The morning after was an odd reception. To some, it was the cynical repeat of the norm: a moment of rest, and then five days of work. To nature, it was another sunny day that promised another pleasant occasion as the skies began to warm. To the rest, it was the both the end and a beginning as the members of the Lion Paw tankery club assembled by the garage.
The weekend rest was over. Now the real fun was about to begin.
Lipponen was all smiles as she eagerly took attendance, students and tanks alike present. All heads (and turrets?) accounted for.
She trotted by each and one of them, looking them and the tanks over in an informal inspection that only begot a beam of approval. With each tank was a team, and from each team Lipponen sought to confirm their setup.
"Mr. and Miss Seamer?"
"All good over here," Zak reported back.
"We've been ready since forever," Rachel added with an audacious grin.
Lipponen smiled at the enthusiasm. "Now, I don't need to remind you that the Type 15 ordinarily requires a crew of three. The commander will need to man the gun on top of every other duty save for driving."
"Don't worry, we've thought it over ourselves," reassured the Darcsen boy. "Between us two, I'll be taking the lead. Rachel'll be driving."
Lipponen nodded as she jotted on her clipboard. "Understood. I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Seamer."
The teacher stepped over to the next group and found herself to the other light tank twin, the team of this one similar to the Seamer siblings. But with three members present, Lipponen had reason to be optimistic.
"The Landzaats and Ms. Evans?"
"Right here," cheerfully answered Wilheim.
"It was decided for my sister to be the commander," Lukas spoke up, wasting no time to the subject matter at hand. "I'll be the gunner."
"A-a-and I-I'll be the… the driver!" Mariah flustered out her statement much to the gentle chuckle of Wilheim.
"Sweet girl, she got so scared stiff when it dawned on her what we'll be doing in tankery. But bless her heart, she still wanted to help us with something."
"I-I see," Lipponen acknowledged, making sure to give the shy girl an assuring nod. Another team and tank off the checklist, she moved on.
"Now, Mr. Inglebard, Ms. Thompson, and-"
She glanced up but was surprised to find no one standing by the Type 25 tank. With the four rambunctious students suddenly missing, Lipponen wondered if perhaps this had something to do with their unannounced absences - she had heard the complaints already levied against Wyker and Cindy for being so carefree as to skip classes. But at the same time, she had sworn she had seen them previously…
Then her ears picked something. Faint at first, indiscernible but- no, they were muffled. The Type 25 light tank shuddered.
Suddenly the hatch popped open and from it a familiar-looking boy tumbled out, followed closely by the rest one after another as though forcefully squeezed out from the confines of the vehicle. Lipponen leapt back in surprise as the boy plopped before her, revealing himself to be none other than Wyker.
The spiky-haired boy breathed in relief, combing his hair back as he found the teacher standing right in front of him. Soot covered his cheeks but he was all smiles. "Hey miss! I'm here!"
"We're here!" an annoyed Cindy called out from the beneath Nina and Tina. The three untangled themselves, all of them as besmirched as the boy.
The club advisor regained her composure. "S-so have you four decided on your roles?"
"Heck yeah!" Wyker grinned. "Been swabbin' below decks just to feel it out. Tina here's the helmswoman, Nina's the loader, Cindy's the cannoneer, and I'm the skipper!"
Cindy scoffed. "Me and Wyk got into serious competition over who got to shoot." She chuckled in good memory of the apparent incident.
"Yep. Real serious alright," Nina added.
"Nearly threatened to break up if she didn't get what she wanted…" muttered Tina.
Lipponen smiled nervously. "I-I see… I'll uh, just mark you all as present and ready. Now…"
Stepping aside, she approached their only tank destroyer, and before she could even open her mouth Lipponen found herself suddenly face-to-face with the living embodiment of ostentatiousness and obnoxiousness that was Annabelle.
"Dear teacher~ I'm here~~!" she caroled happily and gaudily. "I, Annabelle Victoria Nelson and my aides are all prepared! Isn't that right, Timothy?"
As Annabelle turned her head, Lipponen followed her gaze to see nothing until she tilted her view down, catching the Peron boy slumped against the empty stowage bins that contained the Type 29's ammunition. Sweat and deep panting leaked from his deflated body as he barely raised his hand at the call of his name. "Yeh… y-yes Ms. Nelson… every… everything is… prepared…"
"Ahh, that's the spirit Timothy my boy!" Annabelle cheered with exaggeration. "Put your back into it! You will be performing the menial tasks after all! Meanwhile, as the star of the show, I Annabelle Victoria Nelson will assume the leading role for the gallant battles to come! Within this shining steed, I shall steer our fates with my own two hands and pave the way to victory!"
Lipponen wasn't sure what to make of the grandiose declaration but she quickly connected the dots. "Er, okay so Timothy will be loading and you'll be commanding (as expected) as well as driving (unexpected). And Rebeka…?"
"Gunner." Both teacher and student, especially the student, jumped at the unexpected presence of the black-haired girl that materialized behind Annabelle like a ghost. Lipponen gave a startled peep, trying in vain to hide behind her clipboard until she felt something nudge gently against it. Peering behind it, the teacher was presented the stack of paper assigned over the weekend.
"Here," muttered Rebeka before she walked away.
Breathing easy, Lipponen collected the paper but it wasn't until she regained clarity of mind that she finally noticed Annabelle cowering behind her. She clung close to the adult, wary eyes stymied with tears as Annabelle eyed her team's newly-selected gunner with caution.
"Grrr. I, Annabelle Victoria Nelson, shall not be so easily cowed," she pouted.
"Um, just how did Miss Wulfstan get to be chosen as the gunner…?" Lipponen wondered.
"Hmph. By mere fluke," Annabelle sulked. "I was more than content to vie for the honorable position myself had she not gotten lucky at soda can throw, at darts, at ring toss, at horseshoes, at…"
"I, um, I see…" Feigning a kind smile, Lipponen quietly tip-toed away, another tank and crew roster accounted for. Now there was just one more.
"Now then… the Type 37!"
She approached the last tank prepared for the day, the angular slouching form of the universal tank as its crew roamed around making final preparations. But with the shells already loaded and fuel all filled up, all they could do now was admire… and wait with anticipation.
Closing in, Lipponen spotted a young brunette as she stood marveling at the close-up details of the Type 37 with a restless pep in her tapping heels. A light tap on her shoulder caused her to awake with a start, surprised to see their club advisor suddenly behind her.
"Wha-wha-wha-I did not hit- Oh hi, Ms. Lipponen!" greeted Amelia, her smile as spontaneous as her startlement.
"Hello Ms. Gunther," her teacher greeted back with a warm expression of her own. "Are you all ready?"
"Y-yes, yes we are," chuckled Amelia, rubbing the back of her head. "Everything's in tip-top shape, gassed-up, and whatever Daniel, Katrin, and Frederick said that they already took care of."
Lipponen simpered in good spirits. "Well, sounds like I shouldn't keep you waiting any longer now. Would you mind telling me the assignments?"
"Er, Daniel is the driver, Katrin is the radio girl, Abbie's got the gun, Frederick's loading the shells, and-
"... and I just watch what goes on around the tank."
