Living on Borrowed Time

Chapter Four: Underground

By PolarNegetiveZero

The electric lighting in this place was far more advanced than I had back at home. My home being the eastern edge of Ruinberg, as it was called. I don't know what the real name of it was, but everyone called it Ruinberg – for obvious reasons – and so it stuck. My home was a pretty shabby little thing, but it was enough to be pleasant and nice to live in. It was a one-man garage, looking like something straight out of a movie; clean, orderly, and so unlike my tank right now. Speaking of, I needed to give myself a wash before I become particularly disgusting like after I was kicked from my team as a Medium Three.

Augh, just remembering that time makes me want to vomit. Then again, so did my general appearance, but that time especially so. I was automatically cleaned when I tiered up, and kept a better appearance than I had before. In fact, one such memory still has me chuckling to this day. I'll tell it to you while we drive in this one-way tunnel.

Having just been cleaned naught but a few days ago, I noticed my armor becoming rusty and grimy. However, I'd liked my new body, so I was becoming just a teensy-weensy bit obsessed with keeping myself clean. Except the tracks, of course, because those are bound to get dirty. Anyways, I was travelling through the flat, field-like area between Himmelsdorf and Ruinberg, trying to head to Ruinberg to scavenge some new supplies, when I came across a little Pz. III A. He'd been in a similar jam as me, being that he wasn't that powerful and looked so unusual. I assume he had also been kicked off his team as well, because he travelled alone. Of course, he shot me, but he didn't penetrate me. My armor was not only angled at the front, but also too thick for me to remember.

He looked like hell, tracks all muddy and torn to hell, and his armor was rusted and shelled. It was a miracle by itself that he'd taken so many shells and was still living. We travelled together for a time, me looking out for him. I made him start scrubbing himself down with sand and river water whenever we could find either. About three days later, he was looking clean and especially shiny after having just moved through a river. He was – this – close to tiering up to the D.W.2, giving him a better chance. We got into a fight with another pair of scavengers, both of them tier threes. It was a Pz. II G and a T-46. Both were fully upgraded, but so was I, so I took the liberty of trying to talk to them.

Being shot in the gun mantlet didn't do much to help them make friends with me. So, I shot back. I fired at the Pz. II G, my gun piercing his turret armor and going straight through, damaging only his radio, and that was all. But it did make him reconsider his options after he fired his full clip of shells at me with no effect whatsoever. His friend, however, did not. He had the VT-42 gun, making him dangerously effective. He fired at my upper hull, bouncing the shot upwards. I fired at him twice, killing off his track and hitting him right in the turret rink. His turret was locked in place, and he started to panic. He panicked to the point of unloading a HE shot at me, making me focus and get serious.

That is, until he exploded. At this, I'd blinked, and tried to remember if I'd fired my gun, but I couldn't tell. Later, my friend in the Pz. III A would tell me that he got a lucky hit on the ammo-rack of the T-46, taking his turret clean off. I saw it with my own optics and I still haven't a clue how he got around them without being spotted. He fired at the Pz. II G, making him panic as well, since he didn't know where the fire was coming from. The shot from the Pz. III A had pierced the back of his turret, killing his optics and making him blind. It was the best damned shooting I've ever seen from a Panzer like him, and he was proud to. He eventually tiered up to a D.W.2, and decided to strike out on his own. We wished each other good luck, and to this day, I hope he's a VK 30.01 H. That was his dream, to become a Tiger I. But, enough of my memories, let's try and focus on the situation at hand.

The tunnel had widened, letting me and Sig travel side-by-side. We'd not spoken for a while, and I tried to see if I could see anything ahead of us. But the unusual lighting, being that it was unevenly spread around, made it hard for me to see properly, so I gave up. After about a minute of this, I sighed, and said "this is really fuckin' boring. Nothing to do except for keep our tracks moving." She made a noise of agreement, thrumming her engine a bit louder in a sort of purr. However, I could now detect another engine ahead of us. It was Russian, making the back of my head panic slightly, as that gave us some implications of where we were.

There was a large, rounded antechamber at the end of our tunnel, and it led off into several different tunnels. I could only hear the Russian engine, so I tried to follow it. I was rewarded with a sleeping SU-85. This guy also looked like he'd been through hell and back, except a little cleaner, less grimy, more dirty. I say dirty as in he was covered in the stuff, instead of oil, grease, and gas. Made him look like he had a sort of camouflage on, made for underground. Sig was behind me, waiting, so I reversed until we were side-by-side again. "There's an SU-85 sleeping in there. Open a private channel so we can talk normally, please." I whispered to her. She nodded, and opened the channel, quieting my words. "He's dirty as hell, looks like he's been through the same shit we have." She said to me, musing. "Also, it looks like he's got a sort of… Wait a minute, did you check to see if he was wearing a clan patch?" She asked, and I shook my turret no. I moved back into the little antechamber, checking his upper hull for a patch, being rewarded with a back gas-mask on a yellow shield. It said "Tsentral'nyy gorod". I wasn't sure what the first part meant, but I knew that "gorod" was a rough translation of town. So, it looked like he was part of either a guard post or a town.

Both were good in our situation, so I reversed back and explained it to Sig. she looked thoughtful for a moment, and then told me "Hey, I'm going to fire some HE in the tunnel behind us. Make sure that you have you gun to his engine compartment when he wakes and goes looking for it." I nodded. It seemed like a solid enough plan, so I'd go with it. She reversed, and then turned her hull so that she was facing the SU-85's antechamber. She fired, the shell going directly above the chamber roof. It was enough to wake him up though, because he gave a rev of his engine and started moving out of the antechamber, loading ammunition.

I poked him in the side with my 75mm gun, and that made him reconsider. He stopped moving, and Sig came out of the tunnel as well, gun trained on him. "Hi. We're looking for shelter. Got someplace we can stay?" I asked, backing up a bit to give him some room. After all, it's polite to let the person you just put a gun to move around a bit, you know? "Who are you?" he asked me, then turned to Sig, and said it again. I shook my gun, and said "No, we won't give our names yet until you answer the question." He seemed a bit put out, and said "Yes. Some place to stay. Is called Central Town. Is underground. Mostly Russian tenks, but also German, American, French tenks. I am guard for Town. I show you way?" He said, giving me a questioning glance with his last sentence.

I looked at Sig, she shrugged, and so did I, letting him have a little more room, enough for him to turn around. "Yeah, sure. Just don't try and get us killed, will you? I rather like my chassis the way it is, no extra shell holes in it."

Well, we've found civilization. Of a sort.

Sorry about not uploading last night (The day after I say I'll be uploading every night, yep) but I had my computer taken away after I was found typing. At 12 Am. Yeah, that kinda ticked off my parents. But, I've got the chapter uploaded (Hopefully with a little more character development, MR. Scarface) and I'll have another one tomorrow. The reason why I don't give the characters much development is because I want to let my viewers (What people who actually follow the story) project themselves into this situation, without using 2nd-person. Because that is both really hard to write and oftentimes really BORING. Which is exactly the opposite of what I want.

So, good night, everyone. Don't get woken up at gunpoint by a Churchill I.