Fanon:Trenches, Fences, and Defenses

is a work of fiction written by GreyFlame 05 that follows a commander and his squadron fighting an enemy force, based around the world of. Please comment if you enjoyed the story.

Story
The aching temperatures have torn at my comrades for hours on end, gnawing their weakened bones to chalk dust. It was not just the Fahrenheit that had caused us pain, as the men of the South Brigade would occasionally trespass our fortifications, leading to heavy hand-to-hand battles. We're only been stationed for 2 days, a rarity in the modern militia, but have dreaded every second here.

I am one of the dozen who has survived these brutal conditions, but it was our duty to serve the tasks handed out to us, and I will not perish to measily frost or those South Brigade nuisances. We were sent to fight, and possibly die, in our war against the Peretans: a powerful group of ceremonial murderers, often invading our territories and killing half a dozen innocent citizens. Those scum will not walk away unscathed.

" Ayy Grey, where's ya boomstick? Gettin' word on the radio that the Peretans 'coming soon." Gus asks with surprising politeness, uncommon for a soldier of his variety.

" Ah, great great great, more trouble... how soon do they suppose? 10 hours? 11?" I reply, discomforted by the possible answers.

" Like say, 3 minutes. Come on mate, it's some'n to do 'sides freeze to death, right?"

" Yeah, whatever, this is 'gonna suck bigtime... alright. Fine, MEN, draw your weaponry, lowlives heading in our direction." I roar, unwilling to accept any missed directions from their leader.

Within seconds, grunts transition into silence, and my men position their restless muskets onto the barricade, fixing their guns' muzzles towards the general direction of warfare. Time ceases it's pace, and seems to abruptly stop, as the lethal weather continues to tear our very few numbers apart.

" SIR! You see 'em? 'Der here!" Gus asked with anticipation of an awaiting battle.

" Well, numbr' one: yeah, I do, and numbr' two: start using proper grammar, your dialect is more broken than Carl's d*mn leg." I reply, annoyed by Gus's broken speech.

" Least he don't insult a man's war injury for the sake of a comparison, Grey." Carl replied, angered.

" Yeah yeah, I admit 'dat was wrong of me, but let's focus on the advancing Peretans first. Everyone, fire a round off towards them! Show them who's the owner of these lands."

Gunfire chimes, standing out among the thousands of snowflakes falling from the heavens, and sends the impending march of the Peretan forces to a sudden and satisfying stop.

" There's plenty more where 'dat came from, you filthy animals!" Gus roars.

From about 600 meters away, I finally can fully recognize the sheer number of units in the force. While just an estimation, there seems to be at least 3 dozen units, all of which covered in a winter attire, not fit for heavy combat, but for comfort. This choice strikes me as odd, especially with the event about to take place. Suddenly, the front row of 12 Peretan soldiers fire their first munitions towards our camp, which all of one missed. One, though, strikes Gus in the left leg.

" Holy actual- GOD, AH, god, sir, please- ah- WHAT DO I DO?!" Gus screams as his leg writhes with blood.

" Carl, get the bullet outta' his leg, anybody have some cookies? Apples?" I reply in a somewhat calm manner.

" What about anesthetics?" Carl asks.

" What are you talking about? How could those ever help?" I ask, confused by his strange logic.

" They help sooth 'ur body when pa- nevermind."

" And what are you lackees doing? FIRE BACK AT THEM! How far do you think they can walk before they start getting a good aim?"

Carl reluctantly retrieves a cookie from his pocket, handing it to the wounded Gus. Starving, Gus scarves the cookie quickly, and without even a hint of additional support, he walked back towards his station and joined the rest of the squadron, firing off as many shells as he can.

We pick off about a half a dozen before Xavior is picked off by a couple shots of a repeater crossbow, falling off of his post and slowly deteriorating into nothingness. While I would shed a tear at this sight, I realize it is one of the many casualties of war, only letting a deep sigh escape my lips.

" Man down, 10 of us left, everyone!"

For five minutes, war wages, and little occurs. Both of our sides have the most advanced of technology available, but both firearms are sloppy at a long range like this. From the corner of my eye, I notice the left of the entrance begins to populate with three Peretan soldiers armed with shields the size of human bodies.

" Ayy sir, intruders to the left! 'Bet we can't hit 'em with our spears, too heavy defensive wise." Gus informs.

" Well try it, it's all we got!" I reply.

All of my men rally themselves in front of the shielded soldiers, stabbing at the strong shields to no avail.

" NO, you idiots! We need some men to deal with the other forces, the couple dozen of armed soldiers, you know?!"

As to almost prove my argument, the main force advances into the right of our barracade, entering our makeshift shelter and flooding the small space with an overwhelming mass of enemy soldiers. My fears, though previously only present in my nightmares, come alive in these moments. Three of my men attempt to fend them off, but are trampled, including Carl.

" EVERYONE! JUMP THE FENCES!" I demand in a last resort effort to keep my remaining men alive.

Six of us throw ourselves over the front of the fence, launching ourselves head-first into the snow. I'm struck with the terrifying realization that one of our men haven't jumped. Gus.

" GUS! Get out of there! NOW!" I command.

" NO SIR! We BOTH know how this'll end..." Gus roars, muffled over both the enemy footsteps on wood flooring and the fence.

" STOP THI-"

" Bye, sir." Gus said as he activates a grenade, signified by a loud click as he is trampled by the Peretan forces.

" ...goo-dbye..."

The explosion tears all of the barricade, the Peretan forces, and Gus apart. Nothing but smoldering ash is left from this devastating loss. Gus is gone, and soon, Peretan and every other damned clan will too.

" ...Let this be a reminder of what we fight and die for. We can't let their sacrifices go in vain." I hesitantly state as we slowly walk back towards our city, ready to fight... and die... another day.