Disclaimer: I do not own World of Tanks or RWBY

The next half hour seemed to pass in such a flash as to almost be a trance, as well. Gladys barely remembered going to Ozpin and confirming that she and her crew would be students. They were given a rather well-prepared pamphlet, and now, merely half an hour- not even a full hour, but just half of a singular hour- she and her crew were sitting next to each other in a row of wooden desks, with class about to start. It was as if the man had already been expecting new, entirely foreign students to come. All around her were more students, and Gladys let her mind wander a moment, wondering if any of them were in a similar situation.

Br-Ri-Ri-Ring!

Her mind was swiftly torn from such musings, however, by the bell loudly ringing-

"Monsters!"

Her focus, of course, quickly refocused on what seemed to be the teacher- a large, grey-haired man with a bushy mustache. The man continued, "De~mons. Prowlers of the night! The creatures of Grimm have many names, but the one I use is prey."

He chuckled heartily at himself, and Gladys awkwardly clapped, entirely unsure of what to do. Laughing seemed crass- he was an authority figure, after all. But it was a good play on words. Of course, laughing seemed crass to her, while Ribbans simply did laugh

"Thank you, thank you," the teacher said, bowing as if he were a stage performer, "And believe me, you shall too, upon graduating from this fine academy. And what a good thing that shall be- for Vale and the other kingdoms are but safe havens, beyond which is a treacherous world. Remnant is infested with creatures that would love nothing more than to tear you and all you know to pieces, which is where we come in! Huntsmen! Huntresses!"

He leaned next to one girl, making an odd clicking noise and finger pistols. Gladys blinked in surprise; she'd been screamed at for almost running someone over, and now a teacher was- at least, she thought- casually making reference to shooting a student?

"They are people who have sworn themselves to protect those who cannot protect themselves, as you, too, have now done. But from what, you might ask? Why, the very world!" the teacher continued.

"Why isn't everyone here, then?" Ribbans questioned, "Stupid bastards."

"Sh," Gladys shot, and Port shook his head, "No, no- the man raises a fair point. But where would a huntsmen be without his ammunition, his food, people to love?"

He paused dramatically, then finished, "Your most important lesson to learn is humility. You are better than the common man in some ways, but they are no less important. I was a young man when I learnt this, myself- and, unfortunately, in a far worse way."

He sighed, then began, "My grandfather was not a huntsman; he was a humble cabbage farmer. He worked the land and toiled his fields, and if he was known for anything, it was for his smell of cabbage. Despite this all, he was still a wise man, and when I first declared my intention to attend this great institution, he took me behind his wood shed, carrying his old shotgun as he did."

Gladys paled, realizing the implication.

"'Peter,' he told me, 'You are no huntsman, and you must be proud for it.' He fired off a single shot of his weapon, and a Beowolf near forty yards away dropped dead on the spot, before he said, 'That is all that is necessary, Peter'," the teacher told, "But I would have none of it. I proudly challenged him there; I would capture a Beowolf, to prove myself not simply a defender of the farm, but a true huntsman."

What followed was an hour long epic which need not be retold in full, for it was truly an hour long. The long and short of it was, to Gladys, that the teacher was a hero, standing up against all odds. He discovered that Beowolves drank from ponds; he spied them carefully, biding his time; he waited until the day when it was day and there was but one Beowolf. He wrestled it for hours on end, even when it went through the water and became incredibly hard to wrangle with. But, in the end, he-

"Pfftht!"

-was interrupted by someone making an extremely odd blowing noise. Gladys sighed, knowing it came from somewhere else, but quickly checked up on her own crew anyway. Ribbans was paying bored attention, Carney was simply sat there, and Emma was... Gladys sighed, seeing that her loader had her head resting on the desk, fallen so deeply asleep that she was lightly drooling. Ordinarily, it would have been adorable; now, it was damaging school property. Before she could do anything about it, though, the teacher finished, "In the end, the beast was no match for my tenacity, and I returned to my grandfather's village with it in my captivity and my head held high. All around praised me as a hero."

Gladys clapped lightly, and once again Port bowed a little, then rounded off, "What, then, is the moral of the story?"

