A/N: What up, what up? Well, I'm back, and with a (hopefully) more interesting story!
Forgive the terribleness of this first little bit, the real first chapter should be up within the next couple days. Or maybe even today. WHO KNOWS.
Also, spoilers for Gears of War 3. If you still haven't finished it.
Obligatory disclaimer of obviousness: I don't own Gears of War, or anything to do with the franchise. That would be Epic Games.
Prologue: Building Thunder
Hoffman left the comms room, considerably more irritated than when he had entered two hours earlier. Talking to Major Reid usually had that affect on people, and that was when he wasn't being a stubborn asshole about resources. These weekly sitreps were surely doing terrible things to Hoffman's blood pressure.
He stepped out of Anvil Gate and paused to survey the surroundings. It had been just over a month since the Locust attack on the garrison, and the scars still showed. Hammer strikes and a Lambent Berserker hadn't exactly left the place in pristine condition, and the repairs were slow going. Lennard Parry's engineering corps were stretched between the three main COG settlements: Anvil Gate, Azura and Port Farrall.
Port Farrall immediately made Hoffman think of Reid again, and he had to take a few calming breaths. Hoffman could understand Reid's demand for Parry's sappers—the Lambent stalks had done a considerable amount of damage to the old settlement, which now harboured the survivors from Sovereign. But to ask for ninety percent—
Shit. Hoffman's gut twisted into a knot of cold misery as he finally caught up to the mention of CNV Sovereign. His fists clenched. Goddamn, Quentin. Dom. Why couldn't you have survived? You were so close. That was what got to Hoffman the most. He missed Michaelson and Dom more than he thought possible, but the brutal injustice of it all was the final kick in the teeth. They died days before the war had ended. And the fact that someone as old as Hoffman survived when people like Dom had to die… it just didn't seem fair.
Heavy footsteps approaching Hoffman from behind snapped him out of his depressing introspection. He put on his best Stoic Colonel face, and turned towards the approaching Gear—because only standard issue Gear boots could make such a racket.
"Colonel." Padrick Salton paused to salute quickly.
Hoffman nodded at him. "Private."
"Are you busy, sir?"
"I was on my way to brief Gavriel about the sitrep. But it can wait."
"Good." Pad looked mildly disgruntled. "The patrol that was supervising the petrol shipment from the refinery ran into a roadblock this morning. No shots fired, though, sir."
Hoffman sighed. This was the sixth incident of its kind within the last month. The local Stranded had never been friendly with the garrison, but they mostly kept to themselves. Something had incited them, and that spelled bad news for Anvil Gate.
"I don't like this, Salton. Something's brewing."
"My thoughts exactly, sir. What precautions should we be taking?"
"Double the manpower on patrols. We don't want any of our Gears finding themselves severely outnumbered in an ambush. And go tell Sergeant Mataki the news. She should be pleased."
"I know Mataki likes hunting lowlifes, but isn't pleasure a strong word, sir?"
Hoffman turned on his heel, heading back towards the comms room. He answered over his shoulder, "Tell her we're expecting guests. I need to make a quick call to Sharle at Azura."