Tanks and Glory 2: Electric Boogaloo.

[See my smile]

@Glint @Slick @Sushi @Wolfhunter @always_confused @pharaoh122

It's been a week since your mysterious contractor made contact with you after the rookie draft left you all with crushed dreams and no real direction. Then without warning, you all where snapped up in the final round by a relatively unknown team. And by relatively unknown you meant completely and totally off the radar. Thunder Company had never participated in a draft, game, or even a skirmish. But, the money was good and the letter that came with it seemed heartfelt. And a quick google search showed the Address was somewhere in Upstate New York. With that in mind, you all set out to what would hopefully be your opening into Professional Tanking.

As you arrive at the address you find a massive Spanish Style villa backed into a heavily wooded Valley. As you drive down the driveway you catch sight of a large Railway depot of to one side of the house and several small warehouses backed up to a ten-foot tall block wall. Sitting right in front of the house were several armored cars, A red and white racing striped Puma, An AEC in a polished metallic Blue, and a Coventry in a dark burgundy with flame decals around the wheel wells. Several Italian Tankettes in a variety of candy colors sit not far away with a beautiful dark metallic green Alfa Romeo 4C Coupe.

There was a large concrete parking slab with a positively ancient looking R-4 Hoverfly American helicopter. Next to it is a large German half-track and a smaller Russian fuel truck.

A smattering of Folding chairs and a small stage with a large projector screen sit dominating the center of the courtyard. A large Mustard Yellow and Olive Green sign proudly proclaim. "Welcome Tankers!"

There is nobody in sight.

 

[Sushi]

_____A sleek coupe wound through the countryside, a blotch of white in a tapestry of burnt browns and reds. The mellow rumble of its motor echoed off the hills, the rasp of a gear change precluding the faint chirp of its tires as the coupe turned onto one of many little backroads winding through the state. Linnéa's eyes scanned the trees as the engine sung. Though she'd traveled much and for a long time lived away from her home state, she had rarely gone outside of the big apple, and a place so close to where she had grown up seemed pretty alien to her now.

_____That's when she saw the train tracks winding through a level spot in the hils, parallel to a winding road that wormed its way toward a sizeable compound in the distance, with the kind of industrial colors she usually associated with tank-school training grounds. Linnéa took off her sunglasses and craned her neck to see the tops of the buildings as they grew near.

_____She motored past the gates and up the driveway. Things hadn't gone well at the last competition, and she was still wrestling with the idea of getting out of the sport entirely. An array of neatly-parked, immaculately-kept armored cars acted like gate guards for the courtyard, and the sight sent a little pang through her chest as she rubbed absently at the insignia on her sleeve. In a weird way it was just like the old days, but the deserted grounds were more than a little sketchy. Festive, but a little spooky, like a birthday party at an asylum. Linnéa took a good look at the printed invitation in her hand.

_____Well, going back would have been a waste of gas anyway. The blond tanker killed the engine and threw it into first, grabbing a green kit bag from the passenger seat. She pulled her tanker jacket more tightly around her, as if the names and places stitched on would blow away in the wind. Linnéa replaced her aviators and moved to the front row, taking a center seat with her bag in her lap. She took one last glance over her shoulder, seeing a rainbow of countryside through the open gates and the neat collection of armored shapes flanking the way she had taken. This had to be some strange purgatory for people that went off the path like she had.

_____But you couldn't beat the view.

 

[always_confused]

A large truck hauling a relic of the 2nd World War comes to a stop at the picturesque country villa alongside a police van. The truck's occupants get out and begin to unload the Italian SPG and in the meanwhile, a rather harried looking policeman jumps out his van and opens the back, letting out a small group of people in Adidas tracksuits, sneakers and flat caps. The cop wearily approaches the leader, relatively speaking, of the group, a young man with Middle-Eastern features smiling brightly at his surroundings.

"Now, Farrukh, you're completely sure I won't get into trouble with your family?" The policeman gets the ball rolling as he uncuffs the unfortunates. "Not to worry, Charlie! You're just an unfortunate 3rd party doing their job. They'll be more annoyed with me than anything." Muttering something about about not getting paid enough for his job, the policeman sighs and continues, "If you say so. Look, thanks for paying off my kids' education loans and writing a character certificate for them, but if you don't mind me saying, I really hope I don't see you or any of your extended family again." Ignoring, or oblivious to, the policeman's weariness, Farrukh replies with an even brighter smile, "Hah, it was nothing! Anything for a friend! I'll see you and your family later, I hope!" The cop just groans loudly and gets going along with the haulers, leaving the crew of the 'Chicken-Coop' alone.

....

"Alright. So getting arrested at a drive-thru wasn't exactly part of the plan, but we're here now and in one piece!" I proclaim to my trusty crew. I get complete silence and blank looks in response. One of them coughs. Giovanni rolls his eyes and responds, "Whatever you say Farrukh. Think we should get rid of that museum 'decor' on the tank?" I brush his question off. "Nonsense. It adds character! All tankers decorate their tanks." So saying, I joyfully lead my inspired crew-mates over to the courtyard and grab a chair.

 

[Wolfhunter]

When Dominic turned his big 3500 onto the driveway of the villa, River was more than ready to get out stretch her legs. The two of them had gone ahead of the rest of their crew in Dom's truck early that morning, towing the Stridsvagn on a trailer. Unfortunately, the truck had never been designed for comfort, and nearly twenty years of use hadn't improved that situation.

"Hey, that's a nice set of wheels they've got there." Aside from a Semovente of some variety in the process being unloaded in the driveway, the little collection of armored cars and tankettes were the only other fighting vehicles around.

Dominic set the park brake and looked up. "Oh yeah, that ain't too bad. Maybe these guys are a racing team trying to get into the real game or something."

"Could be, but I wouldn't have any idea who they are." River pursed her lips. "Could you handle checking the tank out by yourself so I can go and see if our employers here yet? Leyland and Alice should catch up by the time we need to move it."

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Thanks." River jumped out of the truck, swinging the door shut behind her. The summer had sucked, to put it lightly. She hadn't managed to get any predraft agreements made with anyone, something especially galling considering that her radioman, driver, and loader had(Alice had planned to join her parent's indy team), and she had spent the rest of the summer trying to get a tank and crew together for the fall. Even once her crew had been persuaded to join her and money assembled, the best thing that they had been able to buy was the m/42, which was only really comparable to the midwar medium tanks. And then it had looked for all the world like she wasn't even going to make it through the draft, until "Thunder Company", whoever they were, had picked them in the last days of the final round of the draft.

Since then, thankfully, things had started to fall into place. Bags were packed, practice was had, and the logistics of moving the little Swedish machine north had been taken care of, all without hassle. And now it was starting to pay off.

River took a deep breath, and set out for the folding chairs. This was probably the best opportunity she was going to get, and she intended to make the most of it.

 

[pharaoh122]

I gawked at the mansion and the decor as my friends and I got out of my Civic, had been a graduation gift, this place was huge.