"That civilian lives matter," Ribbans remembered. Gladys raised an eyebrow… then remembered that that was the topic which caused Port to ramble. Come to think of it… what did any of this have to do with an anatomy class?

"Quite so, but that is for another time!" Port answered, "This story's moral is that a true huntsman must be honorable! He must be dependable! He must be strategic, well-educated, and wise! Who among you believe yourself to embody those traits?"

"I do, sir!" one girl immediately yelled. Port grinned slightly, then informed, "You have five minutes to get your gear, and then you will face your opponent. Until then, your class will discuss what they feel."

Gladys glanced over, and debated internally. On the one hand, Emma really was incredibly adorable- her face was utterly at peace, and her drool puddle had just the right sort of sheen for it to be cute. Besides which, Emma more than deserved the rest- she was, after all, the only one who hadn't stopped to sleep previously in the day. But the fact of the matter still was-

"Hey," Ribbans murmured, shaking Emma. The woman groaned lightly, and Ribbans informed, "Leaving a bit of a puddle there."

"Wh-What?" Emma swiftly panicked, looking down at her pants. Gladys clarified, "You were drooling, but only a little."

Emma blinked, then glanced at her desk, then wondered, "Where are we?"

Gladys sighed slightly, and Ribbans questioned, "Am I the only one bothered by her sleeping in class?"

"I was, too," Carney informed, and Gladys pointed out, "She needs the rest."

-Elsewhere

"Wir sind wieder hier... bei ihr..." Hans growled, sighing a girl through his vision blocks. He recognized her in an instant from her white hair and dress, her tiny frame and the confident air she carried herself with. It was the one which he called a race traitor. Promptly, he grabbed the MP40, commanding, "Fahrer, halt!"

The tank stopped, and he popped out, pointing his weapon at the girl and yelling, "Schmutz! Ergib dich jetzt und wir werden dein arisches Blut nicht vergiessen!"

The girl turned, then shot back, "Du hättest gehen sollen."

"Du hättest deine Rasse nicht verraten sollen!" Hans yelled back. The girl huffed, then simply walked away, informing, "Ich muss am Unterricht teilnehmen."

Hans paused a moment. Karl asked, "Haben wir HE geladen, oder sollte ich-"

"Nein!" Hans shouted. He sighed, then explained, "Schau dir ihr Haar an. Schau dir ihre Schönheit an. Sie ist arischen Blutes, und ich will sie haben, aber nicht als Leiche!"

Otto glanced at Hans in surprise, and the commander ordered, "Otto, du hast dich als verräterisches Ruhmschwein erwiesen. Fritz, du bist jetzt ihr Kommandant, bis ich zurückkomme."

As Hans climbed out of his cupola, Fritz saluted, "Jawohl, Herr Unter Schar Führer!"

For a few moments, Hans struggled with getting himself out, then finally managed the feat, and tumbled rather gracelessly onto the engine deck. Fritz came out just behind him, informing, "Wir werden in Deckung gehen und Ihnen keine Momente der Tapferkeit entgehen lassen!"

"Ja, ja," Hans nodded slightly, wriggling his way to the tank's side and then letting his legs drop to the ground. Wordlessly, he strode off, heading the way the girl had gone. After a few moments, he heard the creaking and rumbling of tracks, and looked behind him to see the tank driving away. He smiled a little, seeing that it was at full speed- a sure sign that Otto was keeping his insubordination to himself, this time. In Hans' mind, this was also a sure sign that his disciplinary measures were working.

He then turned his head forward again, and continued his not-really march along where he was pretty sure the girl had been going. Namely, to the tank's left, and into a rather extremely large building. From his vague memory, he recognized it as the lecture hall- so, then, she'd been telling the truth about having a class. But he couldn't fathom why on earth would anyone want to learn from someone other than him, Unter Schar Führer und Ass der Panzerkampfwagen, Hans Karlson.

No thought went through his mind about, y'know, how he was going to sway the girl to his side. Or what he'd even do when he got to whatever classroom she was in. Instead, the whole of his mental efforts were spent on the basic task of walking and the should-have-been-basic task of unraveling that question. As he approached the first door, he concluded that the girl had brain damage, clearly, and opened the door.

