Gingyflame

The New Generation Chapter 9

by

Hello all!

Yes, I am still around. Life’s been fucky. I’m sure everyone can agree, but I’ve not given up on story writing, but I have had a lot of writer’s block and a lack of drive to sit down and put something on the computer. I still have tons of story ideas, but where I want to go with this story is going to need a lot of filler and development for a valuable impact on the stories I really want to tell. So to get things going I’ll be going back to how I wrote the first bunch of installments of HaM. The chapters are going to be shorter, but hopefully more consistent and paced better. I felt like the pacing had been too slow, and was going to take me forever, so I’ll try doing shorter chapters focusing on key points to the plots for the characters. With that said, here’s chapter 9.

Enjoy.

TNG Chapter 9

 

Veronica watched and noted carefully what she saw as her white blood cells devastated Adler’s blood. The process was much slower, almost lazy, as the two of them found that running the tests while the samples were chilled slowed the organisms down. In every year she’s run, Adler always beats the red cells, and always loses to the white cells. She can say with confidence that biologically Adler is weaker than her. What drives her curiosity now is that she has never seen Adler sick, he says he’s been sick twice in his life, but she’s been sick plenty around him and he never caught anything she had. Once her test was completed she reviewed her notes and and turned to Adler, who was behind her as usual.

“No changes, Addy,” she announced, “how’s your test?” Adler had a test between infected blood and his blood. They were trying to figure out why he was so resilient to illness.

“I’m winning, no shocker, but when i sampled blood it doesn’t test for the illness.” She was puzzled.

“So, maybe you eat it?” He was also puzzled.

“But where would it go? I should still test positive.” Veronica scratched her head.

“Maybe the virus falls off?”

“That’s not how viruses work, babe.” Adler scoffed.

“I’ll wait for the process to finish and then I’ll test all the blood, together.” She nodded, still affixed on her bizarre idea. As soon as he collected all the blood from the tray she smeared test paper on the tray. He rolled his eyes, and groaned when the blood tested negative. Veronica took her test paper and examined it, minute color changes were present to indicate the presence of a virus. She shivered in glee. Adler was visibly frustrated.

“This doesn’t make any sense. This is bullshit.”

“Well, maybe the virus just can’t cling to your makeup? Like, we know that it’s biologically different, and has different properties than normal organics, maybe the virus literally doesn’t have the ability to infect it.”

“That doesn’t make sense, your body defenses lose to the virus, but beat my composition. Why isn’t the virus doing the same?” She pondered for a minute, looking at a magnet on his glacis plate. An idea cane to her. She grabbed the magnet and tossed it onto his chest, where it stuck. She did this repeatedly, then she slapped it on her thigh, where it slid off. She looked at Adler with her eyebrows raised. 

“I don’t think it’s too far fetched to think of something like this happening.” Adler was still visibly angry. “Here, babe. Viruses are very, very good at what they do, be a pathogen and infect organisms. They aren’t very good at much else, they have evolved for a millennia to do this one thing flawlessly… and remember when you told me that element one one four had to literally be dug out of the ground? Well, the virus evolved without you, so now that the virus has come to find you, now it has no way of interacting and infecting you. In fact, some trait about your biology actually repels viruses from your body, you can’t even carry it like other organisms.” His anger began fading.

“So, like, like how some animals from the Galapagos islands can no longer breed with similar species?”

“Yes! Isolated evolution drove them apart!” They smiled and giggled together. Adler’s hands snaked across her body and tenderly glided over her long legs, her hands similarly glided over his armored glacis and just under his turret chin. He brought her close to him and held her like a baby against him, they nuzzled together like a puppy to it’s mother. “I love your body, baby.”

“And I love yours. There’s so much to learn from each other.”

“Even when we built every part of you, there’s still so much mystery and knowledge to learn.”

“I think it’s beautiful, centuries of study and we still don’t know everything.”

“And perhaps we never will.”

“The world is beautiful, just like you.” She smiled wide and twirled her index finger under his chin. Her eyes examined carefully how his chin molded and deformed the rigid cast turret face to bend like her skin, it was such an incredible sight for her. She knows how it happens, more concentration of 114 in that part of his body, but it’s still amazing. Adler combed over her body, feeling her glistening skin with his hands, her gentle heartbeat and blood pulsing through her veins, her rhythmic breathing, how exciting it was to him. He loved everything about her, from her dependence on coffee to her bad puns, from her crazy morning hair to her bad knees, and everything in between. “I’m so happy that we get along better than my parents.” She chuckled.

“Zinc and steel get along better than your parents. How did they even get together in the first place? I mean, Germany and Russia hated each other. ” Adler looked away and nodded slowly. He didn’t like bringing up that part of his past. He didn’t like talking about his parents much, either, especially their relationship.

“Just know that I love you for you, for how beautiful you are. You amaze me every day.” He took her hand and kissed it.

“I love you, too, you big metal softie! C’mere.” He picked her up and held her tight, she wrapped her arms around his turret neck as best she could. In this moment he thought back to being a kid, just wanting his parents to love each other like they loved him.

 

1956

 

Adler sulked into his room to hide from his parents and their ferocious fighting. All he wanted to do was spend the weekend at Geoff’s house but his parents disagreed on the decision. Just like every time they disagree they start fighting, which turns into undermining accusations and insults towards one another. He went over to his toy figures of superheroes and began playing with them, tears silently rolling down his turret cheeks. His little stories and scenarios his action figure storylines would play out were always filled with happy and loving parents, or stories where the parents come together after a life threatening situation. His favorite superhero character was an alien adopted by loving parents who treated him like he was their own son. Individually his parents loved him, whenever dad isn’t around mom likes to hold him, kiss him on his cupola, was kind and quiet around. When mom wasn’t around dad was hearty and caring, stern, of course, he held Adler to high standards of manners, but treated him very nicely and would teach him some cool tricks or talents, or told him a lot of jokes. The problem was when they were together, the atmosphere was always tense, mom was always angry and short tempered, dad was always on edge and anxious. Adler hated it. He envied the other kids and their parents.

The two of them loved Adler very much but they had very different opinions on how he should be raised, Devastator was a bit more free-willed with Adler, while Vitaliya was more controlling, a helicopter parent as it would later be called. Dev was confident in Adler’s own abilities to act on his own, make his own decisions. He saw Adler as a smart kid- saying that he gave Adler some brains from the gene pool- while Vitaliya swears that he’s going to get himself terribly hurt and make the wrong decisions. This is usually the gist of their points of view, Vitaliya says he’s not ready for something while Dev says he should try it.

Adler had never been fully told by his parents that their first encounter was less than ideal, he’d heard enough nods and references in their arguments to figure out that they had fought in combat and his father won the fight and then did bad things to his mother, which is how he ended up in the world. Adler swears that if they didn’t produce him like that, then his parents would probably be able to see ends meet and not let their differing opinions tear the family apart, but that’s the world Adler dreams of, not the world he lives in. So here he is now, playing with his action figures, silently weeping.

The shouting abruptly ended and a knock rang through Adler’s room from the sliding door. Before Adler could say anything it began to open, it was his father. He entered the room and closed the sliding door behind him, releasing a deep and drawn out sigh as he did so. He looked at Adler, he saw the tears in his eyes and the devoid look of sadness in his eyes. Even with an inflexible body Devastator could sense the body language was of anxiety, stress, and desperation. Slowly he inched over to Adler’s side, there’s not much room for them side by side and in a year or two Devastator doesn’t expect to fit into the room like this anymore. They’re snug against each other, with Dev’s gun hovering over his son, he sees the toys in Adler’s hands, he rests a hand on Adler’s engine deck and sighs again, quietly.

“Whatcha got there, son?” Adler swallows to clear his throat.

“My action figures.” There’s still a lump in his throat and he sounds pathetic. It pains Dev to see Adler like this.

“Well son, your mother won’t let you stay at Geoff’s house this weekend, I think we could ask his parents if he could stay over at our house instead, how’s that sound?”

“Okay, I guess.” Adler was still choked up and sniffling.

“Does Geoff have action figures, too?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. He has toy trains instead.” Dev chuckled.

“Trains? Like, like choo-choo trains?”

“Yeah.” Dev laughed to himself.

“Well I think he should come here, and I think you should show him how cool your action figures are, then he’ll play with action figures instead.” Adler smiled a little, so did Dev. “So, what are your action figures doing, son? Are they, are they fighting?”

“Not right now, no.” Adler explained his characters and their stories, it really pulled at Dev’s heartpistons, he patted Adler on the deck, running his fingers through some of the filter grates as his son explained it all. Dev, too, wished he was living in those storylines. When Adler finished Dev got really serious with him for a life lesson.

“Son, Adler, now, there are many good things in the world, and many bad things, too. People do many good things, and many bad things, too. You must be careful, though, you must think about your actions because people don’t remember you for good things, if the bad thing you did was really bad. People will remember you for the bad thing you did.  For me, well, I, my peers, the tanks my age, they don’t see me, most of them at least, they don’t see me as a good guy, they see me as a bad guy, and I’m very ashamed of it. I’m very ashamed. You, you’re young, young and full of good,” he gestured towards the action figures, “good things await you in life, but you have to be a good person. See, I’ve done a lot of great things in my day, I’ve also done some terrible things, but all it takes is one thing, one really bad thing, and that’s what everyone knows you for, forever. You can build a, a million bridges! You can build a million bridges but if you burn one, just one bridge, you’re called a bridge burner.”

Adler sat still, processing what his father said to him. He sniffled again and wiped his faceplate. He muttered a thank you to his father, who sat quietly next to him, adoring his son. Dev tells Adler to ask Geoff at school the next day to see if he could stay the weekend at Adler’s house, Adler agreed. Dev milked every moment he could with his son, refusing to leave his side unless absolutely necessary, Adler was the only joy he had in his life. Eventually he felt his welcome had worn, and Adler should get some sleep for school tomorrow, so he wished him a goodnight, told Adler he loved him, and pried himself away from him so he could move about his own room. Once he left the room Vitaliya swept in to give Adler her goodnight kisses and wishes. Dev made himself cozy in the main space, while Vitaliya strolled by and entered the master “bedroom,” she sat at the door for a moment looking at Dev, figured he wasn’t coming into the room, and shut the door behind her.

