Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or World of Tanks
Thump!-Thump!-Thump!
Gladys groaned wearily awake, hearing someone slam their fists into the dorm's door. Quietly, she glanced around, then stopped squinting when she realized that she couldn't see much of anything. Ribbans murmured, "What bloody time is it..."
Gladys stood up, fumbling around until she felt the window sill- felt, not saw. Through the window, she could make out the horizon, tinged with the lightest blanket of pink, with the tiniest bit of yellow from the slowly-rising sun. The orb hadn't even fully left the horizon yet, in fact- it couldn't have been much later than two or three in the morning. What disturbed her most, though, wasn't the time indicated by the natural lights; it was a trio of manmade lights. There were two of them placed on either end of a barely-illuminated grey rectangle, with a third, smaller one on the right.
Thump!-Thump!-Thump!
"Ich weiss, dass du zurück sein musst, Inselaffe! Du kannst dich nicht vor dem Reich verstecken und nicht vor mir!" someone shouted from the other side. Gladys let in a sharp, shaky sort of breath, as adrenaline rapidly came to her veins. Her mind whirred for a moment, before she quickly made her way to Emma's bed, shaking the woman as she ordered, "Carney, see to our German guest."
"I'm bloody awake," Emma grumbled, and Ribbans questioned, "Did you really think any of us would still be sleeping?"
Abruptly, the light in the dorm came on, and Gladys winced, shutting her eyes for a quick moment, before opening them up again. Promptly, she found that Otto, Carney, and Ribbans were already out of bed. The German loader noted, "I had thought a light would-"
"This is your fault, isn't it?" Ribbans shot, "Led your bunch of kooky Kraut bastards right to us!"
"Now isn't the time," Gladys shot, then instructed, "Otto, turn the light back off. The Panzer's out there, but I'm not sure how much of a crew it has, so if we simply get out-"
Thump!-Thump!-Thump!
"-the window, we could sneak 'round it," Gladys finished, "Ribbans, you'll go first."
"We could take the Jerries in a round of fisticuffs," Ribbans pointed out as the lights went out. Once more, darkness bathed the room, as Gladys shot, "We need to take out their armor- someone, just head out already, and turn the turret on manual cranking."
"Alright," Emma said. Gladys looked over, only for her view of the Panzer's headlights to be blocked by a silhouette moving past. Then there was a scream, and then an odd sort of thud, and Carney noted, "Might I suggest throwing a mattress out to break the fall?"
Gladys sighed, then nodded quickly-
Thump!-Thump!-Thump!
-and didn't bother to give a verbal response, as Hans began ranting. Instead, she started fumbling around in the dark to try and make her way to a bed. Abruptly, Ribbans started huffing and puffing, so she asked, "Have you got a hold of one?"
"I think so," Ribbans responded. Quickly, Gladys headed over, hoping to help but finding herself once again unable. Instead, she merely stood in a place that was possibly out of the way, while Ribbans lifted the mattress, then abruptly stopped grunting and such. Quickly, Gladys asked, "Is it out?"
"Somewhere out there," Ribbans said, "Ladies first again?"
"Carney, I'd prefer you go," Gladys said. Carney confirmed, "Righteo."
She waited a few moments, for the view of the headlights to once again be broken by a silhouette's movement, while Otto noted, "How will we know he is out of the way?"
"What do you mean?" Ribbans retorted, and Otto pointed out, "If we jumped out and landed on him, it would be bad. But he can't just yell-"
"You're clear!" Carney yelled from below. Promptly, a machine gun sounded, firing so fast that Gladys couldn't even hear the individual rounds, just the cacophony of noise and death. After a moment, it stopped-
Bang!
-and another gunshot sounded. Gladys' eyes widened, as she saw the dorm's door swing open, and Hans walked in. Quickly, she ran, leaping out the window, to land against something hard, but suspended on something soft- Carney's corpse still on the mattress, she realized. For a moment, she lay there in horror, before hearing the creaking of tracks coming towards her, at which point she remained laying, just now in fear.
"Du gemeine Ratte!" she heard Hans fuming from above, "Idiot von einem Lader, zu dumm, um loyal zu sein, zu dumm, um zu erkennen, dass ich nicht verliere!"
