Chapter 6: Fuel Supply

Staring at a small town in the relative distance, some place called Gary, Vicky McAllister eyed the battlefield with relative discomfort. She could hear guns firing from her position, and there were obvious trails of smoke pouring towards the sky. The crumbling buildings near the town did nothing to hide the dynamic movement of vehicles chasing each other down, hunting others in what could be called a tank hunger game. Entire structures were being ripped to shreds, which if Vicky recalled correctly, were of a somewhat historical importance. Good thing the league would pay for the damage.

Hopefully.

Looking to her left, she could see her friend's tank, the L-62. The open topped anti-aircraft self-propelled gun was an amazingly useful vehicle to be using in a sport with ridiculously thinly armored tanks, albeit being rather unprotected on its own. Astrid herself was minding her own business, almost completely oblivious to the danger they were all going to face. Well, not even almost. When she caught Vicky looking over, she grinned devilishly, adjusting her hairclip so the strands of pale brown hair swept over her left ear. The British girl smiled, knowing exactly what the Swede was thinking.

After that small moment was in check, her vision swept to the right, passing a quick glimpse at the KP-bil, of which normally didn't take much part in battle. She could see the team's commander, who was holding onto the machine gun, looking rather tense. Precisely, she looked like she was pissing herself and about to cry. Poor girl.

Then her eyes landed on the random team they had encountered the last night. Vicky was still unsure on how long their luck would last with these people, and they eventually might have to fight each other. The three vehicles they possessed had no relation whatsoever amongst one another, let alone look alike. There was that jeep, an armored car which Vicky had seen once or twice before, and then there was a Japanese tank that she had no idea what it was. Well, Liz did play something that did look relatively similar to it in World of Tanks… The Type 98 Ke-Ni if I recall correctly.

The tank's commander was not present in the turret, as she was somewhere forwards their position. Last Vicky had seen, she dove into the tall grass line, holding onto a sniper scope tightly, and her hair filled with green weeds she had pulled straight out of the surrounding ground. From where she observed, Vicky could only slightly guess where she was.

She's a brave person, that's for sure. Having only met the girl, she didn't really have a very broad opinion on Fauna. But the fellow countryman was at first glance a straightforward and daring young woman. Sure she didn't make the finest impression the night before, but Vicky had come to learn that she was actually a very capable commander.

Though, she should really wear some pants. Sighing at the thought, she continued to watch the battles playing out ever since they arrived. Fuel was of course extremely precious, and all the players wanted every last drop of it. Fauna's job was to scout out an entry point which didn't have multiple anti-tank guns trained on it, and after a long wait, it seemed she found one, dashing back to the group with shrubbery still stuck to her hair. It was all messy now, and her uniform was slightly caked with dry dirt. Still, Vicky couldn't help but think that Fauna really was a stunning girl, even though she took no interest in other females. She must get a lot of love letters from guys, hmm?

Climbing out of the turret and landing on the ground gracefully, Vicky walked up to greet her.

Bloody hell, these weeds are itchy as fuck!

For a full 30 minutes, that was all Fauna could think about. It was her own idea to camouflage herself, but she completely regretted the decision. It made her scratch and there was now soil in her hair. She scowled all the way back to the vehicles, grumbling to herself about how to properly hide herself next time.

She shook her head vigorously to get rid of the plants and put her scope back into its bag gently. Seeing the other team's commander start walking up to her, Fauna began running her fingers through her hair to clear out any stray weeds still stuck. It slightly embarassed her if she looked like shite near someone else who looked like an angel on earth and also lead a tank team. I wonder how she even got into this sport, I'd have thought she'd be in tankery, or afternoon tea.

