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Last week we announced a giveaway that pitted fanboy against fanboy in a battle to see whose console exclusive game is the strongest. The dust has settled on the battlefield, and a winner has emerged, standing alone atop a pile of entries, waving his flag of awesomeness.

The winner of Gamervision's Console Wars Giveaway is WiNG with this well thought out entry:

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Marcus Fenix walked up to the bar, his armor crackling as charred, leftover bits of Locust flesh ripped at its hinges. It was only a hundred feet away now, but each lumbering step felt like a journey unto itself. He hadn't seen a bar, let alone any semblance of a commercial establishment, since the area was desecrated years ago, burned down. Yet, oddly enough, here it was. And Marcus was thirsty.

The door was heavy, much heavier than it appeared, but didn't feel armored or barricaded. Yet a faint glow glowed inside, and there were slight sounds emanating from somewhere beyond the door. Someone must be back there, surviving... somehow.

Not one to take chances, Fenix slammed his plated trunk of a leg into the door, Lancer lit up like a demented Kwanzaa log. Opening fire blindly, he didn't want to wait to find out who was waiting for him inside, even if it was Maulana Karenga himself. A dirty smirk grew across Marcus' face, his eyes burning and ready for any foe, Locust or otherwise. The room was instantly riddled with what seemed like millions of shells, reload after active, perfect reload. Nothing could have survived.

Well, almost nothing.

From behind a pile of splinters, all that was was left of a table, a shadowy figure rose. Power and anger glowed in his glowing eyes. Eyes so intense they could only belong to two men: either Marcus Fenix or Nathan Hale. But since Marcus Fenix was the one revving up his Lancer's chainsaw, it was probably Hale, by process of elimination. Nathan squinted, chuckled once, kicked the table over, then barked at his aggressor, as loudly as human vocal chords are capable of screaming.

"My word, chap! It appears you've made yourself quite welcome." Hale's fingers gripped a sinister teacup as tightly as could be expected without shattering its marvelous porcelain.

"Give me one fuckin' reason I shouldn't blow your ass so far up your digestive track you'll be barfing up your intestines!" Marcus roared back. He marched towards Hale, chainsaw bayonet spinning at an RPM so high it violated Laws of Special Relativity. The two titans now stood only eight meters apart, lengthwise.

Hale propped himself on one leg, his cuff links glowing with a sinister, ungodly glow. "Now, come along then. Wouldn't you be so kind as to decelerate your toy? If I do say, you might harm someone."

Marcus hesitated, for the first time in his life. Hell, he didn't even hesitate the first time he popped a zit in 7th grade... with a chainsaw bayonet. But Nathan's foppish, garish, quintessentially gentlemanly demeanor was completely disarming. Not in the "ripping the forelimbs off a locust" meaning of "disarming," but in the more nerdy, textbook meaning. The definition Marcus would expect a man like Hale would utilize.

Fenix revved down the Lancer, glancing briefly at it to ensure he had enough ammunition for the kill, if necessary. "What is this place? It looks like a cross between a saloon and a Renaissance ballroom. Well, at least you do."

"Aren't we judgmental? I'm not the chap bursting down other chaps' doors, chap." Nathan Hale burst into laughter, yet controlled his still-full teacup so expertly, he dropped nary an ounce. "But enough with the pleasantries. I'm Nathan Hale. How does one call you?"

"Depends. 'Marcus Fenix' if they want to live. You still didn't answer my question. How is it that you've holed up here for eight fucking months while the rest of the area's been torn open like a 12-year old newlywed?" Fenix seethed.

His raging top-hat glowing with hatred, Hale exhaled slowly. He examined his brutish opponent, sipped his Celestial Seasonings Oriental Orange Spice tea, and exhaled again. "How did I survive?" He laughed an evil laugh, "Simple, chap... I didn't"

Marcus placed his finger on the trigger, unsure if that was a joke or a threat. 95% of the time, he responded to both with a good ol' head-shotting. But Marcus Fenix hesitated for the second time in his life.

It would be the last time he hesitated in his life. Because he was about to get dead.

Nathan Hale lunged over his stacked-splinter table with inhuman strength. Demonic, alien noises spouted from his mouth at a volume so obscene as to be unfathomable. His body contorted at painful angles, Nathan's half-human form was now apparent. It wasn't a top-hat after all. It was some kind of sinister alien life form clinging to Hale's shredded remnant of a head.

Marcus Fenix had about three seconds of conscious life.

In the first, he reached for his Lancer in futility.

In the second, he felt the warm river of his own blood flow to every area under his armor.

In the third, and final, second, Marcus Fenix lost the ability to process thought other than "pain" as his mind shut down and he involuntarily soiled himself.

Zombie Nathan Hale chewed mercilessly on the COG's corpse. Just after removing Fenix's barely-beating heart, the cannibal ex-hero hesitated at a sound in the corner.

It was the first and last time Nathan Hale ever hesitated.

A crowbar split Hale's torso in two, and a second swipe bashed in Hale's headcrab-infested skull.

"Merry Christmas ya filthy animal," a valiant Gordon Freeman declared, punting the headcrab. "And a happy New Year!"

The moral of the story?

When it comes to heroes who fight massive waves of alien monsters:

Gordon Freeman BEATS Zombie Nathan Hale BEATS Marcus Fenix BEATS Nathan Hale.

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Bear in mind, WiNG may have won the battle. He has not yet won the war. Thanks to our winner, and to all of the entries! Stay tuned to Gamervision for your chance to win more of this year's hottest titles!

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Gamervision's Console Wars Giveaway

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Review: Gears of War 2 - Xbox 360

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