There were already a couple of guys milling about but oddly enough there wasn't a welcoming party to greet their employees.

"Ya think we got the wrong address bud?" I whispered to Michael.

"Doubt it. This looks legit, maybe we're too early?" He shrugged.

"The invite said this exact time though... but i guess we should grab a seat maybe." I say, pointing to the folding chairs.

Seeming to be in agreement we made our way to our seats

 

[Slick]

There was a rumbling over the horizon, as an olive drab form crested over it. Soon the form began to coalesce into an American heavy tank that never entered combat though a respectable amount did enter production. The mighty titan of steel rolled closer and closer...Revealing that it was towing a smoking flatbed truck. The M6A1 was unbuttoned, every hatch open and most of the crew in view.

Her commander Roland sighed as he sat on his hatch's edge while Vic chewed out Brooklyn, both of whom were standing behind the turret. Vic was waving one arm while steadying himself as he screamed. debating whether or not to thump the loader. "Goddammit Brooklyn!!! After all the trouble we went through to get here, you cheap out on the truck that's supposed to carry the tank!!" Brooklyn shifted to sit up against the turret, leaning his back against it nonchalantly waving him off. "Don't sweat it Vic, it's a rental anywa-" Vic's screaming went up a couple decibels. "How does that make it any Better!?!?!"

Roland winced and hopped back down the turret hatch, pulling it down shut in hopes of dulling some of the yelling. He turned to Kelly who was doing some radio checks, wincing as the sharp bang of a fist slamming against the turret followed by even louder screaming and swearing...Joined by just as loud laughter. Kelly shook his head as he pried open the radio with a grunt. "Hopefully Vic doesn't pop another blood vessel." Roland nodded with a grimace. "Yeah, his right eye was red for like a week."

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud thud as the whole tank shook, drawing their attention to the front of the hull. "Fuck's sake Andy!! Are you even trying to drive in a straight line!?" Their Driver loudly asked his Assistant-Driver...Who was currently struggling with levers and fumbling with pedals. "I'm trying Schmitty, this is harder than it looks!" Schmitty turned to his partner dumbfounded. "Harder than it...Of course I know it's hard! I'm the DRIVER!!!" He then started to bring up fingers as listed off his other duties. "I'm also the main mechanic, the guy who had to find the manuals for this thing so everyone could learn what to do, the numbers cruncher who has to keep track of supplies AND expenses!!! Not to mentio-" Andy looked like he wanted to bang his head against the hull as Schmitty got further and further into his speech.

Roland's palm clapped against his forehead as he groaned knowing this was gonna last awhile, he turned to Kelly gesturing upwards. "I'm heading topside, once Schmitty get's loud things start echoing." Kelly nodded with understanding. "Boy don't I know it..." Rogers popped the hatch climbing upwards, soon hearing Vic's tirade once more which was joined now by the banging of metal and swearing. The commander took a deep steadying breath and looked backwards. There he found that Vic now had Brooklyn in a headlock while he lambasted him, the struggling Loader kicking as he tried to break free cussing up a storm with every bang of his heels against the engine hatch doors. Facing forwards once more, doing his best to ignore the two, Roger's saw that they were finally entering the compound.

Hopefully the other Tank Crews are less dysfunctional than his...

 

[Sushi]

@Glint @Wolfhunter @always_confused @pharaoh122​

_____Linnéa looked to the people on her, then the people on her right. Full crews. Probably optimistic about the whole thing, but not so much that they brought tanks. The tanker glanced at the slowly growing crowd/ "Anybody know who these people are? Never heard of this team before," she said. "Linnéa, by the way. Nice to meet all of you." She tapped off a short text to the rest of her team waiting at the hotel.

@Slick​

_____Around that time, she started to hear something like a B-17 flying at ground level, the chobby sound of an American radial engine piercing the quiet, a long way down the road, befoer the growing clatter of tank tracks became apparent. Just by ear it sounded American, but not the troublesome little Whirlwind engine she was so painfully acquainted with. Much worse. There were only a handful of tanks with radial engines she knew of, and even fewer that weren't powered bu the R-975.

_____Leaving only one tank she could think of.

_____"You're kidding," Linnéa muttered, as the ugly shape of a T1 heavy tank ambled its way onto the grounds, hatches popped open, smoke spewing out from behind. She wondered for a moment if the crew of the thing had thought to bring street-legal tank tracks, but anyone crazy enough to drive an M6 across the state probably ha money spilling out of their ears to begin with.

 

[pharaoh122]

_____Linnéa looked to the people on her, then the people on her right. Full crews. Probably optimistic about the whole thing, but not so much that they brought tanks. The tanker glanced at the slowly growing crowd/ "Anybody know who these people are? Never heard of this team before," she said. "Linnéa, by the way. Nice to meet all of you." She tapped off a short text to the rest of her team waiting at the hotel.

Click to shrink...

"Sup. I'm Carpe, these are my friends amd my sister." I reply, gesturing to my friends who replied with a small wave, one a little more enthusiastic than the rest.

Looking around, I shrug
"Not really, I've never heard of the team before and I did some digging but haven't had much luck. I was hoping someone here could clue us in."

 

[Wolfhunter]

@Sushi @pharaoh122

River shook her head. "No idea here. My driver thought they might be involved in the racing scene somehow, since they've got those 'wheels parked out front, but if they are, it's not as Thunder Company."

"Anyways, it's good to meet y'all. I'm River Williams. Used to tank for La Plata, before I got the contract here. I've only got a m/42 right now, but I've been doing this for a long time."

 

[Glint]

As the Range Rover pulled up alongside the other vehicles (and one tank), Una gawked at the villa. A hand extended from behind her and gently closed her mouth.

"Now, now Una. A lady should not behave like that."

She turned and rolled her eyes at the speaker.

"Easy for you to say, Lady. You probably own a much more expensive house than this."

Her friend smiled at her and did a face that she could never emulate. A kind of smug but pitying smile that made her want to punch Lady but thank her at the same time. Once again, she chalked it up to Lady's upbringing and decided to address the rest of the team.

"Now remember girls, be on your best behavior!"

Misha cheered as she led the way to the courtyard, where the others, presumably the other squads, gathered. Sanna nodded at her as she followed the exuberant girl, ready to rein in the girl if needed. Yuanji trailed behind the two, taking in the sights and the other squads. Probably observing them and trying to figure out the best way to talk to them if they tried to socialize with her. Una sighed while Lady cheerfully patted her shoulder.

"Come oh Fearless Leader. Time to go meet our employer."

