Author's notes: This story is the result of playing too much Kingdom Hearts and World of Tanks! That and judicial applications of grittier war movies. Enjoy and please review.

Sora sighed inside the turret as Tidus and Wakka clumsily went about the repairs below. Above him in, standing half-out of the turret, stood Riku. His commander, whom he considered a brother, was peering out over the frozen battlefield. Sora could only shiver. Not even just the cold, he was slowly getting used to it. He had looked out the scope a moment ago and seen enough. Ice and snow as far as the eye could see. Only the grey stones of the nearby mountains to break the sheen of shiny white. Even the scattered patches of pine trees were caked with snow. But what really made him shiver were the charred remains of tanks.

There must have been dozens of blackened, molten husks of tread-run metal beasts. Heartless steel carriages of death to all of dare oppose the Red Commonwealth. Penal Regiment 6 had been assigned to guard the pass. They were told to hold at all cost. They did. Of the five tanks sent to hold off the red wave, only the Keyblade remained.

An M4 medium tank bought from an overseas provider. Sora, Riku and the others agreed to name it after a mythic sword. Legend had it, such blades were used to ward off evil and open pathways between worlds. Infinite worlds, infinite possibilities. Sora and his three friends had dreamed of such things before the war. Before the food shortage and the rationing. Before they broke into a food storage to help some of the hungry locals, got caught, tried by a military court, and sentenced to five years in a penal regiment. They were a few years short of minimum age. It didn't matter. The alliance needed troops. They'd take what they could get.

After a grueling and brutal boot camp, all four friends were shipped out to the 6th and put under the command of a callous old fool who couldn't be bothered to know what he was talking about, Military Governor Radcliff. Thankfully he subordinate, Colonel Smith, was even-tempered and had plenty of field experience to pass on to them. The four of them were subject to a rapid course in armored warfare and after only two weeks of training were rushed out to the front. Months later there they were, immobilized by faulty wiring knocked more haywire than usual by a shell in the attack.

Tidus and Wakka grumbled and fumbled about the repairs. They had been inseparable since both were toddlers but now they bickered when tasked with tedious jobs like repairs. They didn't even like it inside the tank very much. Bother were athletes, loved to be out in the open. Dreamed of going pro as grown-ups. Now it didn't look like they'd have much of a choice even if they made it to adulthood!

"What's taking so long?" Riku snapped down from the frigid air.

"Hey! You can't rush art!" Tidus snapped back.

"Well figure out how to speed it up!" Riku barked. "Another wave might be coming soon and we need to get out of here!"

"They said they'd shoot us if we retreated!" Wakka protested.

"Yeah! That's what they said last time!" Riku growled. "And the time before that and the time before that! What makes you think this time will be any different?

"I don't know Riku! You saw how the Commies kept coming, right? Just more and more of them!"

"Take a look at them now! Quantity isn't the same as quality!"

"No, but I bet it helps!" Tidus chimed in. "We're funded by some of the richest kingdoms on the continent, you'd think they'd give us some quality tools and parts! Instead we need to scavenge old wiring out of houses that may or may not even have electricity. Or go out and loot blown up enemy tanks!"

Again Sora shivered. Maybe he wasn't so use to the cold. Several minutes ago Tidus returned from a scavenging run to the nearest of the destroyed tanks. Only the enemy ones. Even after all they'd seen they still couldn't bring themselves to see their platoon members bodies burnt, charred, and mangled in tank wreckage. Sora trembled to think what Tidus saw of the enemy dead. He didn't say anything about it and none of them asked. Speak no evil, hear no evil.

"Quit your bickering and get it fixed!" Riku snapped, almost a roar. The whole crew lowered their heads in submission. Riku wasn't their friend anymore. He was their commander. A fact they all tried to ignore every time they managed to get liberty. Many somber evenings in taverns were spent trying to make merry while tip-toing around regulations. Even if Colonel Smith wasn't strict on regs, Rikku took his job too seriously to forget them. The oldest of the boys was still beating himself up for not stopping the theft that landed them in the service.

A few more minutes of sharp, sullen silence and Wakka tried the engine. It rumbled to life like a furious beast. Sora, Tidus, and Wakka were cheering in an instant. Sora turned just in time to see a smirk spread Riku's lips. Then some distant pops could just barely be made out over the engine and seconds later the ground shook with the impact of artillery shells.

"Arty's got us zeroed!" Riku barked. "Wakka get us out of here!" The driver didn't need to be told twice. The Keyblade lurched backwards just in time for a shell to burst a tank-sized crater where they had been sitting. "Tidus, load up! Sora, get ready! I think we may have a fight on our hands!" Within a minute the Commies proved Riku right.

Ten MS-1 light tanks materialized out of the dust and smoke mere seconds after the artillery ceased. Before Riku could bark the order Sora had already pulled the trigger. The lead tank to blown to smoldering smithereens. Tidus instinctively ejected the spent shell and loaded a new one. The enemy tanks opened up, their puny 37mm shells dinging off the Keyblade's frontal armor like marbles. Within seconds Sora heard the metallic snap of the shell being chambered, he fired again and another Commie tank went up in a blazing inferno.

