The Three Marauders

While I was waiting on the start of the 'Blackout of 2 AE' RP, I thought I should flesh out the three characters I made for it. Namely, Rick Furzeland, James Palmer and Tom 'Torch' Burch. For now I decided to concentrate on the three's enlistment and early tour of duty, and (if ever) showing their pre-Gear life in flashbacks. There's only a year of story to fit in between enlistment and the Marauders, so this will likely only a be a short thing (possibly 3 or 4 chapters)

Any comments and recommendations are welcome, as I have never written to this capacity before, and any advice will be well taken.

Chapter 1: Recruited
The three were silhouetted by the large door frame, as they looked into the hall. After a long journey, they had finally arrived at the COG recruiting hall. Slowly, the three started to step forward into the hall, already packed with eager recruits, ready to step forward and fight against the new threat of The Locust. “Shit guys, 6 months since E-Day, and people are still pouring in to fight” Said the tallest of the three. “And is that such a bad thing? If people had run dry already, we’d be fucked before you knew it” retorted the middle member of the three. “Feeling a bit optimistic, eh Rick? Normally you would complain about how long we’d be waiting to sign away our lives”. Rick rolled his eyes and walked slightly faster, taking his place in a long line of men around his own age. He brushed his blond hair out of his eyes, and looked around the hall.

The walls were plastered with the typical war propaganda: the symbolic gear logo for the Coalition of Organised Governments ever present. His eyes lingered upon an advert for Gears Crunch, ‘the official cereal of The Gears’ as he had heard it be called many times before. He wondered if any gears actually ate the cereal they were advertised on. Rick didn’t care for how the COG controlled the nation, so long as they did what they were supposed to do: protect it. His eyes then stopped on a poster of the COG’s Figurehead, Chairman Prescott, gesturing toward a set of armour and a Lancer, with the bold text beneath it: ‘Prescott and the COG needs YOU! Take a Lancer, and your future, into your hands!’ “I see your developing quite the hard-on for the chairman there Rick”. Rick turned and slapped his friend across the head playfully. “Just what I would expect from you James: be as big an asshole you can be. I’d like to see you using that fat mouth out on the field”. Suddenly, the third member of the group suddenly chimed in: “Rick, sorry to break your speech, but the line’s moving on…”

The free hurried to fill the extra space that had been made. Eventually, the line spread into three separate lines, each leading to a different desk for recruitment. Rick turned to his two friends. “Well, it looks like this is where we split.” Rick said, grimly. He turned to James and Tom. “Both of you had better take care of yourselves, especially if we aren’t going to see each other for a while.” James walked to join one of the lines. As he walked, he talked back: “You’re damn right. I don’t want to have to say bye to either of you if you can’t talk back. Who else would I have to piss off?” For the first time since they entered the room, Tom laughed. As he joined the next line, he muttered “Nobody else would be able to take your shit like we do.”

Rick joined the final line. The hall and the propaganda made it look like they mattered to the COG. Rick hoped that maybe they would, among the countless other faceless soldiers that the management of the COG hid behind. “Shit, I haven’t even joined yet and I’m already like a bitter veteran” he thought to himself. He hoped that he wouldn’t end out like many of them surely would: maimed, dead, or insane. “Baby steps for now. No saving the world if I can’t even fire a gun.” He stepped forward, where a burly and disgruntled officer waited.