Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or World of Tanks

"Ah... pardon me."

Ruby looked up from her meal, to see Gladys standing just beside her, murmuring, "I was simply letting people know that I'm not dead, silly as it is."

Yang came up beside the woman, informing, "She was just drinking tea."

"What?" Blake questioned, and Gladys informed, "It's quite a good brew- if any of you have a cup, I'd invite you to join us. Well, within reason, at least."

"But you were dead," Ruby pointed out, murmuring, "I-I saw the blood... it..."

The image of a person's head being turned into a rather chunky sort of salsa came back to Ruby's mind.

"Did you use a Semblance?" Pyrrha asked, and Jaune pointed out, "She just came back, like the other people!"

"I was treated for my wounds- rather well-delivered, I should say," Gladys said, glancing at Yang for a moment to compliment her before finishing, "By my loader, Emma."

"Your head being shot should have been fatal," Weiss pointed out, and Ruby nodded, "Y-Your brains were all over..."

"Oh, dear- is the mess still there?" Gladys asked, "Terribly sorry."

"I mean, I'm the one who made it," Yang joked, and Gladys nodded, "I suppose so. But, ah, if that's enough, I really ought to get back to keeping watch for the dastardly Hun."

"Who?" Ruby questioned, and Gladys answered, "There's a Panzer III which might be roaming about, and I'd prefer to get the jump on them."

"See! It is real!" Jaune yelled, "There's a tank that can't die!"

Gladys glanced around in confusion, and Weiss informed, "He's been trying to convince us that there's a few people who can't be killed."

"Well, they can," Gladys said, "It's just that they'll come back after a while."

"Yeah, but why would you even bother fighting them, then?" Yang pointed out, "They just win, 'cause you can't kill them."

"Their spirit may be broken," Gladys said, and with a smile, she informed, "And I dare say there's nothing better in the world than traumatizing a Kraut."

And with that, she left.

"Right," Yang murmured, and Weiss sighed, "There's still no reason to believe her."

"I mean, I believe the fact that she was dead," Jaune pointed out, "A-And now she's alive, so why not someone else!"

"That's a clear logical jump from an observation to a hypothesis that is only tangentially related," Weiss shot, and Yang pointed out, "Science finals are later, no reason to practice the big words."

Weiss huffed, and Ruby pointed out, "If they couldn't be killed, she wouldn't bother fighting them. I'm sure it's fine."

-A bit later

Hans glared at Otto, who'd been forced to stand in front of the tank with his hands raised to the air. They and their tank had only come back a few moments ago, and already the, to Hans, sniveling coward had found something to give up on, simply allowing himself to be bullied out of the tank. Still, though, such acts of unmanliness did have advantages- for example, it allowed the dramatic display Hans was engaging in. Was it more than Otto deserved? To Hans, yes- to him, Otto deserved nothing more than a single bullet to the back of the head. No, that was still too dramatic, Hans considered- the man deserved to simply not be. But, if Otto was around, then he could be put to use.

"Feuer!"

A keening, buzzing sound ripped through the air, as Fritz opened up with the hull-mounted MG. And, for once, something Otto did brought a smile to Hans' face; the man's stumbling backward was simply sublime, and his prone form was splayed on the ground in just the right way, blood seeping out and staining the whole walkway crimson. Truly, it was Hans' finest moment, and so he stood there, basking in the glory. In that moment, in his mind, he truly was Herr Unter Schar Führer Hans Karlson, Ass der Panzerkampfwagen... and he had more work to do. There was at least two more traitorous wretches, after all- and given how well this execution had gone, Hans was finding it in his mind to kill the others.

"Fahrer, vorwärts," he ordered. The tank rumbled into motion, speeding up and up and... Hans sighed to himself, then ordered, "Schneller! So schnell wie du kannst!"

The tank didn't accelarate any more, and he shouted, not unlike a small child throwing a temper tantrum, "SCHNELL!"

He coughed, then shouted, in a voice more like a threatening German, "Fahr schneller oder ich bringe dich als nächstes um!"