The next day Adler asked Geoff if he could stay at Adler’s instead, and the next day Geoff said his parents said no. Adler was devastated. He was greatly upset when he came home, and in his emotional fury he blamed it on his mom and dad fighting all the time. He blamed his loneliness on them fighting all the time and that nobody wanted to be around them because they fought so much. Vitaliya was awestruck, never had Adler said something so hurtful to her. Dev agreed with Adler, he told Adler to play outside for a bit. Adler agreed and stormed away. Dev shut the door behind him and confronted Vitaliya, instantly declaring that Adler is right. On this rare occasion she agreed.

Dev sensed some vulnerability here so he used it to his advantage, he pretty much turned her arm into the small of her back and forced her to come to grips with Adler’s growing maturity. He argued that she always had others around her, and that he, himself, did as well. They “grew up” around others, but her desire to control him was stripping him of friends. In her emotional instability she began blaming herself, and Dev rode that wave until she agreed Adler should stay with Geoff for the weekend. Dev was now awestruck, he just got Vitaliya to agree with him, no yelling, no shouting, no threats or insults, just a conversation. Admittedly a one sided conversation, but still a conversation. He inched closer to her, and in good faith he outstretched his arms for an embrace, and she did the same. Suddenly they found themselves holding each other closely, she wept into his side where he brought her, and he squeezed her tightly against himself. It brought him to tears, too. They savored this moment, this rare moment together. They whispered sweet nothings to each other, and made their own plans for the weekend. They decided to try something new, something fresh, something to hopefully bring them closer together forever.

Adler came back in after a while, his tears had dried and he had accepted his fate when his mother told him he could stay with Geoff for the weekend. Adler instantly exploded with energy, leaping off the ground in excitement. Dev scolded him, telling him he’s going to shatter the floor like that, but Adler was too excited to care. Vitaliya told him his room had better be clean before he can go or it will never happen again, with uncontrollable energy he flew into his room and began the chore. Vitaliya smiled, Dev also smiled, seeing the joy in Adler’s eyes sparked a feeling they had never had before, they glanced at each other and locked each other’s eyes. “It was that easy.” Dev said to her.

“I guess so.”

Present Day

Adler held Veronica tightly, she had fallen asleep on his glacis plate while watching a movie. Most of his childhood memories were painful, but some of them are good. He’s grateful that they did get better over the decades, Veronica wouldn’t believe how bad they used to be, but they would never mesh like Alder wanted, like Adler felt with Veronica. Maybe one day his parents will finally put the past away and learn to love each other for real, no façade, no forced love, genuine happiness. It will probably never come, but Adler dreams for that day. Sometimes he thinks back to when his mother said they were trying for another kid and wonders if that ever could fix their relationship. He was doubtful, and so far the attempts have been fruitless, but he hoped that one day it would happen. Then his fantasies he dreamt up wouldn’t be fantasies anymore, and his superhero world would be realized. He quietly teared up at the thought and held Veronica tighter.

 

Fin TNG Chapter 9

Distressed VIII

by

Hello! It’s been quite a while… again, and I don’t have too much to show for it. I wish I had more, but a mix of writers block, poor motivation, and life’s gotten in the way of things. I hope I can start producing content more faithfully, but sadly I can’t promise anything. Excuses aside, here’s the next installment of Johnny and Tankovy’s story!

Enjoy!

 

 

Distressed VIII

 

Johnny had trouble getting up the next morning, his body was demanding more rest but he pushed through the aching and griping body. He had to go talk to Tankovy about his plan, and he had to build a good reputation for her with anyone he could. The first thing he did after leaving his tent was go see doc, as he was instructed. There he was given paperwork that exempted him from duties and physical training while he was recovering from his ailments. The doctor mentioned that his leg isn’t properly healed, but is healed enough to where it has to be broken again and reset, something that cannot be performed here. Then doc mentioned scarring around the legs and on his arm that looked like shrapnel damage. Johnny never noticed, it never really bothered him, he couldn’t really see it in her dark cabin and when he was outside he had no reason to look for it. Doc said the X-rays didn’t find any shrapnel, and since Johnny had no idea about it, Tankovy must have also removed all his shrapnel. The principle doctor was supposed to interview her to learn what she did to treat Johnny, and how she did it, and now he’s going to inquire about all the damages she found on Johnny. He asked the doctor if it all would be going on record, which it was, and asked how it would affect the command’s views on the Tank. The doctor asked why he was so interested in the tank, his kidnapper.

“Well, in the end I guess you could say the goal was worth it. We blew up a whole terrorist compound, she kinda got her freedom, and I saw more action than almost anyone here, technically. So I’d say it’s a win all around, a fucked up win, but a win.”

“Maybe, but do the ends justify the means? Reeves, that tank blew you up first, kidnapped you and held you hostage for damn near a year, then it forced you to comply in it’s schemes, whatever that may have been. Reeves, that’s fucked.”

“Maybe, but the tank’s been through a lot, too, and is Russian, besides, being blown up is just a fact of life in Russia-“ he put on his best Russian accent for his justification, it got the doctor to grin a little bit, “but really, she’s been through some shit, betrayal, abandoned, stolen, lied to, assaulted, exiled, she’s pretty rough around the edges. Things just don’t work up here” he pointed at his head, “for her the way it does for you and me.”

“So are you saying she’s crazy?” Johnny shook his head.

“Nah, I’d say, desperate. I’d say she’s distressed. Not thinking right. To pass time she’d tell me stories from her life, and it’s been a long thirty years for her. Y’know?” The doctor nodded slowly, pondering it.

“When you put it that way, thirty years in the service, with how crazy the Russians are, I guess any line of irrational thinking is expected. So other than the shrapnel and the mind fuck, any other concerns you want to talk about?”

“Yeah I would keep breaking out in rashes but they’d go away after a few weeks, but come back a few weeks later. They’re all gone now.”

“That’s probably from not bathing. How would you clean yourself?”

“Poorly.” He simply put. “Like a wet rag every week. Very unpleasant.”

“Clean water, I hope?”

“I don’t know. She said it didn’t come from the drinking water, that’s all she told me.” The doctor wrote down the fact and dismissed Reeves. He went straight over to Tankovy. He asked the Abrams guarding her if he could talk to Tankovy, the Abrams stared him down and warned him of no funny business.

There was two tankers going over Tankovy, poking at random bits and scrubbing corossion away, cleaning and preparing it nicely. What Johnny assumed was the new guy complained about having to essentially clean the prisoner’s feet, and what was assumed to be his senior supervisor reminded him to stop bitching and work. Johnny ignored them and asked Tankovy how she was doing. She was fine, enjoyed talking to the guards if they entertained it. Many good stories were shared. Johnny let her know about the doctor’s interview later and to think of good things to say. In a semi defeated tone she said she has nothing to hide. Johnny grew worried, she was not this deferated yesterday. He asked her what’s wrong, what broke her spirit? She asnwered him in a low tone, almost under her breath.

“Last night I asked if I could become American, and the Abrams did not think so, nor did anyone else I asked.”

“Why?” Johnny demanded.

“I think the Abrams said it best, he said that I’m still a property in America, and property has to be owned, property has to be bought.”

“What? What are you getting at?”

“Sure, I may be Russian, and old, and plentiful, but I’m still valuable, I have quite a big price tag on me. I asked what kind, he said a millionaire’s price. From there I figured out that while you’re paid better than my soldiers, you aren’t paid like millionaires.”

“So what? How does that affect you then?”

“So what? Johnny you can’t buy me out. I’m stuck with whatever the Army wants with me. If they don’t outright scrap me they’ll just use me as target practice, test new guns, new bombs, then dispose of me like trash.” Johnny’s heart turned black. “I should have just ditched you by the town and run.” Johnny had never felt guilty like this before, he, too, was crushed.

 

Six-Shooter patiently waited for the Major outside his office, the morning brief was just about to end and he had quite a lot to tell him about their new friend. The command staff dispersed to brief the companies and from there the platoons, and if by some miraculous virtue they’re still paying attention, the squads, for the next patrol. The major smiled at the Abrams and greeted him before getting down to business. Six began his debrief with the Major, going over everything he learned about Tankovy, her history, her motives, her views on current events, overall who she revealed to Six. The Major was stoic, unmoved by anything. His steel-trap memory recorded all the details of the interview and began forming an image of who he thought Tankovy was. Six concluded that Tankovy is scared, depressed, and poorly motivated anymore. With all her ordnance removed from her possession she is no serious risk to the base or the soldiers.

“So, she did all that to go home?” The major asked, just to clarify.

“Yes, sir. That was her original intention. However, Private Reeves told her she could become an American, swayed her to not go back to Russia. She liked that a lot, and even asked if that was a possibility.” The major shrugged.

“The articles forbid keeping war trophies anymore but nothing I’ve ever seen talks about talking tanks you dig up in the desert. I think it’s above me on that.”

“Sir if you mind, what are we looking to gain with a court marshall?”

“We’re just trying to get all the facts, from there we’ll see what happens. We know anything about Reeves? How’s he taking to this?”

“He doesn’t like the court marshall. He’s very defensive of the tank.” The major scoffed.

“Right now I’m going to chock that one up to Stockholm Syndrome. We’ll get to the bottom of it.” Six was still hooked on the idea that Johnny Reeves and Tankovy fucked, and he assumes it to have been a lot seeing how dedicated Johnny is to her, but he didn’t dare mention it to the major. “So,” the major began with a grin, “what do you think of her? Tickle your fancy?” Six laughed.

“Oh no, sir, she’s not my type.”

