AN: Before we get started, I would like to give my sincere thanks to a whole lot of people. First and foremost, Salocin, who was the one who threw this idea into motion in the first place and was kind enough to accompany me along the way. I would also give thanks to the people I have called upon in times of need, from being someone to bounce ideas with to the most important part of the process; proofreading. These include Shrimpy, Monty, Rihno and Naimis. Pretty sure there are others as well but these are the ones I can name off from the top of my head. And to Sharky, to whom this is dedicated... Thank you for not giving up on me.
"Fane! Fetch me an umbrella!" Finn called out to her subordinate, or more precisely, her subservient underling. It was 3:43 in the afternoon and she was forced to stand out in the heat with the rest of the team. The sun, with its sweltering heat, was well on its way to bake every single one of them into a roasted potato as they all waited for some stupid primer to stick.
Today was the 29th, a Friday, the last school day of January and as such was tank-painting day. It was the day when the team would bust out their brushes and paint cans while dressed in their gym clothes, ready to let out their inner artists. They were going to paint, coat and if need be, spray over any chips on the paint schemes of their armoured vehicle, caused by the ricochets and knock-out hits that had accumulated during the past month's training.
Yesterday, after training, they had taken their tanks to a car-wash onboard the ship, where the half-witted Laune had tried to shoehorn the Mk D into the car wash tunnel, causing damage to the establishment and immediately earning them the boot. With no other choice, they were forced to wash their tanks by hand at a shady manual car wash.
Finn was sitting on a crate appropriated from the shed, tired from standing around like a jackass. Next to her was the Landsverk L-60 light tank, which she frequently crewed but not all the time since the team had more members than they had tanks to crew. And so the team was forced to shuffle around, forcing others to sit on the bench when a match came around.
It was like if her Dance Club had to take turns with their tap dance shoes, which would not only be unhygienic but also a sign of the team's poor financial situation. However, armoured vehicles were more expensive than shoes, so she guessed the Senshadou club could use some slack this time around.
She heard the muffled but distinctly recognisable sound of someone walking with the aforementioned tap dance shoes and soon enough, the two-colour-eyed fiend was back. "Here you go, Finn-san!"
As Finn opened the umbrella, her eyes began sweeping across the grounds. Everyone was dealing with the heat in their own ways. Some, like Laune, had removed parts of their clothing and were running around in their bras, akin to a bunch of cheap prostitutes. Finn watched the boffin known as Clare fill a cooler with some holes on its sides with ice and then turn on the electric fan on top of the contraption, probably receiving cold refreshing air to cool her off.
Meanwhile, not wanting to waste a good crisis, the soon-to-be-in-jail Ballintra had been making rounds with a small icebox slung by her side, no doubt filled with ice-cold refreshments, from fruity Fanta to chilled Cola. Finn would definitely have bought some for herself had it not been for the ridiculous markup by that weasel.
Others, strangely enough, turned to playing and used some of the paint to draw squares on the ground and proceeded to play hopscotch, as if they were still preschoolers. On the other side of the field, Dee had stolen Shimna's crystal ball and turned it to a makeshift ball for a game of hurling, wielding shovels temporarily removed from the tanks' sides as hurleys.
"Hey! A little help over here!" A shout came from a distance, causing Finn to turn her attention to the caller and saw two lasses making their way towards her; Moy and Inny, their dance shoes creating a noise that was strikingly different when compared to the regular bootsteps of their Senshadou uniforms.
The pair carried two cans of paint each, probably bringing along with them the nasty fumes of the substance that would make someone pass out trapped in an enclosed area, earning them a trip to St Biddy. That was the reason why they didn't paint the tanks inside the building.
Fane looked at her for orders like the good lapdog she was and immediately swung into action when she was given a nod, her tanned nape was visible as she went to meet the two and took a can from each, easing up their burden.
Finn watched the trio march, their pace and movements in sync with one another, a proud testament to how well she trained her club members, causing her to unknowingly grin as the three entered within her earshot.
"-ink I already got the manoeuvre down pat!" Ms Wobble Top boasted, setting down her paint can and stood on one foot, before she began spinning like a top. The move, something from ballet that was called a pirate or something, would have looked somewhat impressive had it not ended quite so spectacularly.
The teaboo started falling to the ground mid-spin and had it not been for the quick reaction of Moy, would have fallen face-first into the dirt or rather, breast first, since her massive tits would have taken most of the blow.