He waited a few moments, but noticed that his tank still wasn't going faster. And at a time like this! The moment had been perfect, and now he was to ride to battle and slay the traitors once and for all, at such a slow pace? It was, to Hans, more shameful even than if he lost, and so he dipped down into the turret. As his crew stood around. Hans had intended simply to shout in there- there would be better acoustics, after all. In his mind, this was a factor worthy of consideration despite the fact that he was communicating through a radio. However, as he glared around, he was reminded of something not unique to the Panzer III but certainly different between it and most any other tank. Namely, there was no turret basket; there was nothing separating him and his driver.

Pop!

He didn't even have to think to get his Luger out, and no one could think before he fired. The round dinged just next to the driver's position, then dinged again against the floor. Karl swiftly turned to his direct vision port, and Hans said, "Der Schuss war von mir. Der nächste von mir wird dir in den Kopf kommen, wenn du nicht schneller fährst! SCHNELLER!"

Karl, backing slightly away from his vision port, reminded, "D-Das ist unsere Höchstgeschwindigkeit, Herr Unter Schar Führer."

"Ich werde Dissens und Defätismus nicht tolerieren!" Hans shouted.

Pop!

The glass in Karl's vision port cracked loudly, and Hans demanded, "SCHNELLER! JETZT!"

With that, he stood back out the cupola, and, to him, there was a change in speed. In the hull, Jerry did nothing different, save sweating more in fear. There was no change in speed. But to Hans- a man who hadn't slept in days, who had been denied at every turn already, and who was too tired of losing- his driver obediently increased their speed. He smiled at himself, happy with the victory.

Boo-BOOM!

And abruptly, the main cannon fired, causing something nearby to explode mightily. Hans blinked, coughing amongst the dust. When it finally cleared, the tank was stood still, somewhere where he hadn't been just a second before. In front of him was a burnt-out tank, and a countryside that he wasn't moving through. His tank was still and motionless, despite all the shouting he had done, despite all his efforts. So, with a snarl, Hans descended back into the turret.

"Feindliche Rüstung zerstört," Karl said with a smile. Hans ignored him, the proud gunner with a proud tank-kill, and instead screamed, "Verräter müssen sterben!"

Pop!

In an instant, Hans had his Luger out and fired. This time, the round didn't hit the side of the driver's position. It wasn't a very well-aimed shot, either, and not dramatic to boot, hitting Jerry just below the right shoulder. The man cried out, and Hans fumed, "Du würdest mich hinrichten lassen!"

Pop!

This time, the bullet hit the man at the base of the neck. Hans ranted, "Ihr würdet uns hier aufhalten, während der Ruhm auf uns wartet!"

Pop!

Another round, now to the lung, as Hans continued, "Sterben!"

Pop!

Finally, Hans hit the head. It didn't explode, of course- it was a nine millimeter bullet, after all. But it did cause Jerry to do something which Hans correctly identified, screaming, "STERBEN!"

Pop!

The shot missed, as it was aimed at Jerry's head, and the man's corpse fell over in a motion Hans didn't account for when aiming. No one said a word as the round ricocheted, and they remained silent afterwards. The only sound was the continual droning of the engine and, much less audible but still obvious, Hans' panting, angry breaths. Fritz informed, "Ich übernehme das Fahren mit Höchstgeschwindigkeit, Herr Unter Schar Führer!"

"Jawohl!" Hans said, and saluted, "Heil Hitler!"

"Heil Hitler!" Fritz quickly returned with an equal salute. Karl put in, "Sieg Heil!"

As the gunner's hand smacked against the top of the turret, Hans huffed, then stood back out the cupola. Karl, at least, could be forgiven; it wasn't all too common for them to do the actual salute. In fact... Hans couldn't think of why he'd done it, then. His mind, foggy, questioned whether he even had done it?

After a moment, Jerry... Fritz, Hans corrected himself, powered the tank into motion, and Hans wondered where the burning tank nearby had come from. His brain struggled for a few long moments, before he remembered, with a bit of pride, that his crew had knocked it out. Quickly, he popped down, and complimented, "Gute Arbeit, Karl."

"J-Jawohl, Herr Unter Schar Führer!" Karl said, shuddering at Hans' voice, "Heil Hitler!"

