"OKAY! TIME TO MURDER SOME ARTY!" Tom said. He was ready and raring to go do stuff.

"Oi. Shut up and go scout you stupid T2 Light." Some gruff voice said over the radio, sounding quite annoyed. Tom gave the voice no mind though, for he possessed the power of... He didn't know actually, he didn't have any powers. This made Tom sad.

Tom was snatched out of his thoughts when he heard the blaring of the battle starting, the engines of the other tanks started and thudded in effort to make their hulls move. He was confused for a second, before rushing off to crest on a hill. "Good luck suicide scouting, mate." Said a Matilda that Tom rushed past quickly. Now, Tom was quite upset with that Matilda. Tom was smart. He never suicide scouted in his life. He decided to take out his anger on some arty rear! Well... when he got to those arties anyways.

"BY THE POWER OF WARDADDY!" Tom heard a strange voice over the radio, confusing him. "NOOOOO-OO-OO-OO-" then there was nothing but the crackling of Tom's radio, this was followed by a good few annoyed groans from Tom's team-mates. They consisted of "OMG"s and "Stupid noob"s and a few swears and racial slurs. Oh well. At least Tom hadn't been spotted yet.

He moved from cover to bush, to wall and to another bush. He spotted a few enemy tanks and proceeded to shoot at them. Tom flinched when he saw a D2 get blown to bits by an artillery shell, random parts were flung everywhere. A small 'thud' slammed next to Tom. Panicking, Tom looked to where the shot came from and saw that the D2's 47mm gun had landed next to him. A little nervous, Tom hurled himself out of the bush he was hiding in and towards the enemy base.

"OMG you stupid HEAT spamming idiot!" Snarled a rather angry voice that Tom recognized as the Matilda he encountered earlier. "Screw this, I need some tea... And some scones..." Tom scooted over to a rock and peeked around its corner. He saw a Ke-Ni frolicking about in the open grass, making what can be best described as "Ninja noises" and swishing at the ground with its gun. Tom weighed up his chances and drove round the corner.

Tom sneaked up behind the Ke-Ni like a snake and was about to slam his gun right into the light tank's rear but he somehow hit a tree. The lumber slowly fell to the ground, making a very loud crashing sound, alerting the Japanese tank to his presence. "Hiii-ya! I'm a ninja! You can't hurt m-" Tom didn't want to take a chance with this idiot, so he started shooting. "-Ow ow ow ow! Why would you even do... that..." The Ke-Ni whined before he banzai charged off a cliff. Crying sadly.

Tom decided to ignore the Light and drove off, reloading along the way. Tom spotted a Loyd gun Carriage. He froze up, Tom's gun was not loaded yet! He trained his sights on the evil arty as it did the same thing to him. Oh, no. Tom was sure that he was going to die if his adversary hit him. Strangely, the artillery started speeding towards him. Tom watched as his imminent death approached him. Tom saw the flash of light and closed his optics. A second passed, then another, he opened his optics to see the artillery backing up. It was trembling as Tom approached it, he was betting it didn't feel so smart now, didn't it?

Hearing the soft click of his gun being loaded, Tom planted his entire clip into it, making it burst into flames. Content with the slaughter, Tom turned his attention to a T57. He took to speeding around the artillery, waiting for his reload to finish. After a lot of disgruntling circling, Tom made a point of killing off the T57 as quickly as possible so he could get to tenderizing a Bison which was trundling towards him. Tom had half his clip left and that was it for his ammo, he didn't buy enough ammo this time around and he was pretty sure that he'd rage at himself later for it.

He circled around the German artillery and planted what was left of his ammunition into its rear. Apparently, RNG was on Tom's side that day and the Bison's engine set on fire. "OMG! ARE YOU SERIOUS? GOLD SPAMMING NOOB!" Shouted the Bison before he burnt out. Ha. Tom's radio crackled to life again and he stopped to try and pay attention to it. It spat out some garbled words before starting to make sense.

"Can I-I-I-help please? -At B3! Help!" The voice over the radio was actually quite close to where Tom was... Even if he didn't have any ammo, Tom would try and help out.

Scrambling over to the area where he was supposedly needed, Tom saw a Marder II who had both his tracks blown off and his gun was bent, also, his engine was smoking profusely. Lunging forward, Tom saw an AT-1 creeping up to the Marder II, toying with its prey before ending it. Tom slammed himself into the side of the AT-1, tracking it and damaging it badly. Tom held this position for a while, but he was confused when he heard a whistling sound.

Oh no.

Tom felt an extreme heat wash across his armour as the AT-1 was turned into scrap, sending shrapnel into his thin armour. Tom saw his life before his optics and rolled back into a nearby rock; he was in serious pain. He didn't want to die, but maybe he deserved it? Maybe RNGesus decided that he was going to die that day, he didn't know...

Tom stopped struggling against the rock when he realised that the pain wouldn't go away any time soon and just tried to relax for a moment. He saw the Marder II roll up to him. "Our artillery just nailed you... I-I'm sorry..." He said solemnly, before driving off. Wow. Tom didn't even get a thanks for his heroic sacrifice. What a mean tank.

Tom had been resting for a few minutes, but he hadn't given up on the battle just yet. When he decided to drive off again, Tom heard someone crying out for help on the radio. "I need help at G5! I'm about to go down! NOOOO-" A loud explosion stopped the pleas for help for good. For some reason, Tom felt truly alone after that. He had a deep fear that he was the last tank on his team. He turned on the radio and asked if anyone was out there. No response. Greaaat...