Above, Otto retorted, "Aber wir-"
Bang!
He was cut off by his own scream of pain, and then by Hans shouting, "Es gibt kein Wir mehr! Du hast dich mit den englischen Schweinen verbündet; jetzt wirst du wie einer niedergemacht!"
Bang!
"Aber das ist nicht genug," Hans said, "Nichts ist genug für deinen Verrat, deinen Verrat. Du wirst ein Vorbild sein, mehr als du verdienst, aber es ist das einzig Nützliche, was du sein kannst."
Something poked Gladys- something cold, and metallic. Her breath, fortunately, caught in her lungs in shock, and she did her best not to respond, biting her lip as she tried to simply remain laying and limp. Above her, Karl noted, "Wer kann es unserem lieben Lader verübeln, dass er versucht, eine solche Frau zu bekommen?"
"Ist das Sympathie für den Feind oder für den Deserteur?" Fritz asked. Karl quickly returned, "Ich- äh- auch nicht, Herr Junker. Unser Lader ist so dreckig, dass ihn das natürlich gleich anzieht."
Fritz sniffed, then shot, "Ich werde dafür sorgen, dass der Kommandant weiss, dass er das nächste Mal am Leben erhalten muss. Als Spielzeug für dich – und nicht mehr."
"N-Nein, es besteht keine Notwendigkeit, den Unterscharführer einzuschalten," Karl said, and Fritz coldly retorted, "Es wird ihm gesagt."
Karl fell silent, and Fritz ordered, "Sprühen Sie ein Magazin in den Bereich. Schmutz kann tief in guten Beton eindringen, und ich möchte, dass er entfernt wird."
A moment later, Gladys felt a sort of tingling in her stomach, a primordial, tank commander's knowing when a gun was pointed at them. Quickly, stupidly, she raised herself up, saying, "W-Wait..."
She trailed off, finding herself staring down both the barrel of an MP40 and Fritz's Broomhandle, the two men harshly illuminated from the side by the Panzer's lights.
Pop!
And then her head flew somewhat backwards, and her corpse toppled downwards onto the mattress. Karl glared at Fritz, who noted, "Sie werden beim nächsten Mal Ihr Spielzeug sein."
-Many Hours Later
Nighttime at Beacon was generally a fairly quiet time, not just by the standards of what one might expect, but by any standards. There was some noise, of course- distant, small chattering between students, the footsteps of those who had chosen poor footwear. And on very seldom occasions, there was the gunfire one might expect of a huntsman Academy, but it was actually very rare- most students, rather than bother with obtaining their own artificial targets, would just descend the cliffs and head to the forest to practice marksmanship, which conveniently put them mostly out of earshot. Most of all, though, the students and wildlife were typically the only things around to be making noise- there wasn't any of the hustle-and-bustle of an urban jungle, nor the livestock of a rural region.
That is, until the two tanks came along. Even then, though, the nighttime noise was minimal- the tankers had to sleep, just like everyone else It was only really on the weekends that they ran their vehicles, and even then it was only for a brief time of night, to park them back in place. Given how minimal it was, no one had made too much of a fuss about it- plenty of other teams did far worse, in fact. So, it was, to the students of Beacon Academy perfectly natural for Hans to be slowly rumbling his Panzer III towards its spot, with the tracks creaking and the engine roaring through the quiet of the night.
Whether it was acceptable was not, in fact, what was on Hans' mind, standing straight up and out of his cupola, while his tank rumbled down the concrete walkway, its headlamps on and ready to burn the cornea of anyone who happened to look into them. Most of his mind was instead preoccupied on trying to look suitably heroic and dashing- for instance, should he lean on the left of his cupola, or the right? He'd been in the position for years, but it still plagued him, because it was one of only a few issues which he saw any nuance in. Leaning to the left made him more ready to draw his sidearm, eliciting the image of a combat-ready commander. But the right positioned him closer to the machine gun, and allowed him use of his main hand to hold his head, giving the image of a commander who was simply so far above the world that he could be lazy. And what about standing straight up?