"Heil Hitler," Hans returned, wondering why the man was acting so strangely. Quickly, Hans dismissed it, instead getting himself out of the cupola. His eyes drooped slightly, and he shook his head; there was no time for sleep, not when he was prowling through enemy territory at breakneck speed. At any second, or turning around any corner, he could encounter a hiding tank destroyer, or worse- a camping heavy tank. Hans bit his lip at the thought, reinvigorated by the desire to put down whoever could commit themself to such a shameful strategy.

-Elsewhere

Boom!

The sound of an explosion reached Gladys' ears, despite the woman herself being in a classroom that didn't even have windows. For a split second, she allowed her focus to drift off of the lesson being taught, glancing around in concern. Her crew was all sitting with her, though, and none else seemed concerned in the slightest. The green-haired teacher hadn't even paused his bouncing about the room and rambling- though, given as the man hardly seemed to pause for breath, this was hardly surprising. Still, it was enough of a commitment to normalcy that Gladys quietly put her worries away, determining that the explosion must have simply been something routine. And for an hour, she didn't think of the explosion, instead paying attention to the teacher- as much as she could, anyway.

Try as she might, Gladys couldn't bring herself to focus fully on the lesson, due to it simply boring her. The presentation style didn't help matters, either, being as the teacher was always either so far away that Gladys couldn't hear or so close that she felt as if the man was watching her. And the rambling ramble of a lecture, though greatly indicative of genuine passion and depth of knowledge, was far too fast to very well comprehend. Instead, it was merely a droning buzz, which, Gladys determined with another glance around, was very capable of simply putting people to sleep. Emma was even drooling again.

Still, she endured it, and her crew- save Emma, who never woke from her nap- endured it, until, just about an hour later, the bell finally rang, signalling that they could leave. The teacher stopped talking for the first time that hour, and Gladys looked over to the odd, internal staircase that served as the way out of the rows, only to find it already filled with students who had evidently been more eager to get out than she was. So, with time to kill, she turned over and directed, "Carney, would you mind waking our loader?"

"Of course," Carney nodded, before extending a finger and gently prodding it at the woman's arm. Gladys narrowed her eyes in exasperation, particularly at the fact that Emma's slumber was so deep that the first poke didn't wake her. Nor the second; it was only when Ribbans, sitting on the other side, simply lifted Emma's other arm that the woman woke with an odd sort of shudder. Quickly, she jerked her arm away from Ribbans, who joked, "Guess you've changed your mind about taking breaks, then?"

Emma sighed, then mumbled, "How long was I out..."

She trailed off into a rather loud yawn, and Ribbans answered, "Only most of the bloody class."

"Wipe up your drool, too," Gladys ordered. Emma looked down, then turned red in the face and quickly brushed with her arm at her desk, while Carney informed, "The line's up."

Gladys looked back over, to see that the man was right; the line of students which had been blocking her had dissipated. Quickly, Gladys stood up, and Carney followed as Emma murmured, "Goddamnit..."

She wiped at the desk twice more before hastily standing up and joining them, Ribbans tailing closely behind. Finally, the four exited, and Gladys continued along to the next class for a moment, before hearing Carney point out, "We parked the tank somewhere off this way, as I recall."

Gladys turned, saw that all of her crew had started heading along with Carney towards the tank- the opposite way from Port's class- and pointed out, "We have a class to be going to."

"Y'hear that big boom?" Ribbans retorted, and Gladys bickered, "We still have a responsibility to attend classes."

"What if it's the Bosh?" Emma put in. Gladys hesitated, then shot, "You weren't awake when it happened."

"Then the Hun is making a move while we're occupied!" Emma pointed out, and Gladys sighed, then informed, "We'll check up on the tank. But no more than that."

As she took the lead, Carney wondered, "Would we still go to class if we were to find Jerry?"

Gladys remained silent. On the one hand, the answer was, to her, an obvious no; they had their duty to go to class and be students. Ozpin was, in her eyes, extremely generous to offer them the opportunity at all, and so they had an obligation to be diligent in their duties as students. To not go to class was, to her, no less than desertion. But on the other hand, she was still a tank commander, she did still know basic strategy, and she knew that it was always best to know who made a big boom happen and to what it happened.