Lipponen was stumped. "I, um, who's the commander?"
"Frederick is… He says it's okay." Amelia's responses came more as guilty admissions.
The teacher stewed on the unusual arrangement but relented. "Very well. We'll see if Mr. Potter is up to the task. Anyways, that's all tanks and crews accounted for. Please remain by your tank and be ready for the next step."
"O-okay Ms. Lipponen." With that, the adult let the girl go as she walked away, completed clipboard in hand and with eagerness to practice tankery in her mind. But her heart remained clouded. She remembered the hope she had the last time she spoke with Amelia, the potential she glimpsed in that young girl just waiting to be realized. The future was uncertain but it was in those times of doubt that the best in anyone could blossom like a flower.
But not all flowers can overcome adversity. Sometimes, the times that test a character could just as easily frighten them. Hopes can be made but they were never assurances - sometimes disappointment was the only outcome.
She sighed. Perhaps she had asked much from the young Gunther daughter.
But part of her didn't want to believe that.
As the tanks and members stood ready, an odd silence reigned as everyone waited. Preparations were complete, completed some time ago, and now they were left hanging in the peculiar lull.
Frederick found the inactivity suspicious. He watched their advisory paced back and forth, waiting for her to initiate the activity and properly bring to life the club she oversaw. But the teacher seemed to stand as if drawn to something else, her attention more fixed to the horizon some distance away than her own club.
"Hey, Miss Lipponen? What are we waiting for?"
Lipponen snapped her fingers. "Oh, right. I should have mentioned this before but I took the liberty of reaching out to an instructor - someone who really knows tankery!"
Heads and ears perked up. "An instructor?"
"What's he even like, if it's even a guy?"
"Don't worry kids," Lipponen encouraged with a wink. "I made sure to get in touch with someone really qualified!"
This spawned ushered gossip amongst the students. Then a sudden call from Rebeka brought all attention towards the front as all eyes beheld a black speck in the sky. Curious, they all watched as the dot stayed in place, before it began to dawn on the onlookers that the distant object was growing in size and detail. The nondescript black was revealed to be blue with deep, resonating chopping thumps heralding two pairs of rotors.
The roar of engines grew into a howl and as the winds picked up, all students gasped at the sight of a heavy military helicopter, a great behemoth slowly making touchdown before its "belly" popped down to reveal that it was actually its own vehicle all along: skin of Gallian blue, decorated with traditional white and red stripes and trims, and sporting recognizable treads. It was a tank! But unlike theirs this was angular yet sturdy, sleek yet powerful with the power of technology bristling within. The emblem of a triumphant winged unicorn adorned its hide as heraldry. It was a tank but one of a different era: theirs.
Wheels meeting ground, the vehicle instantly sputtered to life, the engine growling with gears grinding as it scurried to meet the tankery club. It moved with haste, swerving to a stop with grace in front of Lipponen and her students who watched with captivation. So astounded were they of the machine's agility that belied its mass that they hardly noticed a hatch pop open and a man climb out.
"OORAH and good afternoon, MAGGOTS!"
With the bombastic shout bringing attention to him, the Lion Paw tankery club took a good look at the man. A tall firmly-built man dressed in dark-blue uniform of the army, hues of the same color pieced together into a puzzle for a potential enemy yet decorated with embroidered to denote this soldier's pride and loyalty.
But what defined this man's character was his visage: a face that expressed an experience that bore more years than his presumed age, a thin mustache, stubble, and crew cut adorning his features seemingly chiseled from stone with sharp fierce eye that bore through - the other was concealed by an eyepatch.
The students all knew that he was a soldier - perhaps an officer - of their country's military. But where Lipponen would provide an explanation, she instead stepped forward with her gaze drawn with more fascination towards the vehicle than the weathered-face man.
"Wow, a Type 22 air-portable light tank?! With hydro-pneumatic suspension? Is that the hybrid engine I hear?! And a fourth-gen V-Lance particle cannon I see?!"
"Uh…"
"Oh, right!" Lipponen composed herself as she joined the man's side, his height put into perspective next to the adult who seemed diminutive by comparison. "Everyone, may I introduce you to your instructor, mister Leoncio Rodriguez!"
"But it'll be MASTER SERGEANT Rodriguez to you maggots!" he bellowed. "Royal Army Armored Corps 3rd Regiment! So you're all the sorry sacks that wants to learn tankery, huh? Well LISTEN UP!
"You think you're doing this for giggles? You think this will just be for fun? Well THINK AGAIN! In tankery, there will be no 'easy-going' fancy-schmancy talk! You want to play ball, you throw ball; THAT'S IT! Here, you're lobbing REAL AMMO, driving in REAL STEEL! You will learn, but you will train! You will train hard and train for long! A tank is weapon and it will DEMAND to be respected as such!
"Still think you got what it takes, maggots?! Then MOUNT UP!"
No further command or elaboration was needed to compel everyone to run towards their appointed tanks; everyone was spurred to flee from the screaming sergeant. The tankery club scrambled for the hatches, fumbling during their way in. The yells from their instructor did not alleviate to the messy race of agitated nerves and bumped elbows.
"TEN SECONDS TOO SLOW, RECRUITS! You gotta move faster than that if you want to master those tin cans you call tanks! Now, let's see if you even know a THING OR TWO about 'em! Start 'em up and follow me!"
Abbie growled her annoyance, for even within the bowels of the armored confines of the Type 37 she could still hear the instructor's shouts resonating through the walls. But at the very least she could scowl without getting caught. "Jeez louise, talk about high standards."
"Lipponen wouldn't have sought him out without a good reason," mused Frederick as he settled into the loader's station. He remained appreciative of having enough space to accommodate him, even though the interior became noticeably more cramped thanks to the addition of all the shells clustered around him.
"Still wouldn't mind getting lessons from her instead," remarked Katrin as she made herself comfortable in the hull, finding herself wedged between the armored wall on her right, the shelf of radio equipment to her left, and the conspicuous axel that intruded by her feet, granting her minimum leg room. Cramped as it was, she felt snug.
As Amelia lowered herself on the commander's seat, the strong feeling of familiarity returned to her. The sight of her friends, in the same places they took the very first time they climbed in, brought about a strange sense of nostalgia. To see them all before her, reminding her of their value and the trials she would share with them…
The loud roar of the engine startled Amelia from her thoughts. "Okay! Looks like the ignition and engine's good! I uh, was just making sure they were working properly."
"As if there was any doubt they wouldn't!" teased Katrin. "That's our Danny for ya!"
"O-oh stop it," whined the Czherny boy. "We both did it. A-anyways, the gears…"
In another tank, another engine sputtered to life, the voice of a mechanical beast growing from a cough to a growling purr.
As small as this particular monster was, Zak couldn't help but smile at it. "There we go. Just listen to that hum; nice and healthy after our touch-up."
"I like to think I had more to do with it," Rachel smirked as she released her thumb from the ignition button and moved to grasp the steering sticks with both her hands. Feeling the antique material in her palms and the iron pedals under her soles, Rachel felt at home.