“Oh sure, you spend as long a time in this wasteland as you have I’d bet damn near anything with a pulse will get you going. You sure you aren’t gay?”

“Hey now, don’t get me confused with Rummi, he’s the gay one, not me.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just heckling you’s all.”

“If you’re curious, sir, I’m into those civilian sedans, the smaller the better. Get me a nice Miata and have lots of fun with her, just pick her up and do all sorts of fun things, my god, that’s wonderful!.” 

“Alright I didn’t need to think about that, bit too much for me.” Six was dismissed and he went back to his little corner to get inspected and worked on, but he had to wait for the new guy to finish up with Tankovy before he could be worked on. He took a nap to pass time and dreampt about being serviced by three very dedicated and thurough Miata chicks.

 

Rummi dutifully stood post over Tankovy. He wasn’t as talkative as Six, but also wasn’t tasked with digging into who she was. He watched Johnny and her talk for at least and hour, all while that poor dumb sonuvabitch Morales worked on Tankovy, cleaning her up all nice and pretty. Jervis, his supervisor, called for Morales to wrap up what he was doing and head over to Six’s bay, they had shit to do on him and he was more important than Tankovy. Before he left, Tankovy called to Morales and thanked him with genuine gratitude. Morales, being the new guy and thus the crew’s bitch, was genuinely surprised and responded in kind, before trotting off grumbling about how only the prisoner’s thank him for anything. Jervis heckled him for being a bitch and the day went on as usual. Shortly after Johnny also walked away to handle his business. Then it was just silence. Tankovy, Rummi, and about five other partly conscious soldiers sweating their balls off in full kit wishing they were doing literally anything else.

“You don’t talk much.” Tankovy said to break the silence.

“Nope.” Rummi said bluntly. Tankovy sighed and thought of literally anything to say. She could talk to one of the soldiers but she found that the guy in front of her had mastered the art of sleeping standing up.

“What do you do for fun out here?”

“I play cards. And masturbate. That’s it.” Flattering. She thought.

“What’s your favorite game?” She asked to keep something going.

“Rummi.” He said.

“He loves it so much that’s also his name.” One of the more awake soldiers said.

“I’ve never heard of it. How do you play?”

“I don’t have cards. I can’t show you.” Rummi blurted.

“Hey man, you don’t gotta be such a dick, dude.” The soldier said again.

“What’s your name?” Tankovy asked him.

“I’m Xavier Brown, from Los Angeles, California. Who are you?”

“They just called me Tankovy, or Tank. I never really got a name. I’m from factory 183, in the Ural mountains, special projects division. If you ever meet another living T-72, we come from that plant.” Rummi couldn’t help but feel like a prick after that moment.

“Yeah, I’m from Kansas, there’s a factory out there that just churns out live tanks. They named me Oscar, if I remember correctly, but in the army there’s a tradition we got where the first crew names you, like for the deadmetal tanks, and they named me Rummi. They never knew my birth given name, I never told anyone.” Tankovy was shocked, the concept of being gifted a name at birth was something she didn’t think happened to anyone except people, and cats, and dogs. Xavier was also bemused.

“Oscar? What about you says you look like an Oscar?”

“Nothing, that’s just what they called me.”

“I’m sticking to Rummi.” Xavier said, another soldier who was mildly paying attention nodded, then grinned.

“Oscar the grouch. That’s where they got Oscar from!” Xavier laughed.

“Oscar the grouch! Even lives in a big can!” Rummi was tilted by that, he growled at Xavier, who didn’t stop laughing.

“Why did you not take your name?” Tankovy asked.

“Tradition. The deadmetals aren’t named until they get here, why should I be different?”

“Well, because you are different. You’re not dead, you live!” Tankovy exclaimed.

“Look, you have your traditions, I have mine.”

“Yeah he takes being an asshole as some sort of religious rite of passage. Fuckin dickhead.” The unnamed soldier said.

“Aren’t you the guy that owes me twenty bucks?” Rummi asked him sternly.

“I don’t owe you shit, Oscar.” Rummi began arguing with the soldier, Tankovy watched on with glee, excited that something was happening! Entertainment! At last! Soon she would be officially interrogated by some of the investigation team members, Johnny warned her, but for now, she was soaking up the show.

 

Fin Distressed VIII

Distressed VII

by

Hey y’all! I have finally completed another distressed chapter! Hooray! I know I’m somewhat neglecting The New Generation, I know, but the storyline I have for it doesn’t seem like a good thing to pursue right now with what the world’s doing, everything being kind of sensitive at the moment. I will write it eventually, but for now I have a less touchy subject, and I’m happy to write and share that! So here you are, Distressed VII!

 

Enjoy.

 

Distressed VII

 

Both of them were terrified. Almost instantly they were separated from each other. Johnathan was restrained and a bag put over his head while they took him into a small office room on base and Tankovy was forced into the courtyard area on base. There was a much larger security force on Tankovy for pretty obvious reasons, all her infantry guards had anti-tank weaponry, and an Abrams was on watch around the clock. Explosive ordnance disposal teams supervised her careful removal of all her ordnance. She only had six anti-armor type rounds and eleven high explosive rounds, strangely, she only had fourteen propellant charges. Well, strangely to them. It was the three other propellant bags she cannibalized for the bombs they used to escape. She had a staggering eight full belts of HMG ammo plus what was left over in the bin, and she had seven belts of ammunition for her coaxial machine gun, that turned out to have a broken recoil spring and thus was useless. She was stripped of her roof machine gun against her pleas and bargaining to just hand over the bolt and firing pin, her vast collection of parts and electronics were confiscated, her stowage bins were emptied out and her main gun was chained down to her bow.

She was especially petrified, she didn’t have Johnny with her to comfort her or speak on her behalf, she was locked up and in chains by the Americans, she has been told nothing of her fate, they’ve asked her nothing, they took everything from her and they won’t tell her what’s going to happen to Johnny. She started to cry. It seemed she was being abandoned, she’s not going to see Johnny again, there’s not going to be a pleasant trip to America, no citizenship, no family.

No home.

Johnny wasn’t as terrified as Tankovy, in fact, he wasn’t scared about his well being, but he was scared to death for Tankovy. He demanded that they get on and identify him already, he was repeatedly telling the other soldiers everything about him, who he is, his rank, what squad he was in, his social number, military ID number, his parents name, his home address, even his favorite meal to eat at his favorite restaurant, he just wanted them to let him go. It had been a long time since he had been back, long enough to where most of his friends rotated home. Some guys did know him and they barged in to see him, he recognized them and they would embrace and vouch for him. Eventually a Major showed up with a Captain and two Master Sergeants. They had a voice recorder, and a camera, why both is still unknown, and pads of paper and pens for recording. There were three gaurds, one being an MP, and a jug of water and a plate of crackers, that Johnny was nonstop munching on as food and a nervous tick. The entourage of men sat at the table across from Johnny. Then a Master Sergeant spoke, opening a folder and clicking a pen. The captain started the voice recorder.

“Private Reeves,” he began, putting his glasses on, Johnny nodded, “It says here you were received by your unit in August of two-thousand and twelve, and you were reported missing in action in June of thirteen. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Master Sergeant, it was June tenth.”

“Indeed,” he says before continuing, “the report from your squad accounts you as the only loss, aside from a humvee and a flat bed. Did you know that?”

“No Master Sergeant, I was instantly knocked out by a blast.”

“Yes, in the report it says a T-72 tank with eyes shot your convoy. Do you remember that detail?” Johnny pondered.

“Uh, no, Master Sergeant, it happened too fast.” He gulped. “But, there was a tank. Yes.” The officers looked at each other. The silent Master Sergeant nodded.

“Thank you Private, you said you were knocked out instantly?” Johnny nodded. “Alright, so can you recount for us the events that transpired ever since then?”

“Certainly, Master Sergeant…”

Johnny recounted his story, he was very calculating in his retelling of the tale, he left out the physical abuse that Tankovy would hit him in the beginning, he would emphasize how she treated his wounds, sheltered him from the terrorists, procured him food, water, attended to his waste for him and would perform physical therapy to keep his body as fit as she could. Then he went into detail on her escape plan and her motivations for capturing him at all, he emphasized that at no point did she place him in excessive danger or in way of certain death, that he himself took extra risks to sabotage insurgent materials, and that when the plan was executed she escorted him out of the hot zone and ferried him to the base. He mentioned that he was fed at least twice every day, which was all that she could procure, and that en route to base she exercised him to rebuild his physical strength. He left out absolutely every detail or hint at their romance and sexual activity. At various points the investigation team would stop him and ask many questions, be they strategic ones on enemy strength and resource procurement, tactics of evasion and camouflage for the assets, how he was feeling or even if wanted some coffee or a hot plate. At the end of the interrogation the staff welcomed him back and shook his hand, congratulating him on getting home safely, also for destroying a terrorist stronghold.

“Very good, son, very good. Now, let’s get you to the latrine so you can clean up. We could smell your stank ass from three clicks out! You look like one of them motherfuckers, too! We saw you ride up and we were like ‘ah these poor bastards have some big fuckin balls!” He laughed and stood up.

“Is there anything else, Private?” The Major asked as he stood up.

“Yes, sir,” Johnny started, “that tank I came here with, what’s going to happen to her?” The Major scowelled and looked to the captain.

“Captain?” The captain nodded.

“Private, we have reason to believe, and now evidence to support, that this tank was the one that fired on our convoy and abducted you. So we are building a case against the tank to hold a court marshall against it.”

“What?” Johnny asked.

“We’re taking it to trial.”

“But sir, I- I just told you everything we did.”

“And proved that it abducted you. You’ll be held as a witness to prosecute the tank. Don’t worry son, we’ll get it right.” Johnny was in complete disbelief. The staff departed, taking their things with them and leaving Johnny sitting there feeling terrible. His gut churned and he felt like he was going to vomit. One if the gaurds grabbed him and hauled him to his feet.

“Come on, Reeves, let’s go hose you down.”