He was so distracted by these things, in fact, that he missed something rather crucial. Or, rather, he missed that something rather crucial was missing; namely, the Cruiser IV wasn't in its usual spot. The Cruiser was, in fact, lurking about five-hundred meters away, angled to be mostly-behind a pillar on the grass in the courtyard area, its turret slowly turning to provide precise adjustments.
Poom!
Abruptly, the sound of cannon-fire erupted, as the Cruiser fired its first shot of the engagement, sending a forty-millimeter round sailing through the air to directly hit one of the Panzer's left roadwheels. In absence of power from the left, the tank jerked, and spun a little to the left before Jerry was able to stop it. Hans barked, "Wer wagt es, mich anzugreifen?"
His eyes swiftly swept around, trying to find the fool that had shot at him, so that he could prove what a fool they were by-
Poom!
But, before the German commander could do much of anything, he received a forty-millimeter round directly to the skull, causing it to explode like a watermelon while the projectile continued on unaffected. Inside the Panzer's turret, the commander's body abruptly slid inwards, smacking against the gun before rolling down. Fritz, the acting loader, narrowly dodged the immense weight, then shouted, "Richtschütze, finde das Ziel-"
Boom!
He was cut off by Karl firing the gun, then fuming, "Eine weitere Runde! Eine-"
And then the gunner, too, fell silent, as a round speared through the turret neck, and then his ribs. Karl simply gasped at the experience, hovering a hand uselessly over his side, a cold feeling filling his bones.
"Jerry, lade eine Runde!" Fritz ordered as he stepped over Hans' corpse, then yelled, "Wirst du schiessen oder nicht?"
Jerry, grumbling at the stupidity, got up from his driver's seat, while Karl said nothing response for a moment, merely letting in short, shallow breaths, staring at his mostly-exposed lungs. Promptly, Fritz grabbed him by the pants and pulled, hard, onto the hull floor. Without even a second's hesitation to the dead and dying, Fritz pressed his eye to the gunner's sight, to see the Cruiser smoothly making its way out from behind the pillar. Promptly, a smirk filled the acting-gunner's face, and he said, "Jerry, laden."
"Jawohl, jawohl," Jerry said, "Das ist nicht mein Job, wissen Sie. Ich bin der Fahrer, das ist die Arbeit eines Laders."
"Alle anderen sind tot!" Fritz fumed, and Jerry fell silent, not really wanting to bicker with the man. Instead, he grabbed one of the five centimeter rounds, then awkwardly struggled with loading it for a few moments, before Fritz finally took it, chastising, "Nicht zu gebrauchen!"
As the turret traversed, Jerry approached a little closer in anger, stopping just about in the center of the tank as he retorted, "Ich bin der Fahrer, du bist derjenige, der übernehmen soll-"
Boom!
He was cut off by the gun firing, the recoil of which drove the breech backward, directly into his skull. Being stricken a fast, unexpected blow from the side by a heavy, metal object, Jerry naturally stumbled to the side, only to trip on the blood that was coming from Hans' stump-neck and fall to the ground. Wearily, the driver groaned, "Das ist Ihr Job, Funker!"
"Steh auf und lade eine Runde!" Fritz fumed. Jerry continued grunting and groaning as he pushed himself up, only for his hand to slip in the blood again and send him back to square one, on the floor. Fritz opened his mouth to scream at the driver, only for another round to enter the turret. This time, it came through the mantlet, and hit the man just below neck, in the area where it joins with the shoulders. A moment later, Jerry felt a sudden weight drop onto his back, and wriggled and strained to get it off, before the corpse finally fell to the floor of the hull with a dull thud.
This, then, presented a piece of dry stuff to grab at, and so Jerry was finally able to lift himself up, and glance around the tank. The smell of blood's iron already filled the vehicle, with the red fluid already forming a puddle on the floor. For a moment, the driver paused, staring at them all with his stomach forming a knot, before turning away. Wordlessly, he grabbed the multi-kit, then turned back around and smacked Karl with it a little bit. After a moment, the gunner's torso became whole again, and he breathed in a soft breath, before glancing around.