 

[Slick]

Rogers smiled as they entered the compound...Before he was suddenly jerked forwards, along with Vic and Brooklyn considering the twin clangs from behind him, as the Tank halted with little warning. Rogers closed eyes counting down as he held is breathe, as right on schedule... "Andy!! What did I tell you about easing with the brakes!" He turned around the check behind their tank, to make sure the truck they're towing is in once piece. Catching a glimpse of both Gunner and Loader groaning while nursing their bruises before focusing in on the truck...Which was outside of the compound. Rogers slammed his fist against the turret twice with a pair of loud clangs. "Andy!! Drive further in, the truck's not in the compound!" With a muffled swear the vehicles lurched forwards once again, with her Commander checking behind him every so often to make sure the truck was following them properly. "Alright now pull over so it's not blocking the entrance...And watch where your going, there are a lot of expensive stuff parked here!!"

With effort and some minor finessing from Schmitty they managed to park themselves with the other vehicles and the flatbed was no longer blocking the entrance. Rogers let loose a sigh of relief as he crawled up onto the M6A1's turret and started to dole out orders. "Alright everyone get out of Metal Thunder to receive your orders!" Vic and Brooklyn got to their feet flinching as they twisted their still aching bodies the wrong ways, as Kelly climbed up out of the turret's hatch to join the two on the rear hull. Followed shortly by Schmitty who did the deed no problem...Followed by Andy who faceplanted tripping on the hatch, much to the laughter and snickering of the rest of the team. Roland shook his head but smiled at the sight and cleared his throat. "Ahem..."

The rest of team thunder quieted down as they stood at the ready with their assistant-driver joining them shortly after most of the throbbing in his face subsided. "Alright, First order of business..." He pointed to Schmitty and Andy in quick succession. "You two are to get that thing back into something resembling working order." Rogers pointed behind them at the still smoking flatbed truck, Schmitty snapped out a salute and guided Andy to their new job. "You got it Rogers, come on Andy!"

Bringing up two fingers Rogers continued. "Second order of business...Brooklyn." He pointed at the confused Loader. "Uhh, Yeah Rogers?" He pointed at the truck once more, his face contorting into a frown. "Find whatever documents the rental place gave you so we can figure out how much this is going to cost us." He flinched and nodded hopping off the tank and rushing for the flatbed, apparently having left said papers in it. "On It!!!"

The Commander of Metal Thunder stared at his last two crew members, pointing Kelly who was adjusting his glasses. "And finally, Kelly!!" His finger switched to Vic the stubbled man nodding in acknowledgment. "Vic!! You two have maintenance duties!!!" Rogers stamped his boot against the turret twice. "I expect everything to be up and at'em gentleman by the time your done." Vic nodded and jumped down the hatch with a scream of... "I'M ON IT!!!!!" A loud bang following soon after with Kelly silently following him by actually climbing down the hatch.

Rogers sighed shaking his head before sitting on the lip of the turret, exhausted mentally and likely soon physically at this rate. Despite this he soon noticed a Gal that was only a couple years younger than him by his estimation just...staring at his tank with an expression he couldn't interpret past her shades, he waved at her to get her attention. "Huh...? Oh Hey!!!" Rogers smiled at her and climbed downed so they could talk at the same level. "You interested in our Big Gal?" He said tapping a knuckle against his ride affectionately.

@Sushi

 

[pharaoh122]

"Anyways, it's good to meet y'all. I'm River Williams. Used to tank for La Plata, before I got the contract here. I've only got a m/42 right now, but I've been doing this for a long time."

Click to shrink...

"Hola, we're pretty new. We attended some amateur tournies, we never expected something like this but it was a welcome surprize."

 

[Sushi]

@See my smile @Slick​

_____Linnéa looked from the smoldering tank to the dismounted tank commander. "Hey," she said, curt and clipped. For a moment she weighed being honest and nice, but the earnest answer won out like always. "That's probably one of my least favorite tanks; I can't stand the T1 or its ilk. A fifty-seven ton tank should have better frontal than a thirty-ton M4, and the coaxial cannon is about as useful as a machine gun you can't aim." Pausing, she did feel a little pang of guilt, though it didn't show on her face as she turned back to the sign, searching for any sign of life from their organizers. "But hey, I love the idea of sticking a B-17 engine into a tank and the sound is incredible."

_____She blew the hair out of her eyes. No show yet, at least not the organizers, but they did have a team now. Maybe not the team or the tanks she wanted, but she liked a challenge anyway.

_____Mostly. "By the way," Linnéa said, tone slightly strained. "If you tell your crew to wear a standard M1 helmet over the Rawlings crash helmet, it'll keep them from hurting their heads too badly when the tank's underway. In case they, uh, fall into hatches a lot."

 

[See my smile]

_____A sleek coupe wound through the countryside, a blotch of white in a tapestry of burnt browns and reds. The mellow rumble of its motor echoed off the hills, the rasp of a gear change precluding the faint chirp of its tires as the coupe turned onto one of many little backroads winding through the state. Linnéa's eyes scanned the trees as the engine sung. Though she'd traveled much and for a long time lived away from her home state, she had rarely gone outside of the big apple, and a place so close to where she had grown up seemed pretty alien to her now.

_____That's when she saw the train tracks winding through a level spot in the hils, parallel to a winding road that wormed its way toward a sizeable compound in the distance, with the kind of industrial colors she usually associated with tank-school training grounds. Linnéa took off her sunglasses and craned her neck to see the tops of the buildings as they grew near.

_____She motored past the gates and up the driveway. Things hadn't gone well at the last competition, and she was still wrestling with the idea of getting out of the sport entirely. An array of neatly-parked, immaculately-kept armored cars acted like gate guards for the courtyard, and the sight sent a little pang through her chest as she rubbed absently at the insignia on her sleeve. In a weird way it was just like the old days, but the deserted grounds were more than a little sketchy. Festive, but a little spooky, like a birthday party at an asylum. Linnéa took a good look at the printed invitation in her hand.

_____Well, going back would have been a waste of gas anyway. The blond tanker killed the engine and threw it into first, grabbing a green kit bag from the passenger seat. She pulled her tanker jacket more tightly around her, as if the names and places stitched on would blow away in the wind. Linnéa replaced her aviators and moved to the front row, taking a center seat with her bag in her lap. She took one last glance over her shoulder, seeing a rainbow of countryside through the open gates and the neat collection of armored shapes flanking the way she had taken. This had to be some strange purgatory for people that went off the path like she had.

_____But you couldn't beat the view.

Click to shrink...

A large truck hauling a relic of the 2nd World War comes to a stop at the picturesque country villa alongside a police van. The truck's occupants get out and begin to unload the Italian SPG and in the meanwhile, a rather harried looking policeman jumps out his van and opens the back, letting out a small group of people in Adidas tracksuits, sneakers and flat caps. The cop wearily approaches the leader, relatively speaking, of the group, a young man with Middle-Eastern features smiling brightly at his surroundings.

