Disclaimer: I do not own Girls Und Panzer, nor any of the characters
This does include many OCs and some shipping. Within this story, there are adult themes, smoking and swearing. Rated M for a reason my dudes
Hi! I'm Kekled and I'm new to writing on , however not new to writing fanfictions. I hope that this is good enough to go on here, but anyways, I also hope you enjoy it :)
"O'Haire, where are we?" Captain Jason Stevenson; a tall, stoic man with courage and flame burning in his blue eyes radioed in to his loader and radio-operator, Seamus O'Haire. The radio cracked and the loader replied,
"sorry Sir, no idea. That thing we found must have moved us somewhere. But what I do know is that this is rather un-bloody-lucky. I'll return to the Firefly now Sir." The transmission from O'Haire ended. Stevenson leaned against the front of the tank and removed his black beret.
"Shit."
"That's another sixpence Sir." The gunner, Charles Samson, called out as he clambered onto the turret. He was slim, jovial looking and had too much confidence. He had bushy eyebrows with dark brown hair, was clean-shaven and a toothy grin.
"Thanks Charlie." Jason pulled his fingers through his hair, then suddenly realising he had a head full of hair. "This thing that's happened to us, it doesn't make sense. I mean, I feel great, no more pain in my back, no more baldness, but it just seems like a fever-dream."
"Well Sir, I for sure know this isn't a dream because if it was, we wouldn't be able to have freedom like this. Dreams don't usually allow other minds to converge like this. Plus, we seem to all be around the same age. I remember you having many more wrinkles Captain." The corporal replied, pulling up his binoculars and trying to see any landmarks or openings.
"Can it, Samson. Also, when did you eat a bloody dictionary?" Jason tightened his belt and rolled up his sleeves past his elbows.
"Don't know what you're talking about, Sir." Samson let out a long sigh and sat down on the turret, kicking gently against the tan-painted metal. A moment passed and a bird chirped.
"Hitch? You found any frequencies we can work off of yet?" The captain shouted towards the tank, leaning his head in wait.
"No Sir, still nothing. All I'm getting is static." Douglas Hitch, the driver climbed up from his hatch and sat on the hull. The driver was a blonde man, about the same height as the captain and a permanently tired look on his face.
"Hm, alright. That leaves us with only one option. Let's wait for O'Haire to get back and then we'll move on. Who knows what this place will bring us." Stevenson looked down at his watch, seeing that the hands had stopped moving. Rolling his eyes, he picked up the sten machinegun from the floor and put the strap over his shoulder. "Let's get Ginny running, boys."
"Yessir." Hitch began to start up the engine as O'Haire emerged from the thick flora of the forest. He waved to them and continued to walk over. The sergeant was a well-built red-head with thin muttonchops on his lower-face.
"Haven't seen anything yet, Sir. However, I did hear something like gunfire far in the east. I don't know if what I heard was accurate or not though. I also found a dirt road, about 100 to 120 metres that way." He pointed towards a direction, then looking down at his compass. "That'll be east- north east."
"Thank you, Sergeant. Hop up in the tank, we're going to get a move on and try and figure out where we are."
"Very good, Sir." Sergeant O'Haire pulled himself up on the hull, and then to the turret. He opened the loader's hatch and let himself into it. The Captain nodded to himself and eventually took his place in the commander's cupola of the Firefly.
"Alright Hitch, let's get us out of here." Stevenson adjusted his beret and donned the headphones for the radio. He leaned against the .50 Caliber machinegun and stared into the forest. The engine block of the tank roared to life, and lurched the vehicle forwards. The exhaust spurted as Hitch traversed the forest. "Mind the trees, Hitch, we don't want to bring ourselves any unwanted attention." Stevenson called down to his driver as a tree crumbled next to the tank.
"Will do, Sir, minding the trees." The driver copied, and proceeded to take extra caution in not knocking down any other trees.
"Hand me the binoculars would you, Samson?" Stevenson pushed his hand into the cupola and tapped the gunner's shoulder. A couple seconds later, the binoculars were placed in his hands. He pulled the lenses up to his eyes and peered into the forest. "Nothing... where could we be?" He whispered, leaning now against the back of the cupola.
"Captain, I've found something you need to see." O'Haire called out from his position in the turret.