"Nine o'clock! Two of them!" Riku snapped into the radio intercom. Sora pulled back on the lever to spin the turret to the left. With the pull of the trigger a 75mm shell shot straight through one MS-1 and into the other. Both burst into flames and slogged to a halt. "Three on our right! Evasive maneuvers!" In perfect synchronicity Sora swung the turret 180 degrees right and Wakka spun the tank into a backward swerve to the left. Sora sighed the lead tank and fired. It swerved to the right and came to a dead stop. Another explosion followed as the tank behind it failed to swerve in time. Both wrecks mingled together in chaotic metal carnage. The third MS-1 fired a glancing shot and tried to make a dash around the other side of the Key-blade, desperately driving for the tank's thin rear armor. Sora blew it to kingdom come.

"Wakka! Rotated us one-eighty!" Riku roared. Seconds after the tank began to spin a shell slammed into the tank's right side. Almost penetrated. The front of the Keyblade spun just in time for the enemy tank to ram them face-first. The impact nearly knocked Sora out of his seat, but the tank didn't move. Outside the opening of a hatch was heard. Riku drew his pistol and fire three times. "BRACE YOURSELVES!" the next instant a mighty blast shook the tank. Sora's ears rang with the concussion of the blast. "The Commie bastard had an AT grenade! I shot him just in time, he dropped it on himself."

"Where's the other two?" Sora gasped as the bells in his ears softened their carol. Riku stood up again to glance out the turret.

"They're running for it," he called downward.

"They don't want to play soldier anymore?" Tidus snickered.

"The Commies always did seem like under achievers!" Wakka huffed. "I thought that last one had us!"

"So did he! Take a look at him now!" Riku grunted. "Wakka get us back to base, if it was anything more than a scouting party they would have stuck it out. Probably no more coming for a while." Wakka complied, gunning the engine and following that morning's tread marks back the way they came.

…

Sora and the others stood stiffly at attention in the command tent. Smith eyed them from his desk with his usual scrutiny. They stood all the stiffer with Radcliff standing beside Smith, staring down his nose in aloof disapproval.

"As I recall, your orders were to hold until relived," Radcliff began, stroking that obnoxious pug dog of his. "Perhaps you misunderstood your orders, Sergeant?"

"We were the only ones left, Sir," Riku replied. "Our ammunition was running low and we had already sustained damage. What's more we halted the enemy offensive and sent their scouting party running with their tails between their legs. If they had sent any more than the ten we encountered, especially if the rolled in with their newer models we wouldn't be here to tell the tale. A tale of victory, I might add. Isn't this good for you, sir?"

Radcliff eyed him narrowly. Feral anger masked by his known façade of high-born eloquence. "Your concern for your superior officer is quite touching, boy," he said with a condescending smirk. "But he would much prefer you follow his orders."

"Our orders were to accomplish our mission, Sir," Riku snapped as softly as he could manage. "We did. And so doing left a sizable, albeit costly, victory at your feet."

"He's right, General," Smith spoke up. "One tank, even an M4 wouldn't have been enough to hold that pass if the enemy were in any shape to send another attack. What's more we've sent a replacement platoon in just moments after their return. Their radio was knocked out, otherwise they could have informed us without falling back and I would have ordered them to pull back to refit the moment their relief arrived. It would serve no purpose to have them punished. They're one of our best crews, after all."

Radcliff's down-nose gaze shifted to his lieutenant, whose quality of leadership and courage was the only thing holding the 6th together. The older gentleman was clearly jealous of and threatened by Col. Smith's superiority to him in everything but rank. Necessity was the only thing that kept him from transferring the younger, blonde man elsewhere. "Indeed, Smith. That is after all why you gave them our only M4. Their record in boot and tank training school was upstanding! Their childish tendencies notwithstanding. Yet still I can't help but ponder their motivations and whether or not a greater accomplishment could be achieved if they were a bit more…stern in their obedience."

"If the rest of their platoon had been in M4s they may not only have stemmed the enemy assault, but turned it into a route which would have made a sweeping counter-attack easy. But this, I've told you many times before, General. And each time you've reminded me that as a penal regiment we are not granted the budget of other units. The only reason we have our M4 and Tiger, are because they were discarded as hopeless by the Army repair commission. Of course our mechanical genius Cid, as always, proved them wrong. All things considered, I'd say not only these young men, but the entire regiment has performed superbly. Even if their manners and decorum aren't always up to par. As I've mentioned before, there are time when we must make priorities." Smith's speech was cool and calculating, as always in Radcliff's presence.

A snide smile spread the nobleman's pearly whites as he consented defeat. "Very well, Smith. There will be no disciplinary actions," his gaze darkened as he turned to Riku. "But I suggest you, how do our cousins across the pond say? Keep your nose clean, boy. Before you catch a cold," he whispered in daggers to Riku before he casually strolled out of the tent.

