rig drivers to have a better instinct with proficiency, keeping the operations running smoothly, while the higher ups just provided a face for the sake of presentation. It wasn't usual for the manager to go on a "ride."
After the Lightmass offensive, the company was hit hard by Locust attacks, decimating several plants, and had to fall back on the Fortification Act, by willingly surrendering their vessels, while conscripting their contracted employees, including management.
"They relinquished their assets to keep the company afloat…after recent events, shit, I would," Miller responded, knowing that if it wasn't for joining up with the COG, the company would have dissolved along with many others that suffered economic blows from the Human/Locust war.
As the two men could still hear the Gears shoot the breeze, Lucius evaluated the numbers as he turns his glare back to Miller, whom hoped to find some approval from the veteran Sergeant.
"I'm hoping a two squad escort will be more than enough to get these rigs safely to Fort Block," Miller added.
"…two squads?" Lucius reiterated Miller, as the massive Sergeant briefly glanced at the squadrons with qualm, and then returned his gaze back to the Captain.
"Look…Lucius, I was lucky to manage getting some Gears with field experience…if you haven't noticed, we're running thin on experienced soldiers here, and the recruits are just too, damn green for a mission of this caliber…"
And he was right. Recruits were beginning to outnumber the vets, while the latest statistics of Gear longevity, as of recent, was staggeringly low. Some call it skill, others say it was luck, and no one of the group knew this more than Miller, Dom, Lucius, Baird, and Bjork. Whatever fate had in store for them, it just wasn't their turn…or at least not yet.
"Sigh, understood Captain…we'll make this work," Lucius grumbled, nodding in compliance, while Miller nodded in return as he too turned his gaze to the Gears nearby, two of which were kicking up snow against "Baird's Dill," as the sound of ranting could be heard from the cantankerous mechanic,
"Hey, hey, hey…will knock that shit off? Especially you Spades, Langston…oh, don't even get me started with you, Dom… "
Lucius gestured in compliance as the Captain let out a long sigh, turning his attention back to the Sergeant,
"Look on the bright side, Sergeant,…at least you're not having to put up with D…"