And so she strode through the hallways, eventually reaching the doors to get outside, and finding... the smoldering, smoking wreck of her tank. At this, she let out a sigh, realizing that she wasn't going to class after all. Silently, she stood to the side, holding the door as the rest of her crew came out, preoccupied by looking at their destroyed vehicle. She, on the other hand, was already glancing around, looking for track-marks- and quickly found them, in the form of pushed-up bits of concrete from where a track must've dug in.

"Damnit," Ribbans shot, "If we hadn't bothered with sticking about in that classroom..."

He sighed, shaking his head, and Gladys sighed, then said, "Well, we've figured it out now, so we'd best get to class."

"And let those bastards get away with it?" Emma fumed, "So that we can sit around for another damn hour?"

Carney retorted, "We don't have the tools for much else."

"That's not it," Gladys shot, "These are Germans we'd be fighting, and stupid ones at that. They'll probably still be around after class, though."

"For Lord's sake, why bother with that?" Emma questioned, and Ribbans agreed, "Tell you what, I've suddenly come down with a disease."

"No," Gladys said, "We've been given the chance to learn here, and so we really ought to take advantage of it."

"And what's the point?" Emma retorted, and Gladys sighed. Carney contributed, "Mightn't the headmaster cut off our tea supply, if we prove ungrateful."

A long moment of silence followed that, before Emma finally pointed out, "We could just take the tea!"

"Like a savage?" Ribbans bickered, "Commander's right; we'll earn our way here."

Gladys nodded, encouraged by one of them finally seeing something approaching sense.

"By taking out the tank roaming around," Ribbans finished, crushing Gladys' hope. The commander simply sighed, then explained, "You all had a chance to leave, and I made damn sure to give it to you. But, none of you took it, so now we're schoolchildren, and we'll be the best-behaved lot. So, follow me back to class, as a bloody order if you want!"

Another long moment of silence followed, before Gladys sighed, then informed, "Right this way."

Quickly, she started back the way she, in her mind, should've gone in the first place.

-Elsewhere

Life, for Hans, was proving very boring, straining his will to keep watch and his sanity, as he simply rolled around the empty walkways of the school in his Panzer. He had won, in his mind, and so he was certain that he should have received a reward of some kind. A parade, a night's rest, a good woman to bed and a humbled enemy- anything like this would have been acceptable to him. The dead silence and emptiness through which his tank was prowling about, on the other hand, was nothing less than infuriating. At the very least, his fight should have continued; but it didn't. There was just abominable stillness about, as if everyone had something more important to do than be slaughtered by him- though, of course, Hans couldn't comprehend that last bit.

Regardless, this all meant that when he did finally find someone else, someone outside his tank, Hans didn't even register who it was before feeling a sense of relief. That relief faded, though, when Hans did figure who it was; the infernal, rebellious little headmaster. The man waved, and Hans ordered, "Nicht schiessen. Noch."

The tank continued rumbling towards the man, and Hans delved in to grab his MP40, pausing as he did to let his head clear of the headache he got from such rapid motion. Finally, he came back out of the cupola, to find himself rather close to the man. Quickly, he ordered, "Halt!"

The tank jerked to a stop, and Hans 'greeted', "Alter Mann, wir haben deine Schule erobert und deinen Panzerkampfwagen zerstört! Gib dich jetzt hin!"

The man nodded a little, and informed, "Da Ihr so fähig seid, brauche ich Eure Hilfe."

Hans snorted, then barked, "Die Männer an der Front auch! Wir haben gewonnen!"

"Ja – und wenn noch ein Panzerkampfwagen käme, wären wir unfähig, Widerstand zu leisten," the man explained, "Aber dies ist ein Ort des Lernens."

Hans squinted doubtfully, as the man continued, "Ich flehe Sie an zu bleiben, um uns beizubringen, wie man Feinde abwehrt."

Hans huffed, retorting, "Du bekommst keinen Unterricht in Partisanentum! Karl-"

The man shook his head, "Ich versuche lediglich, Ihnen helfen zu können. Ein Panzerkommandant sollte Truppen haben, glaube ich."

"Ich habe meinen Panzerkampfwagen und das ist alles, was ich brauche!" Hans shouted, and the man retorted, "Sowie Erholung und Essen."