"What is it, Sergeant?" Stevenson hung the binoculars on his neck, watching the loader's hatch opening and O'Haire popping his head up.
"I found a file, that I've never seen before, tucked under the operation folders. I read the first page and I didn't know what to make of it." The radio operator pulled a file up from the turret and gave it the captain. Stevenson turned it over in his hands, then opened it.
There were five pages, the first page stated that the Sherman Firefly was fit for use, and can be added to the 'St. Glorianas' inventory. But on one condition: The crew that rebuilt it get to use it in Panzerfahren, either in teaching or competing. Jason frowned hard, his eyes squinting and trying to make sense of what he was reading. He continued down the page and read that the originally all-girls' school 'Saint Gloriana' will become one of the first co-ed schools in 70 years. "This is... bloody hell this can't be right. Says here, that 'Ginny' the VC Sherman will be the first 17-pounder tank to enter St. Gloriana's inventory of armoured-fighting vehicles."
"Can you repeat that please, Captain?" Hitch spoke from the side of his mouth, concentrating on not running down any trees.
"Hold on, Hitch." Stevenson flipped over a page and saw a picture of himself, in colour. Beneath his photograph was a run-down on the 'student':
Third-year transfer student from Edinburgh, Scotland
Name: Jason Montgomery Stevenson
Age: 18
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 175lbs
Blood-type: O-
One thing did catch the eye of Stevenson, and so he read it out to the crew:
"As part of a governmental experiment, a selected group of 10 boys from each nation will be taken to a school ship that holds Panzerfahren, a.k.a Sensha-do in an attempt to see if they will take the feminine sport of Panzerfahren when they have been subject to military lifestyles. If it is a success, then the UN may reconsider having Sensha-do as a female-only sport. It is unlikely for Every admiral of the school-ships to allow the schools to become co-ed, but male-only ships may introduce Panzerfahren as a sport. Depending on the level of societal backlash, Panzerfahren may or may not, in the future, become a mixed sport."
Stevenson flipped the next three pages and saw the profiles on O'Haire, Hitch and then Samson. He then looked at the final page and saw the print of the English crown, meaning it was accepted by the King- No, the Queen herself.
"Boys, we've either eaten some bizarre food or we are in a very, very different place. Because it says 'ere that this was accepted, and legitimised by Queen Elizabeth II. Queen, boys. Georgie is no longer on the throne. I fear we have got a lot of catching up to do." Stevenson read all of the profiles, trying to read between the lines of all the paragraphs.
"Captain, sorry to interrupt your thinking but we just got onto the dirt road. Shall we head east, toward where O'Haire heard gunshots or go the opposite direction?" Hitch had his head above his hatch, so he could gain an easier view of the surroundings as he moved the tank.
"Go east, corporal, we need to get some background information on the situation. And make it fast, I feel like these 'St Glorianas' girls are waiting for us." Stevenson handed the file down to Samson, where he opened it and started reading.
"Sir, considering our situation and our lack of knowledge on these people, should we try and play along?" O'Haire asked, feeling up his ginger stubble.
"I believe that is the best course of action for us at this moment. If what I read was true, then we won't be seeing many men on the 'school-ship' that the file talked about. That means that most of these girls aren't used to seeing lads our 'ages' everyday. And, if I'm remembering correctly there should be another 6 boys going to this school. That means they could either be from our time or they are boys from this fever-dream future of men being the inferior gender. There is also a possibility that we could be the only boys, they might have opted out since it would make sense to have two crews of five, instead of one crew of four, and perhaps two crews of three. Which would mean the tanks are either before Hitler decided to fuck up Europe or from 39 to 41: Covenanter, Crusader, Valentine, maybe even A13 Cruisers. As the brief said-"
Suddenly, a loud cacophony of sounds reverberated through the hull of the tank, shaking up the crew inside.
"Where the bloody fuck did that come from?" Stevenson ducked into the cupola as another high explosive shell landed near their tank. "Hitch, take us off the road!" The driver yanked Ginny down into the forest, now travelling at the maximum speed possible that the Chrysler engine allowed. "O'Haire, try connecting to a frequency, we might be in range of one now!" O'Haire loaded a shell into the gun and pulled the microphone from the radio, now trying to tune it. More shells landed near the Sherman, destroying trees and blowing up dirt.