Moy rested the wannabe ballerina's head on her shoulder, brushing aside her own brown hair to make way, their chests bumping against each other. She carefully laid Inny down on the ground and asked her to stretch her legs out.
"Ha! Add another one for the tally board," Inny joked and for her part, she didn't cry out in pain, trying her best to maintain composure but even from where she sat, Finn saw a single tear roll down her cheek.
Fane, somehow without needing to be told to, quickly removed the shoe from the leg in question, not looking at the injury with horror or shock but with respect and even a hint of jealousy, maybe her twisting it to show a mark of veterancy helped in that.
The Dance Club has been known as a nest for injuries, however, with a bit of storytelling and a lot of lies, each injury was treated as a badge of honour; a sign of commitment to the cause. At least that was how the story went.
Finn stood up from her crate and made her way towards the three, whose cans were left on the ground as they all turned their attention to the potentially-injured Inny. As she neared them, she looked on with interest as the nincompoop's massive chest rose and fell as ragged breaths elicited from her and Finn did her best to control her laughter.
Wow, look at those tits go! Haha!
Finn instantly recognized the problem just by looking at the orientation of the foot, not needing to examine it closer and calmly gave orders to the other two, "She twisted her ankle-" she tapped the heterochromatic and the brunette. -"You two, take her to St. Biddy, chop-chop!"
She watched the trio walk off from the training field in a six-legged race and were well on their way to the carrier's onboard hospital when she remembered her disagreements with Inny. The well-endowed girl had held St Gloriana in high regard for some reason, which was the main source of friction between the two of them.
Eventually, Finn vowed she would break her mentally as well and by then, Inny would be as subservient as anyone else around her. But until then, their arguments were a spectacle she looked forward to every time.
"What a mess, am I right?"
"Not one word, Erina, not one word," Finn sighed, not needing to turn around to see her ginger friend. Instead, she turned her attention to the paint cans left behind by her club members.
"Still hard-arsed as ever, aren't we Fumino?" Erne's voice slowly increased in volume, as its speaker walked near her and Finn wasn't one bit surprised when she felt a gentle smack on her bum.
"Get your hands off my arse and help me with these cans," she told the redhead as she closed up her umbrella and slid it into the handles of two of the cans. Finn then raised it over her shoulder, allowing her to carry the two with ease, regularly making sure to check up on the can not held in place by the umbrella's handle.
Erne walked in front of her and placed her right foot on a can before rolling up her skirt a bit, revealing a thigh strap holding a flask that she knew held alcohol; most of the time whiskey. "Before we go, want a sip? Managed to buy a bottle of Bushmills back in The Harp. Cost me next month's allowance but I plan to savour every sip of it."
"No thanks," Finn responded, wanting nothing more than to be done with the task at hand so she could have her shade back to shield her from the burning rays of the afternoon sun. She felt a drop of sweat roll down her face and resisted the urge to wipe it away, not wanting to risk her tipping sideways.,
"Suit yourself." The spitfire as Erne was known for, after her flaming hair and her even fiery personality, took a large swig before bringing the flask down, wiping her mouth and proceeding to pick up the two cans and join Finn in her procession.
They soon reached the crate Finn was sitting on earlier and gently laid the paint cans on the ground, right next to the Landsverk L-60 tank their contents would be covering soon enough.
Finn gladly wiped her sweat away with the sleeves of her PE shirt and popped open her umbrella once again, relishing its cool shade that she absolutely missed during her march in the sun.
"Where's Shannon?" she inquired, not having caught sight of the short-stack today.
"She went back to the campus to settle the dispute with that carwash yesterday, so Clare's in charge of this whole operation," Erne replied, before heading to the L-60 and opening one of the stowage bins, pulling out a small wooden chest. "Which makes today the perfect day to use this!" she finished, presenting the box to her.
"What the hell is that?"
"Leftover firecrackers from New Year's Eve. Figured now's as good a time as ever to use them." The cheerful girl opened the box, revealing large white triangles that reminded her of nacho chips, only bigger and with a string coming out of the tip.
"What are you going to do with those?" Finn knew that she should at least try to talk Erne out of this potentially dangerous idea but having been friends with her since they were both first years, she knew it was all but a futile effort.
Instead of answering, the freckleface pointed at a paint can and requested, "Open up a can, will you?" as she selected the biggest one and adjusted the fuze, closing and returning the box to its previous location afterwards.