"Now, Farrukh, you're completely sure I won't get into trouble with your family?" The policeman gets the ball rolling as he uncuffs the unfortunates. "Not to worry, Charlie! You're just an unfortunate 3rd party doing their job. They'll be more annoyed with me than anything." Muttering something about about not getting paid enough for his job, the policeman sighs and continues, "If you say so. Look, thanks for paying off my kids' education loans and writing a character certificate for them, but if you don't mind me saying, I really hope I don't see you or any of your extended family again." Ignoring, or oblivious to, the policeman's weariness, Farrukh replies with an even brighter smile, "Hah, it was nothing! Anything for a friend! I'll see you and your family later, I hope!" The cop just groans loudly and gets going along with the haulers, leaving the crew of the 'Chicken-Coop' alone.

....

"Alright. So getting arrested at a drive-thru wasn't exactly part of the plan, but we're here now and in one piece!" I proclaim to my trusty crew. I get complete silence and blank looks in response. One of them coughs. Giovanni rolls his eyes and responds, "Whatever you say Farrukh. Think we should get rid of that museum 'decor' on the tank?" I brush his question off. "Nonsense. It adds character! All tankers decorate their tanks." So saying, I joyfully lead my inspired crew-mates over to the courtyard and grab a chair.

Click to shrink...

When Dominic turned his big 3500 onto the driveway of the villa, River was more than ready to get out stretch her legs. The two of them had gone ahead of the rest of their crew in Dom's truck early that morning, towing the Stridsvagn on a trailer. Unfortunately, the truck had never been designed for comfort, and nearly twenty years of use hadn't improved that situation.

"Hey, that's a nice set of wheels they've got there." Aside from a Semovente of some variety in the process being unloaded in the driveway, the little collection of armored cars and tankettes were the only other fighting vehicles around.

Dominic set the park brake and looked up. "Oh yeah, that ain't too bad. Maybe these guys are a racing team trying to get into the real game or something."

"Could be, but I wouldn't have any idea who they are." River pursed her lips. "Could you handle checking the tank out by yourself so I can go and see if our employers here yet? Leyland and Alice should catch up by the time we need to move it."

"Yeah, I can do that."

"Thanks." River jumped out of the truck, swinging the door shut behind her. The summer had sucked, to put it lightly. She hadn't managed to get any predraft agreements made with anyone, something especially galling considering that her radioman, driver, and loader had(Alice had planned to join her parent's indy team), and she had spent the rest of the summer trying to get a tank and crew together for the fall. Even once her crew had been persuaded to join her and money assembled, the best thing that they had been able to buy was the m/42, which was only really comparable to the midwar medium tanks. And then it had looked for all the world like she wasn't even going to make it through the draft, until "Thunder Company", whoever they were, had picked them in the last days of the final round of the draft.

Since then, thankfully, things had started to fall into place. Bags were packed, practice was had, and the logistics of moving the little Swedish machine north had been taken care of, all without hassle. And now it was starting to pay off.

River took a deep breath, and set out for the folding chairs. This was probably the best opportunity she was going to get, and she intended to make the most of it.

Click to shrink...

I gawked at the mansion and the decor as my friends and I got out of my Civic, had been a graduation gift, this place was huge.

There were already a couple of guys milling about but oddly enough there wasn't a welcoming party to greet their employees.

"Ya think we got the wrong address bud?" I whispered to Michael.

"Doubt it. This looks legit, maybe we're too early?" He shrugged.

"The invite said this exact time though... but i guess we should grab a seat maybe." I say, pointing to the folding chairs.

Seeming to be in agreement we made our way to our seats

Click to shrink...

There was a rumbling over the horizon, as an olive drab form crested over it. Soon the form began to coalesce into an American heavy tank that never entered combat though a respectable amount did enter production. The mighty titan of steel rolled closer and closer...Revealing that it was towing a smoking flatbed truck. The M6A1 was unbuttoned, every hatch open and most of the crew in view.

Her commander Roland sighed as he sat on his hatch's edge while Vic chewed out Brooklyn, both of whom were standing behind the turret. Vic was waving one arm while steadying himself as he screamed. debating whether or not to thump the loader. "Goddammit Brooklyn!!! After all the trouble we went through to get here, you cheap out on the truck that's supposed to carry the tank!!" Brooklyn shifted to sit up against the turret, leaning his back against it nonchalantly waving him off. "Don't sweat it Vic, it's a rental anywa-" Vic's screaming went up a couple decibels. "How does that make it any Better!?!?!"

Roland winced and hopped back down the turret hatch, pulling it down shut in hopes of dulling some of the yelling. He turned to Kelly who was doing some radio checks, wincing as the sharp bang of a fist slamming against the turret followed by even louder screaming and swearing...Joined by just as loud laughter. Kelly shook his head as he pried open the radio with a grunt. "Hopefully Vic doesn't pop another blood vessel." Roland nodded with a grimace. "Yeah, his right eye was red for like a week."

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud thud as the whole tank shook, drawing their attention to the front of the hull. "Fuck's sake Andy!! Are you even trying to drive in a straight line!?" Their Driver loudly asked his Assistant-Driver...Who was currently struggling with levers and fumbling with pedals. "I'm trying Schmitty, this is harder than it looks!" Schmitty turned to his partner dumbfounded. "Harder than it...Of course I know it's hard! I'm the DRIVER!!!" He then started to bring up fingers as listed off his other duties. "I'm also the main mechanic, the guy who had to find the manuals for this thing so everyone could learn what to do, the numbers cruncher who has to keep track of supplies AND expenses!!! Not to mentio-" Andy looked like he wanted to bang his head against the hull as Schmitty got further and further into his speech.

Roland's palm clapped against his forehead as he groaned knowing this was gonna last awhile, he turned to Kelly gesturing upwards. "I'm heading topside, once Schmitty get's loud things start echoing." Kelly nodded with understanding. "Boy don't I know it..." Rogers popped the hatch climbing upwards, soon hearing Vic's tirade once more which was joined now by the banging of metal and swearing. The commander took a deep steadying breath and looked backwards. There he found that Vic now had Brooklyn in a headlock while he lambasted him, the struggling Loader kicking as he tried to break free cussing up a storm with every bang of his heels against the engine hatch doors. Facing forwards once more, doing his best to ignore the two, Roger's saw that they were finally entering the compound.

Hopefully the other Tank Crews are less dysfunctional than his...

Click to shrink...

As the Range Rover pulled up alongside the other vehicles (and one tank), Una gawked at the villa. A hand extended from behind her and gently closed her mouth.

"Now, now Una. A lady should not behave like that."

She turned and rolled her eyes at the speaker.

"Easy for you to say, Lady. You probably own a much more expensive house than this."

Her friend smiled at her and did a face that she could never emulate. A kind of smug but pitying smile that made her want to punch Lady but thank her at the same time. Once again, she chalked it up to Lady's upbringing and decided to address the rest of the team.

"Now remember girls, be on your best behavior!"

Misha cheered as she led the way to the courtyard, where the others, presumably the other squads, gathered. Sanna nodded at her as she followed the exuberant girl, ready to rein in the girl if needed. Yuanji trailed behind the two, taking in the sights and the other squads. Probably observing them and trying to figure out the best way to talk to them if they tried to socialize with her. Una sighed while Lady cheerfully patted her shoulder.