"To any who can hear me, this is Sergeant O'Haire of the Firefly 'Ginny'. We require immediate assistance, we're taking fire from the south in the forest." O'Haire shouted down the mic, in an attempt to gain a reply. He waited a moment, tuned the radio and then repeated the message. After a couple of seconds, the radio cackled and a feminine voice spoke through.
"Ginny, I do believe you and your crew are late. You were expected to arrive three hours ago," the voice went quieter, "trust a man to be punctual, tch. If you've found yourselves on a dirt road, follow it and turn left at the junction. Carry on until you find a gate. If your vehicle gets hit, then that'll be on you, as you've walked in on a mock game."
Stevenson took the microphone and began to talk into it. "This is Captain Jason Stevenson, may I know who we're speaking to at this moment?" He clicked off the button and awaited a reply.
"Jason, this is Matcha, lead radio-operator for St Gloriana. We've been expecting your arrival, however we didn't predict the lateness. Your Firefly is the only reason you four are here. The other six had arrived on-time, giving you no reason for your lateness. Your belongings had arrived with them as well. You should be at the gate soon, We'll speak again when you arrive." After she finished speaking, the radio returned to static. All three crew members in the turret looked clueless and dumbfounded at what they had just heard. Eventually, the shooting stopped and the tank slowed to a halt. All four crew members popped their heads out of their respective hatches and looked towards the gate. Two girls in British armoured-battalion uniforms, almost identical to the mens', approached the tank.
"Which of you is Jason Stevenson?" The taller girl asked, placing her hands on her hips. Stevenson pulled himself up from the cupola and jumped down from the tank.
"That'll be me." Stevenson walked towards the girls, pulling the headset around his neck and removing his beret, halving it and tucking it under his right shoulder strap. "I apologise for our lateness, we got mixed up since the timezones are different."
"Wait, so you four actually came from Britain?" The shorter girl piped up, a large smile now on her face.
"Yeah? We're all speaking English aren't we?" Stevenson frowned, looking back at his crew. He turned back to the two girls, who looked very confused and concerned.
"No... did you hit your head, Jason?" The taller girl asked worriedly. O'Haire quickly caught on and patted his Captain's shoulder.
"Yep, on the way here he banged his head when we hit a dip. Shook 'im up good." O'Haire made a look that said 'play along' to his Captain. "You sure you're ok, Captain?"
"Ah, yeah. I'm alright. Sorry." A rush of worry invaded his mind, knowing the Japanese traditions and customs were a lot more different to British ones. Trying to remember some of the things he had read, he attempt a bow. The girls seemed reassured, and nodded.
"I'll let Darjeeling-san know you're here safe and sound then." The shorter girl walked towards a small white hut that sat beside the gate. The taller girl rummaged around in one of her jacket pockets and pulled out a piece of paper."Take this, it's a map of the deck of the ship and the harbour we are at right now. You want to arrive at this area on the deck, these are the buildings housing our tanks and military vehicles. The Firefly has been booked into the fifth hangar, take it there and wait for a member of the motor club to assess it. After that, you must wait for Darjeeling-san to talk to you. Be quick, Jason-kun." The girl saluted and stepped to the side, allowing the Firefly to slowly move up.
"Thanks?" Stevenson took the papers and analysed them. He folded them back up and placed them in his left chest pocket of his jacket. Both O'Haire and Stevenson jumped up on the tank as it passed, climbing onto the turret. The gate rattled as it slid open. Hitch pushed the tank past the fencing and followed the route that Stevenson was directing him along. Samson turned the turret so the barrel went over the engine deck and secured it into place. O'Haire looked on at the Japanese structures and architecture, seeming so alien to all four of them as they drove along. Stevenson sat on the hull next to Hitch, guiding him along. The Irishman grabbed his flask of water, drinking from it and closing his eyes, feeling the fresh air hit his face. The radio crackled and another, different female voice piped up.
"Hello? Is this the Firefly?" The voice asked. O'Haire scrambled down into the turret and picked up the receiver.
"Yeah, this is O'Haire of the Firefly, who is this?" the Irishman scratched his head, seeing Samson looking over at him with a raised brow.
"You can call me Rosehip-chan, We've finished up our training you interrupted a little while ago and now following your tracks. We'll catch up to you soon." The girl ended the transmission, leaving O'Haire with a confused look.