Unfolding a note she scribbled for herself, transcribed from the brief manual given to all crews, Rachel breathed with anticipation. Behind her, she knew her brother was doing the same.
"Alright girl… Let's see what you got!"
Tina fiddled with the console, a flat switchboard with the most austere of appearances as it consisted of a simple collection of analog dials and switches. But after a second or two of anticipation, everyones' breaths flooded out at the sound of the engine ignited to life.
Wyker celebrated with a fist-pump, not caring about the small confines of his commander's seat. "Ha-HA! There we go!"
"Good god Wyker, you nearly socked me," Nina complained as she winced at the even tighter confines of her station, wedged between an iron wall and the machinery of the gun.
Beside her, on the other side of the gun Cindy chuckled. "Glad he nearly whacked you instead of me."
Nina sulked. "Ugh, whatever. Let's just-"
"-go since we're ready," finished her sister below, the sole occupant of the hull. Glancing up, she could catch sight of all her crewmates, the arrangement forming a diamond with Tina at the bottom, her sister and Cindy at the sides, and Wyker at the top.
"Music to my ears," grinned Wyker as he settled back onto his seat (now keeping his hands to himself). "Alright gang, let's hoist the colors and set sail! Slow ahead forward!"
"Aye!"
"Ehh…"
"There we go, there's the page. Right, so it says to simply depress the ignition button."
"I believe the Seamers mentioned one…" A hand was hastily stretched out, finger already pointing. "There it is! You see it?"
"O-oh! R-right there…"
"That's right, Mariah," Wilheim encouraged, guiding their anxious driver beside her. "It's even painted in red. Give it a nice firm push."
Mariah complied, bracing her thumb against the ignition switch. Taking a breath, she heaved her thumb against the peg-like button whereupon her efforts produced a noticeable click.
The roar of a mechanical monster erupted within, the initial clamor resonating through the interior to drown out all other sounds, even sensations as their tiny world vibrated from the engine's awakening.
Mariah jumped with a squeal but Wilheim's hand was upon her shoulder. "Shhh, don't worry," she cooed. "There's nothing to be afraid of, it's just the engine. You managed to turn it on. You did it! Hooray!"
The Evans girl shrunk from the praise. "I-i-it was nothing-! I… It took so long for me to…"
A hand made its way to the top of Mariah's head. She winced, but found the feeling comforting. "You did it, Mariah. Small steps, but you did it. That's all that matters. Now, do you think you can try driving?"
Situated in the gunner's seat where his legs were mere inches from the driver and now his own sister, Lukas could only groan in his cramped spot as he reached for the manual. "Let's see… page sixteen…"
The continued purring of an engine left idle. The puttering of exhaust and pistons that moved in unending repetition. The muffled echoes of machinery that shifted, pulled, and moved like fibers of a muscle as the metallic beast lay still - restless but unable to move.
The reason lay within the young driver who sat at the helm with crossed legs, manual in her restless hands, and impatience in her eyes as she scoured the book's contents.
"Have you found it yet, Ms. Nelson?" an anxious voice called from far back in the tank destroyer's crew compartment.
"Shush, Timothy! I haven't!" With a huff, Annabelle glared back at the manual. "Why is it so infernally troublesome to tell me, Annabelle Victoria Nelson, the essential instructions to master what should be a meaningful task?!"
"Maybe you should let someone else try…" a dull voice dryly suggested.
Annabelle shivered in her seat, aware of Rebeka's presence right behind her as the Type 29's gunner. With the trio made to share their space with the massive cannon occupying the entire right-hand side of the vehicle, they had been made to squeeze in a line: driver at the front, the gunner situated directly behind her, and room in the back for the loader and where the commander would normally sit next to the radio.
"N-nonsense! While it would be endearing for dear Timothy to be my gracious chauffeur, I dare not sully my hands with a peasant's menial work, shoveling shells like they're gravel!"
Rebeka's lone eye pierced balefully past the gunner's instruments of crank wheels and periscope. Despite learning not to make eye-contact with the aloof girl, Annabelle never failed to feel her gaze on her back.
"B-besides, where else can be a more suitable role for a leader?" she continued to bluster. "She who commands not from the rear but by the head, guiding her lessers through example? Glamorous, I say! Imagine the stellar leadership that I, Annabelle Victoria Nelson, shall provide!"
"I can imagine it, Ms. Nelson," Timothy chimed in from the back.
The black-haired gunner could only quietly sigh. "Whatever."
"Tut-tut! Keep a positive attitude there, my erstwhile companion! Look alive and demonstrate to us your acumen, gunner! Put your backs into it, you rascals! Shake the lead out, all hands to battle stations!
"... And somebody please tell me what these buttons do!"
For once, Rebeka regretted being sandwiched between the savant and the idiot.
With engines brought to life one by one with the tell-tale hue of glowing radiators alight like fireflies, the five tanks trundled out from their starting points. The tankery club was now in up, rolling, and in motion. The tanks' gestures were shaky and stiff, especially when they turned to meet their instructor who had already motioned for his sleek light tank to lead the way further onto school grounds.
He kept his attention to the fledgling teams as they plodded after him. "Congratulations, maggots! Now you're worthless maggots that can WRIGGLE!"
Rodriguez paused when he noticed the school teacher hop aboard with a skittish smile on her face. "Mind if I ride?"
The master sergeant fumbled for a response before settling with an awkward nod. "Just strap in," he muttered. As his tank lurched into motion, he turned his gaze back towards the club members.
"Alright, SINGLE FILE NOW! Let's see how well you punks can keep up."
The whole world rumbled as they went underway, the house of metal resonating with the growling of the engine and the beats of the wheels.
Yet Daniel found all of this strangely relaxing as he drove, feet on the clutches and hands hard at work on the controls. Nestled inside the Type 37's hull, his only view of the outside world was rendered through periscopes. But in spite of the restricted vision that instilled necessary caution, Daniel found little to fear from this brand-new experience. It felt liberating.
Peering through the bulky radio set that walled her from her friend, Katrin watched in astonishment as Daniel shifted the gears with satisfying clicks and clunks. She raised her brow. "Wow, not even bothering with a manual?"
Daniel blinked, his focus interrupted. "I, uh, got it all memorized… Y-yeah."
Katrin whistled. "You're really something."
"I-it's not that hard… I think. To be fair, I'm working with a steering wheel. None of the other tanks have one. Ow!"
A pair of feet that unwittingly bonked Daniel from behind quickly withered back before he could whirl his head to see who they belonged to. "Ah whoops. Sorry! Just wanted some leg room!"
Frederick could only groan at the excuse. "Let's try not to bother the guy who's currently driving a tank, okay Abbie?"
"But I'm bored!" the Stark girl griped as she settled back into her seat proper. She stopped when the most mischievous smile popped on her face. "Hey Danny!"
"Huh? What?"
"... Hey, Danny!"
"Y-yeah, what is it?" repeated the driver, trying to make himself heard over the sounds of the tank. "Do you need something or-"
He peered over his shoulder, only to be greeted with a very impish look from the Stark girl. "Ooh, where you lookin' at?"