A collective sigh escaped the mouths of all five men left in the command tent. They all knew exactly where the posh pig was going. To his personal tent where he lived in luxury. With fancy bottles of liquor, a shiny brass bath tub filled with hot water, a lavish table set with china and silver. Plus a fine mahogany bed with expensive mattress and silk blankets, and all the other comforts of his "humble home". All arranged by called in favors to friends and family in high places. Favors that could have been used to get better parts, weapons, and tanks for the penal regiment given him by Command.

"Well! He lights up a room just by leaving it, doesn't he?" Smith smiled. The crew of the Keyblade laughed briefly before straightening themselves. "Good job, men. As usual."

"If it's so usual, how come he hasn't gotten the memo?" Tidus snickered.

"Well don't take it personal, Radcliff never listens to anyone. He only listens to that timid aid of his long enough to NOT accept excuses why his latest shipment of luxury items hasn't arrived yet! It's no bother though, none of you will have to worry about him for a while. You're being transferred." Sora's eyes lit up. "Command has been impressed enough with your work to send you and one other crew out on a public relations mission."

"Public relations?" Riku asked for all four. Sora scratched his head. With their worn, torn and stained uniforms and the generally shabby and beat-up look of their tanks they wouldn't make for very good photo ops. The fresh recruits from the regular units with the clean uniforms and shiny new tanks off assembly line look better in the propaganda pictures and films the Army staged for the press.

"Yep," the Colonel went on. "Three children (one prince, two princesses) of a neighboring kingdom went missing a few months ago. They've been found out in a poor provincial town just beyond the Black Forrest. Someone has been hiding them and wants to arrange their escape. Naturally their parents want them back. But all other units are busy at the front. So we're it! And you've got one of our best tanks, so you're it! I'll have dossiers on the children sent to you in a few hours, so get some chow and rest. You head out for the rail yard first thing in the morning. You'll be riding in style all the way to the southern province, then you roll out. Details will be in the dossiers and the briefing tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir." Riku snapped. "But I recall you said 'one other crew'?"

"That's right."

"Wait! The regiment only has two advanced tanks! We have one, so that means?..." Wakka trailed off as he came to the same unfortunate conclusion as the others. Again a collective sigh went out.

"Get a grip, kids!" Smith rebuked the teenagers. They stiffened sullenly but at least he didn't call them 'boys' like Radcliff did. And then only when they acted like it. "He's not so bad, trust me. He's just had a rough patch. Not too different from you, really." The young men kept silent, but inwardly reeled in disgust. "Rude and bad-tempered as he may be, he's a fine commander and has a fine crew. Plus a Tiger tank can give you a very nice…edge," Smith paused with a devious grin. "Like you he was the only survivor on his front, and like you some of the other crews resent him having a higher tier tank."

Sora knew Smith was right. Radcliff gave the Colonel free reign over who got what tank. Smith assigned them based on skill and performance. And he had to admit Beast was good. But his nick-name was well deserved! The disgraced prince had named himself after his own Tiger tank, named 'Beast' by Cid as he patched it back together. Apparently it was damaged while being shipped out to some Island nation as a gift. Nobody in the regiment even knew Beast's real name; only Smith did and he kept his mouth shut.

"Beast will be arriving soon. His radio wasn't knocked out, so he's been in contact all along. We sent relief out for him just as you showed up. I'll debrief him personally once he gets here. In the meantime you are dismissed. Sergeant Silver has chow ready in the mess tent."

"Yes, sir!" the crew sounded off in unison. All four snapped off salutes, which Smith returned sluggishly as he turned to his paperwork. The boys filed out of the Command tend and made their way to the mess tent. Silver was his usual self, all smiles and charm.

"Welcome back, mateies! Have a fine serving of salt-pork stew!" the heavy-set cook slopped the savory and delicious smelling swill into their food trays with judicial scoops of mashed potatoes and spoonful of steamed carrots. The man had once been a sailor, the metallic stump for a leg and robotic looking hook for a right hand being the reason for his transfer. The war was just as nasty at sea. Sometimes nastier. Silver would sometimes describe the ocean battles, the hulking masses of floating steel going down in fiery wrecks to vast depths below.

The distinct rumble of a Tiger tank slowly grew louder as the boys ate their dinner. The lumbering metal Beast growled deafeningly past the mess tent just as Riku finished, always a fast eater. He leapt from the table to run after the heavy tank. Sora and the others finished eating slowly. Riku and Beast always managed to come to an understanding in the past, even if they sometimes came to blows. Sora, Tidus, and Wakka all figured the disgraced prince would take kinder to it if he was warned ahead of time. Still none of them were looking forward to the coming mission. Especially with that smooth talking thief Flynn Rider, those permanently mean Stabbington brothers, and that foul smelling oaf Christophe. Whatever enemies they'd face in the coming mission, they'd have to watch their own backs. Because the crew of the Beast weren't known for doing any different.