"Come to oh Fearless Leader. Time to go meet our employer."

Click to shrink...

As the team met and began to take their seats there were an awkward five minutes where nothing really happened. Then in the distance, a train made itself known with a loud blow of its horn. Looking over your shoulder you saw that the train tracks were now occupied with a large fairly modern train with 10 cars: three passengers, 7 flat cars. Only one of which was occupied with a Conqueror Armoured Recovery Vehicle.

The train pulled around a wide corner at the end of the valley and slowly pulls into the depot there's a couple of minutes where you can just barely make out some people talking and then the double door opened up and a small group of men and women walked out about half of the group is speaking loudly while gesturing to the train and then to you all. The figure there speaking to is shorter than them and it's difficult to tell who they are. But, it's a good guess that there your new coach and owner.

The figure finally pushed there way free of the clump of people and you got your first look. She was shorter than most but, stocky her arms visibly muscled. Her hair was a dark brown, and she was wearing an olive drab tankers jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and as she turns to begin walking towards you, you all notice an older looking scar that starts somewhere in her hairline and ends just above the right side of her mouth. That is the thing that jogs the memories of the tank racing fans among you. This is the former driver of Charley the Bastard, An M-18 with its gun removed and an engine that had been retuned, LaLa "Speedy" Stewart. She was a three-time Champion of the Tank Biathlon and a two-time First place winner of the Canadian Army Trophy. She hadn't been seen in two years after she had misjudged a corner and she had gone over a cliff and into a deep ravine. She had stopped Racing not long after that and had disappeared from the public eye after that.

She climbed up onto the stage and looked over everyone with a critical eye and then looked at the tanks that you had brought with you. She grimaced and then spoke. "I must apologize for my lateness but, several of my..." She glances of the stage at the group of suits. "Associates, have expressed issues with this team. Both with how much money I have spent and with who I have hired. But, they aren't the ones in charge are they." She grins easily and then gestures to you all. "So, with that out of the way, I am LaLa Stewart your new coach and the owner of Thunder Company. If you all wouldn't mind introducing your teams, what tank you've brought with you, and any previous experience you have with Tanking."

 

[Sushi]

@See my smile​

_____Linnéa ever so slightly sat straighter in her seat, head straight forward and watching the unfolding situation with rapt attention. She peered over the top of her sunglasses and muttered something lost to the general hustle and bustle of the forming crowd, tapping a number into her phone. It rung once before Yuanwei picked up. "Is it shit? Is it amazing? Do we go home now?"

_____It's legit," Linnéa said. "Shake and bake. Hook right on the road with the transporter, be here in two mikes."

_____"Awww."

_____"No whining. There's a bunch of misfits here; show 'em what a professional team looks like." Linnéa hung up and folded her arms across her chest, content to study their new boss in the meanwhile. Somewhere in the distance, an HETS grumbled to life and started ambling up the backroads.

 

[pharaoh122]

As the team met and began to take their seats there were an awkward five minutes where nothing really happened. Then in the distance, a train made itself known with a loud blow of its horn. Looking over your shoulder you saw that the train tracks were now occupied with a large fairly modern train with 10 cars: three passengers, 7 flat cars. Only one of which was occupied with a Conqueror Armoured Recovery Vehicle.

The train pulled around a wide corner at the end of the valley and slowly pulls into the depot there's a couple of minutes where you can just barely make out some people talking and then the double door opened up and a small group of men and women walked out about half of the group is speaking loudly while gesturing to the train and then to you all. The figure there speaking to is shorter than them and it's difficult to tell who they are. But, it's a good guess that there your new coach and owner.

The figure finally pushed there way free of the clump of people and you got your first look. She was shorter than most but, stocky her arms visibly muscled. Her hair was a dark brown, and she was wearing an olive drab tankers jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and as she turns to begin walking towards you, you all notice an older looking scar that starts somewhere in her hairline and ends just above the right side of her mouth. That is the thing that jogs the memories of the tank racing fans among you. This is the former driver of Charley the Bastard, An M-18 with its gun removed and an engine that had been retuned, LaLa "Speedy" Stewart. She was a three-time Champion of the Tank Biathlon and a two-time First place winner of the Canadian Army Trophy. She hadn't been seen in two years after she had misjudged a corner and she had gone over a cliff and into a deep ravine. She had stopped Racing not long after that and had disappeared from the public eye after that.

She climbed up onto the stage and looked over everyone with a critical eye and then looked at the tanks that you had brought with you. She grimaced and then spoke. "I must apologize for my lateness but, several of my..." She glances of the stage at the group of suits. "Associates, have expressed issues with this team. Both with how much money I have spent and with who I have hired. But, they aren't the ones in charge are they." She grins easily and then gestures to you all. "So, with that out of the way, I am LaLa Stewart your new coach and the owner of Thunder Company. If you all wouldn't mind introducing your teams, what tank you've brought with you, and any previous experience you have with Tanking."

Click to shrink...

"Holy fuck." We all muttered.

We all shared a look before we heaved a sigh of relief.

"Well whaddya know. This is going to be fantastic." I say with a grin.

 

[Glint]

The figure finally pushed there way free of the clump of people and you got your first look. She was shorter than most but, stocky her arms visibly muscled. Her hair was a dark brown, and she was wearing an olive drab tankers jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and as she turns to begin walking towards you, you all notice an older looking scar that starts somewhere in her hairline and ends just above the right side of her mouth. That is the thing that jogs the memories of the tank racing fans among you. This is the former driver of Charley the Bastard, An M-18 with its gun removed and an engine that had been retuned, LaLa "Speedy" Stewart. She was a three-time Champion of the Tank Biathlon and a two-time First place winner of the Canadian Army Trophy. She hadn't been seen in two years after she had misjudged a corner and she had gone over a cliff and into a deep ravine. She had stopped Racing not long after that and had disappeared from the public eye after that.

Click to shrink...

"Oh my god, it's Lala! Look it's really her!" Misha squealed excitedly, prompting Sanna to frantically calm the girl down. Meanwhile, Lady watched in satisfaction as Lala pushed through the crowd of people.

"It's nice to see someone with a nice figure."

She climbed up onto the stage and looked over everyone with a critical eye and then looked at the tanks that you had brought with you. She grimaced and then spoke. "I must apologize for my lateness but, several of my..." She glances of the stage at the group of suits. "Associates, have expressed issues with this team. Both with how much money I have spent and with who I have hired. But, they aren't the ones in charge are they." She grins easily and then gestures to you all.

Click to shrink...

The five girls smirked at that while doing an imaginary fist pump. Score! An awesome coach!

