A/N: This is a repost of a story I did many years ago on the official WoT forum under the name "AlphaAndOmega", inspired by a game called BattleTanx. I didn't finish it because by the time I got to the point of nearly being finished, the game was just becoming too frustrating for me. However, having gotten back into it, and having reassessed my attitude towards the game, I decided that people deserve to know how this really ends. If you've been to the official WoT forum before, you've probably read it before, but in any case, here it is again, albeit in its original version. Enjoy!

Also, I would like to say that even though I'm not the best player out there, I try. Granted, I make mistakes, but I have fun. What made this game not fun for me in the first place was the fact that I got on a really bad losing streak and got cussed out too often. I'll admit, I used to cuss out people occasionally when I got blown up, but now that I've grown older, I realize that that's not the best way to go about tanking, so I apologize to anybody I provoked. As for those who provoked me...well...I'm staying my tongue.

I can't tell you how the wars began...or why they began...or even when or where they began, for that matter.

All I know is that some guy started yelling "DEUTSCHLAND!" and the ball just started rolling downhill from here.

What I can tell you, however, is that they were around before the wars began.

Those iron monsters.

The tanks.

Actually, when they first started coming into play, they weren't monsters.

I remember when I got my first tank.

It was an MS-1, also known as a T-18.

It's not much to look at now, but back then, I didn't know of anything better.

I was just glad to have something protecting me from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

And so I went, into the battlefield.

At first, I wasn't much of a tanker. Sure, I managed to hit the enemy quite often, but more often than not, they hit me.

I don't know how it happened, but the first time my tank blew up, I survived.

Sure, I suffered horrible burns and got bits of molten metal embedded into my skin, but believe me, I made it.

After getting the metal picked out of my skin and recovering from my burns, I was surprised to discover that they'd repaired my tank, too.

No, they didn't just replace it with an identical one. Believe me, I could still smell the odor of burnt metal on this machine.

I also recognized the number given to the tank, too.

And so it went.

Every time I went into battle, I eventually got blown up.

And every time that happened, I survived and they resurrected my tank.

Don't ask me how they did it, though. I doubt that even they would understand.

Criticism is gold. Negativity and nitpicking are pyrite.