"Found a safe way in, through a garden next to the church over there," Fauna reported, "but like we earlier hypothesized, there's no way our vehicles will make it in there and out quickly enough without starting a full out skirmish." The other Brit nodded in acknowledgement. "Looks like we'll just have to go with plan B, yes?" she stated when Fauna was face to face, not saying it loud enough for the others to hear. "Yep, looks like it," Fauna replied softly, looking at her Ke-To to avoid the girl's eyes. She could see Sarah looking at her curiously from the open hatch. Plan B's going to be such a boring affair for all but two vehicles…

After that, both girls faced the teams directly, and Fauna ordered, "We're going with our second plan! Willy, Bill, you're up!" An angry fist popped out of the L-62's turret, followed by Astrid's furious face. "Refer it to Terräng, you fucking skitstövel!" she hollered, stretching her arms into the air while ranting. Fauna's expression turned to rage, and she pointed at Astrid angrily as she climbed out of the L-62's turret. "The hell did you just call me, you bloody minger?!" The Swedish girl turned her head, sticking out her tongue and pulling one of her eyelids down with her middle finger as she walked towards the KP-bil.

"Pretentious bitch…" Fauna muttered, walking back to her tank as Vicky laughed awkwardly. "Don't worry, she's a nice person once you get to know her," the other commander commented, also getting back into her vehicle. Fauna rolled her eyes. "Sure."

Gritting his teeth when he heard the command, David grinned like a maniac as he put his aviators on. Plan B required precision timing, high speed, and fast reactions. Something the Willys MB was capable of. As Joey rolled the vehicle to the front, Dave looked over to see the other team's mechanic team moving their own. It was a really wierd looking thing, but it had some merits. Like how long it was. "Must've been a pretty good personnel carrier," David commented to no one in particular.

Other than that, the lead mechanic had no idea how it would fair in actual combat. The original commander had been replaced with another, who Dave remembered as the Swedish girl in charge of the anti-aircraft tank. Even though she wasn't as breathtaking like the Brit, she was still pretty good looking in her own way, and the slick greasemonkey wouldn't mind having a few rounds with her. She was holding onto a weapon befitting the wicked smile spread across her face; dual machine guns that could rip bodies to itty-bitty pieces. Okay, you're not really allowed to point these at people, but you get the point.

As if on instinct, Astrid's eye flicked towards Dave's direction, and she smirked rather smugly, putting up a sarcastic salute towards his direction. Dave nodded in response, replying in a similar respect. Satisfied with their moment of bonding, he looked towards the town, noticeably shaky with the eerie feeling in his mind. Well, it's not like there are actual ghosts there…

He patted Joey's shoulder, and the driver slammed the pedal, charging the jeep forwards with its engine roaring, the feeling of adrenaline rushing in a tidal wave across the mechanics. It was a crazy idea, but it might just work, and hell, if they were going to be competing, they may as well get some combat practice out of this. Turning his body around, Dave could see the KP-bil following at a slower pace. As expected from a much bigger transport.

It was a dead dash from the trees to the town. Dave could see two armored cars chasing each other around, one of them strapped with fuel barrels on its back. The attacking vehicle had a hard time landing a shot, most likely trying not to blow up the precious liquid housed atop the other's vehicle. Or maybe the swerving was doing that. It was hard to decide when the car you're riding in keeps jumping up and landing on the ground suddenly due to high speed and hidden inclines on the ground. Dave watched as the armored cars disappeared from view, and sighed in relief.

The town was now right before them, but the two vehicles weren't stopping. Behind, Dave could hear the comforting noise of support fire from his teammates, scaring enemies away from the entry point. It worked smoothly, and the mechanics quickly dove into an alleyway between a church and a post office. The transition between the grasslands to smooth cobblestone roads made the wheels of both the jeep and KP-bil slide slightly, but eventually they caught friction and drove at a faster rate.

The town was an American industrial era design, with large factories and shady establishments. Time and lack of caretakers allowed the buildings to fall into rubble, and weeds sprouted here and there. Due to the skirmishes now taking place, it was making the town fall into even more ruin, with track marks skidded onto the roads, walls peppered by machine gun fire, and entire sections of the earth overturned by explosive rounds.