The boy looked confused. "Where I'm… A-aah!"
The tank rocked as Daniel hastily snapped his eyes away, his expression cherry-red. "D-d-d-don't do that!"
"Abbie…" growled their elected commander.
"Okay, okay," the girl mumbled as she closed her legs together. "So when do I get to shoot stuff?"
"We'll get there when we get there," replied Frederick as he peered through his periscope, bothered by the strictly confined field of view. "How's it looking, Amelia?"
"Pretty good!" answered the brunette as her eyes basked in the panoramic view afforded by the commander's cupola, the view outside delivered as light through the slits. "Everyone is behind us, our instructor is yelling at them (and maybe us too just for good measure), and you should see just how much space there is around the school! Like-"
"Okay, that's good enough," interrupted Frederick with a raised hand. "Alright. For now Daniel, stay following our instructor. You're doing good."
"T-thanks!" anxiously accepted their driver, now making damn sure he gaze stayed glued to the front from now on.
As Amelia remained their "spotter", she continued taking in the sights around her. The trail of their fellow club members trying to keep up, one of the Type 15s doing a better job than all the others (she guessed it was Zak and Rachel that was right behind them), their nasty instructor aboard his own tank with Lipponen on board watching after them with pleased eyes, and as she was about to mention to Frederick the vast sights of the campus grounds. The great grounds that surrounded the main school building and facilities, a place where other extracurriculars like the track-n-field club, the sports club, the nature club, and now the tankery club called home. So expanse it was that she realized just how small her prior understanding was. And now she wondered how bigger it could be.
She could see enough through her viewports to wonder. But they were just narrow windows, the world shown through filtered glass.
Maybe… What if she could…
Gingerly reaching for the hatch that brushed the strands on her head, Amelia nudged it open. Her roof turned into bright sunlight and as she raised herself from her seat, Amelia beheld an exhilarating sight. It was the same world she saw from inside the tank, but without the constraints of metal she was given the freedom of open air.
And from that freedom, she saw the outdoors without constraints, without filter, without even a roof over her head to keep her from catching fleeting glimpses of a clear blue sky through the canopy of trees. The whole world, gifted to her from the tank's summit. All she had to do was stand up.
How she hadn't realized this earlier, Amelia had no idea.
*Thwack!*
"Gyah!"
Beating a hasty retreat down below, Amelia was readily greeted by the stares of Frederick, Abbie, and Katrin. "You okay?" Frederick quickly asked.
"What the heck was that?" demanded Abbie.
"Ough…" grumbled Amelia as she rustled her hair back into place, digging out loose leaves and twigs from it as she did.
The Potter boy sighed. "What were you doing poking your head outside like that for?"
"You weren't carsick, were you?" inquired Abbie. ("Or is it tank-sick?")
"I-it's nothing!" assured Amelia as she settled back down. She frowned as she continued to pick sprig from her hair and bandana. She hoped that she'd get it all out, but after taking a face full of tree for her trouble Amelia wasn't sure. At least she hoped none of it inadvertently gotten into her mouth, especially not-
The skin on her cheek shuddered. Amelia flinched at the sensation, wondering just what caused it…
She jumped from her seat with a scream. "EEP!"
Abbie winced, having nearly taken a knee to her back. "Oh what is it now?!"
"Amelia, calm down! Just what is-"
"SPIDER! SPIDER! SMACK IT! IT'S IN MY HAIR! DON'T LET IT GET INTO MY MOUTH!"
Outside, the Type 37 began to lurch and weave, the entire chassis rocking side to side. Rodriguez directed his ire towards it.
"HEY! You in the Type 37, GET WITH THE PROGRAM!"
Rodriguez watched as Lion Paw's tankery club continued their drills, watching progress be made but still finding fault in their headway. Beginners they all were but the master sergeant had no intention of cutting them any slack. Forging new recruits into confident, capable men and women with the sledgehammer of adversity was his whole job after all. A tradition honed and cultured by the past that he was more than happy to pass along in the modern day.
"STEP IT UP, you NUMBNUTS!" he hollered. "This ain't your Aunt Fannie's dance!"
Lowering the megaphone, the instructor peered to his side to see Lipponen sitting on the turret roof. Her daisy-colored dress and flowing hair clashed strongly with the cold metal and rugged technology. Granted, he remembered that she was an advisor for the tankery club but looking at her, Rodriguez still found it hard to believe that there would be such a woman like Lipponen to find an avid fascination with military matters.
The master sergeant cleared his throat. "So uh, ma'am…"
The teacher perked up. "Hm?"
Rodriguez shifted his eyes, hoping she wouldn't notice how unfitting it looked for such a stern-faced soldier like himself to be striking a casual talk with a civilian. "You uh, you like tanks?"
To his embarrassment, Lipponen bursted out laughing. "Wouldn't have nerded out were I not! I've told this to other people before, but I've been a nut for this sort of stuff since I was a kid. At least someone in my family was one; not sure how it all started though…"
"Uh-huh," the soldier murmured as he played along with a nod. "I take it your family's been doing tankery?"
"Oh, on and off actually," she replied. Her dangling legs turned to gently swinging as though she were a daydreaming girl on some park bench - let alone an adult woman sitting on a tank. "I'd imagine someone in my family did tankery at some point. Nothing remarkable I'm afraid, since I never found any memorabilia - no trophies, no medals, no souvenir… no proud memories."
The man blinked at the teacher's unexpected melancholy as Lipponen looked down. He tried to think of another topic to touch on to swing the mood in another direction. "Er, how about the military? Has anyone considered…?"
The ploy succeeded as Lipponen glanced up again. "The army? W-well, I suppose I should come out and say that no one in my family had seriously considered a military career. I mean, there was definitely someone who might, back when our country had that old defense policy. I dare say there's not a single Gallian who didn't have their parent or grandparent or great-grandparent serve in the Army or the old Militia. But someone like me? Can you imagine me in your position?"
She snickered in an attempt to downplay her fluster at the idea. "To be perfectly honest with you, I'm positively not army material. No siree!"
Rodriguez snorted in disappointment. "Shame. Wouldn't mind having you in the Armored Corps. Turn that nerd power into something actually useful."
"Ohh, I suppose," Lipponen whined. "But for the time being, I'm content with advising my dream club. But on a different note, what's your story?"
"Huh? My story?"
The teacher gestured towards her eye. "Whatever happened to that?"
"Oh this? Eh, nothing to write home about," grunted the master sergeant. "Got a little roughed up in a field exercise 'bout a few years back. Don't need to remind you that the inside of these beasts of war ain't the red carpet experience but I suppose someone should've reminded my slightly younger self that. Turns out a pansy little ditch can be a rough experience if you're driving even a little carelessly."
Lipponen was taken aback, her expression somewhat mortified. "Oh… And I thought the eyepatch was just for show."
"It is, ma'am. It certainly gets the recruits in line," replied Rodriguez as he indulged in the most devilish of smirks.