Johnny was escorted out of the building and around to the latrines, a shack with shower stalls in it. He was helped to get naked and given soaps to wash. He enthusiastically washed himself, months of filth came off of him, the water was black with gunk. While he took his shower some fellow privates cobbled together an extra uniform for him. All his stuff had been sent home months ago. The boots were too big, and he didn’t quite fit the uniform since he was so frail now, but he could grow into it. Then he was sat down outside his old tent and everyone gathered around and recorded him getting all his hair cut off. Huge locks of hair fell in massive clumps to the sand. His magnificent, scraggly beard was cut away until it was short enough for a razor, his long head of hair chopped and dropped down to an even buzz cut, he brushed his teeth for the first time in months and realized he probably should get a medical check up, which is why he washed so enthusiastically, to wash off any signs of the two of them fucking. He was given food, which he consumed like a dog, then taken to the medical tent for a check up.

The medical team x-rayed his legs and performed a full body health checkup. He was underweight but fit, his teeth were terribly dirty but only one cavity had started forming, thanks to the Arabic diet being low sugar, and his legs were actually not completely healed. One leg was going to have to be broken again and realigned correctly. They admitted that while crude, Tankovy did a remarkably good job of nursing him. When Johnny heard that he begged the medical staff to put it on record wherever they can. He asked for a copy of the report for himself, if possible. Once this was over, about six hours after he was separated from Tankovy, he went after her. He found her locked down in the courtyard, and absolute miserable wreck. Her eyes were dim and dead, she was quietly sobbing, and she was radiating the feeling of depression. He started running towards her, ignoring the gaurds with the rocket launchers because he knew they didn’t care, and ran right up to her. He called out to her as he got close and she perked up, she grabbed him and hauled him right up to her side, smacked him good across the face, then held his head close to her. She cried harder.

“Johnny, I’m scared.” He tried to comfort her as much as possible, he told her that the two of them will never be too far apart, that the army isn’t going to kill her, and that the army still has a bed for the two of them. “How? Why? What are they doing? What’s going to happen to us?” Johnny looked her in the eyes and tried to tell her about the court case coming up, he had a huge lump in his throat. Its absolutely not what she needs to hear right now but she has a right to know. “Tell me! Please Johnny!”

“Tankovy…” he croaked “they want to court martial you…” she was horrified.

“What!?”

“They want to put you on trial for stealing me.” She was crying more. A main battle tank was crying in the arms of a foreign soldier. How low she felt she had fallen. “And that’s not the worst of it. They want me to stand against you.” She started bawling. She started smacking him more.

“You said we’d be okay! You said you’d stay with me! You liar! You said they wouldn’t lock me up! You said that they would help me! Fuck you! After everything we did!?”

She continued yelling at him, the soldiers around were very unsure of what to do. None of them had been to couples therapy-yet, and just stood there letting it happen, staring at each other. Tankovy wasn’t beating Johnny down yet, she easily could, but she still loved him, she hit him more so to emphasize her anger. Johnny was trying to calm her down saying how he’s putting her in a good light and that he’s going to do everything he can to save her. Tankovy was so upset she slurred her words and scolded him in Russian. Johnny didn’t even notice the two Abrams tanks behind him pointing their guns at Tankovy’s flank. The two Abrams sat there awkwardly as Tankovy and Johnny argued, they were rotating on and off the watch at that moment. The one oncoming turned to the other and asked “Are they a thing or something?”

“I-I think so,” the off-going Abrams said, “so from what I could tell he hooked up with his captor and now she’s angry that he abandoned her?”

“Bro she went out and kidnapped a husband.” He chuckled, putting on a Russian accent, “In Soviet Russia, mail bride order you!” That got the two of them to laugh. They sat there awkwardly again just watching the drama. It was the most entertaining thing to do on the whole fucking base. Sit there and watch a relationship crash. “I think she loves him.” Oncoming watch said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, he’s not dead.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s still holding him! If she didn’t love him and she was this upset he probably would have been popped like a bag of chips or hit so hard his head spins off like a top.”

“I can see that.” He smirked and looked to the other tank. “You think they fucked?” The other guy whistled and rocked forward and back.

“I dunno, bro. He could be into that, or she’s into it and trying to make it happen.”

“I bet you they fucked.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup.”

“Whatcha bet?”

“I bet a whole case of monster.”

“I’ll shake on that. I bet a case of monster they haven’t fucked.” The tanks reached to each other and firmly shook hands as Tankovy pinned Johnny to her glacis plate and sobbed. He stroked her hand passionately to comfort her. “Russian tanks are really small, dude.”

“I told you, I told you a dozen times.”

“Okay mister desert storm veteran. Old ass fart.”

“I’ll still kick your ass.”

“Pshh, okay, gramps. Don’t get senile on me yet.”

While she was still sobbing Tankovy released her hold on Johnny and told him he should go to avoid trouble. He agreed, reassuring her that he will do everything in his part to save her. Her eyes were glossed over with tears and as they stared into each other he could see her desperation, and she could see his dedication. They parted after a moment and he walked away. One of the guards stopped him and asked him what happened out of genuine curiosity. Johnny wanted to get to bed so he briefly skimmed over the events, getting captured, being entombed inside her, recovery, they blew up a terrorist base and ran here. The soldier had respect and admiration for Johnny and sent him off to get some well deserved sleep. Being a nineteen year old kid the soldier told all the other guys the story.

Johnny laid down in his cot, the first bed shaped thing he’s had for almost a year. It was strange to him at first, and his mind raced with cunning strategies and tactics to prop Tankovy up in the best light from a legal perspective. After twenty minutes he was out like a light, in the deepest sleep he’s had since being knocked unconscious. Meanwhile the Abrams guarding Tankovy heard Johnny’s story and also shared some admiration for the couple. He looked over her carefully, noting how poorly kept she was, bolts were rusty, her extremities were all beat up and rusty, too, she was filthy, covered in sand and muck, and her paint was faded and chipping. Now that he knew what company she shared he felt bad for her. 

“Hey, ruskie, you speak English?”

“Yes.” She replied quietly, afraid of what the male Abrams would demand of her.

“You need anything?” She was quiet, wary of a trap. “You’re pretty fucked up, we’ve got wire brushes, we’ve got lube oils, we’ve got water, we could bathe you.” She smiled a little, fond memories of her old crews pampering her flooded her, when they would take pride in her appearance. They used to comb over her, addressing the most minor of faults, rust, fucked up paint, dirt and mud. If she wasn’t out on the field for exercises her crews usually kept her clean and good looking. Even her Iraqi crews kept her decently well cleaned. It all fell apart when Al Qaeda took her in, offering her a better life. She should have known that was a trap. They simply didn’t have everything needed to keep her up like the last two militaries she was with. Some guys tried, but they could only do so much. This offer was like a ticket to heaven for her.

“I would absolutely love that.”

“Okay, I’ll get my new guy to do that tomorrow.” Suddenly his tone shifted to a darker, intimidating mood, “But if you try any funny shit, I’ll rip you apart piece by piece, you tracking?”

“I understand, comrade.” The Abrams was a little giddy, she called him comrade.

“So, how’d a little tank like you end up in a shit-hole like this?”

“Well,” she told him her story, like she told Johnny, about how she was part of the glorious Soviet Army, but when she was slated to be upgraded with new technology Iraq bought more tanks from Russia, and to save money the army sent her to Iraq instead of upgrading her. She served with Iraq until the Gulf wars, her unit was effectively obliterated and consolidated, but by then the war was over, and in the chaos a rebel band named Al Qaeda offered her a better life and opportunity to get back at the juggernaut countries that ruined her. In the moment she took it, but life wasn’t great. She mentioned her maltreatment and how one of the leaders sought to use her for pleasure, and how that didn’t go his way. The Abrams laughed at that, calling the leader fucking stupid for thinking that. She felt a little better, it eased the mood. She talked about wanted to break out and go back to Russia, and how if she tried to leave alone she’d effectively get no where, she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without a group with her, and didn’t have much fuel to begin with. She needed to stage an attack to grab an American, hide him from the terrorists, and then use him to help blow up the compound to cause a big enough distraction to get away. Then she could be free to find a route back to Russia. The Abrams voiced his critiques of the plan, and mentioned his role in the Gulf wars. They talked about that for a few hours. At the end of the night she felt pretty comfortable with the Abrams, at least. The guards came and went, getting different pieces of the stories, some were pretty interested in them, others couldn’t care less. Just before sunrise Tankovy asked the Abrams a question very quietly, so nobody could hear but him. “Do you think I have a chance at getting into America, to become an American?”

 

Fin Distressed VII

Distressed VI

by

Hello again! Yeah, I know, two posts in 2 month’s time! No really it’s happening! I hope you enjoyed the last entry, here’s part 6, I’m really enjoying these characters a lot. I know I gotta get back to the other stories, too, but hey, I’m gonna ride this wave as far as I can. I hope you enjoy the ride and the story as much I I am, if not more!

Enjoy.

 

Distressed VI

Tankovy stopped herself before entering the valley, in the valley was the village she snatched Johnny from his unit almost a year ago. It was still night time, another bright moon hung in the sky turning the landscape a hue of blue, like a cool sea the desert crashed violently against the jagged rocks that formed the cliffs and mountains. The sand piling up looking like plumes of water flung into the sky by their crashing momentum. Tankovy had never seen the ocean, but from the stories she’s read, the likeness men have made like this, that’s how she imagined it. She was also wondering how she would get across that ocean that separated America from Afghanistan, would she fly in a plane? Would she sail on a ship? Would she even leave, or will she be left in the desert again? Abandoned by those she trusted again. The thought pained her, she almost cried again. She shook off that fear and thought of more immediate matters, Johnny had eaten the last can of unspoiled food she had. She planned to get to the base in two days, now it’s probably going to be three days because of their extended walk and other enjoyable pastimes. She stared at the empty can she had in her hand. Damn humans! Why do you have to eat so much? She knew that he was already thin and frail, malnourished despite feeding him all the food the Taliban gave her, he used so much energy just to heal his body he ended up losing most of his mass. He said he could go a day without eating but she was determined to at least feed him something. She figured that everything she can do for him can only make her look better in the eyes of the American army, so she was going to feed him. She was able to collect some money throughout the years here, what money it was or how much it was worth she had absolutely no idea. Her sense of monetary value was unfounded, she had never had to buy anything in her life. She knew it was late, it probably just turned into a new day, she didn’t quite know. She fished the money out of her little collection bin on her turret and looked at it, literally her life’s savings, amounted to a handful of coins and bills. She removed the few bits that were Russian rubles, and was left with even less material. She prayed it was enough. She set it aside in her hull, putting the rubles back in her collection bin, and laid down to rest. Suddenly she was hit with exhaustion and blacked out. When she woke up she found Johnny stretching and exercising beside her.