They drove unopposed for a few minutes, although they did encounter a wild CV 33. The crew was buttoned up inside, and it seemed they didn't notice the two running up behind them. "Hot damn, get 'em Jones!" Dave hollered. The Italian tankette was ripped to shreds by the might of the jeep's ma deuce and the dual machine guns of the Bill. Poor Giovanni, judging from the name painted onto the side as it turned around, was helplessly cut down by the intense fire, a white flag popping up seconds after the shooting began. "Alright, great work combat engineers!" They then continued onwards, trying their best to not get in contact with another enemy vehicle.

Coming to a halt under the cover of an abandoned train station, the two crews jumped out of their cars and prepared to work. "Alright, sticking to the plan, we're going to look around for fuel barrels and bring them back to Will and Bill," Dave recapped, taking off his aviators and pocketing them. It was dark enough without them due to the lack of lighting in the station. Looking through a small window, he could see a jeep similar to his run off, someone fumbling to reload what appeared to be a mounted recoilless rifle as a small tankette scurried after it. "We won't be stealing anything as we might not make it out very easily. There's plenty of fuel lying around, we just have to look. Scatter, and try not to die."

Everyone nodded and ran out one by one to hunt down the remaining barrels. "It's Terräng, not Bill, damn it," the Swedish added, glaring at Dave before running off. "Right, right," he muttered in reply. Once everyone but the two drivers had skedaddled, Dave himself ran out a side door, finding himself near a small road. Looking left and right, he collected his thoughts together, and quickly made a dash for the buildings in front of him. His mind went blank and he stopped in cold sweat when the sound of machine gun fire ripped through the air. Thankfully, he noticed that none of it was near him. Laughing giddily, he completed the run, panting out of breath with his arm pushed against the wall to keep him up.

"Whew, I thought I was a goner!" he said to no one in particular. Not like anyone was around anyways. Taking a deep breath, Dave once more faced the building. It was a one story house, nothing special. He aimed his shot, and kicked the door down with a single swift movement. It cracked, and then lost its hold, falling into the house and landing with a *thud*. Smiling at a job well done, he slowly entered the old house.

"'Scuse me…" he muttered, looking around nervously. The only light that was available was from the holes in the roof and walls, which only shone onto certain spots and wasn't bright to begin with. Hearing something scurry beside him, he shuddered and turned quickly, his face bewildered until he found out it was a squirrel. Damn rodent…

He reached towards his pocket, fishing out a small flashlight usually used to check dark spaces inside of a machine. Flicking it on, he quietly searched the house for anything of use. Finding nothing in the living room, he continued into the nearest area. Entering the kitchen, he accidently stepped on something. *crunch* Looking down, he found out it was an old toy. A sharp breeze coming from an open window caught him off guard, and he almost shit his pants. "Fucking- just let me find a god damn barrel!" With newfound spirit from his urge to leave, he dashed into the next room, probably a bedroom because of the bed. No shit Sherlock. Oh look.

Resting on the bed was a large red fuel barrel. Pumping his fist into the air silently, he went over and rolled it off. It landed on the ground with a *clang* and the swishing sound of liquid moving around. "Woops," he muttered, walking over to the barrel and crouching, inspecting it for damage. Thankfully there was none, and he looked back up.

"Oh sweet mother of Jesu-." It took a miracle for Dave to stay put. A miracle and a bit of 'release'. He was looking at himself in the mirror, and behind him sat the dry bones of a skeleton. The legs were sprawled forwards, and one of the hands had been holding onto what used to be a right shoulder. Despite his dread, Dave couldn't help but continue to stare at it, goosebumps all over. It was disturbing in all ways possible, the 'happy' skull gazing with empty sockets towards the mechanic. Covering its body was a white suit that had been eaten away by moths, and in its arms an old shotgun that wouldn't have worked anymore from the way the termites had taken care of it.

"I-I'll be taking my leave," Dave stuttered, saluting quickly and pushing the barrel out of the room and then the front door, the wooden floor making the rolling barrel sound like a grumbling thundercloud. He didn't even bothering to look left or right as he exited. He wanted nothing else to do with the house.