With learning how to drive came the newfound experience for everyone involved. The crash course, literal for some as they came to grips with learning their tank's mass and weight, became manageable as all first-time drivers overcame their initial hurdle. The first great obstacle was doubt, and the more they climbed the more confidence they acquired with controlling their mechanical steeds. The first hour was spent in grasping the mechanics and fundamentals of tank maneuver: navigating the terrain, recognizing potential hindrances, and learning to move with relation of their immediate environment.
In Lipponen's eyes, the progress made was immense and something to be proud of.
To Rodriguez, this was just baby steps.
Now came the fun part.
"Alright you maggots! ROLL INTO POSITION!"
On his command, the tanks crawled forward into position. In a wide formation, they slowly took their spots across from a ridge that rose like a hump on a sandy dirt field.
"HALT!" ordered the sergeant. "Now, see that patch of dirt? You gunners who were itching for a shot, TODAY'S YOUR LUCKY DAY!"
Hearing this, Abbie grinned from ear to ear. "Alright! Playtime~!"
With the gun controls already firmly in her hands, Abbie wasted no time bringing her eye to the little lens in front of her. Already familiar with the feel of cushion against her forehead (thanks to earlier attempts to play around during training), Abbie spied out the mound through the etchings and markings. The vague target was overlaid with lines and numbers that she barely understood, save for the innate point of aim at the center.
A small click was heard as Katrin slipped back into her seat. "Okay, turret power is back on. You can turn it now."
The red-haired gunner did a double-take. "Wait, the stupid thing was switched off the whole time?! That's why I couldn't move it?!"
"Good call, Katrin," quietly complimented Frederick as he went to work fetching a shell. He hoisted an elongated case, the arm-long exterior shining like brass.
"Okay. I think this is the one we need… Hold it like this, open palm on the bottom, mind my fingers, and-" With a swift forceful heave, the 88mm shell slid in and the mouth of the gun breech instantly snapped shut. The motion was over as soon as it started with a sharp gratifying click.
"Alright, we're loaded!" announced the tall boy as he dusted his hands, pleased to have performed the procedure by the number. "Ready to fire!"
Abbie's grin only grew as she peered through the sights. With the turret now freed, she gave the controls a test. Turning the horizontal traverse, she was astonished to feel herself move with the tank's "head". She was used to being jostled around during driving but this was a whole new level as she felt her orientation shift to the hum of an electric motor. But while the sensation of being in a rotating body was cool, Abbie put her excitement on hold.
Now cranking another handle with her other hand, Abbie could see her narrow view inch downward to the gentle creaking of gears. With the gun angled downward, the crosshairs now rested over a randomly-chosen patch of dirt. Her wide grin stretched even wider.
Her fingers felt out a lever-like trigger. Grasping it, Abbie gave it a good squeeze.
In an instant, everything happened all at once. Seconds of anticipation had released an outcome unlike any experienced or expected. Whatever one had envisioned for this moment, it had evaporated in a flash of booming thunder and blinding reaction.
Frederick grimaced as he blinked, clearing his eyes from smoke that filled the interior. Even as he tentatively drew his hands from his ears, he winced at the ringing he felt in his head. "Arrgh. That's… that was a lot louder than I thought."
"Talk about tinnitus," remarked Katrin as she too unblocked her ears. "Hope I don't go deaf…"
Daniel whined as he let his breath catch up to him. "Mind giving us a little warning us next time, Abbie?"
The girl in question sat ram-rod straight in her seat. Abbie's breathing was as still as her thoughts. "Oh… My… Godthatwasamazingletsdothatagain!"
Like their gunner, Amelia sat glued to her spot, still as a statue. Ears still ringing, her bones still shaking from the gun's mighty reverb, the breath stolen from her body; her mind struggled to take in all the emotions she felt simultaneously. It overwhelmed her synapses, left her behind to play catch up to the slew of newfound feelings, her brain trying to figure out how to respond.
By the time it did, Amelia found herself strangely entranced by the sensation. An odd squirmy feeling she just couldn't place…
"Hey Amy, you okay?"
The Gunther daughter woke up from her thoughts. "I-I'm okay, especially now that I can hear again."
Then, the group began to hear deep booms from outside, the armor muffling the noise but not the resonating blows that signaled eruptions of power. One after another, cannonfire thundered down the range as tank after tank performed their explosive rites, turning the ridgeline into flaying powder and smoke.
Frederick lifted his hatch by a crack, tempted to see what was going on around them with his own two eyes. "Did we even hit what we were supposed to aim at?"
"Who cares?" jeered Abbie, her spirits blazing hot. There would be no dousing the fire that kindled in her heart. "Hey, load another round! I wanna try again!"
At the shouting of their instructor, the thunder had ceased. Treads were back in motion as the school's tanks made their way back towards the sergeant's tank in a gathering of steel and cannons. Like a crowd gathering before a figure of attention, the tankery team clustered to give their due attention not to their hired coach but to their teacher. Standing high on the army's light tank, Lipponen gave them all her applause - a literal standing ovation.
"Nicely done, everyone!" she congratulated enthusiastically. "Your skills as tankers have grown by bounds! I- Gyaah!"
Lipponen nearly tripped over the edge of the tank to the collective gasp of all of her pupils. But a timely intervention by the master sergeant placated all fears.
The young teacher blushed as she allowed herself to be helped back to her feet. "T-thank you, sergeant."
"Looks like you could use some training yourself, miss Lipponen," Rodriguez quipped. His coy smirk then turned serious. "Why don't you hop down on solid ground? Then you can give 'em your spiel."
The teacher complied. Peering from hatches and viewports, a tacit sentiment was shared by the drill sergeant's remarkable tact. For once, they all observed, he was not shouting or insulting at the top of his lungs and actually being nice.
Rodriguez turned his eye towards the students. "And just WHAT are you gawking at, NUMBNUTS?! I DID NOT GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SLACK OFF!"
Whup. It was nice while it lasted.
Finding her feet back on solid ground, Lipponen dusted herself off before clearing her throat. "Anyways, congrats to you all for being so enthusiastic in learning tankery! The sport is certainly demanding, and I'm glad you've persevered!"
The praise was met with looks from students that, although tired, were warm and appreciative. Encouraged by the receptions, the teacher continued. "That said, our guest had something in mind that I think would be a wonderful way to cap things off as today's final club activity… a little live-fire exercise to use what you've learned!"
An audible gasp was shared among the Lion Paw students. Anxious looks were exchanged in spite of their advisor's enthusiasm as she went on to explain further. "Now, while driving around and shooting at still targets is fun and easy, skirmishes are where we get the full tankery experience! But since we're still learning, let's make this nice and simple.
"Today's practice match will be a straight-forward team vs team! Between our five tanks, it'll be a two-versus-two. Whichever team successfully knocks out all of their opponents wins the match!"
"And um… who's going to be part of this…?" a question was meekly asked.
Lipponen gave some thought. "Since we have two Type 15s, we can have the Seamers on one side while the Landzaats and Ms. Evans-"
"Uh, miss Lipponen?" Lukas interjected loudly as he emerged from the hatch of his tank. "Mariah just fainted."