“What are you doing!? I have no more food for you, you can’t waste energy like this! Johnny!” He was also just in his old underwear he’s had for almost a year. She enjoyed his exposed body but the situation ruined any appealing factor it would have.

“I can’t sit around and no nothing, I’ll rot away. I’ll be fine, Tankovy, I’ll be fine.” He continued jogging in place, wincing in pain at the exertion.

“Johnny you’re going to hurt yourself, you’re not healthy enough to do this! Please stop! Look, right in the valley is the town I found you in,” he stopped jogging and looked at the valley’s opening, “in that town we can get you some food. I have some money to buy something, I hope.” He just stared into the valley absently. Tankovy pulled the money she set aside out and tried to show him. “See? It’s not much, but it’s all I have.” She sounded defeated. Johnny broke his gaze from the valley and looked at the money and her, she handed it to him, he counted it. “Is it enough?” She croaked.

“Yeah,” he said after hesitation, “it should do fine.” Tankovy saw the look on his face he tried to hide, she knew he was lying.

“It’s all I have.” She almost cried. His face curled into a scowl, she was getting upset.

“I’ll be fine Tankovy, I get up camping, I can go hungry for a day or two.”

“No you can’t! I won’t let you!” She was on the verge of crying. An idea flickered into his mind.

“Wait a minute, you still have something,” she was confused and offended at the conclusion she jumped to, “you have that gun, yeah?” She clung to her roof mounted HMG and her gaze paled.

“But I love my Dishka…” she whimpered.

“No. The other gun.” She grabbed her cannon and whimpered more. He rolled his eyes and slackened. “No, the other, other gun.” She was blank. “The AK.”

“Oh! Yes! It’s in the basket!”

“Well I don’t want it, do you?” She scoffed.

“I’ve seen thousands of these, I don’t give a rats ass for it.”

“Sounds like we’re going to make a shop owner believe in the second amendment.”

“The what?”

“Oh shit, yeah I gotta teach you all about that stuff if you’re trying to be an American citizen.” When he said that her spirits lifted, she even sat higher on her suspension, eyes illuminating bright blue.

“Well let’s go get some food then. Oh yeah, you’re gonna have to do all the talking, I can’t be seen by the locals like this.”

“Like what?” Before his eyes he watched hers disappear behind an invisible shutter, he suddenly couldn’t see her mouth either. He was startled. “Am I fucking crazy? Tankovy!”

“I’m still here, чертов идиот, I’m hiding.”

“Well you really fucking suck at it, I see you.”

“No my face, I don’t look alive, yeah?”

“I guess so.” He shrugged. “Whatever. How’s this going down?”

They moved into the valley, he wore some old clothes he had showing his American patch while he stood in the commanders hatch, acting like he was commanding a driver around. Tankovy paraded herself like she was just another tank, engine loudly rumbling, gun up high, machine gun backwards and pointing up to the sky, jerking around like some guy was struggling to work the tillers. Johnny jostled around, the AK was by his leg, just out of sight. The village looked like any other village he’d seen. Tan brick buildings with vibrantly colored rugs, ships, awnings, and decorations. There were a bunch of old cars down trodden and strewn about, children played in the streets and there were plenty of vendors in their stalls. Tankovy slowed and carefully watched the children, Johnny watched them, too, but also the men. He saw no weapons, he was more at ease. He focused on what they were here for and tried identifying shops for food. Eventually they stumbled across one, across the street from where Tankovy ambushed and kidnapped Johnny. He stopped her and climbed out and down to the ground, staggering towards the bearded man in the door.

“You speak English?” He asked the man, the man said something in Arabic and turned into the building, stepping inside. Johnny was very worried, he was visually anxious. Tankovy watched carefully, ready to pull him away at the first sight of trouble. The man returned with his father, he was obviously older.

“How do I help you?” He asked. Johnny was relieved.

“Yes, thank you, do you sell food here?”

“Yes.”

“Great, we don’t have much money, but we can also give you a rifle to trade for food, if you accept?” The old man nodded, turned to his son and spoke Arabic, who replied to his father.

“Show us the rifle.” Johnny nodded and trotted to Tankovy, hoping up to grab the gun. He showed them the gun, the magazine, and the ammo he had. The two men spoke to each other and nodded. “We accept the trade. How many meals? Three?” Johnny was going to say one, but figured it’d be better to take the three instead. He agreed to the three and asked for the food to be in paper wraps so he could take them and be on his way. The son went inside to make the meals, the old man got close to Johnny and spoke softly to him.

“What’s a American doing with a Russian tank?” Johnny was not ready to answer this, hes quick on his feet, however.

“We found it, took it for ourselves. Just trying to get back to base.” The man nodded.

“You have a big beard, son, how long have you had it?”

“Oh this? It’s nothing, I go a month without shaving and it’s crazy.” The man’s icy gaze pierced Johnny’s.

“It has been a very long time since I’ve seen a American with a beard like yours. A very long time.” Johnny grew anxious again, stepping closer to Tankovy. “You must have been around for a while, did you hear the big explosion the other night?” Johnny was very uncomfortable. The old man reached into his pocket, Johnny stared at his hand. Tankovy prepared to rip Johnny away and bolt. Her arm slowly slithered from behind Johnny towards him. The man pulled his hand out of his pocket with a challenge coin and a fist full of crumpled Afghanistan bills. “Keep the money, my friend.” He dropped the coin into his pocket before his son came out with three kebabs. Johnny recognized the coin and relieved all tension, he smiled and thanked the two men, shaking their hands. He took his food and climbed back onto Tankovy, shouting down into the empty hull to drive on. Tankovy spurred and jolted forwards like a lead footed driver, crawling out of the valley with Johnny on top. Johnny immediately ate one of the kebabs as soon as they got through the town, he offered some to Tankovy but she refused, he needed it way more than her.

“You should really try tasting stuff that’s not my cock or cum. I think you’d be a lot happier.” He was wolfing down the kebab in gulps. It was so good, way better than any MRE he’s ever had.

“I’ve eaten food before, I like kebabs a lot. Lamb’s pretty good, goat’s good, too. Chebueki is nice, mmm I love kotlet.” She wrapped an arm around his thin leg, slowly reaching up his thigh. He swatted her hand just before it got into his lap.

“Hey! We gotta get first. You said no more fooling around, remember?” Her guns slouched in defeat.

“да, I remember.” The distrust began brewing in her heart again. Johnny felt her mood shift to a sort of ominous gloom, he didn’t like that.

“Hey, remember when I mentioned the second amendment? Well, I’ll tell you about it, give you a little history lesson on America.”

Johnny taught her a rough history of why America founded and how certain events led to the formation of the new country, he made brief, rudimentary explanations on the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and what it stood for, and the Bill of Rights, emphasizing the right to free speech and the right to bear arms and form militias. He did bring up more amendments, but his emphasis on the first two rights is what blew her away. It was a drastic contrast to Russia, especially Soviet Russia. In the between times of giving directions he taught her all he could, going over political parties, the national anthem, brief summary of how government works, emphasizing she really learn this so she can become an American and live with him. Every time he mentioned making her an American to live with him her heart would burst with emotion, every now and then tears formed. Her deep dark distrust told her he was really selling a lie, but her heart went with him. Johnny had a few friends that came to America as immigrants, he was familiar with the processes and tests they had to go through to become citizens. He thought that it was always funny how immigrants to America know more about America than most of natural born americans. He would tell Tankovy that soon she would also know more about America than most Americans and that filled his chest with fire, driving him even more to teach her.

For most of the ride Johnny sat in his favorite spot in the driver’s seat. Tankovy liked him there most as well, she could peek down on him every now and then, holding him was easy, and he was closest to her tunnel of fun and frolicking. She held him tight and daydreamed of their future, she thought of luscious green grass fields, full and vibrant oak trees, she saw him there, clean shaven and healthy, and just when she thought about kids she didn’t see any, her heart sank. She massaged his shoulders and brought it up to him.

“John, baby, what kids are we going to have?”

“Hmm?” He was confused.

“Kids, what kids do you want? W-we are staying together, right?” Small shrills of panic strung in her voice.

“Yeah we’re sticking together, just, kids? I mean, well, we do get to choose the kids we adopt. I was an only child, always wanted a sibling. So two kids-”

“Adopt?”

“How else are we having kids? Tanky I can’t get you pregnant. I’m not a tank… you know that, right?”

“Oh no, Johnny, I don’t work like that-machines don’t work like that, you can impregnate me, you can get me pregnant as fuck.” Johnny panicked, thrashing in his chair.

“What!?” He exclaimed. “Tankovy I’m not ready for kids! Oh fuck!” She wrapped him up and forced him in the chair.

“No, Johnny, stop! I’m not pregnant! Stop! That’s not how you impregnate me!” He calmed down a little bit.

“So what is it?! Can I knock you up or not?” He was terribly confused.