Tom's only options seemed to be: A, to run away and B, to die fighting. So yeah... both aren't very feasible. Actually, option B would have a shorter and more definite ending to Tom's life but he kinda didn't want to die. So maybe he would try his luck at escaping. His thoughts were cut short by a BT-2 rushing up behind, taking Tom by surprise. "Stop right there!" She sounded triumphantly, forcing Tom to stop. The BT-2 rolled up to him and shot his right track off, the round penetrating straight through his tracks and going straight into his hull, making him cry in pain. "There, now you can't run off." The BT-2 said before turning on her radio. "Hey, err... Denver! Come over to B5! I've captured an enemy!" Her thick Russian accent got a response almost immediately. Nodding her gun, the light tank clicked her radio off.

A minute or so passed. Tom had become accustomed to the intense pain he was feeling. Or so he told himself, as actually, he was whimpering to the point where it was annoying the BT-2. "Guh... Shut up, please, you're killing me! Vyyebat'!" She swore at the T2 light angrily, patience wearing thin. "If you want, I can kill you now!"

"Just... Don't, please... Even if you torture or kill me later... Please make the pain stop. It's just not right." Tom pleaded sadly. his fate was already determined, his captor wouldn't care either way, right? The BT-2 hesitated. Making a 'hmm' sound, she turned her turret towards Tom.

"Fine, I will have it your way. I don't have anything on me, but we can just... Talk." Tom nodded with his gun.

"W-what's your name?" He asked, Tom had heard of some tanks not having names – instead, they'd go with their model names instead.

"BT-2." She answered curtly. "From where I come from, only a few tanks around here have actual names. Usually, you have to be quite special to get your own name. What's yours?"

"Tom. Self designated arty hunter!" Tom said, pride emanating from his hull. "Oh, I am a T2 Light, if you want a model name." the BT-2 made a noise of acknowledgement.

"How... How was life in your community?" She asked quietly. "Like... Living standards?"

"Hell, no bragging or anything but we had really good lives – especially as soldiers. My parents had a long line of soldiers behind them and they were soldiers themselves once. As soon as I could shoot my gun, I was trained through the day until I was absolutely exhausted, only to have me train the next day. Still love the family though."

"I can relate, our culture demands discipline and honour from our warriors, so those wanting to enlist usually went through endless training until they became ready for battle. New recruits that passed the training were sent into suicide missions to prove their worth."

"Rough."

"Well, most of us usually made it."

"H-oww... How many missions you been on?" Tom tried to move himself, it hurt. A lot.

"Fifty... Fifty-two. Yours?"

"It's Fifty-two too, actually."

Tom heard a loud rumbling sound behind him and he turned his turret to get a good look at a T-28 and a Churchill I. He felt frightened, normally, he'd be sent to fight tanks of his own tier but not this! Feeling betrayed, Tom wheeled his turret back to the BT-2, whose side's view was taken up by the T-28 that had just moved right next to her. They seemed close, really close.

They snapped to the Churchill's attention when he called out. Tom felt the gaze of the heavy tank pierce him, he drove forward, towards the BT-2 and said: "What information can we get out of this whelp?"

"It doesn't seem that he has any info, sir. He likely won't be able to survive an interrogation as he is too badly damaged." The BT-2 answered with crisp confidence.

"Then finish the bugger off and declare the battle won!" Replied the Churchill angrily, it seemed that he wanted this to be done with. "Kill him, BT-2, prove your honour!" It didn't mean anything to Tom; he was going to die, to have his life ended on the battlefield.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

The sun was shining warmly, the bright flowers were shining their colours in contrast to one-another, there was peace. The calm breeze was cut apart by a T-54, chopping through the blades of grass and crushing flowers to get to her destination. She made her way past some trees, some boulders, some other random things until she found 25 graves. They were lined up in lines of 5, gaps being large enough that most tanks could pass through and turn around in with ease.

"Hey! Wait! Hold up!" T-54 turned around to see STA-1, her husband. "What is it you're trying to show... Me..." The STA-1 slowly stopped talking when he realized where he was.

"This, this was the tank I executed. Remember that battle?" She spoke with precision, before turning her gun to a gravestone that read; "R.I.P. Tom, T2-Light.?-?" The STA-1 drove up and looked at it.

"Huh... I'm surprised they could never find that day on the calender. One minute, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to do nothing, but pay my respects."

"He killed your brother, T-54. Why not pay your respects to him?"

"I already done that, I just had... respect of this tank. I didn't even like him but he showed bravery in the face of death, he fought knowing that he was going to die eventually."

"Most tanks do that though, why is he special?"

"Remember that battle in Malinovka?"

"Yes? Why?"

"When I got pulled out, both my tracks blown off, artillery shell hit me, I was pretty much begging for my life to be spared. This tank... This tank didn't, he wasn't even trying to stop us from killing him, you know? He just accepted it, and moved on in mind."

"I-I see." the STA-1 stuttered, a little twisted up thanks to the bad memory.

"You know what his last words to me were?"

"What?"

"You and that T-28 are going to be happy together, I can just see it." She repeated solemnly, "I think that came to be true, don't you think?"

"Yes, it certainly was. Now, I think T-34's going to be wondering where we are, so we should head off."

T-54 joined STA-1 side by side. When they started to drive, they heard a voice. "HA HA HA! I KNEW IT!" Tom's form appeared by them, he was see through. "I AM A SORCERER, LOVEBIRDS!" Tom yelled.

"You're dead." T-54 almost blindly retorted.

"Oh... bummer."