 

[Slick]

@See my smile @Slick​

_____Linnéa looked from the smoldering tank to the dismounted tank commander. "Hey," she said, curt and clipped. For a moment she weighed being honest and nice, but the earnest answer won out like always. "That's probably one of my least favorite tanks; I can't stand the T1 or its ilk. A fifty-seven ton tank should have better frontal than a thirty-ton M4, and the coaxial cannon is about as useful as a machine gun you can't aim." Pausing, she did feel a little pang of guilt, though it didn't show on her face as she turned back to the sign, searching for any sign of life from their organizers. "But hey, I love the idea of sticking a B-17 engine into a tank and the sound is incredible."

_____She blew the hair out of her eyes. No show yet, at least not the organizers, but they did have a team now. Maybe not the team or the tanks she wanted, but she liked a challenge anyway.

_____Mostly. "By the way," Linnéa said, tone slightly strained. "If you tell your crew to wear a standard M1 helmet over the Rawlings crash helmet, it'll keep them from hurting their heads too badly when the tank's underway. In case they, uh, fall into hatches a lot."

Click to shrink...

"Huh..." Rogers rubbed the back of his head in thought at her answer. "Well that's fair, doesn't change the fact that the M6 sorta wormed it's way into my heart as my favorite heavy tank." He smiled at her shaking his head. "But your opinion's pretty valid too, the Big Gal can be a bit of a mess sometimes." Roger nodded at her recommendation on helmets. "Oh, well that sounds really useful. Thanks for the recommendation."

Rogers noticed the various crews forming up at and taking seats and gestured to them, "Guess we aught to join them huh?"

As the team met and began to take their seats there were an awkward five minutes where nothing really happened. Then in the distance, a train made itself known with a loud blow of its horn. Looking over your shoulder you saw that the train tracks were now occupied with a large fairly modern train with 10 cars: three passengers, 7 flat cars. Only one of which was occupied with a Conqueror Armoured Recovery Vehicle.

The train pulled around a wide corner at the end of the valley and slowly pulls into the depot there's a couple of minutes where you can just barely make out some people talking and then the double door opened up and a small group of men and women walked out about half of the group is speaking loudly while gesturing to the train and then to you all. The figure there speaking to is shorter than them and it's difficult to tell who they are. But, it's a good guess that there your new coach and owner.

The figure finally pushed there way free of the clump of people and you got your first look. She was shorter than most but, stocky her arms visibly muscled. Her hair was a dark brown, and she was wearing an olive drab tankers jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and as she turns to begin walking towards you, you all notice an older looking scar that starts somewhere in her hairline and ends just above the right side of her mouth. That is the thing that jogs the memories of the tank racing fans among you. This is the former driver of Charley the Bastard, An M-18 with its gun removed and an engine that had been retuned, LaLa "Speedy" Stewart. She was a three-time Champion of the Tank Biathlon and a two-time First place winner of the Canadian Army Trophy. She hadn't been seen in two years after she had misjudged a corner and she had gone over a cliff and into a deep ravine. She had stopped Racing not long after that and had disappeared from the public eye after that.

She climbed up onto the stage and looked over everyone with a critical eye and then looked at the tanks that you had brought with you. She grimaced and then spoke. "I must apologize for my lateness but, several of my..." She glances of the stage at the group of suits. "Associates, have expressed issues with this team. Both with how much money I have spent and with who I have hired. But, they aren't the ones in charge are they." She grins easily and then gestures to you all. "So, with that out of the way, I am LaLa Stewart your new coach and the owner of Thunder Company. If you all wouldn't mind introducing your teams, what tank you've brought with you, and any previous experience you have with Tanking."

Click to shrink...

Rogers looked around at the various crews making comments but not actually introducing themselves and sighed. He got up and whistled to get their attentions.

FWEEEEE-eeeee!!!!!

"Alright so I guess I'll start with the introductions." Roland gestured to himself, A 5'11'' Caucasian wearing a G.I.'s uniform with brown eyes and a black crewcut. "Names Roland Roger call-sign Thunder, Commander of the M6A1 Heavy Tank Metal Thunder." He pointed to his crew-mates and started to go over them. "This is Kelly my Radio Operator." The clean shaven and impeccably dressed man adjusted his glasses before waving shyly. "That's Vic, my Gunner." The grizzled chinned former linebacker fired off a salute in greeting, at his size it was a wonder he could fit into a tank. "That's Brooklyn our Loader." Said crew member was precariously leaning on his chair as he cracked off a big grin waving at them. "How's everyone doing?"

Rogers than gestured to the final two members to his other side. "And that's Schmitty and Andy, our Driver and Assistant-Driver respectively." Andy nervously smiled and Schmitty patted his back reassuringly before nodding to the crowd. Rogers clapped his hands together and looked around at the crews. "Now that we're out of the way, who's next on introducing themselves?"

@Wolfhunter @pharaoh122 @Glint

 

[Sushi]

Track 1​

@See my smile @Glint @Wolfhunter @Slick @pharaoh122​

_____"Yeah, sure. Nice uh, meeting you," Linnéa said, her eyes on the tanker owning the stage. That was a name she hadn't heard in some time. Nobody had really expected her to take the stage again, especially not with a team of unknowns. It made her a little giddy, although that feeling was tempered by the fact that the fucking team wasn't doin' shit. They were loafing around with their thumbs up their asses, avoiding eye contact and making it one long minute of silence after Lala had asked for their introductions. Linnéa kept glancing at her phone, praying that Jessica was gonna be a little heavy on the gas.

_____"Ugh." Nobody going up. This team wasn't earning any favor with her. At least until Roger went up and introduced his team. It wasn't flashy, a little bit shy even, but at least he had the cojones to act like a part of the team. After waiting her turn, Linnéa brushed off her coat and stood up with her hands in her pockets, flipping her shades back. She nodded her head at Lala. "Hey. I'm Linnéa. You might know me as 'Winter' or 'Giant' from the tank regionals. Been doin' tank things for just about eight years, in the competitive level for the past four. It's my life, and I love every second of it."

​

_____The rumbling in the air grew as the tan-painted cab of a large truck pulled through the gate, the diesel grunting and pushing it along as the brakes squealed, bringing its heavily laden bed to a slow stop. There was a green tank with a crane at the very front, some crates, and a grey vehicle in the back. The ramp dropped, and the Sherman's V8 roared to life, reversing off the bed in a hurry and hooking right, the medium tank roaring into gear as it raced forward and covered the ground in the courtyard. Linnéa took a step in front of it as the driver put on the brakes, and the big thing skidded to a halt right in front of her.

_____It was an unusual looking specimen, an M4 with the double-wide HVSS tracks and a welded hull, the turret mounting a stubby cannon and a British-style bustle box. Numerous machine guns hung on their roof mounts, and parts of the upper armor plate had a yellow-gold pattern. The rest of it was an almost stone grey color, a few shades darker than primer. There were markings here and there, most noticeably two white triangles on the turret front, and 'GIANT' on the rear of the bustle extension. "This is the Iron Giant. My tank. We found Giant years ago in an old school warehouse, spent months fixing it. There's no M4 as fast, or as accurate."

