Sergey had strapped himself into his interior commander's seat. While his body armor would withstand impact with an armor-piercing shell, it would hurt a lot, and he had personally experienced this phenomenon. The bruise had remained for months.

*pang!*

A high-velocity 90mm shell bounced off the side of the IS-3's sturdy and quirkily angled armor. Sergey chuckled at that.

"FIRE!" he shouted. The massive breech recoiled two feet and the smoking casing exited the gun breech. Sergey peeked out of the top of the turret hatch and stole a glance at the Hellcat they had been targeting. It took the hit and exploded.

"Same to you, cheeky!" came the reply, in heavily American accented Russian.

"We deliver!" shouted Sergey in English.

The SU-152 beside them was hammering the shots out and obliterating the Hellcats with HE.

"Fire! Drag them to hell on a tide of burning gasoline!" shouted Tatiana.

She is TOUGH, thought Arkadiy, the gunner.

"Shell ready, miss!" shouted Iason, the chief loader.

"FIRE!"

The shell lurched through the air violently and struck the front of a Hellcat's turret.

The shell did not go through.

"A BOUNCE? ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING ME?" shouted Sergey from the other tank.

"Honestly, does that guy have Tourette's or something?" asked Iason.

"Get me a line to the CO," said Marissa through her gritted teeth.

"On it," said Benson, the radio operator.

"Hey, Steve," said Marissa. "We need help over there. They have picked up our scent and seen through the invisitank filters, probably with infrared scopes."

"Pull back. Fire on their unsloped lower glacis plates as they crest the ridge. Remember, stay strong. We can't lose a flank this early in the game."

"Roger, sir."

Innokentiy was not having the best day ever. His SU-100 was the only survivor of the firefight on the right flank, and the radio was destroyed, if only for 15 seconds. But 15 seconds can mean the difference between victory and defeat on the battlefield.

"OK, let's pull back to the 92 line on that ridge. Chop-chop, we gotta get moving."

The SU-100 turned and rolled back, sullen with defeat.

The minimap indicated the SU-100 falling back on the left flank.

"Pursue!" ordered Steve to all the tanks on the left.

He popped his head out of the tank and studied the horizon with binoculars.

"Nothing yet, guys. Keep a lookout. Good thing we have this big Sherman force behind us."

"The Russians are giving way on the left, daddy. Should they sweep around and flank the center, or try to cap?" asked Antigone.

"They should flank the middle and then cap. The Hellcats can defend the base while we cap. The Russians will have to fight their way through to our base, or fight their way to their own base to halt the cap."

"Somehow I knew that would be your answer, daddy," said Antigone.

Antigone had a good head on her shoulders. Steve was pleased at that. When he was gone, he wanted to make sure his daughter was the obvious candidate for a replacement. As such, she had grown up in and around tanks. She'd been Steve's radio operator for thirteen years now.

"Now, then, let's hold the line and-"

Steve did not get to finish his sentence, as the hull shuddered and groaned under the force of a 122mm shell.

"IS!" he shouted. "Antigone, get me a line to all Sherman commanders!"

"It's already been done, daddy," said Antigone.

"Good, good," said Steve. "All Sherman tanks, engage that IS! We will cover your flanks."

The Sherman commanders assented one by one.

"In the meantime, let's make our way to the edge of the rocks. We have to cover the Shermans as they flank the IS from all directions! Carl, move up!"

"On it, sir!" he shouted.

The Americans were now ahead 6-3. If his recon was correct, the Russians had not yet deployed all their reserves.

"Stop!" he shouted to the M4s. "First, a recon sweep! Joseph, get over here!"

Joseph, the Chaffee commander, rolled up next to the T34 Steve had made his command tank.

"Find out how many tanks are over there," ordered Steve.

"Roger," said Joseph. He pulled his hatch closed, and muffled orders emanated from the belly of the Chaffee. A few seconds later, the Chaffee shot ahead.

"OK," said Joseph. "I'm seeing the IS, a second IS, three T-34s, and a T-34-85."

"So they HAVE deployed all reserves, and all of them to the middle! This Gorskov guy is dumber than I thought!" said Steve. "Attack! In the meantime, Joseph, try to hit their artillery base."

"On it," said Joseph, his transmission intercut by guns firing, shells making impact with the ground, and the occasional yelling. The minimap plotted his course as the little Light Tank blip wheeled around rocks and other tanks, and beyond the Russian clump.

The Shermans and T34, in the meantime, rumbled ahead, and started hitting the Russians pretty hard. Steve's T34 crew worked like a well-oiled machine, practically silently, except for the occasional retargeting order or slight course correction barked.

At the end of the fight, the Russians had managed to hold the Americans back, but the Russians had lost all tanks except one IS. The Americans lost four Shermans. Just then, explosions sounded from the direction of Joseph and his Chaffee.

"We've found them," said Joseph. The artillery went down hard.

"Good on you, Joseph. Try to find the SU-100 the left flank needs to find. In the meantime, we'll hold this IS right where it is."

The T34 was down to 797hp. The remaining Sherman was at 114hp. The score was now 12-7.

Sergey observed on the minimap as he lost his artillery and the center and right flanks collapsed.

"Veniamin, take us back to base. In the meantime, Yuri, get me a line to Vladimir and Tatiana."

"Copy that, Komandir."

The IS-3 swung about and drove towards the base, fast as possible.

"Hello hello, Little Vlad. What's the situation like?"

"Dire. We might be able to escape from the T34 if we hurry."

"Copy. Try to escape. Try to trollcannon him in the turret ring," said Sergey. "Make your way to sector 77-45, and hide behind the rocks. You'll need to get flank shots in if we're going to have a fighting chance."