"I swear I've drank a cup o' tea with that name. She said 'Rosehip', didn't she?" He asked Samson, and he merely shrugged.
"Isn't Darjeeling also a type of tea? Are they taking the feckin' piss or is it a coincidence?" the sergeant leaned back into the turret and put the microphone back next to the radio.
"Can't say, sergeant. But whilst Hitch is gettin' us to where we're 'sposed to be, I'm just gonna take a nap." Samson pulled his jacket over his face and leaned into the turret. O'Haire shook his head and pulled himself up onto the commander's cupola, looking around. He turned to look behind him, seeing a column of Matilda's and a few Cromwell's.
"Captain, we've got an escort." O'Haire sat on the turret and waved his arm at the girls, only receiving a timid wave in return from the commander of the lead Cromwell. Stevenson clambered onto the turret, seeing the Cromwells now only a few metres behind their Sherman.
"Stay casual, Sergeant. These girls seem like their actions are by the book." Stevenson moved closer to the loader. "If we mess up big time, who knows what could happen. If we work our arses off, then we may be able to get more intel on whats happening."
"Very good, Captain." O'Haire gave his superior a short salute and turned his back to the column of tanks following them.
"We're coming up to the harbour now Sir- fucking hell that's a big ship." Hitch stared up at the towering silhouette of the Ark Royal, the St Glorianas school ship.
"I think that deserves that kind of language." Stevenson and O'Haire looked on at the ship in awe. Stevenson analysed the hull of the ship, a look of surprise taking over. "Bloody Hell, that's the Ark Royal. But... a lot bigger. How on Earth did they manage the materials for that massive ship? And you're telling me there's a town and a school on that ship? Jings Crivens and help ma Boab..." The Captain swept his brow before scratching his head, watching as they got closer to where they'd board the colossal vessel.
"Should I let one of the Cromwells overtake us Sir?" Hitch shouted back, not taking his eye off the road.
"Go on, Hitch. I'll ask them to show us the way." Stevenson fixed his beret as Hitch moved the Sherman to one side, allowing the lead Cromwell to travel alongside them. "Mind showing us the way to hangar five, lass?"
The commander of the Cromwell had short, dark red hair and a small stature. She sneered at the Scot and nodded, "Can you boys not follow a map?"
"Oh, we can. We've had a lot of map reading training back home, we just wanted to be sure." O'Haire spoke up for Stevenson, receiving a glare from him. The Irishman's excuse seemed to satisfy the red-haired girl, her smug look on her face being wiped off.
"Very well then, follow us." The commander tapped twice on the turret, then the Cromwell sped up and allowed more space for the Firefly to enter the column. O'Haire stepped down into the basket and sat, pulling a couple of folders stowed next to the radio. He opened up the Transfer File and began to re-read it, just in-case be misread or forgot anything. The Captain watched as Hitch brought the Firefly smoothly up the ramp, still following the leading Cromwell and the smug-looking girl. The tanks followed a metal road along the side of the ship, then a turn and entered a large tunnel. They slowed and then turned to go up another ramp that took them to the surface of the ship. Stevenson breathed in, filling his lungs with the fresh harbour air and the metallic scent of the tanks. The column travelled towards a large field, then to a gravel opening where five large hangars sat on the opposite side. Hitch broke from the column as he saw the number '5' painted on the right-most hangar, taking the tank into a lower gear as they got closer. Stevenson waved to the red-haired commander as the Sherman found its new home.
Minus five other tarp-covered vehicles, the Firefly was the only active vehicle in the hangar. Hitch stopped the tank abruptly, hearing a bang and colourful language being used from the gunner's seat.
"Oi, ya wanker. What the bloody- oh, we're here." Samson climbed out of the turret, rubbing the area on his head where he hit it. Stevenson had already jumped down, inspecting the tank and moving to the rear.