_____The hatches popped open, and the driver took off her helmet, honey-colored hair spilling down her shoulders as she grinned. She was trim and cut like a swimmer, with troublemaker's smirk and green eyes always scheming of some kind of trouble. The tanker wore some brand-name tanker jacket stained with motor oil and transmission fluid. "Jessica Morgan. Nice to make your acquaintance. Like the exhaust?" She leaned over and bumped fists with Linnéa before dropping back down, bringing the M4A3 down to an even idle.

_____Compared to Jessica, the two that popped out of the turret were a good deal shorter than her or Linnéa. The gunner was a beret-wearing, coffee chugging, stone-cold Brit killer with several badges on her tanker jacket, chestnut hair neatly trimmed over the sharpest pair of eyes she'd ever seen. "Ava. It's an honor," she said flatly. "The ride was bumpy."

_____"I'm Yuanwei," said the last crew member. "I shove shells and make coffee."Their loader wasn't as tidy or as disciplined, greasy and lazy as they came. "Black hair, black eyes, black heart" was how she usually described herself, and the garish red scarf she wore, usually peppered with crumbs, was the only consistent thing in her outfit. "Oh, and I shoot the fifty," she said, rubbing her hands in glee. "I love the fifty."

_____"Of course you do," Linnéa groaned. "Give it a rest." She grabbed Yuanwei by the helmet and shoved her back into the turret. Then she hopped off, turning back to her new boss. "Anyway, that's my family, my best friends. We do good work. It's an honor to meet you in person, LaLa. My old coach always said good things about you."

 

[Hallesworth49]

A tank slowly, though not surely, makes its way through the forest. With all the twist and turns, wildly changing elevations, uncrossable creeks seen only in the last minute, and trees upon trees upon trees, the experience is teaching Taylor why forests are not tank country.

"Schneider, how did you Jerries get through this blasted terrain in the '40s? You can't get from point A to B in a straight line. You have to slow down and be careful or you get stuck in a natural anti-tank ditch. The whole place is a defense against tanks all by itself."

"Ballard, you're right. That is exactly what happened in the Ardennes. The sickle cut was bottlenecked in just a couple of roads and there was massive congestion. The Allies could have a dealt a blow and slow the advance with just a few bombing runs."

"True. So much for missed opportunities. How are you holding up Szabo?"

"Keep your eyes on the surroundings and I won't have to plough into a creek. Again. I swear our squadron back in England could clear this track in less time than us without even trying."

"You might actually have a point there. We are an infantry tank after all."

"Why am I even here?" Laurence sighs while burying is face in his hands.

"Because you said you liked tanks and this was an opportunity to try them out" pointed Armin.

"Yes but why with you guys! Who wears clothing armies used two centuries ago in a tank? How did I let this happen?"

"Ah my dear MacPorter" pipes up Taylor. "There was nothing any of us could have, not us nor you. It was fate a tell you, fate. All of us have names pertaining to the noble profession of tailors. My first name, my fellow reenactors' surnames and your mother's maiden name Couture. It could not have been mere coincidence."

"He's crazy, absolute bonkers. How do the rest you deal with him?"

"Because he's our crazy madman. And he repairs our uniforms for free" Silvester gives Laurence a wink. "Really funny too. There was this one time-"

"Creek, creek! Szabo, ravine dead ahead."

"Oh for-" Silvester curses as the tank ominously lurches on the edge.

"We are so going to be late" Armin smile sheepishly.

"Think we already are, its ten past three on my watch" says Taylor.

Laurence just buries his head deeper.

 

[See my smile]

"Holy fuck." We all muttered.

We all shared a look before we heaved a sigh of relief.

"Well whaddya know. This is going to be fantastic." I say with a grin.

Click to shrink...

"Oh my god, it's Lala! Look it's really her!" Misha squealed excitedly, prompting Sanna to frantically calm the girl down. Meanwhile, Lady watched in satisfaction as Lala pushed through the crowd of people.

"It's nice to see someone with a nice figure."



The five girls smirked at that while doing an imaginary fist pump. Score! An awesome coach!

Click to shrink...

"Huh..." Rogers rubbed the back of his head in thought at her answer. "Well that's fair, doesn't change the fact that the M6 sorta wormed it's way into my heart as my favorite heavy tank." He smiled at her shaking his head. "But your opinion's pretty valid too, the Big Gal can be a bit of a mess sometimes." Roger nodded at her recommendation on helmets. "Oh, well that sounds really useful. Thanks for the recommendation."

Rogers noticed the various crews forming up at and taking seats and gestured to them, "Guess we aught to join them huh?"


Rogers looked around at the various crews making comments but not actually introducing themselves and sighed. He got up and whistled to get their attentions.

FWEEEEE-eeeee!!!!!

"Alright so I guess I'll start with the introductions." Roland gestured to himself, A 5'11'' Caucasian wearing a G.I.'s uniform with brown eyes and a black crewcut. "Names Roland Roger call-sign Thunder, Commander of the M6A1 Heavy Tank Metal Thunder." He pointed to his crew-mates and started to go over them. "This is Kelly my Radio Operator." The clean shaven and impeccably dressed man adjusted his glasses before waving shyly. "That's Vic, my Gunner." The grizzled chinned former linebacker fired off a salute in greeting, at his size it was a wonder he could fit into a tank. "That's Brooklyn our Loader." Said crew member was precariously leaning on his chair as he cracked off a big grin waving at them. "How's everyone doing?"

Rogers than gestured to the final two members to his other side. "And that's Schmitty and Andy, our Driver and Assistant-Driver respectively." Andy nervously smiled and Schmitty patted his back reassuringly before nodding to the crowd. Rogers clapped his hands together and looked around at the crews. "Now that we're out of the way, who's next on introducing themselves?"

@Wolfhunter @pharaoh122 @Glint

Click to shrink...

LaLa smiled and a single silver canine shined out at the assembled crowed. "It's good to have you and your tank on the team. Heavy tanks are the Anchor of any tabkibg team between you and your teammate. You'll be in charge of taking the hits you compatriots cannot."

@Glint

Track 1​

@See my smile @Glint @Wolfhunter @Slick @pharaoh122​

_____"Yeah, sure. Nice uh, meeting you," Linnéa said, her eyes on the tanker owning the stage. That was a name she hadn't heard in some time. Nobody had really expected her to take the stage again, especially not with a team of unknowns. It made her a little giddy, although that feeling was tempered by the fact that the fucking team wasn't doin' shit. They were loafing around with their thumbs up their asses, avoiding eye contact and making it one long minute of silence after Lala had asked for their introductions. Linnéa kept glancing at her phone, praying that Jessica was gonna be a little heavy on the gas.