Inside was a large room, built almost like a movie theater, except with desks and far less comfortable seats, and in place of a movie screen was a off-orange haired woman rambling something, holding a jar of some kind of pink substance. Hans stared for a moment- not at the woman, but at the students, trying to find the only one of them which he considered worth anything. The woman greeted, "Was there something you needed? Are you the delivery man for the syrup I ordered?"

Hans ignored her, stared a few moments, then shot, "Sie alle sind Schweine, die es nur verdienen, durch die Hand Ihrer Höheren einen schändlichen Tod zu sterben."

Without a single word of elaboration- not because he couldn't or didn't want to elaborate, but just because of his hurry- Hans slammed the door shut, and started his ponderous, plopping walk to the next one. The failure in that room, in his mind, clearly indicated his early solution to the question wrong. So, then, why did the girl not want to be his protégé? As Hans got to the next door, he found the answer; she was testing him. He promptly made a mental note to shoot her in the knee cap as punishment for such a defeatist and treasonous thought as to doubt a superior officer. And, with that theory done, he opened the next door.

It, too, was built like a movie theater, though this time a lot more circular- a Greek amphitheater, but made with fine wood and having desks, is perhaps a better way to describe it. As well as, of course, being only one-half of such a structure, simply and abruptly ending against the room's walls. At the front was a teacher with green hair, ranting about something so much that he didn't even see Hans. Ranting in English, as well, so it couldn't be anything good. This meant Hans had a good while to survey, and find that the girl was not among that class, either. He couldn't just leave, though; instead, he provided his wisdom, informing, "Ihre Akademiker sind wertlos und werden dazu führen, dass die Fäulnis des Judeo-Bolschewismus Ihr Gehirn infiziert!"

And with that, he slammed the door, leaving it to the students to work out what would lead them down the- to Hans- righteous path of German purity and nationalism. This, he rationalized, was social Darwinism, the best- to him- of principles at play. The weak would be incapable, and the strong would see the light.

More important than this, though, was why the girl wasn't already flocking to Hans' own light like a moth to a flame. In Hans' mind, he had everything that should have attracted someone of Aryan blood. But then another thought occurred to him; a moth, if blinded, wouldn't go to light without guidance. Yes, that was, to Hans, the clear and obvious answer to why a girl didn't want to talk to him; they'd been brainwashed by the Judeo-Bolshevik academics around them, and clearly needing saving from this hive of wretchedness.

Fortunately, this would be easy for him, Unter Schar Führer und Ass der Panzerkampfwagen, Hans Karlson. Promptly, he drew his Luger; the next teacher would be one he would interrogate. Violently, of course. And, approaching the next door, Hans threw it open-

Then sucked in a deep breath, feeling something large, heavy, and with two sharp bits. The thing plowed into him, burrowing its sharp parts deep into his torso and then slamming Hans against the floor. Hans cried out in pain, and was paralyzed with shock when he saw what had done this to him. The thing was a beast, looking rather like a bore, but with black fur- an oddity, in Hans' mind- and large, white tusks.

And then it squealed, and flopped over rather unceremoniously. As it fell, the white girl was revealed. She glared at Hans askance a moment, then turned and protested, "There was interference! That shouldn't be counted!"

"We cannot always choose what influences our battles, child," a man's voice said, "And for merely having slain the beast, you prove yourself a true huntress."

Hans grunted, pushing himself up with great effort, and the man concluded, "That is all we have time for today. Remember; stay vigilant!"

-Elsewhere

Gladys sighed, glancing at Ruby, and Carney murmured, "How, precisely, are these teams assigned?"

"Not very well," Ribbans answered, and Emma noted, "Or she's just-"

"Geh weg! Ich habe genug von dir!" Weiss yelled as she stormed out of the classroom. Ribbans finished, "A right cunt."

Gladys huffed, and Emma nodded, "I would've said bitch, but yeah."

"Both of you, we are around children!" Gladys sighed deeply, then glanced at the long exit. A line of students had already formed there, and-

Whoosh!

-a red projectile streaked overhead, landing by the door and morphing into a young girl who cried, "Weiss! Wait!"

Gladys blinked at what she just saw, and Ribbans noted, "Well, that's certainly new."

"Can they all do that?" Emma wondered, "Looks convenient."