But then in pure human nature, his curiosity took over, and his head turned around creakily as he was about to reenter the bush. Of course, it was all just his imagination.

Then there was a flash of white in the doorway and a crooked smile.

Dave ran.

With the barrel of course.

Mumbling a song casually, Astrid sat on top of three barrels she had found on her own in a span of five minutes, tossing a golden pocket watch she 'acquired' into the air and catching it back into her hand. "My intuition never fails, does it?" she asked rhetorically to the KP-bil's driver. The girl just smiled back nervously, keeping her eyes peeled open and watching for any sudden entrances.

Well, one did appear, in the form of the boy Astrid believed was the head mechanic of the enem- err, allied team. The driver yelped, about to jump back into her hatch. The boy was rolling the fuel quickly, his eyes wild, and what seemed to be stains in all his pubic areas. He then stopped, propped the barrel up roughly, ran into the jeep, and sat down while hiding himself behind the dashboard.

"You, uh, alright there?" Astrid asked, one of her eyebrows raised. She thought the guy was strong willed, but now he just looked scared shitless. He looked at her in confusion. "W-What? Of course I am, just checking under the hood!" He laughed like a maniac, but wouldn't come out from his hiding place. "Sure, whatever," Astrid laughed, tossing over a coin towards the boy. It clanged onto the dashboard, making him shiver.

Giggling, Astrid jumped off the barrels and made her way to the KP-bil. It was her country's only APC for a long time back then, in use since the Second World War until the Cold War. She looked at it proudly; a machine that had seen the test of time and still came out a decent vehicle. "Keep your shitty halftracks, this vehicle bests them all with Swedish engineering!" she beamed loudly before being hushed by the driver. "Astrid, please pipe down, we might be caught if you shout like that," she whispered shyly, her eyes becoming more alert. Laughing out loud, Astrid patted the girl's back roughly, making the driver lean forward suddenly. "If people find us more important than fuel, so be it!"

One by one, more of the team returned to the rendezvous point, each with varying barrels and even simple jugs of fuel. As long as a tank could run, so be it. Looking them over, Astrid nodded approvingly. "Okay then, let's get them mounted on!" The 8 mechanics quickly dragged, pushed, or carried their fuel into the KP-bil, the smaller containers being mounted onto the jeep. The drivers turned on the engines as quietly as they could, and awaited their comrades to get on.

"Heeaave, ho!" Astrid chanted, getting help from the other commander to load the last barrel. It was then fastened, and the crew of the KP-bil hurried inside, laying on the barrels so they wouldn't get their heads shot off. "Let's get going!" the guy yelled, and everyone else quickly got into their positions to leave. As soon as one of the other team's girls had clambered into the jeep, they sped off, breaking through the tracks and beelining for their exit from the town. But then Astrid spotted smoke in the distance, and threw the pocket watch at the jeep commander. Her aim was true, and he turned his head back and stared at her dizzily.

Putting up a signal to turn around, his eyes widened and he patted the driver rapidly to find a detour. They turned into a small road that lead to a complex of outlets, clothing that was out of fashion on display. Weaving through the cracked lane, the two fuel transporters nervously tried to find a way back to their friends. "Hey, kinda makes you wonder why we even drove this far north, doesn't it?" the one of the mechanics asked as the KP-bil made a hard right into another street. Astrid rolled her eyes. "Why wouldn't anyone want to go north?"

"Why the hell did we even waste fuel going here?!" Joey shouted, once more making a turn to avoid a skirmish happening between several light tanks, "Why didn't we go south from Indianapolis? This place is like Stalingrad with extra freedom!" The jeep rumbled down the street, the KP-bil still catching up. Dave held onto the door to avoid flying out of the vehicle. "Because we were trying to avoid any possibility of coming against-"

A shot rang through the air, and the jeep lurched to the side slightly. Looking around frantically, Dave found the source of the shot. Uh… that's a… "Fuck, it's a Greyhound!" Jones yelled, the Browning machine gun coming to life. The armored car rolled back behind the wall it had came from, but then another shot came from behind. Once more, it was an M8 Greyhound, one of America's most widely used support vehicles back in the day. The KP-bil took a hit, but luckily it didn't penetrate, scratching off the sloped surface.