"OK. Here goes," said Little Vlad.

"And Tatiana, push the flank. Try to obliterate their Hellcats and if possible destroy the T34. Cap their base when you are finished."

"I'll do that, Komandir."

A few dozen seconds later, everyone was in position. Little Vlad and his IS were hiding, ready to pump flank shots into the flanks of the Americans, Sergey and his IS-3 were at the entrance to their base, and Tatiana and her SU-152 were poised to attack their rear.

The Americans rolled through towards the cap. Sergey was hidden in a bush. Suddenly, his Sixth Sense went into action. The Americans saw him.

"Aleksey! Fire!" He shouted. The cannon fired yet again, and the 122mm projectile struck an M6 Heavy in the hull. The M6 exploded, and the IS fired a salvo, torching a T1 Heavy.

"Come on, guys! Reload faster!" shouted Sergey, desperate. He had not come this far through the World of Tanks Olympics to lose now, and especially not to Americans, of all people.

Steve surveyed the situation. The IS-3 and IS were defending their base, but where was the SU-122? On the right flank? Perhaps.

"Jackson, see that IS, and its juicy butt pointed towards us?"

"Oh yes, sir," said Jackson, the gunner.

"Would you like to do the honors?"

Jackson pointed the gun at the IS. It was down to 500hp, not enough to destroy it in one shot, but enough to bruise it. Perhaps then he could radio Kevin and tell him to take it out.

*BLAM!*

The shell made impact with the IS and dealt 356hp of damage. But then, the engine erupted in flames. The health continued dropping, until the IS finally exploded.

"Hahahahahahaha-" began Steve.

*BLAM!*

The hull was punctured by the 152mm shell, though the composite armor did not allow the shell to pass through to the fighting compartment.

"Gah! Bring her about! It's the SU-152! Hellkitties! Engage!"

The hellcats started shooting the flanks of the SU-152 as the T34 brought its cannon to bear.

"Go to hell, Ruskis."

*BLAM!*

The SU-152 exploded. Satisfied, the Hellcats and T34 decided to roll around to the right flank and flank the IS-3.

Sergey was completely isolated. It was just his IS-3 vs. 6 American tanks. How would he do it? How could he do it? How could he let his team and the motherland down? How did it get this way? How did-

"Snap out of it, Komandir! We need orders now!" said Yuri as he slapped Sergey across the face.

"Roger," said Sergey. "Just keep firing. We have to destroy this flank of Americans before the American flanking force comes around and vaporizes us."

"How do you know they are flanking us?" asked Aleksey.

"It's what any sensible person would do. And apparently, Steven Preston is sensible."

After a few more shots, the American frontal force was down. Their guns could not penetrate the IS-3's heavy armor. However, just as the tank was being brought around…

*BLAM!*

347hp were plucked from the IS-3's health.

"The Americans! The Americans are here already!" shouted Aleksey.

"Well, you guys know what to do!" shouted Sergey. More shells hit the IS-3 as it ground around so the front faced the Americans.

"Kill the T34 first. We'll deal with its friends later," said Sergey. Aleksey aimed the cannon for the turret ring of the T34 and fired.

*BLAM!*

*bink!*

The shell missed the target and hit the frontal armor of the turret, which, as mentioned before, was powerful.

All the time, Sergey wondered: where was the T29?

Oh look, there it was. Behind them.

"Stay here, and do NOT, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, leave this vehicle, or give up."

Kevin had seen many strange things, but he had yet to see a man attack a tank with his bare hands. Indeed, a man climbed out of the IS-3 and charged at the T29.

"Mkay then," he said. But then the Russian did something else. He climbed on top of the tank and ripped out the main CPU cable. The power in the T29 was switched off; the targeting systems went blank; the tank was, in effect, dead.

Kevin popped his head outside the tank.

"What the hell, man!" he shouted.

"It's not technically against the rules," said Sergey.

"Whatever. Brett! Fire!"

The cannon still would fire. The IS-3 was hit and caught fire.

"Noooooo!" shouted Sergey. He ran inside, grabbed a fire extinguisher, and sprayed the engine. He jumped back inside.

Sergey looked at the indicators: the tank was at 710hp. The engine was damaged, the fuel tanks were leaking, and the ammunition rack was damaged.

"Veniamin! Can you stabilize the tank?"

"You got it, Komandir," said Veniamin as he worked with the controls. Veniamin was a tech-savvy naval man who could slap any mechanical device back together. Before long, the tank was in less danger. From within, anyway.

"Get away from the T29's muzzle! The cannon is still active!"

"Roger," said Veniamin as he dragged the tank to the side. The engine only produced half-power, since it was handicapped to a special gear, as the computers read.

The hull shook violently as two Hellcat shells hit the hull. One Hellcat shell tip actually poked through the modern composite ceramic armor!

"Fire on the Hellcats!" shouted Sergey. The first hellcat was torn apart fairly easily. However, the T34 managed to get another shot off.

"Damn those Americans!" shouted Yuri. The indicators read that the tank was down to 183hp.

"OK, Veniamin, ram that last Hellcat!"

The IS-3 rammed into the Hellcat, and the Hellcat could not withstand it. It died.

Now for the T34.

Steve could not believe what he was seeing. A single IS-3 had managed to disable that many tanks?

"My god," he said. "Guys, traverse the turret and hull. We are taking this bitch down once and for all."

"On it, sir."

The tank rotated around, the IS-3 took aim, and both tanks fired at the same time.

When the smoke cleared…

The IS-3 was dead. The T34 survived.

The T34 crew piled out.

"Hooray! Whoo-hoo!" shouted Steve. All the tank crews returned to the base where the conflict took place.