"If the other people here could do that, would they all still be standing in a line?" Carney mused. Emma shrugged, and Ribbans noted, "So... that's class done, right?"

"For today, yes," Gladys answered. Ribbans promptly asked, "What'd we do now?"

Gladys hesitated a moment, and Carney contributed, "There was a library, I believe."

Gladys nodded, "Y-Yes, there was."

"And for when we're done reading?" Emma asked. Gladys paused a long moment, and Ribbans dismissed, "We'll figure something out. The line's moving."

Gladys turned, and quickly realized that the other students had gone already. Promptly, she got out, then out of the classroom, to go... somewhere. She hesitated a long moment, then finally asked aloud, "I don't suppose anyone else wants to... to go back in the forest?"

"What?" Ribbans guffawed. Carney pointed out, "I believe we just 'escaped' from there, rather than simply leaving to go back."

"Y-Yeah," Gladys nodded, "But..."

She sighed, then shook her head, "F-Forget about it."

"I certainly will," Ribbans shot, walking off. Carney nodded, "Toodles."

He then walked off, too. Gladys sighed-

"What in God's name is wrong with you?" Emma asked. Gladys bit her lip a little, then turned to Emma and pointed out, "I am still your commander, you know."

"And I'm still your loader," Emma nodded, "So I'd be happy to ram shells in the breech."

Gladys blinked, surprised, then agreed, "It's what we do best, isn't it?"

Emma nodded, "Yeah, before you dragged us here."

And with that, the woman walked off, leaving the commander alone, standing in the hallway. After a few moments, Gladys wordlessly left, and started drifting about, until she eventually made it back to the courtyard, standing in front of her dormant tank. A small smile came to her lips, staring at it- like Emma, it looked peaceful in its slumber. Its barrel still stood firm and true, and at a glance Gladys could see it was ready for more action. But right now, it was content to remain where they'd parked it, on the side of the walkways, next to a neatly-trimmed lawn of vibrantly green grass. It was a beautiful, picturesque scene...

And, sighing, Gladys let herself become part of that scene, walking around her tank to go lay on the grass.

-Elsewhere

Jaune whistled to himself lightly, waltzing about on his way to the library. He was taking what was, in reality, the scenic path- but, being Jaune, and it being the first day, he didn't know this. He just knew that going by the pond led him to the library, and didn't question why, exactly, a trail between two school buildings was so pretty. At least, most days it was pretty, especially the pond. It was, after all, always nice to see a natural-ish body of still water. As Jaune rounded the corner to look at it, though, he found that, today, it wasn't natural.

Instead, a boxy, grey thing with a tube on the front was sat in it, like a fat man sitting in a bath. Another little extenHe stared at it a moment, wondering why someone had left it there, then shrugged and murmured, "Weird."

Quietly, he continued along-

"Halt! Schütze, schussbereit!" someone yelled behind him. Jaune looked over, and saw that someone had popped out of the thing, and that the part of the craft with a tube sticking out now had the tube pointed at him. As well, the person who had popped out had a gun, pointed at him.

"Deine Haare, deine Augen – bist du Deutsche?" the man asked, "Antworten!"

"U-Uh... sure?" Jaune said, panicking a little as he realized that the tube just might be another gun. He realized this because he noticed a weird little pattern on the tube's inside, like what he assumed a bullet might leave when it exited a gun. In reality, it was rifling, but he should still be credited for realizing that the pattern was indicative of gun-ness. The man who'd popped out, though, didn't congratulate Jaune, on account of Jaune not having actually said anything. Instead, the man barked, "Sprechen Sie mich in der richtigen Sprache an, wenn Sie es sind!"

Out from the side popped another man, who noted, "Fritz, er ist nur ein Junge. Wir haben keinen Grund-"

"Das ist Herr Fritz für Sie! Ich wurde wegen Ihres Verrats zum Kommando ernannt!" the first man cut off, "Zurück auf deine Station, aufsässiges Schwein!"

The second man promptly went back inside, and Jaune asked, "Are you guys from somewhere else?"

"Sprechen Sie Deutsch oder sprechen Sie gar nichts!" the man fumed. Jaune murmured, "I-I'll, uh, leave."