"Fritz ist kein so guter Schütze wie du," Jerry said, "Aber wir dürfen am Leben sein."
"Ja," Karl said, nodding slightly. The driver offered his hand, and Karl quickly took it, informing, "Es waren diese englischen Ratten, die ein paar hundert Meter entfernt lauerten."
Jerry nodded slightly, smiling, "Großartig, wir können nur Gefangene sein!"
"Oh, pass auf, dass Otto und die Kommandantin in der Nähe sind," Karl suggested, "Natürlich, um zu wissen, was der Feind tut."
"Es ist der Lader, der ihn verführt hat," Jerry retorted, "Ein Paar starke Arme, um ihn ans Bett zu nageln..."
He sighed breathily, and Karl bickered, "Der Kommandant ist der attraktivere. Schau dir ihr Rack an."
"Ist das jetzt dein Ernst?" Jerry retorted, seemingly about to chastise the gunner for talking about women while standing among their dead comrades. He didn't, though; instead, the driver pressed the issue further, pointing out, "Bei Röcken zählt der Hintern."
"Sie ziehen sich dabei aus," Karl bickered, and Jerry shot back, "Und du wirst davor angezogen."
Karl huffed, then headed over to the driver's hatch as he remembered, "Wir werden sehen, wenn wir gefangen genommen werden."
"Wir werden sehen, dass ich recht habe," Jerry murmured, and Karl chuckled, "Hoffen wir, dass wir sehen, was unter diesen Röcken ist."
Jerry chuckled a little at that, too, as he clambered out. Once out, the two stood by their tank, and watched as the Cruiser approached, before finally stopping just a few feet away. Promptly, Gladys came out from the cupola, greeting, "Hullo Karl, Jerry. I'm guessing your commander won't-"
"We surrender," Karl lethargically said, raising his hands, "Jerry said you did that for him once."
Gladys paused, sniffing in humor, before pointing out, "It's rather late, and I don't think you would have a problem in your normal accommodations, would you?"
Karl sighed, then nodded, and Gladys informed, "It's really my gunner who's out for you lot- if you could just get Hans to quit this, I'll stop embarrassing you."
Karl chuckled a little, and Jerry asked, "Was ist es?"
"Otto ist zu sehr ein treuer Hund, um einen Groll zu hegen," Karl answered, "Wir werden entlassen."
Jerry snorted, and Karl said, "I'll do my best about Hans."
"Alright, that's this business sorted then," Gladys said, "Otto'll be relieved... do you suppose it would be safe for him to go to your usual dorm, actually?"
Karl quickly shook his head, and Gladys nodded, "Thought not."
And with that, she dipped back into the turret, and the Cruiser drove off, its tracks creaking. Jerry whined, "Du hättest uns nicht mitnehmen können?"
"Du kannst laufen," Karl retorted.
-Later
One might expect, with good reason, that the day after that would be a final confrontation. Gladys had, after all, made the terms of peace rather clear; that Hans stop being an angry little man who lashed out violently with little to no reason. This ran into the issue, of Hans being, in character, to the fiber of his being, an angry little man who lashed out violently with little to no reason. Thusly, the only way out would be through Gladys proving further that Hans' violence would only bring him ruin. One might also expect, with equal reason, that the folly of his ways had already been pointed out to the Bosh. So, then, the possibility existed of a peace; of Hans finally giving up, having seen that being an angry little man who lashed out violently was a bad thing. It was a remote possibility, but a possibility nonetheless.
Both of these turned out to be wrong. Instead, as Gladys and her crew headed out in the morning, rushing to get to their tank and operate it in the little time they had, they were stopped in the lobby area of the dorm by a most disturbing sight. For one, the lobby area of the dorm building; they'd seen it before, so it wasn't what stopped them, but it should still be noted. It was, in essence, a square, with a few straight lines of chairs, and a singular couch by a singular table. The image of an extremely small, extremely brown version of an airport terminal's waiting area is most accurate to describing the room, which makes sense; they were both waiting areas for places where people weren't supposed to have to wait around too much.