Finn, filled with curiosity, stood up from the crate she was sitting on and took out a toolbox from inside, from which, she pulled out a long flathead screwdriver and used it to wedge the lid of the paint can open, releasing acrid fumes that made her cough up a bit. "Now what?"
"Time to watch the world burn." Erne brought out a lighter and lit the firecracker's fuze, before shoving it inside the paint can and ran off towards the other L-60 next to them.
Oh no…
She watched as Erne placed the explosive device next to Clare, who was oblivious to the fireworks that were about to explode. The smart cookie was too busy reprimanding those who were playing hurling to even hear the noise of the fuse burning behind her back.
With only a few seconds left, Erne dashed back towards her and signalled for her to cover her ears, something which she obliged to while crouching behind the L-60 in case some paint came their way.
The two of them were anticipating the explosion and the confusion it would cost but instead, all they got was…. nothing.
The birds continued to chirp around while Clare continued nagging on as the detonation Finn had been promised didn't take place. The redhead alongside her now had a look of annoyance on her face.
"What the…. Stupid thing must have been a dud." Erne muttered to herself, her prank failing to bear fruit. "I'll go fet-"
The loud explosion caught both of them by surprise as the firecracker had developed a delayed fuze. A huge column of paint rose up the can and rained down all over the place.
They waited for a few seconds before they dared to take a peek. Clare's spot now looked like a horrendous crime scene, but instead of blood-red splattered everywhere, it was the dull grey that was used to coat the Landsverk.
The giantess herself was covered head to toe with the substance as Finn saw the look of shock and bemusement on the faces of the freshmen Clare was berating.
Finn watched the swamp creature turn towards them, her chest as flat as her back. Even without seeing her face, being covered in paint and all, they both knew that she had the look of thunder and was out for blood. The scream of "ERRRNEEEEE!" from the flattop was only drowned out by an even louder shout from someone else on the team.
"PAINT FIGHT!"
What came next could only be described as a scene of chaos, as everyone picked up the nearest painting implements they could get their hands on and let out their war cries as they charged whoever was closest and covering them in grey paint.
"You pillock, I told you this was a terrible idea!" Finn shouted at Erne while they gawked at Clare, who was trying to maintain control all the while dripping in paint. Those armed with paintbrushes rushed her to gather up some excess paint which they then smeared all over each other.
"You didn't tell me anything," the firebomb replied, a bit of panic in her voice, as the two saw Liffey cry out as paint blotched out her glasses, effectively blinding her, before being assailed by a couple of first years with spray cans.
"Learn to read signs, you bloody moron!" she replied, all the while wiping away tears as the fumes from the can, mixed in with the smoke of the firecracker reached them and made her eyes water.
"What do we do?" Erne asked just as Laune ran past them, who was looking for cover as the battle had caught her unaware and she was only wearing a bra as a top when the paint started flying.
The one-legged pirate was making good progress until a balloon came flying in and put a stop to her. The missile hit her in the back, exploding on contact, throwing her off balance and sending her to the dirt. The balloon's contents stained her exposed back and streaked her brand new prosthetic leg, as she continued her escape while crawling on the ground; with Finn and Erne simply watching, incapable and unwilling to help.
"This is one fight I aim to avoid, so we're better off hiding here and waiting for things to cool down."
A balloon came soaring over their Swedish-built tank and landed on the ground with a Pop! scattering paint everywhere, which soon puddled into a sticky mess.
"Why does everyone have balloons anyways?!" Erne inquired, fumbling with her flask and causing it to fall to the ground.
"The school director's birthday celebration was only a week ago. Leftover balloons must have been located and sold off by that bitch Ballintra and are now being filled with paint." Finn replied all the while trying her best to remain calm as she dug up through her crate, looking for something they could use in case the fighting reached them.
The battle raged on as the noise of warfare reached them behind their beloved tank; screams for help, screams of terror and the bellowing of the giraffe Clare.
While all this was happening, Finn noticed her colleague looking over the tank and risking the two of them being discovered. "What are you doing? They'll spot us if you continue to parade that big head of yours!" she said, putting her hand on the carrot top's shoulder and pushing her down.
"I'm looking for Annalee, goddamnit!" Erne vehemently replied and shrugged her hand off, poking her flaming orange hair above the engine bay once more, which made a visible contrast to the Landsverk's grey.
"Maybe you should have thought of her before you lit that firecracker!" Finn retorted, trying again to get the feisty fucker behind cover, knowing perfectly well that any more head bobbing would have them caught.