“My turn to teach you, baby. So yes, I have eggs, and I need sperm to fertilize them, yes, but your sperm will never reach my eggs without my help. You can pump all the sperm you want into me, from two loads to a gallon-”

“A gallon of nut? Goddamn, that’s kinda hot I guess.” She smiled and giggled, it did sound pretty fun, even it it was ridiculous.

“Sure, even a gallon, it won’t reach my eggs. I have a cervix, like humans, but mine is sealed, you have to penetrate my cervix to let the semen in, otherwise, it goes nowhere.”

“So, I was as deep as I could go, I didn’t even touch it… is it some syringe shit? Am I breeding you like a race horse? What-?”

“I can move it, shallow, deep, I can bring my cervix so shallow I could almost kiss your balls with it.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Oh fuck yeah it does. And I cannot wait for that day, you’re going to pump so much but into men I’m gonna get pregnant. I won’t get off of you until it’s done. But until that day, or days, we are safe.”

“Huh,” he said, “you’re a fucking cheater you are. You know that?” She took offense to that.

“Excuse me!?”

“You can fuck all you want and not get pregnant? No protection, no condoms, no pull-out. I can nut in you every day of my life worry free and not have to cut my balls off? That’s cheating.” She relaxed after that, understanding his play. “I love you so fucking much. One helluva woman.” Jackpot! Tankovy thought to herself. “So, why is your cervix sealed?”

“It’s a vacuum inside. So that I can suck the semen from the vagina to the eggs.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I can practically suck your testicles dry through your dick.” He was near-instantaneously rock hard. He was in awe as he stared at her thick vaginal tendril between his feet. She smiled deviously. She slithered her drop-dead gorgeous pussy towards him and opened the slit with a hand. “Look baby, I’ll show you my cervix.” He stared at her vagina, he saw the walls change form and men’s when suddenly a tight hole came into view with very pronounced muscles encircling it, it was super tight looking. Looked like a tight flesh donut inside a looser flesh donut between thick sideways eyelids. He craved it on his lap, as she promised, kissing his balls. “But that comes later, baby,” she retracted her cervix into the depths again, “for now I’ll keep it right here, perfect fit for your big cock, baby.” A hand of hers glided over the large bulge in his pants where his erect cock throbbed. She licked her lips in anticipation.

“So what do you mean, what kids?”

“Depending on how much you continue to seed me through my pregnancy with result in different looking children. If you, say, one and done me, I’ll give you a child tank, he’ll grow up into a T-72 just like I am. If you inseminate me every night, though, I’ll give you a baby boy that’s human, like you. He’ll grow up to be a big strong man like you.”

“Is it one or the other?”

“No there’s a grey area.” He thought of monstrous machine men that looked like Transformers, cool, but not what he had in mind. “So let’s say I want a little… human… boy, if I miss one night because, say, I couldn’t get it up… what then?” She laughed.

“Its not that strict, trust me, I’m stricter than that. You just have to regularly supply me with more baby batter and I’ll whip up a beautiful baby for you, love. And I’ll carry all the children you want, I did have hundreds of brothers and sisters, after all.” She massaged his chest passionately. “I’m all about big families, baby.” She grabbed another kebab and put it in his lap. “Here, baby, eat up. You need it.”

He didn’t contest, he knew that by now they were getting close to the base. The roads started to become paved streets, still void of much around them, just the occasional house here and there. The sun was hanging lower than he expected it to, they must have slept in for a long time. He checked Tankovy’s gas and saw she was fine. He asked her if he could drive for a bit, let her rest, if that’s how it worked. She affirmed that if he drove she could relax and let the machine half of her take over, but she didn’t want to teach him right now, she wanted to get to the base first. There she’ll teach him every about her. He accepted the deal. He realized that maybe a random T-72 driving up to an active American FOB wasn’t a good idea, so he went into the turret basket to scrounge for stuff to make a white banner. He found what looked like an old white tank top and settled on it. He found a bit of string, too, but no stick. Tankovy said that in training exercises the Russians put flags on the antennas, so that’s what he did. He bent the antenna over and tied the shoulders to the wire, the string reinforced it. He eased it up to sit up high and it stayed on, flapping along in the wind. He silently hoped that would be enough to not get them smoked at first sight.

Not too long after Johnny said he started to see very familiar ridgelines and geographic features, and not long after, just as the sun started setting behind the mountains, they saw the base. Hastily they approached to get there before nightfall, just so they aren’t taken as a serious threat. Both of them hoped it to be closer to mid day, because that’s the worst time to attack, and the best time to identify them as surrendering. They were about three quarters of a mile when Johnny told her to stop and approach very slowly, so she did, her guns were high and u loaded, Johnny was exposed, wearing the remnants of his uniform, arms up and holding his military ID and his dog tags. They shouted at the base to get the guards’ attention, sure enough it worked. Four Apache helicopter rose from behind the sandbag walls and circled tankovy, who stopped in her tracks. Then the gates opened and two Abrams tanks rushed out and got onto her 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock corners. Infantry squads stuck close behind the tanks, setting up firing positions and scanning for any other threats. This is the first time a tank has ever had the balls to roll straight up to the front gate of a FOB, much less to surrender. A team of grunt moved towards the tank, trying to stay on the flank, and ordered Johnny to slowly get down off the tank and lay on the ground. As he complied he remembered to tell her something.

“Oh yeah, Tankovy, those two Abrams are alive. Hands up, missy.” As he laid on the dirt, hands behind his back still holding his ID, Tankovy slowly unveiled herself and stretched out a lot of arms, four from under the mud flaps, two from the commander’s hatch, two from the gunner’s hatch, and two from the driver’s hatch. The face on an Abrams lit up in astonishment. The soldiers hesitated. Her ‘throat’ was dry, her voice coarse, she never would have thought she would say this…

“…I surrender…”

 

Fin Distressed VI

I really hope you enjoyed this insert, I had a fun time writing it. If you’ve got any feedback lemme know. Do you like the random inserts of different languages in their native writing, or should I keep everything in alphabetical forms? Like da instead of да? Or do you not care? Again, I hope you enjoyed! Take care, stay safe.

Distressed V

by

Hey y’all, it’s been a very, very long time since I’ve posted anything, and it’s been a very, very, very long time since I’ve updated this series. The past two years has been pretty rough for us all, but hopefully this can bring a little bit of joy and pleasure to your day. I wanted to thank you all for reading what I post, some of the stuff I’ve reread is pretty cringe, and I hope that every post I make is entertaining for you all, so here, after almost two years without a post at all, I present a dirty, smutty update for the Distressed T-72 and her “prisoner.”

 

Enjoy.

Distressed V

 

Tankovy woke first, in her arms Jonny laid propped up in the chair, wrapped with a blanket and her loving embrace. She eyed him lustfully and passionately, enjoying his presence, his warmth, his gentle breathing and his subtle heartbeat. She was really feeling sore in her hind quarters, but the aching felt good, she felt alive again. She wasn’t stiff anymore, she wasn’t hopeless, desolate, or anxious. She was hopeful, emboldened, and free! She thought about what Johnny suggested last night about moving to America, she had heard stories and tales that it’s the land of the free, full of gun toting, big hat wearing, lively and bombastic people. She’s sure her view is a stigmatized and stereotypical one, but it is where Johnny came from, and while she’s not convinced if she truly loves him or not, he did help liberate her. Sure, his options were limited, but he still went with her plan and gave her one helluva night to remember. Her Soviet side kicked in, and she thought it could possibly be a trap to ensnare her, dissect her for secrets, or prosecute her as his abductor and captor. That terrified her greatly. Panic rose inside her. How could she trust Johnny? Deep inside her she believed him, she wanted him, but her mind refused to give in, a deep rift formed between her sides. 

Johnny woke soon after Tankovy. Once he stirred awake and greeted Tankovy she began taking down the tarp and redressing herself in her skirts. He ruffled about her cramped interior and found a map, compass, and a few broken GPS devices. None of them worked of course, they were all cannibalized for parts. Tankovy said she knew where they were, and that she was going to go to the village she found him in for a reference point. He opened the map and she pointed to it, from there he could figure out where the army FOB is, or at least, where it was. Once she was all dressed up and packed they were ready to go. She lurched forward and began moving -without igniting her engine.

“Tankovy?”

“Yes?”

“How are you moving?”

“I can move around without my engine on, it’s better for saving what fuel I have left. It’s not very fast. I burned through a lot of gas when we escaped, I have to ration it now.”

“So how fast can we go?” He looked at the gauges on her dashboard and the only needle he saw at a realistic reading was pointing just past 12.

“I’m getting about twelve kilometers an hour.”

“So, what’s that in American?”

“I think it’s eight miles.” He looked at the map and saw the village, then where he thought they were coming from.

“Fuck.”

“Do not worry, Johnny, we will be there by sunset.” She grinned and slid one of her hands under the blanket to grope his penis. “Besides, that gives us a lot of time together.” He smiled, grabbing her hand with his.

“Hold on now, what do I get to play with? I want to have some fun, too.” He went to get up but she held him down. “Hey, there’s nothing in there for me to play with.”

“Oh are you sure about that?”

“Yeah, unless you just want to hold hands.”

“Oh I’m sure there’s something in there you’d love to play with.” Between his legs a fat long tendril snaked up towards him, at first he thought it was a giant snake, but when it came into the light he saw on its tip was a slender vertical slit running across two thirds of the diameter. “Holy shit you have a cock?” She laughed.

“Oh, no! I only have your cock…” she squeezed his member and massaged it. “This, this is also to couple with your cock.” Two of her fingers straddled the slit and spread them apart, letting him see into it. He saw her labia, her clit, the vagina and even a urethra… for some reason.

“Y-You have… two vaginas?” He was confused. A hand of hers combed through his long hair, and ran through his beard.

“Mm-hmm, I do. One in the back, and one inside. Look at it, look at me, look fun?” His cock was throbbing to life, slowly pumping and twitching to his full size. Feeling it all happen in her grasp made her vagina start to water. He eyed it savagely as beads of her juices formed and dripped out of her sex.