He started to leave-

Pap-pap-pap-pap!

And then let out a girlish shriek, sprinting for cover as the man opened fire.

Boom!

Before he could get very far, the ground beneath him gave out from an explosion, and he was flung away- fortunately around another corner. Jaune swiftly scrambled up, then ran away. In the panic, he had gotten himself turned around, and was, in fact, heading back for where the main hall emptied out.

-In the tank

Boom!

Otto ground his teeth lightly, knowing that what Karl was shooting at was nothing more than a boy. A boy in those strange American 'jeans', who didn't pose a threat and didn't deserve to be shot at.

"Nach ihm! Er wird uns blossstellen!" Fritz commanded, as if firing their main gun hadn't exposed them. The tank heaved into motion, and Otto grabbed onto the ready rack, steadying himself as Jerry brought them out of the small pond and onto level land. Fritz had decided to be there to 'ensure fording capabilities'. To be fair, the placement had done that; their Panzer III could indeed go up about to its tracks, just as advertised. But now it was biting them in the ass, trying to get out of the pond while also trying to be quick.

Finally, the tank came level again, and Fritz yelled, "Links! Links!"

Obediently, Jerry turned the tank left rapidly, stopping just before the point where they would have gone back into the pond. Finally, Jerry cackled a little, and thrust both steering levers forward. Quickly, the tank jerked into motion, thundering away after a fucking child. Otto finally let his death grip go of the rack, then grabbed a round- an AP round, for God's sake, because that and APCR was all they had- and thrust it into the breech, then reported, "Hoch!"

He quickly grabbed another round, moments before Karl started turning the turret. Whoever had decided that a turret floor was unnecessary was, in Otto's mind, a bit of a fool. This intensified when he nearly tripped over the shaft housing on the floor- but nevertheless, he managed to stay to the gun's side.

Boom!

Karl fired another round, and Otto hastily dodged the spent round, then slammed the new one in place, yelling, "Hoch!"

Boom!

Otto was already diving over for the next round as the gun fired again. The spent round slammed onto his back, and he hissed in pain as it rolled swiftly off. Biting through the hurt, he grabbed another round

"Schnell! SCHNELL!" Fritz cried. Otto slammed the new round home, yelling, "Hoch!"

The sound of the gun firing again was covered up by a horrific metal screeching, and Otto was startled to see a hole form just in front of Jerry, narrowly missing the two of them. He ignored it, though, stepping over the housing and grabbing another round.

"Hol den Cruiser! Ramm es!" Fritz shouted. Otto put the new round in, yelling, "Hoch!"

Boom!

Karl fired off another round, informing, "Ihr Fahrer ist tot!"

Abruptly, the tank jerked to a stop yet again, and Otto looked over to see Jerry still pressing the steering levers forward. They had actually rammed the thing. Before anyone could celebrate, there was a screeching, and then a splattering noise, and bits of meat fell from above. Blood dripped down, and Fritz shouted, "NEIN! NEIN NEIN NEIN!"

Otto rushed over to get another round, ignoring the fact that the gunner who could fire them was quite clearly dead, only for said gunner's corpse to be thrown down. The impact knocked Otto off his feet, and Fritz screeched, "Laden Sie eine weitere Runde! Mach es jetzt!"

Otto hurried to get up, then slipped on one of the loose rounds and fell squarely onto the shaft housing. Another screeching and pulping, and Otto looked up to see that Fritz, too, had died, his head exploded on the left side. Promptly, Jerry popped out, and shouted, "Wir geben auf! Wir geben auf!"

Author's Note: So, I actually did do my due diligence on this one, and found out that the Chieftain actually made a series on the Panzer III- specifically, the Panzer III L, which is the latest-model turret you can get for the Panzer III in WoT. One of the things he noted was that there was no turret floor, and while he did say that there was a hole for spent rounds to go out, when he showed it there was a cover that would have to be removed. So, to all those who say that Germany could've won the war if they just mass-produced earlier model tanks, here's another reason why they couldn't have done that. Also, before anyone asks, I'm pretty sure the Panzer III did have a high-explosive round. But, like with the Bofors, this round is not present in WoT, and- this being a WoT crossover, at least in theory- it will not be present here.