She finally succeeded and pulled Erne back down behind the tank, shielding the two of them behind its turret. Finn would have slapped her if it was needed but fortunately, the prankster was still within reason.
"Stop chewing me out and just help me!" Erne complained, sweeping around the ground with her long legs in search of her flask, probably so she could have a drink to calm her tits.
"There-" Finn decided to help the red nut find her sister by directing her eyes towards her little sister. -"she's splattering paint with that blondie with glasses."
"Who?" Erne breathed a sigh of relief as she sat down next to her, finally picking up her flask and unscrewing its cap.
"You know the one with that freak of nature that broke their legs when they joined the Dance Clubs. Bunch of idiots," Finn replied as she watched Mahon, a barmaid at the Golden Harp run pass, dripping wet with paint, adding to the lunacy of her glittering mess of a hair.
Erne took a sip of alcohol before realizing she was all out, promptly causing her to simply tuck it back into its place. "Ah, Avocado...Look out! Dee coming in hot. 9 o'clock."
The scrawny pygmy quickly dashed around the corner of the L-60, armed with balloons undoubtedly filled with paint, looking for targets and spotted the two of them crouching beside the tank. Finn quickly turned her umbrella towards the shorty's general direction to protect her from any attacks.
The runty brat brought a balloon to bear, throwing it at their general direction. Fortunately, the clot couldn't aim for the life of her and the projectile missed them by a wide margin, landing a good few feet away from them and splattering the Landsverk's road wheels. However, the rotten devil barely came to a halt before popping another one, this time the pipsqueak's aim was true and the unlucky Erne received a faceful just as the culprit rounded the corner.
"Ah bugger, now there's paint all over my face!" Erne grumbled, wiping a dollop of the stuff off of her nose. The nasty concoction of green and grey paint created something like pond scum that made the redhead look a sludge monster.
"Serves you right for being nosey," Finn crackled, barely able to control her laughter as she closed up her umbrella and was glad she had Fane fetch it for her.
"Take a look at the mirror, ya dolt"
Finn followed through and took a look at herself through the side-mirror of the Landsverk that they were hiding behind. It was a great shock when she saw that her perfectly streaked hair was now marred with splatters of not only green and grey but other shades as well, making her head look like a modern-day artwork.
"My glorious hair! That's it! Now I'm mad!" She exclaimed, but while her emotions were sizzling, her mind was working overtime to exact revenge. Her green eyes were looking for any implement that would help out in her quest; a brush, a paint can or the paint cart over there in the distance. Perfect.
The length they have to run, however, was far too great, Finn thought. They'd probably get splashed with paint as soon as they left their cover. She needs a distraction, a diversion, and her eyes soon fell upon the same paint cans they had carried earlier.
Finn snapped her fingers as she came up with an idea. She picked up the screwdriver she left on top of the crate and used it to pry off the coverings of the remaining cans, letting out more of the obnoxious scent.
Dashing to the stowage bin, she retrieved the spitfire's firecracker box and took out three explosive nacho chips, before setting aside the box. She detected the breeze increase in strength as she felt her hair get blown and the fumes of paint got carried away by the wind.
"Erne, pass me your lighter?" Finn asked the firebomb, who was still busy wiping paint from herself using her skirt.
"What for? Can't you see that I still have paint on my face?"
"Fine, don't get angry at me for doing this then," Finn replied, pushing Erne against the tank and began unbuttoning her blouse. She patted the redhead's side for a bulge and immediately went for it once she detected it, pulling out the plastic lighter.
"What on earth are you doing?" Erne questioned, instinctively placing her hands over her breasts.
"We need a diversion!" was all Finn could reply as her fingers were busy assembling the makeshift paint bombs, replicating the process done by Erne earlier.
Once it seemed satisfactory to her, Finn lit the fuse with the help of the umbrella which prevented the flame from being snuffed out and rolled the cans towards the hot zone from behind cover. Without missing a beat, she did the same for the next two and removed her clunky tap shoes, placing them into the crate for safekeeping. With one hand holding the umbrella, she used the other to grab Erne's left hand, ignoring the stickiness of the paint and moved the two of them towards the edge of the Swedish L-60.
Naturally, Erne just had to protest and Finn resisted the urge to smack her with her umbrella. It was not needed, however, as a series of explosions erupted from behind them, sending out thunder that drowned out redhead's whines or any sound for that matter for a few seconds. She risked a glance and saw the three detonations dwarfed the one that started all of this anarchy, with paint splattered everywhere and grounded everything to a standstill.