“Oh it’s so beautiful. Oh I want to have so much fun with you, baby…” His cock began to throb more, precum started oozing from his tip and creeping towards the belly of her cabin. Just looking at her open pussy made his cock tingle and heat, imagining itself buried deep inside her passionate walls. He reached for her sex to carefully coddle her and guide her onto his shaft when she smacked his hand away and an arm pulled his back. He was bewildered.

“Ah-ah-ah! Don’t you know not to distract the driver while they drive?” She hauled him to lean back in the seat but kept his gaze locked onto her damp pussy. A hand of hers slowly grasped his long shaft, encircling it methodically with one finger at a time.

“What? But it’s right there, babe, let me hold it, please?!” She moved herpussy closer to his cock, but just off to the side where she rested it on his thigh. Still she held it open for him to peer deep into her casm. “Why, Tankovy, why?”

“I want to have a little fun, y’know, and I think you’re a lot of fun.”

Two of her fingers wicked and tapped the tip of his cock, smearing his precum between her fingers and lathering it over his cock head. She switched her hand position to wrap all her fingers around his shaft and used her thumb to rub his dick’s chin like it was a Zippo lighter. She rubbed very roughly, inexperienced with the task. Johnny winced in pain, trying to push through it for her, but he gave in and griped about how rough she was and she softened up on him. Johnny appreciated it and told her it felt much better. She ran a hand through his long hair while massaging his balls and rubbing his cock, taunting him by gently tapping the clit on herself, leaking more at the lips. Johnny oozed more precum, and Tankovy rubbed it all over his shaft and greased her hands up with it, making her fingers slick yet sticky. She loved it, she oozed more of her juices and dreamed of feeling his cock deep inside her and absolutely filling her to the brim with his semen. She had to focus hard on driving to keep moving on. Johnny withered in her grasp and moaned, tenderly she massaged his body and cradled his balls, teasing him with her pussy dripping onto his cock.

She could feel his rigid cock begin throbbing and subtly pump, his precum was increasing in volume and his heart raced, she knew he was drawing to the cusp of cumming. She begged him to cum, she wanted to feel it in her hands. Her constant pleading and her passionate stroking brought him closer and closer to cumming, he chanted to her how close he was until he erupted. He quivered and moaned loudly as ropes of semen flung out from his cock onto Tankovy’s warm metal hand, she tried catching as much as she could. He huffed and puffed as he came down from his high, still orgasming as Tankovy meaded his meat and played with the semen in her other hand. She was giggling, feeling him cum like that made her very horny, much hornier than she already was. She had beaded his nut up in her hand when she brought it up through the open driver’s hatch and cleaned her hand with her tongue, lapping and savoring his seeds taste as she did so. Johnny was panting and heaving while his heart slowed and his cock began going limp.

“Oh no, not yet!” Her hand clenched his cock and her pussy came up close to his face, so close he could feel her intense heat radiating off of her slit. “I’m not done yet, so neither are you! Come on!” She caressed his manhood, both shaft and balls, while waving and wafting her slightly swollen vagina in his face, just put of his reach. “You smell that, Johnny? Do you smell me? Do you smell my lust? I’m a bitch in heat right now and I really need my fix! You think you can help me with that, baby?” He tried nodding but she held him back, he cried out in favor of helping her with her pesky troubles. “Good, very good. Don’t worry, my little hairy man, I’ll make you feel good, too.” She began rapidly stroking his cock, it had already returned to full strength, and slowly drew her pussy away with a wink. His cock was super sensitive and made him a lot more vocal about his pleasure. While he was being serviced by one hand, she fingered herself with one of hers.

Her pussy again rested on his thigh as they moaned and cooed together, trembling in harmony. Johnny watched in astute wonder as she fingered herself, how beautifully her lips parted to accept the stimulating member, how sleek and shiny it was, almost like polished tin. He told her to also rub her clit, so she conceded. Another hand came over the top to whirl around on her bean, instantly through the seat he could feel how crazy she was going. His own stimulation made his toes curl and fingers cross, his legs flex and bend, while his back rolled. Tankovy was rocking like a cradle on her suspension, desperately trying to force herself to keep driving on, her torsion bars trembled and bowed almost, her gun shook, her engine sputtered, and her pussy began oozing lubricants much more liberally. All she could think of was his cock ramming her, using her like the slut she is, making her his personal cum depository. She could hardly wait, but she knew she had to. She felt his cusp approaching through his cock fluctuations, and his moans became sporadic and heightened in pitch. Suddenly she stoped stroking him and let go of him, bringing him to the edge, but she didn’t stop pleasuring herself. He protested her releasing him, he wanted to cum, too, but instead he watched, and drooled, as her pussy tendril flexed and bowed and quivered as more and more lubricant poured out. Suddenly she whipped her finger out and away and continued to furiously flick her bean until she came. Her orgasm clenched her vagina so fast and tight that Johnny could see it visually, and a spray of her lubricant hosed over him as she screamed and dropped to the sand. The whole ride was a blast for Johnny, even if he didn’t blast, himself.

Tankovy pressed on driving, and once her orgasm had subsided she continued servicing johnny, edging him on two more times until she had enough. Just after his third edging, where she had been dangling her pussy over him, dripping onto him the whole time, she made sure he watched her count dive into his cock and slid him all the way inside, seating her lips to kiss his balls. His eyes rolled into his head, his whole body quivered, and even Tankovy gasped and fell to the sand. She was giddy after she tortured the both of them and finally unionized their sexes together. Both were drooling, both were feeling, and both realized how this was a perfect fit. His cock was just long enough to be pressing against her cervix, and her pussy was just tight enough to hold his cock inside her with authority and dedication. Tankovy wanted to hold him there forever, buried deep inside her and filling her void perfectly. His presence was unwinding her stress, silencing her woes, and filling her heart with love and affection. She needed him, undeniably. Johnny was likewise enjoying her embrace. He was so sensitive that he could feel the vibrations of the tracks on her wheels through her flesh, her heat soothed his whole body and her pulsing muscles grasping his cock sent waves of relaxation through his spine. Being inside her assured him everything was right, there were no problems, there was no conflict, they were one unit together. They mellowed out together briefly before Tankovy slowly drug her pussy up his shaft, exposing how she lathered his cock in a thick slime of her lubricants. Johnny was super sensitive to her and cried out in pleasure, seeing how dirty she left him made him rock hard and super horny, she couldn’t see it but feeling his penis leave her created a longing desire to slam him back inside her, it felt wrong not having his cock take up all the space in her halls.

She cried out his name as the brim of his helmet seated itself at the opening of her tender, mushy pussy. He huffed out her name as he saw her hungry lips quiver on his meat. She elegantly slid herself back down onto him, seating her lips again at his base, kissing his testicles. Again he could feel her torsion bars buckle and the two of them momentarily dropped a few inches as they recoiled from the huge stimuli. Again she rested on his shaft before raising up, letting her heart cry out in protest of his absence, and sliding all the way down again. She continued this over, and over, and over again. The two of them begged not to stop, don’t ever stop, neither of them wanted this to ever end. They wanted to love forever, but knew that biology had damned them, they would orgasm, and grow tired, and have to stop. They hated that fact, the end, but they loved the journey. The two of them couldn’t see each other’s drooling faces but they were imagining the pleasure on the other’s face. Johnny’s mouth wide open and his eyes rolling around in his head, Tankovy with her tongue covered in nut and her eyes crossed, pure baby-making faces. Like this they rode on for a few miles, whenever Johnny grew close to cumming he would cry that he didn’t want to cum yet and Tankovy would stop riding him for a minute. Eventually she wanted his cum inside her, and she wanted it badly. Soon he began crying out again but she didn’t stop this time, her strokes shortened as she kept his edge deep inside her, his moans grew louder, his twitching grew more ferocious, his cock pulsed and pumped with a mission. Suddenly he screamed out as he came, his orgasm hit him like a freight train and he spasmed out, gushing and shoot thick pumps of his sperm into her vagina. She had fully seated him then and entirely fixated her attention on him cumming inside her. She felt his cock pump and contract as it lobbed flops of baby batter into her, it hit her cervix, pressed against his tip, and ran everywhere. None breeched her cervix oriface, clentched shut naturally, but instead it first bubbled and pooled at the top between the cervix wall and her cock head, sealing it in as biology wanted it to do, but the pressure grew too much and leaks formed, his cum drained down channels in her vaginal flesh and in rifts between their bodies. She gripped the base of his cock as she wanted it all inside, but even then gaps were found and his potent white seed, now turned grey by mixing with her lube, eeked out and dripped around his balls and between his legs. She was insane with pleasure as she felt his hot seed coat her insides, she wasn’t done yet. She slowly and sensually stroked more, gentle, slow short strokes with her muscles clasping on him to push herself over and get off on his cock and cum. Johnny’s body was shaking from sensory overload by this point. Thankfully it didn’t take much for her hurts to churn and convulse like his, she again slid all the way down his shaft to kiss his balls while her gooey insides convulsed and twitched and leaked even more of its contents onto Johnny’s lap. Neither of them noticed but she was pushing her nose through the sand and rocks of the desert, only a few torsion bars on her ass end could hold her up as she senselessly drove on.

They were high with dopamine as they lingered their way forward, huffing and moaning and groaning and cooing. Like a ritualistic trance they muttered their love and affection to one another, promises of never leaving each other, deep seeded love, bright futures and all the in-betweens filled the silence left without the vigorous Mac n cheese noises pilfering the air. Their hands gripped each other and their fingers glided over each other like ballet dancers, fluidly. They recovered slowly, eventually getting to about their normal states yet still interlocked at the hip. Johnny had long gone soft but Tankovy held on to him, either to cork herself or to keep him ready to go for another round as soon as Jr. down there felt he was ready, she couldn’t decide which reason to claim. He asked for more wiggle room so she released some of her hold on his body, allowing him to stretch and contort around the little cabin space in her hull. He sat up, looking around outside, such a nice day, only about a hundred and ten degrees, but good cloud cover. Entering the shade of a cloud was seriously noticed and appreciated by them both. With Tankovy still on his lap holding his manhood hostage he noticed his balls weren’t sweating themselves to death, she was actually keeping his junk cool, it had been so long since a feeling like this was had he savored it for all it was worth. They talked about sexual interests, because Tankovy didn’t know what kinks meant. Obviously Tankovy really liked but, the taste, the feel, the juiciness, Johnny wasn’t into tease-torture, but he felt like he could definitely do that again.