"Boys, make yourselves look presentable. Looks like royalty is arriving." He pulled out a box of cigarettes and placed it in his mouth, moving his right hand to his back pocket and taking out a gold-plated lighter. A Purple Riley Nine Falcon entered the Hangar, stopping six metres away from where Stevenson was standing. Stevenson cupped his hand around the lighter as he lit the cigarette, he then closed the lid and placed it back in his pocket after the end burned orange. He stared at the expensive car as two girls gracefully left it. One was blonde-haired, stunning features and a look in her eyes that screamed calmness. The other girl was much shorter than the first, had orange hair worn in two twisted buns tied above the nape and a cute smile. The two girls were both wearing a blue uniform, dark blue sweater, blue skirt, black stockings and a white shirt. The blonde girl wore her hair in a French braid tied at the nape and had an aura of superiority and power to herself, like she was made for leadership. She approached the Firefly's commander and smiled at him, then closed her eyes.
"I don't know if you are up-to-date with smoking policies, but we don't smoke on school grounds. And to Japanese law... you're underage." The blonde girl simply smiled, her hands by her side. Stevenson sighed and nodded, taking one, long drag and then dropped it on the ground. He stepped out the light and looked back up to the girl. "Oh, I apologise, I haven't introduced myself." The girl bowed her head. "My name is Darjeeling, overall commander of the Sensha-do club for St. Gloriana's Girls College. The kind girl beside me is Orange Pekoe, my best-friend, and loader to my tank. I'd like to personally welcome you and your crew to the newly co-ed school. The other boys arrived earlier, but I'm sure you have a valid reason for your lateness. I daren't take up any more time. If you would like to come with us, that would be splendid." Darjeeling clasped her hands together above her chest, smiling at Stevenson and the now approaching O'Haire.
"O'Haire, tell Samson and Hitch to wait here for the uh..."
"Motor club."
"The motor club, and then all three of you wait for further instructions." Stevenson handed his loader his headset for the radio and his Webley revolver. "Look after that please." O'Haire nodded and walked back towards the awaiting gunner and driver of the Firefly.
"You're Stevenson-kun, aren't you?" Darjeeling assumed, looking hopefully at him. Nodding, Stevenson removed his black beret and tucked it once again under his shoulder strap.
"Aye, that's me. But please, call me Jason." Stevenson bowed, getting a slight head bow from Darjeeling and Orange in return.
"I hope you have read the file that was sent to you, and why you're here."
Stevenson nodded, breathing in and scratching the back of his head. "Yep, we're here purely as a governmental experiment to see if boys want to do tankery as a club. And, I don't know if you noticed but my boys and I are pretty deep into it." He grinned at the girl, crossing his arms over his chest. "To be honest, from where I come from its more common for a man to be in a tank, but it's quite pleasing to know that lasses over 'ere tend to be the crew rather than men. From what I've seen, you girls have higher success rates than men, which I applaud. It's good to see that times are changing."
"I appreciate your honesty, Jason, it's good to hear a man agreeing rather than disagreeing. Sensha-do has been practiced since the 1950's in Japan, and was a way for women to build their self-esteem and self-images. From the fact that it's still widely practiced globally, I believe it's supported quite a lot. Now, let's get going. We've got a lot more talking to be done." Darjeeling and Orange turned and went back to the car. Orange sat on the passenger's side and Darjeeling behind the driver. Stevenson took one last look at his crew, waved to them and climbed in, closing the door. The driver started up the car again and pulled the Falcon out of the hangar.
With the car, the Captain, and the two beautiful girls out of sight, the remaining tank crew all relaxed into where they were standing and sitting.
"Jesus Christ, did you see the body-" Samson, who was ogling Darjeeling for the majority of the interaction, was now on the cold hangar floor clutching his stomach. O'Haire relaxed his arm and shook his head.
"I've got to say, are we lucky to be surrounded by girls, or unlucky?" O'Haire rubbed his stubble and looked up at Hitch, who was writing out a crossword puzzle in a book.
"I'd say that I don't care, Sergeant. I've got a girl back home that I'm going to marry when the war is over. However, that Orange Pekoe girl did look like her too much, so if we can't go back then... I don't know..." Hitch laid back on the engine block of the Firefly, his heels slowing kicking the metal.
"Welp, guess we've got to wait now. Let's make sure Ginny is ready for those motor club girls. Also, we need to get rid of our cigarettes, any alcohol and hide the guns we have on this baby." O'Haire took his Captain's Webley and stuffed it into a bag, taking the other two's Colt.45's and his own Hi-Power .45 to put into the bag. Hitch and Samson were reluctant at first to hide and stow away the 'contraband' but it was a necessity if they didn't want to get punished by the Captain.