_____"Ugh." Nobody going up. This team wasn't earning any favor with her. At least until Roger went up and introduced his team. It wasn't flashy, a little bit shy even, but at least he had the cojones to act like a part of the team. After waiting her turn, Linnéa brushed off her coat and stood up with her hands in her pockets, flipping her shades back. She nodded her head at Lala. "Hey. I'm Linnéa. You might know me as 'Winter' or 'Giant' from the tank regionals. Been doin' tank things for just about eight years, in the competitive level for the past four. It's my life, and I love every second of it."

​

_____The rumbling in the air grew as the tan-painted cab of a large truck pulled through the gate, the diesel grunting and pushing it along as the brakes squealed, bringing its heavily laden bed to a slow stop. There was a green tank with a crane at the very front, some crates, and a grey vehicle in the back. The ramp dropped, and the Sherman's V8 roared to life, reversing off the bed in a hurry and hooking right, the medium tank roaring into gear as it raced forward and covered the ground in the courtyard. Linnéa took a step in front of it as the driver put on the brakes, and the big thing skidded to a halt right in front of her.

_____It was an unusual looking specimen, an M4 with the double-wide HVSS tracks and a welded hull, the turret mounting a stubby cannon and a British-style bustle box. Numerous machine guns hung on their roof mounts, and parts of the upper armor plate had a yellow-gold pattern. The rest of it was an almost stone grey color, a few shades darker than primer. There were markings here and there, most noticeably two white triangles on the turret front, and 'GIANT' on the rear of the bustle extension. "This is the Iron Giant. My tank. We found Giant years ago in an old school warehouse, spent months fixing it. There's no M4 as fast, or as accurate."

_____The hatches popped open, and the driver took off her helmet, honey-colored hair spilling down her shoulders as she grinned. She was trim and cut like a swimmer, with troublemaker's smirk and green eyes always scheming of some kind of trouble. The tanker wore some brand-name tanker jacket stained with motor oil and transmission fluid. "Jessica Morgan. Nice to make your acquaintance. Like the exhaust?" She leaned over and bumped fists with Linnéa before dropping back down, bringing the M4A3 down to an even idle.

_____Compared to Jessica, the two that popped out of the turret were a good deal shorter than her or Linnéa. The gunner was a beret-wearing, coffee chugging, stone-cold Brit killer with several badges on her tanker jacket, chestnut hair neatly trimmed over the sharpest pair of eyes she'd ever seen. "Ava. It's an honor," she said flatly. "The ride was bumpy."

_____"I'm Yuanwei," said the last crew member. "I shove shells and make coffee."Their loader wasn't as tidy or as disciplined, greasy and lazy as they came. "Black hair, black eyes, black heart" was how she usually described herself, and the garish red scarf she wore, usually peppered with crumbs, was the only consistent thing in her outfit. "Oh, and I shoot the fifty," she said, rubbing her hands in glee. "I love the fifty."

_____"Of course you do," Linnéa groaned. "Give it a rest." She grabbed Yuanwei by the helmet and shoved her back into the turret. Then she hopped off, turning back to her new boss. "Anyway, that's my family, my best friends. We do good work. It's an honor to meet you in person, LaLa. My old coach always said good things about you."

Click to shrink...

Lala raises her brow the scar wiggling and shifting with it. " That is an impressive record and resume Tanker Linnea. You Crew seems disciplined and capable and your tank seems to be in excellent condition." She glances off stage at the huddled mass of suit-wearing men and women. "I'm very very pleased to have you on the team."

The group of people shifts and you hear some of then muttering amongst themselves. Then one, a younger man somewhere in the neighborhood 26 or so, steps forward and joins Lala on the stage. Lala glares at him the entire time as he walks up the steps and gives a deep tired sounding sigh as he takes a position in front of her on the stage.

His hair is black and cut short in what is almost a buzz cut. His suit is brand new and looks to be well fitted. He adjusts his tie and speaks. "Hello, I am Marcus A Fitzpatrick. Mrs. Stewart's Accoutant and your." And he looks out at all of you. "Quarter-Master. I will be requisitioning all of your parts, tools, and munitions." Lala smiles tightly and speaks again. " Yes, thank you Marcus. You three." she points to Una, Carlos, and River. "Do you have any prior experience I should be made aware of before we move on to getting you set up inside."


@Wolfhunter

 

[pharaoh122]

If you all wouldn't mind introducing your teams, what tank you've brought with you, and any previous experience you have with Tanking."

Click to shrink...

You three." she points to Una, Carlos, and River. "Do you have any prior experience I should be made aware of before we move on to getting you set up inside."

Click to shrink...

Ah right. I had gotten lost in my thoughts for a moment.

"My crew and I have been in a few amateur tournaments, nothing big and we havent had too much success. We have spent our free time praticing."

 

[Sushi]

@Glint @See my smile @pharaoh122​

_____"You bring your tank, Carpe?" Linnéa said. "I'm feeling all self conscious now, if it's just us and the M6." Some small part of her wondered if the rest of the peanut gallery was just trying to vanish instead of stepping up. Shyness was one of those things that didn't really suit a tanker.

 

[DB_Explorer]

The sleek shape of the Ghibli Spyder hugged the winding roads of upstate New York like figure skater. Behind it, like a draft horse following after a peacock came something altogether different and more utilitarian. An armored cab lumbred around the turns on six massive wheels as the rumble of it's engine drowned out the purr of it's smaller compatriot.

On the back of the tractors trailer though came the true star of the procession. It's well angled turret sat atop an equally well angled body with it's three inch gun pointed back for transport, as if it was guarding the the rear of the small convoy.

The villa they approached looked like it would of been more at home hugging the spanish coast rather a valley state side. The array of armor and military vehicles in front through lent it an air not dissimilar from the estate of a middle east despot - albeit one with an eye for color.

The pair, and their cargo, entered into an already crowded courtyard catching everyone's attention with their late arrival. The coupe came to stop in a clear spot, the transport rumbling to a halt just behind it.

Ayumi stepped out from the Maserati, breeze tugging at her pony tail and the tails of her coat as she took a moment to light a cigarette. She gave a glance at the rest of the tanks, and crew around her as he let out a bloom of smoke before heading toward the cab of her tank transporter and proceeded to slam on the door. "Naomi! Check on the tank to make sure the drive didn't knock anything."

Ayumi turned back to the assorted people she assumed were going to be making the rest of the team. They were all assembled in front of a small stage. Looking at them all she wondered why she agreed to this at all, none of them looked competent. Scratch that the girl on stage looked competent - probably why she was on stage.

"Ayumi Blackthorne." The redhead said by way of introduction. "I assume you are all Thunder Company?"

 

[pharaoh122]

_____"You bring your tank, Carpe?" Linnéa said. "I'm feeling all self conscious now, if it's just us and the M6." Some small part of her wondered if the rest of the peanut gallery was just trying to vanish instead of stepping up. Shyness was one of those things that didn't really suit a tanker.

Click to shrink...

"We uh. We were planning to have it brought over. I think it'd be here in a few days." I said with an awkward laugh.

"We couldnt bring it because my car couldn't pull and my truck was having engine problems."