"Fuck, call in the team!" Dave growled to Emma, who nodded and began turning the dials of their small radio set. "Willy to Pool, we've been engaged by hostiles, requesting assistance, over," she reported, Joey looking around for a way out of this. Quickly, there was a response. "Confirmed Willy, help is on the way, out." Finding a path, Joey turned the jeep into a small street, the KP-bil following and the M8 Greyhound close behind. Another shot rang through the air, which landed a yard away from where Dave was sitting. "Shit, who are these people?!"

Then he heard the rumbling of an engine, and turned to face the right. In between the housing, he could see the other Greyhound in pursuit as well. "They're going to try and cut us off, find a left turn Joey!" he ordered, pointing Jones toward the other vehicle. "The fuck do you think I'm doing?!" Joey shot back, accelerating the car faster. The Ma Deuce fired once more, but none of the .50 caliber rounds hit. Neither did the enemy's 37mm, but they got the idea. Squinting closer, Dave finally found out who it was that was after them. Speak of the devil.

Before he could say anything, the jeep had turned once more, avoiding what would've been a game ending hit. The Greyhound had was no longer in sight, but its friend was still trying to get close to them. But after driving in a straight line for so long, it was obvious that the heavily armed vehicle would never get close, and they stopped chasing. Dave looked back, pumping his fist in the air triumphantly. "Hah! Eat our dust ya fuckin'-"

Dual explosions threw the jeep into the air by a large angle, though not enough to completely flip it over. They landed with a large crashing noise, but the vehicle kept moving forward. Swiveling to face the front, David grimaced in shock. Looking at the emblems, he once more identified the users of the two light tanks now hundred of meters away, pointing their 37mm tank guns straight at them with deadly intent. That blue star. The lighting bolt. The white shield.

"SAUNDERS!" He shouted, reaching over to grapple the wheel, quickly turning it into a hard right, just as another high explosive round rocked the asphalt. The jeep was driven directly into an alley, the KP-bil just barely able to squeeze into. "Saunders? That Jap school?!" Joey growled back, trying to keep the jeep from bumping into the walls. It took some effort, but they managed through. "Yeah, their so-called 'volunteer group'," Dave muttered looking around for signs of more enemy vehicles as they jumped back onto a street, "looks like they put their logo on though because of America's more official stance on Tankathlon…"

"Tsk, they got away again," the commander of one of the Saunders light tanks muttered. To be exact, they were the Flying Tankers Volunteer Group, but being known as Saunders was crucial for their debut in the American Tankery league. Tankathlon here is kind of different from the one back home, no doubt. She was kind of amazed by the way that this tournament was organized, but nonetheless she had to fight. Get as many kills as possible? Piece of cake.

As she loaded another round into the cannon, her gunner asked, "Alisa-san, are we going to keep chasing them down?" There was a look of boredom in her eyes, and Alisa could relate. They had been in this town for awhile now, after they made a straight charge all the way here after starting off in Indianapolis. It was planned all along after all, and they did snag a few kills on the way. The point was to completely take anyone here by surprise, knocking out as many vehicles as possible while they tried to look for fuel.

Urban combat isn't really American, but we pulled it off pretty well! She smiled at her great thinking, and from the app she had downloaded, she knew that they had gathered the most kills so far, except for some other team that was quite fairly one of the best in the state. "Yes, we're going to keep going after them," she answered frankly, "everyone that enters Gary cannot leave without being destroyed."

The M22 Locust reversed, and she grinned maniacally while bringing her head out of the turret. "We've got gas to liberate!"