Taking advantage of the blasts, Finn started running as fast as her luscious thighs could take her, but with a complaining cunt on her tow, she wasn't sure if the odds were in her in favour. If it was up to her, she would have left the ginger behind, but her master plan needed an accomplice, and so she had to drag Erne around.
She felt the roughness of the ground as she only had a thin layer of wool separate her feet from the field, which only filled her with more resolve to reach her destination as soon as possible. Maybe if they were fast enough, they could reach the cart without being accosted.
While running, Finn saw Tolka, the newest member of the team who calls sitting outside for a long period of time and waiting for birds to appear as a hobby, holding a packet of balloons. The newbie was busy pouring out paint from cans, filling individual balloons and passing them onto others, a few empty ones already littering the surrounding ground.
Unfortunately, the little git snitched on them by letting out a shrill whistle that alerted anyone within the vicinity, who recovered too quickly from the shock of the explosions and started attacking the two new targets.
Finn used the umbrella to protect the two of them, deflecting incoming balloons to the ground, some of which exploded upon contact with the umbrella, forming puddles in front of them that she had to circle around or else she would wet her socks.
They made it to their objective and were very lucky that the fighting resumed in earnest, dissuading their pursuers as their attention soon returned to each other. She made Erne duck behind the cart in case someone came by. The paint cart was nothing more than just a large air compressor on wheels with a paint spray gun attachment, something they used to even out the paint job of the tanks at the end of the day.
She wiped Erne's face with her own sleeves, restoring the redhead's vision, and directed Erne towards the back end of the machine and kicked off the chocks that prevented the cart from rolling away. Throwing caution to the wind, she hopped into the compressor and turned it on, eliciting the roar of machinery in between her legs.
"Push me!" Finn shouted at the fiery-haired girl as she located the weapon that would put forward her plan into motion, the spray gun.
"Have you gone mad?" she heard the redhead shout from behind, but Finn paid her no attention. Instead, she turned her attention to the gun, examining if it was sealed properly, in order to prevent any accidents from occurring, and checked to make sure it was filled with paint as well.
"You're the one that started this mess, now I'm here to finish it," Finn replied, satisfied with the spray gun's safety. She decided to test it out on the ground and got greeted by a quick burst of paint that stained the dirt.
"Time to face the music!" Erne let out before gathering some heated afternoon air and started to push the cart.
As Finn felt her stead move underneath her, she held her umbrella, which was already wet with paint, with her left hand, ready to use it again as a shield. On the other hand, she gripped the spray gun with her right, her lance on her upcoming joust of destiny.
They passed Callan, the team's medical officer, half carrying, half dragging Maigue, the team's go-to servant, who was soaked in paint. In a move that surprised even herself, Finn decided not to spray the duo and carried on. Perhaps the blonde had just grown on her because of how often they met at St Biddy's or was she simply becoming soft? Either way, soon all Finn saw of the two was the trail of paint left behind on the earth.
Moving on, she spotted her next potential target, Shimna, the fraudulent fortune teller. The airhead was busy trying to shield her beloved crystal ball and thus failed to hear them coming from behind. When she was at range, Finn pulled the trigger, watching with satisfaction as a small cloud of paint was released, enveloping the literal redhead and securing her first kill.
Next up was Ballintra, who was already peppered head to toe with paint. The racketeer was ready, already in the process of locking her makeshift douche bottle, presumably filled with paint, on them. Finn was quicker, however, and laid a layer of screen, blinding her fellow black haired compatriot, before Erne moved her closer and she quickly fired first, taking out the shark.
Unfortunately, the saleswoman croaked before she could be silenced, causing everyone's attention to turn to their steam machine of doom. And unsurprisingly, Finn started receiving some projectiles her way. Luckily, her umbrella proved useful once again, intercepting those that came too close for comfort.
The others began to run in terror as they heard her Machine Infernale coming their way. Finn laughed like a maniac as mowed down everyone who stood in her like grass.
Amongst those who tried to make a run for it, she saw Dalua, her jet black locks now marred with green paint. There was no mercy for cowards and Finn made sure the menace received a few sprayfuls before leaving her behind the path of their colourful rampage.