The teacher gasped. "Oh dear…"
And without further ado, the teams were assembled. Teams 1 and 2, both consisting of two tanks that made up the rest of the Lion Paw tankery club. Now distributed, they were dispatched to opposite ends of the school grounds to await the signal to begin.
Inside their Type 15, Zak and Rachel made quiet last-minute preparations as one of the two representatives of Team 1. With the engine running warm and the fuel still good, Rachel shot her brother a thumbs up. Zak nodded to confirm before she shifted back to the commander's chair. There, through the ring of periscopes, Zak observed their assigned partner for the upcoming mock battle.
Raising the radio's antique telephone-like transmitter - blocky, cumbersome, and everything - he began speaking. "Mike test, check-check. Heya guys, you hear me?"
"Yep, hearin' you loud and clear," Katrin's voice quickly replied, coming through crackly but clear. "Good to see these things working fine. For an old system the quality's pretty good!"
A finger tapped Katrin's shoulder. Within the Type 37, Frederick gestured for the mic before receiving it in his hand. "Okay Zak, are you ready?"
"Ready already, big guy," the other chuckled. "So what's the game plan?"
Frederick paused to go over their approach one last time in his head. "Nothing much, I'll admit. Plan is simple: we stay together while we find Team 2. We'll pick a place to wait for them to come to us somewhere in this forest. When we see them, just try our best to hit them."
"Nice and easy - just the way I like it," the Seamer brother drawled. "Reckon we can race for the small little creek ahead of us."
Frederick nodded. "Small creek… Yeah, I think I know what you're talking about. Okay, let's do that."
A new crackling voice interjected into the conversation, prompting the two commanders into silence with respect to their teacher. "Okay everyone! I know this might be daunting, but remember: tankery is still a game in the end. And all games are about having a fun time. So remember to relax and enjoy yourselves! Just use whatever you were taught and you'll do fine; we're all beginners after all! Now, any questions?"
The radio quickly found itself back in Katrin's hands. "So hey, maybe this is the wrong time to ask, but uh… we'll be perfectly safe, right?"
"Correct! Every tank approved by the ETL for the sport employs special carbon-lined armor. Or carbon-something, I can't quite remember the full details. Proven for the past few decades of tankery history, so fear not! Absolutely safe!
"... A-anyways, sounds like your guest is eager to kick things off and see how they go. I'll be watching from above and will be on this frequency if you need me!
"And so with that said, let's begin the match! Good luck everyone, and have fun!"
Everyone took in a breath before Frederick reached for the radio again. "Alright, Zak. Let's do this."
"Copy that, big guy. Let's roll."
Turning to their driver, the Potter boy wasted no time rattling off his first set of instructions. "Okay Daniel. Take us forward until we hit the small creek. Make sure to find us a place where we can (try to) hide."
Daniel exhaled deeply as he gripped the controls. "Okay." Shifting into drive and pressing the accelerator, Daniel sent the Type 37 into a gentle stroll forward. Finding a patch of dirt worn by travel, the tank proceeded deeper into the thicket. Gravel and leaves crunched under its treads as the crew advanced carefully.
Amelia breathed deep as she held onto the cupola's inner ring to steady herself. Glancing behind her, she caught sight of their allied Type 15 light tank following in their trail, the Seamers matching their pace and diligence. Together, Team 1 moved as a unit, a pair consisting of two tanks so unlike from each other.
Shifting her gaze back to the front, the brunette surveyed their surroundings. Slits fed her glimpses of the outside in flashes between green of foliage and brown of bark and dirt, between bright sunlight and shade that painted the background of their arena. Sometimes a random branch would brush by them. Amelia kept her eyes wide as she strained to spot crucial discrepancies against the patchwork of green, brown, and everything in between. She had a simple enough job, right?
Frederick tried to do the same but the single periscope piece he possessed was unsatisfactory. Peering through the narrow crack of his open hatch did little to improve his awareness. He grunted in dissatisfaction. "See anything, Amelia?"
"I see a lot of trees and dirt," nonchalantly answered the girl.
"... Okay, guess I should've clarified. Daniel, keep on driving."
The turret suddenly lurching elicited a swift reaction from the boy. "Abbie, what're you doing?"
"Looking around, smarty-pants," Abbie replied. "I wanna help look around too."
"Well slow down, will you?" grunted Frederick as he was swayed to and fro by the motions of the rotating body. "Can't keep my own head straight with this much swinging."
"Uh, Abbie? Do you mind slowing down just a tad?" added Amelia as she too was rocked around, her circumstance made more annoying by the constant bonking of her head against the the panoramic viewports. "I'm… getting… dizzy…"
… Huh?
Amelia blinked, unsure of what she just saw. Nothing but bright green, muddy brown, maybe something auburn, and-
"H-hey! I saw something!"
That got Frederick's attention. "Already? Where?"
"To our right! A little bit to the right!"
"Right?" Abbie repeated as she jumped to correct the turret traverse. "Right where?!"
Amelia stared with alarm at the object she managed to spot. A certain irregularity in the woods that was just like them. An upright box of blue steel with metal tracks, an identity that she recognized through association on who drove it - and of the only enemy light tank in this exercise: the Type 25 of Team 2.
"More right! Keep going!" she urged.
"Daniel, stop the tank!" ordered Frederick as he hurried to load a shell. Amelia watched as the light tank then jerked to the side, its turret slowly cranking towards them. From her perspective, it looked too much like it was a mechanical monster turning to look at her.
Within the Type 25, the commotion went unparalleled. Despite knowing he was easily spotted, Wyker didn't mind so long as he found the enemy in turn.
And as a bonus, it made things more interesting to him.
Below, Tina grunted as she shifted to next gear. "Are they catching up to us?!"
"Not if you make this thing run like the wind!" Wyker encouraged. "Cindy, fire away! I don't care if you don't nail 'em, I wanna hear that gun sing!"
"You got it Wyk!"
"There's two of 'em!" shouted Nina who observed from what scant viewport she possessed.
Wyker simply laughed. "Then it's a fair clash! C'mon you bozos, let's show them how an air pirate fights! Hoist the colors and damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!"
A deep thump erupted from the Type 25. Even above the din, the whistle of a hurtling shell was unmistakable. Amelia flinched - this was definitely not like the firing range. At least the targets then didn't shoot back!
Abbie snarled as she continued rotating the turret. "Come on, you pricks! Stand still!"
She worked the turret controls until at last it caught up to Team 2's light tank as it continued to scurry across from them. Abbie instantly pressed the trigger, filling the air with a roar that eclipsed that of the Type 25's. But even before the shell landed she saw that it was for nothing as it sailed high over them.
"C'mon!"
Another thump, one smaller but another spray of earth puffed out on the Type 25's side. Behind the universal tank, the Seamers' Type 15 rolled as if to mimic the maneuver of its counterpart.
Rachel kept a close eye on their foe as she clutched tight on the steering sticks. Behind her, she could hear Zak busily fetch a replacement shell before climbing back up top to feed it into the waiting gun. She watched as the enemy tank continue in its fearless - and almost foolish - rush around the two of them as another booming crack from the Type 37's 88mm cannon sent it rocking gently from a blast. The sound of its gun was the loudest so far in the skirmish.