Hans hesitated, and the man pointed out, "Deshalb bist du so lange geblieben, nicht wahr?"

"J... Ja," Hans admitted, finally forced to admit that his stomach was aching and his micronaps were bordering on simply passing out. The man nodded, "Wenn du ein Student wärst, könntest du all das von mir bekommen und andere lehren zu dienen..."

Hans thought a moment on what the man was saying; that he should be part of the school to teach others how to serve the Reich. A number of problems existed with this; most notably- though not at all occurring to Hans- being that he had no experience or capability to teach. No, instead Hans' first concern with the plan was that he would be cut off from the chance of glory in combat. But another thought occurred to him, staring at the man and pondering where the woman he was usually with now was. Namely, Hans ended up daydreamingly wondering what life might be like to stay around her, his brain quickly turning to depraved fantasies. Finally, he shot, "Als Lehrer ihre Schüler würden dazu gebracht, dem Dritten Reich in seiner ganzen Pracht zu dienen!"

The man sighed, and Hans realized another thing, his brain suddenly working overtime. It was working overtime, but still realizing stupid things; namely, that if he made himself a teacher, he was well and truly cut off from action. But as a student, he could prove himself above the other students- which, in his mind, he obviously would.

"Wir werden Studenten sein. Bring uns jetzt in unsere Kaserne!" Hans shouted. The man blinked, then nodded, "Vielen Dank."

-The next day

Hans sighed quietly to himself, standing in front of the door to his first class, mentally preparing himself. Throughout the night, he had done nothing more than sleep; now, though, was his time to make good on his word. Behind him were Karl and Fritz; Jerry and Otto were still nowhere to be found, which was, in Hans' mind, for the better.

"Ist es gesperrt?" Karl asked, and Hans shook his head, then grabbed the handle and quickly opened it, proceeding quickly to a desk. He sat down, then glanced around, and noted with satisfaction that most everyone was in a uniform- admittedly split between girls and boys. Already, Hans had proof- at least, proof as far as he was concerned- that his being around was having a positive effect on discipline.

"U-Uh, hey," a young boy murmured. Hans looked over, and saw that blonde, traitorous disgrace, leaning over to talk to- the damn Englishwoman was here! Before Hans could even send the impulse to get his gun out, he'd already done it, pointing it at the woman, who paled just as pathetically as before-

Pop!

-and gasped when Hans put a round through her shoulder. Promptly, the pistol was ripped from Hans' grasp, as someone chided, "This is not a dueling class, young man!"

Hans looked over to see that the one who'd taken his pistol was the off-orange haired woman from earlier. He hadn't even processed that, though, before he was already standing up, fuming, "Gib mir meine Waffe, du ungezogener irischer Inselaffe, oder ich nehme sie zurück, als hätte ich so vielen unverschämten Dummköpfen das Leben gen-"

"Uh- sh-she's bleeding!" a girl cried, cutting him off. Ish- Hans didn't actually stop ranting, but from the way the woman looked swiftly over, it was clear that she wasn't actually listening to his tantrum anymore. This didn't deter Hans, who simply increased in volume, looking to his crew and ordering, "Greif sie an, im Namen Gottes! Als ein!"

With that, Hans lunged over his desk, landing on his feet where the woman had been. Emphasis on had; as soon as Hans started the movement, she picked up on it, and backed away quickly. Karl's clumsy attempt to leap at her, though, caused a startled cry as she backed further away and smacked against a desk. Fritz, for his part, stayed where he was, fumbling with his pistol. Hans got his fists up, and two of the Tommy's behind the woman got over their desk to join her. The woman shouted, "Enough!"

Pop!

Karl finally got his stupid, blocky Mauser out of its holster and let off a shot. The woman quickly stepped on top of Karl as she grabbed the pistol, fuming, "Why do you even have these-"

She was cut off due to having to dodge, as Hans threw a fist at her face, shouting, "Der Umgang mit Waffen ist nicht deine Sache, Frau!"

"Sie ist unsere Lehrerin, mach was sie sagt!"

Hans was struck dumb, recognizing the voice. Quickly, he looked over-

Smack!

Emma shook her fist lightly, bringing it away from the mass of chins that was the head of the German tank crew.

Pop!