Eventually, the resistance thinned enough that she was able to spot her query. "There she is! That twerp's hiding behind Clare's skirt, let's go!" Finn shouted to Erne, perhaps giving the roaring flames a much-needed boost to keep the cart going.
Of course, that muppet just had to hide behind her sponsor, Ms Airstrip.
Despite the encouragement, Finn could hear Erne start puffing like a train and was worried that her ride would soon come to an end. She was entertaining the notion of a switch but the cart had other plans, though.
Her gun sights were aimed at Tolka, one of the few foolish enough to make a last stand, shielding a paint-soaked blonde on the ground and was about to blast her when she heard the unmistakable clicks made by the spray gun.
"Blast, the bugger's empty! Let's go" Finn said as she dismounted from her iron horse and pulled Erne along again, with the ginger too winded to tell her usual quips and just simply allowed herself to be led.
The two of them picked up discarded paintbrushes and rushed Clare, ready to engage her in a melee. Those who had run away turned back to watch the showdown that was going to happen.
They had entered within the striking distance and Finn could smell the reek of the dried paint sticking to Clare's clothes when the flattop pulled a metallic tube attached to a chain from inside her blouse and blew on it, letting out an ear-piercing whistle.
"Everyone, stop!" Clare shouted out with enough force that it reminded Finn of the thunderclap that came before the occasional storm that passed over the Unicorn.
"Shannon's calling! Everybody be quiet!"
The flapjack took out a piece of cloth from her jacket and wiped away any traces of wet paint on her hands. When the smartypants was pleased with her handiwork, she brought out her flip phone, which was buzzing like a vibrator and placed it on her ear.
"Hello?"
Finn watched as Clare paused for a moment, looking as if she was using that big brain of hers, before replying.
"We're doing fine, thanks, the job's about to be done now." Clare lied through her teeth, prompting Finn to look up at the three tanks that, outside of paint that came from the explosions or stray misfires, didn't have a proper coating on any of them.
"Alright, see you later then, bye!" Clare ended the call and pocketed her phone.
The fighting was about to return back to its full swing had Clare not done her witchcraft and captured the attention of everyone once more. "Hold your horses, everyone!" she announced.
"Listen up! We only have a few minutes until Shannon comes back, so grab a paintbrush and whatever paint we have left and go!"
Just like an army of ants, everyone in the team started blindly following the tryhard tyrant's orders and went about like robots; scooping out paint puddles from the ground to draining balloons.
Finn herself was making her way towards a tipped-over paint can, so as to not stand out, when someone placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to turn around.
"Not you though, Finn-san, I have a job for you." The redhead beckoned for her to come with her, something she did so begrudgingly until they reached Clare's L-60, which was being painted by a bunch of maniacs at the moment.
She watched as Clare pulled out a set of binoculars and a whistle from her tank's stowage bins. "Climb the tower and alert us if Shannon's coming." the airstrip simply said.
"B-but…" Finn wanted to complain, but Clare, however, saw this coming and didn't allow her to reason out and talked over her, her half-formed protest simply dying on her lips.
"I would have asked Tolka but her help is much needed here on the ground. Be careful not to fall, alright?" Clare told her in what Finn was pretty sure in a tongue in cheek manner.
It was only when Finn was halfway up the ladder when she noticed that Clare had deliberately stained her perfectly clean Senshadou jacket.
Motherfu-
"Colour me impressed, you really did finish the job! It's just…. What's with the weird paint scheme?" Shannon asked as she swooped in closer to examine the newly painted tanks, covered in an unholy mixture of whatever paint they can scrape together.
Clare shifted on her feet and moved her head around, as if she was physically looking for an excuse, before planting her sight on her, "It's a brand new type of camouflage right, Tolka?"
Tolka jumped out at the mere mention of her nickname and was surprised at how the most sensible one in the team would throw her under the bus like this.
Why me?!
"Ah. Yes! It's the latest camouflage in other countries."
"Interesting! What is it called?"
Of course, she had to ask...
The birdwatcher quickly scanned the three plodding beasts for any striking features outside of being downright ugly. Being used to scanning for specific details, Tolka would have loved to take all the time in the world, just like she does in her trips, but know that was simply not an option.
What does this blasphemous abomination remind me of…. Think! Greyish mud with bits of green… A swamp!
"Uh… Swampy… camouflage… Swampyflage! It's called Swampyflage!"
At the end of the day, all the tanks were painted with a unique paint scheme that captured the essence of the oddballs and lunatics that composed the team.