At least, until another calamitous thunder filled the air followed by bursting earth right next to the Type 37.
Suddenly the entire tank shuddered and shook. The impact's force was muted through the armor, but right next to them the crew of five felt it like a hammer to their nerves. Although it was still a near miss, this fact did not grace their startled minds as they scrambled to react.
"What was that? What was that?!" shouted Daniel.
"Where'd that come from?!" yelped Katrin.
Frederick whirled to his side. "Amelia!"
"I-I don't know where!" the brunette panicked. But as frightened and shaken as they all were, a certain truth appeared in their minds as to who it was: the Type 29 tank destroyer, Team 2's heavy-hitter just as much as the Type 37 was for Team 1.
And now, the tank destroyer's own 88mm gun was in play. And they were in its sights.
Annabelle dug the wax out of her ears. It took a second for her skull to cease rattling from the power of the gun. Privately, she cursed having such potent implement go off right by her head.
She squinted her eyes, trying to make out the battle through the view slit. But even from a fair distance she saw naught but interspersed flashes through the vegetation.
All she had was the gunner's reports to take for granted.
"Well?" she asked impatiently.
"Almost had them," murmured Rebeka, sparing nothing more than a focused whisper as she stared intently through the sights, hands gently adjusting the elevation by minute degrees. The magnified view was narrow but the Wulfstan girl could witness the battle. She made out their Type 25 as it danced around the boxy forms of Team 1's Type 15 and the Type 37, the latter making a more appealing target with its sheer size even from the considerable distance.
But as far as Rebeka was concerned, being able to see them meant they were within reach. And with their gun, her targets readily got the message.
She watched as they reacted to the shot, patiently lining them up according to the etched criss-crossing of her sights. Rebeka still wasn't sure how to correctly use them but she knew in her gut instinct that she was on the right path, an assumption made clear back on the firing range. No one other than her own crew had noticed, when even the pompous Annabelle had conceded to her natural acumen. And now, Rebeka had the whole club to demonstrate that she was a natural.
She continued making adjustments, tracking their movements guided by shaken nerves, waiting for the sliding of metal casing to conclude. Behind Rebeka, Timothy heaved and gasped as he shoved in another shell. With the breech snapping shut, he merely patted their gunner on the shoulder - he had no breath for words.
Rebeka didn't need one. Enough time had been spent waiting for this.
Amelia gulped. "Since when was Rebeka this good?!"
Frederick swiftly returned to their radio. "Zak, change of plans! Let's pull back!"
Their partner tank lurched in agreement before the boy's voice came through. "Yeah, sounds good! Let's high-tail it!"
With the withdraw confirmed, the Type 37 immediately rolled back. Daniel wasted no time backing up the tank before turning it around with apprehension in his eyes, fearful of the tank destroyer's thunder striking them. His fears came true when they all heard the far-off roar, the terror spurring his foot to the pedal. A geyser of dirt and earth sprinkled over the tank as it sped away, another dodge by a hair's breadth.
The two tanks of Team 1 romped through the woods, following no trail in their bid to find sanctuary. With the skirmish left behind, everyone breathed a little easier.
Frederick sighed. "Alright… Looks like we know who to focus on. No way we got a chance with that Type 29 around…"
As he talked, Amelia took the time to catch her breath. She let her tension dissipate as her nerves slackened. With the danger behind them, she felt safe. Well, safer.
No, something wasn't quite right. Something crawled down Amelia's spine, holding her reprieve captive. Eyes darting left and right, Amelia tried to find what caused that tingling sensation until-
Her eyes widened at the gaping maw of a cannon barrel that discreetly stared back at her.
"Daniel, look out!"
"W-what?!"
The punching thud came right during the boy's startlement, the tank slightly wavering off-course just in time for it to catch a 75mm fist with its angled front plate. Though unharmed, the loud shriek of deflected metal was cue that they were not yet out of the woods - they were still stuck in it, and the Type 25 resuming its advance towards them was herald to their continued predicament.
Tank screeching to a halt, Abbie took the opportunity to immediately swing the gun around. "Alright, where's that creep?"
"It's to our left!" called out Amelia. "It's- it's coming right for us!"
She watched as the light tank barreled down towards them, mowing down bushes in its audacious advance that rivaled suicidal tendencies. Amelia watched with bated breath as the Type 25 careened towards them before it blew past, cutting between their two tanks before either could get a shot off.
"Aw crap! Where'd it go now?!"
"Turn right!" answered Amelia as she observed their harasser disappear amid the trees. She wasn't fooled one bit that they'd run off now that it was back to them versus two tanks: she spied out their glowing blue radiator as it turned, circling around for another go.
The turret turned the other way but she knew it wouldn't be fast enough. "Daniel, turn the tank!"
Their driver peered back with a look of surprise. "T-turn?"
"Abbie can't turn around fast enough!" quickly explained Amelia. "Turn the tank so-"
"R-right! Got it!"
Treads grinding in opposite ways, the Type 37 pivoted. With both body and head turning in unison, the turret successfully spun around in time for Abbie to catch the marauding tank with feisty eyes. A quick pull of the trigger and the Type 25 veered away, its next attempt foiled by the unexpected speed at which they had been acquired.
The Type 15 rolled ahead, firing a shot of its own after the enemy that refused to cease moving. Zak grunted as he climbed down, fishing another shell to repeat the tedious cycle that befell him as commander, gunner, and loader.
Rachel shared his chagrin with a vexation of her own. "No way we're gonna catch 'em like this."
Zak concurred. "There's got to be a way…"
A clunk of changing gears and the tank jerked forwards, catching the Darcsen brother by surprise. "Hey, what gives?"
"Just load that shell," ordered Rachel as she stared ahead, hands steeled around the sticks as she sent their Type 15 into a pursuit.
Amelia stared in bewilderment at their ally's sudden advance. Through what little view they had of the outside, her reaction was as equally baffling for everyone else. "What are they doing?" Frederick wondered with worry. "Katrin, tell Zak to-"
"Wait! Follow them!"
The boy looked up to be in even more surprise at Amelia. "Why?"
"I think they have an idea," justified the girl.
Frederick scoffed. "I thought I was in charge."
Amelia remained firm. "Just… just trust me, okay? They'll need our help."
He sighed. "If you say so. Daniel?"
"Already on it!"
The Type 15 bounded around the trees with speed only seen during their brief training as Rachel pushed aside concerns and limitations, no longer tied down to escorting or covering for their bigger partner. Here, she was interested only in catching the Type 25 and swatting down a bothersome gnat. And she had an idea on how to accomplish just that.
She worked the clutch as she sent the light tank galloping through the foliage with as much haste as it was safe to. While she trusted her eyes to guide her, Rachel also counted on her brother to watch from above.
"I see 'em! Straight ahead!"
The Seamer sister said nothing as she continued to throttle forward. Bursting forth into a clearing, she finally caught sight of their counterpart as it bounded through the woods like a horse. But as she did, Rachel also caught notice of the stare of the Type 25's gun.