And the stupid Kraut who'd pulled out a broomhandle let off another shot, before Ribbans punched him. He, too, fell like a sack of potatoes, and the teacher staggered back suddenly from the lack of resistance on what she'd been pulling. Quickly, she fumed, "That is enough, to your seats, now!"

"Our apologies," Carney said, and as she went to her seat, Emma pointed out, "They shot our bloody commander, what did you think would happen?"

Finally nestling into where she would sit around for the next hour, Emma looked over, past Carney and to Gladys. The woman was leaned back one hand on her shoulder rather senselessly, her coat now turning a much darker shade of red than she probably would've liked. Nearby, a girl... Ruby, Emma recognized, was hovering with worry, muttering nothing in particular. The teacher shot, "Get in your seats."

"U-Uh- sure!" Ruby said, quickly leaving. The teacher came over, balking, "You're bleeding!"

"S-Sorry for the mess," Gladys managed out, then whimpered in pain. The teacher ordered, "You four, take her to the nurse's office. And I'll be talking with all of you after school."

Carney nodded, looking over at Gladys, who- while grabbing and pulling on the desk to try and lift herself- assured, "I-I can walk."

"It's to your shoulder, isn't it?" Ribbans retorted, and Gladys nodded a little, finally managing to stand. Quietly, she walked over the still-prone bodies of the Krauts, as the teacher wondered, "What do I do with them..."

After a bit longer than it really should have taken, the four British tankers finally left the room, and as the door closed, Carney murmured, "There isn't a nurse's office, is there."

Gladys nodded, explaining, "We-"

She abruptly hissed in pain, bending slightly over, and Emma said, "I'll just get to the tank and get the kit."

Quickly, she headed away. When she returned, Ribbans was proposing, "Reckon we should grab one of those pistols they were waving about and, y'know, off 'em?"

Gladys swiftly shook her head, "W-We're students- I just wish this hadn't started in the first place."

She sighed, and Emma pointed out, "Wouldn't be the worst thing, given they started this."

As Emma fiddled with the multi-kit to separate the medical part from everything else, Carney agreed, "It would truly be best if those Germans simply weren't around."

"By Jove, I never would've figured that out," Ribbans shot, and Gladys interjected, "Th-They're h-here for a reason- they've abandoned their tank, after all."

A moment of silence passed, interrupted only when Emma started working on Gladys, at which point the commander hissed in pain again.

"They... they couldn't be doing what we're doing, right?" Ribbans murmured, and Carney shook his head, "I'd suspect not."

"It better bloody well be that they aren't," Emma shot, and Gladys hissed in pain again. Swiftly, Emma drew away, realizing that she'd pressed a bit too hard against Gladys, who hesitated a moment, then noted, "I haven't any other ideas why they're here. Which means they're..."

She trailed off, and a moment of silence was had, before all four realized that they'd be stuck in classes with Germans for the foreseeable future, and unanimously shot, "Bloody hell."

Author's Note: Huzzah! I did it! I finally managed to get through having the OC's join Beacon... and I really get why it's mostly just written off with little thought. Because wow, was it exhausting to figure out how to keep Hans relevant and how to work him into Beacon somewhat believably. At least, I like to hope I did it believably. With that done, though, the story is *triumphant trumpet noises* finally going to move into interacting with the actual plot of the actual show. Only took nine chapters and thirty-seven thousand words to finally get to what is usually the second chapter for these sorts of fics... if we don't include Otto, and Jerry, and goddamnit I put in too many characters, I should have just made the tanks a single person and not faffed about with actual crews...

But, too late for that now; I set up this field of anti-personnel mines, and now I've got to walk through it. On a more serious note, I will probably continue to update this story erratically, but I will continue to update it, probably. For those of you who got used to the two-day schedule, I apologize, but I just do not have the strength of will necessary to keep myself to a schedule. I would end this at least a little hopefully by committing to a full promise of something consistent, but I can't honestly do so; the next chapter will be around whenever I quit being lazy and get around to writing it. This is not a pity party, this is me letting you all know that however low your hopes are, I will disappoint you, and I just hope it isn't with the quality of my writing. I am deeply, preemptively, probably to a greater degree than necessary- yet still willing to go to an even higher degree- sorry.