But, again, it wasn't the ugliness of the room that stopped them. Instead, it was the shocking sight of Hans and his crew, neither in their tank yet to enjoy its operating, nor with firearms drawn and pointed to kill anyone. They were instead sat in a few of the chairs- or, in Hans' case, awkwardly stood directly in front of the chair. The small bit of normalcy in the situation was that Hans was yelling at someone; namely, the other two people in the room, Ozpin and Glynda.
Gladys, for her part, simply took a seat, indicating for the rest of her crew to do the same, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. No, it wasn't her that did that; instead, it was Otto, who quickly made his way over to the seats, the wrong seats, the seats where the German crew was. This was, of course, noticed by Hans, who whipped his head around and bellowed, "Da ist er! Der desertierende, dumme, affenliebende Rassenverräter!"
He didn't point, though- instead, he held his fingers in a rather queer manner, like a fist, but with his thumb wholly out and his index finger forward from the others. It was when he twitched the finger, pulling it back, that the gesture was made clear, and it was Otto who noted, "Du hast deine Pistole verlegt. Benötigen-"
"Du wirst nicht mit mir sprechen, du Elende!" Otto screamed, "Du bist nichts weiter als ein Wurm! Ein zappelnder und windender Wurm, der den warmen Reichs verlassen hat! Und jetzt werde ich dich unter der Ferse zerquetschen!"
"Das ist genung," Ozpin spoke up, "Du wurdest hierher gerufen, weil deine Weckrufe schon zu oft waren."
Hans fumed, "Ich werde nicht in seiner elenden Gegenwart sein! Er verdient nichts weiter als den Tod – einen schnellen, unzeremoniellen Tod, wie es sich für einen Verräter gehört! Tod!"
Ozpin murmured, "Ein Wurm wird Sie doch sicher nicht unterbrechen?"
Hans glared at the headmaster, sputtering for a few moments, before finally relenting, "Ich werde den Verräter danach hinrichten, wenn diese Farce so wichtig ist."
He sat down with a huff, the chair creaking slightly with the sudden burden, and Ozpin nodded, "Good. Now that you are all here, I will only have to say this once."
He paused, letting Glynda translate for the Krauts, in order to make sure that he only had to say it once.
"Just make it fast," Emma shot, "There's a Cruiser to be in."
Ozpin informed, "Up until now, there has been no need for this sort of arrangement. You have both kept to yourselves, for the most part. However, in the past two days, you've woken the entire campus early twice."
"I, ah, would add that it was the other lot that did it," Gladys pitched in, "We've been quite civil. And I must say, that our wake-up was, frankly, being put to death."
Ozpin retorted, "This isn't a matter of assigning blame."
Gladys nodded, and Ozpin explained, "Your issues are your own, but you are disrupting the lives of your fellow students with them. If you continue to do so, I will allow them to do the same to you, with their weapons, at any time they so choose."
Gladys quickly nodded, then murmured, "Though, it really might be a good idea to teach them some, well, anti-tank tactics-"
"Halten Sie das für eine angemessene Drohung?" Hans fumed, now that Ozpin's declaration had been translated for him, "Es ist zu vage und verlagert die Verantwortung von Ihnen auf jemand anderen!"
"Es war keine Drohung," Ozpin retorted, "Ich habe Sie lediglich darüber informiert, was Ihre Aktionen bringen werden."
Hans snorted, then agreed, "Ich werde nicht zulassen, dass Sie diese Schulkinder gegen mich in den Tod schicken. Es wäre feige, einen abgestiegenen Feind zu bekämpfen."
Ozpin nodded, then turned to Gladys. Carney asked, "Do you mean for us to agree?"
"Yes," Ozpin nodded, and Ribbans shot, "Stuff it, we're the ones who got shot."
"What, ah, my gunner means to say is that we're already going along with civility," Gladys said, "So of course we'll abide by such a term of peace."
Author's Note: This isn't dead! It hasn't been updated in a longer time than usual, and this is shorter than usual, but this work is not yet dead. I just... really, really couldn't think of any good ideas for this. I knew I needed something to transition from what I had going in Forever Fall to what I'll have in the Stray, but I just didn't have a good idea of what to do.