She yanked hard on one of the steering levers, sending their tank skidding aside as a shell whizzed by. Zak's eyes remained glued to the periscopes. "Stay on 'em! They're right close by!"
The driver focused, maneuvering their machine the best she could with only a forward-facing viewport and her brother's callouts. The siblings worked as one as the two light tanks ran neck-in-neck alongside each other, cannon barrels seeking each other out like dramatized sword duels on horseback. A fast-paced game of was played as both parties tried to swat the other with a clean shot while simultaneously keeping themselves out of the line of fire.
Then, careening through a bush came the Type 37 to join the swashbuckling chase from the rear.
Within his Type 25, Wyker found the tense duel exhilarating. "Yeehaw! Full broadsides, hell yeah!"
Tina groaned as she exerted the controls. "Any time now…!"
"Yeah, working on it!" Cindy hollered back as she struggled to shoot down the Type 15. Even with the larger and more powerful tank after them, she was determined to prevail over their current adversary.
Likewise, so too did Zak as he worked the gun controls while also coordinating with his sister. With so much stuff happening, finding a clean shot was almost impossible. Almost. But he only had one chance.
"Steady!" he called. "Steady…!"
Near him, his radio buzzed. Away from the radio console and fixated on shooting, Zak barely heard Katrin's voice. "Hey! We're coming up from behind to help you out! Just hang on!"
Zak would reply but he was too focused. With his Type 15 now swerving back and forth, the fleeting image of his target danced in his magnified view. The Darcsen never realized how much the situation felt like trying to play football with binoculars strapped to your face (not to be confused with Vinnish football).
He concentrated, entrusting his sister with helping him keep a level aim as he acquired target. When their tank curved towards the enemy…
Zak fired the gun. But as much as he waited for them to close in for a sure shot, the proximity had turned into a timely bump that caused the Type 15 to tilt from the light collision. The shot sailed high, millimeters above its intended target. When the two tank disentangled, Zak was presented the image of his still-alive opponent much to his annoyance.
"Shoot! Gotta reload!"
Rachel narrowed her eyes. "Screw this," she growled.
Suddenly, the entire tank swayed to the side. It was the snaking motion that was employed before between the two of them, except this time the cycle had been usurped as Rachel brought the Type 15 to scrape against the Type 25. Metal groaned from the impact with treads screeching hard against each other. The collision was hard but this was not accidental or incidental - it was calculated.
Tina yelped as she pulled hard on her stick, but she was unable to rein their beast to turn. "Wh-what the-?! We're stuck!"
Wyker found the audacity endearing, amused by the ramming that gave his tank no quarter. "Ha! They going to try and board us? I'm ready! Maybe we can…"
A faint shadow entered the corner of his eye. Wyker turned, his cocky smile still decorating his expression. Then it faltered.
He found himself staring down the barrel of the Type 37 that skidded to a stop at point-blank range. And although he could not see it, his stunned look met Abbie's killer grin right as she pulled the trigger.
For the first time, Wyker now found a new meaning to the phrase "dead in the water".
And for the first time in her short tankery career, Abbie Stark had finally found a kill.
When the black smoke finally dissipated, all eyes were presented with the picture of the now-ruined Type 25, scorching blemish on its hide and a small white flag popping from its turret with an audible clank.
From afar, the two adults witnessed the same image through a small eye in the sky. Lipponen gasped with delight whereas Rodriguez merely scoffed. "About damn time someone got a confirmed KO," he muttered before lifting the radio before him.
"DELTA TANK: OUT OF COMMISSION! Score's now 1-0!"
The announcement brought a stirring mix of disbelief before it promptly erupted into congratulatory cheers. Both tanks of Team 1 let out a great whoop in light of their first achievement. Though the accomplishment was mundane for the sport, everyone knew that this was to be the first of many. There may never be another moment of triumph such as this.
"HELL YEAH!" hollered Abbie. "Ding goes the oven 'cause the bitch is done~! Gimme five, big guy!"
Even Frederick couldn't help but crack a thrilled smile. "Nice work, Abbie."
"Bet they'll be feeling that tomorrow," joked Katrin.
"We… wow," panted Daniel. "... We did it."
Like the boy, Amelia breathed deep, still riding high from the adrenaline wave. "Yeah… Wowwzers."
Frederick turned to her with an impressed look. "Good call on helping them out."
"I… thanks."
The radio buzzed. "Nice job you guys," complimented Zak, his voice weary but relieved. "... And to my sis, which I should add before she kills me."
"Damn straight!" Rachel's voice joked somewhere in the background. "This girl can be one mean bitch."
"That takes care of that," continued the light tank's commander. "So let's-"
A cacophonous blast ripped away all words as the Seamers' Type 15 was suddenly kicked aside, like a great foot had struck it with a mighty and terrible vigor. Smoke trailed from its side as it tumbled aside, coming to a merciful stop to reveal a smoldering wound on its flank.
A white flag was promptly raised from its turret roof to punctuate the Type 15's fatal condition.
"NOW THAT'S BRAVO TANK TAKEN OUT!" loudly proclaimed their instructor.
"Augh…" Zak faintly groaned over the radio. "Anyone catch the license plate of what just hit us?"
Abruptly woken like the rest of her crew that shocked their senses, Amelia wasted no time scouring their surroundings with frantic eyes. In the void left by the unexpected calamity, the brief interlude was nerve-wracking.
She already knew what had caused it, remembering exactly what it was. And as swiftly as she recalled the answer, Amelia had found it.
The Type 29 tank destroyer, embers still wafting from its barrel. And it was slowly rumbling towards them as its gun had already found its next target: them.
"Daniel! Get us out of here!" squealed Amelia.
"W-where?!"
"Anywhere! Just drive! The Type 29's coming this way!"
The tank was sent stumbling into motion as Daniel floored it, not caring where he drove as the aura of terror infected him. As they were sent back into flight, they passed by the motionless forms of the light tanks, both friend and foe. But even as she acknowledged the familiar sights being left behind in their retreat, Amelia's eyes never left the tank destroyer that plodded after them. If they were the hare, then the Type 29 was the tortoise that would unceasingly pursue them.
It was a one-versus-one and only one tank was going to get out of this.
All Amelia needed right now was a plan.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
It's been a long long time, hasn't it? Apologies for the very long delay as I had my other in-progress story to work on on top of other IRL affairs. Work has left me with not much time for writing and I'm afraid it may remain this way, especially as Azur Lane: Strange,Real Waters will continue to remain my priority.
But know that despite this, Valkyria und Panzer will not be abandoned. This story is something that I had an idea to craft and I would like to see it through to the end, for however long it takes to get there. I may continue to stumble here and there, but I feel that this idea is still worth exploring.
Besides, we still have yet to see how our local Gunther will step up and how our protag school will shape up once the GuP-ness of the story takes center stage. And more importantly, we have yet to see the other tankery denizens that will inhabit this crossover. And I'm still looking forward to when I get the chance to include the wide range of Imperial tanks that have appeared in the VC games. I think you'll know which ones in particular…