A few hours later Johnny wanted to stretch his legs, he wanted to walk with her. She didn’t want to get off his lap, but gave in after promises of favors, and more big nuts. Johnny wrapped the blanket around his waist and climbed out, Tankovy slowed to a crawl so he could jump down and walk with her. He struggled at first, still trying to regain full motor control over his legs. Watching him struggle made Tankovy think that perhaps he should be walking more anyways. They held each other’s hand and strolled along, for once taking in the scenery of Afghanistan. Vast mountain ranges of various colors, green and brown rocks climbing to the sky, a few were even snow capped, Tankovy talked about how she had noted every single detail of that valley she lived in for a decade, how she loved the vast sights she could see when she was let loose every now and again. She talked about how she was tempted to run away every time the Taliban set her loose like an angry dog. Johnny asked her why she never left during these trips, she said that she really didn’t have anywhere else to go. She didn’t want the life of a criminal, and she couldn’t get back to Russia on her own. She’d have to steal fuel, or fight her way back, and even after all that, Russia sold her off to begin with, she didn’t even know if they would even take her back. Johnny vowed he would do everything he could to get her back home with him. He told her he wanted her in America. Tankovy wept softly, nobody ever said they wanted her before. She let her deepest fears out after that, she talked about her trust issues, her fears of deception, her instincts fighting inside her and holding her heart hostage. She was scared, she was scared of America imprisoning her. Johnny took her hand in both of his and held it tightly as he told her that he wouldn’t let that happen, he gave her his word he would do everything he could to keep her free.

“No more of that, now. Let’s just enjoy the walk now, Tankovy.” She perked up and they walked together, knowing it prolonged their journey, but they didn’t care, they had each other. And privacy. The only problem was that Tankovy only had one more can of food for Johnny. They promised that they’d fuck one more good pounding, then as Johnny slept Tankovy would get as far as she could.

 

Fin Distressed V

I hope y’all enjoyed that. I think I may have caught my wind again, I’m already working on more posts, hopefully I can crank out an update to TNG, or really anything. I’ve dabbled in so many little projects but finished none of them, quite sad. Anyways, thank you for reading!

The New Generation Chapter 8

by

Wow I am a piece of shit. Over a month between this chapter and the last, I have been writing but I can’t seem to focus on one project long enough. Oh well. What’s done is done, excuses, excuses. Anyways, here we go, Chapter 8! Yes, the featured image is of a Tiger 1, Chandler’s tank is a King Tiger like Marion.

Enjoy.

TNG Chapter 8

 

Chandler toted his model Bismarck outside and past Marion’s lively and vibrant garden to the “man”-made pond they had. At first it was a dug-out for the kids, but Marion liked how close it was to the garden and the family sealed it to hold water with clay. Now full of lilies and other vegetation, it didn’t make for a good scene to represent the ocean as Chandler had hoped for, instead as he floated his model warship in it he thought of Bismarck steaming through murky Floridian swamps, helping Rudolph find an old friend. He watched his poorly painted boat rock side to side as he let go of it and sat back. It bobbed around as the water settled from the disturbance. Chandler was glad it floated upright, his last model would roll to the side every time he tried floating it. Bismarck floated super high in the water, though, unlike the real ship. It annoyed Chandler but it was an easy fix for him, just fill it with a ziplock bag of sand and it’ll be just fine.

Once the water settled still he reached out to the little boat and grabbed the narrow stern, reeling it in like a spring-loaded car, and pushed it hard, but controlled, to sail across the pond to the other side. He watched little waves roll around and water break way for his ship. The way water and ships interacted fascinated Chandler, he was fixated on the lower hull the whole time. He ran to the other side and waited for the momentum to carry the model to him, so he could send it back to the other side. He did this all day. Marion came outside to tend to her garden and enjoyed watching him play with the boat in the pond. She looked up to the sky, it was a nice and sunny day, but true to Floridian tradition, dark clouds were gathering and could strike at any moment. She frowned, looking at Chandler who’s boat had gotten stuck on a lily in the middle of the pong, and to the tank in the yard. Hansel said he wanted to work on that when he got home, she knew how excited her boys were to fix the tank, so she decided to go back on one of her early rules.

“Chandler!” She cried to get his attention. She looked to him and saw he was about to jump into the pond for his boat. She instantly switched gears. “Uh-uh! No! Do not jump in that pond!”

“But my model-!”

“No! Do not jump in that water!” She put her stuff down on her deck and started towards the pond. “I’ll get it.” Her long reach wasn’t enough to snatch it so she grabbed a cleaning rod off her hull rack and ever so carefully she nudged the boat to the shore where Chandler fetched it. He came back to her and she took the model from him. “Hey, go set the tank into neutral.”

“I think it already is.”

“Okay, we’re moving it inside.” Chandler was surprised. Marion went behind the other tank and grabbed its stern end with her large hands and arms. She tried pushing it without her engine, being so used to moving the little lightweight cars. “Oh! Silly me.” Her engine roared to life and she tried again, no luck. “Chandler set it into neutral!”

“It is!” He cried as he jumped onto the tank roof. “I just checked.”

Marion tried again, Chandler said that the brakes were off, too. Only at full throttle did it slowly budge, and after Marion had dug herself a little hole and taken a mud bath did she give up in frustration and tell Chandler that they were going to drive it in. They started it and drove it inside, just as it started to rain. Marion closed the hanger door and told Chandler to clean up the puddles and the mud on the ground. She broke off her tracks and left them by the door. She sat in the mainspace trying to decide whether or not to clean herself off inside or wait to do it outside on the concrete. Once Chandler had cleaned the mess he was rewarded with his model given back to him. “The first thing I want you to two to fix that drive train!” Marion commanded out of fury.

“To do that Mister Hansel said we have to take the turret off first.” Marion shuddered, she loathes the thought of that.

“Chandler, you can call him your father.” She said to immediately change the subject.

“I know,” Chandler said, he looked down at the model in his hands out of shame, “I’m not used to it, yet.”

“Well, you won’t get used to it unless you start.” She extended her arms out and looked at all the mud on her, her dissatisfaction was apparent.

“You don’t like being dirty… mom?” Marion scoffed and smiled.

“I personally don’t mind it too much. It’s your father who really cares. He’s very protective of us.” Chandler looked as she began running hands down her boxy metal arms to wipe filth away. “Do you like being dirty?” She invited to keep chatting, he doesn’t converse as much as she would like him to. “Boys your age should love playing in filth.”

“Sometimes, well, a little bit. If I’m too dirty I don’t feel good, but I like being dirty, I think it is a more real,” he struggled to find the right word.

“Personality?” She filled him in. He nodded.

“Yeah.”

“You certainly like playing in the dirt. What with all the little trenches you dig for your toy soldiers, always coming back in with black hands and fingernails.” He giggled, she always got on him for dirty hands at dinner.

“Mom, why didn’t you let me get my model from the pond? Is it because you think I’ll sink?” Marion slowed her cleaning down as she tried to think if she should tell him the truth or not. “I know Jasmine and mister-dad can’t swim anymore, but I can. I like swimming, too.” She shifted on her suspension and sighed.

“Yes, yes that’s part of it.” She admitted. “I didn’t know you could swim, Hansel can’t swim, he doesn’t know how, and we found out Jasmine is too heavy and weak to swim. I was scared you’d sink. Chandler, I really do see you as my son, so does Hansel.” He felt ashamed again. He apologized, she beckoned him over and sat him on her deck, taking the model to the side again. “You’re a smart kid, Chandler, with nobody telling you, you figured out that Hansel wasn’t always the way he is now. You’re observant enough to see the small differences-I’ve seen you studying their veins, they aren’t really human. They are! But, not completely. And, I did that to Hansel, we wanted to get old together, at the same rate, so I changed him into what he is now. It’s a terrible event to go through, I vowed to never do it again -but, when we adopted you, we knew that eventually we’d have to have this talk…” she cut right to the chase, she was unable to ease into it from there. “Eventually we have to tell you that you’re going to die well before us, unless I change you. That’s what I’m getting at, Chandler, I don’t want to have to bury you, so I forget you’re not like Jasmine. When you got older, we were going to ask if you’d want to be changed, too.” He was quiet, as usual, looking at his dirty kneecaps. “We love you, Chandler, we don’t want to see you for before us, sons bury fathers.”

“-In times of peace,” he added, “in times of war, father’s bury sons.” Marion wasn’t ready for that, she was shocked. “I know how it goes.” He looked teary eyed, thinking of death. Marion hugged him and slid him closer to her faceplate.

“It’s okay baby, I didn’t mean to upset you.” She ran a hand through his short hair, Hansel had recently cut it. “I miss your long hair, Chandler.” He shrugged. “So,” she asked, “do you like things a little dirty, or sparkling clean?” He shrugged again.

“I dunno. Dirty, I guess.” ‘That’s my boy!’ She thought to herself. She sent him off to play, fetched the buildable gantry for heavy lifting, and built it herself in Hannah’s room until Hansel got home.

When Hansel got home it was still raining and he had to know what happened when he saw Marion. She started griping to him about trying to push ‘The Bitch’ as Marion had started calling it since then, and persisted about the transmission being stuck. Hansel believed her, it’s the most annoying fault with the cat tanks. Banker was always careful with Marion- it was usually her own doing that put her transmission at risk. Hansel fetched Chandler from his room and they changed into old clothes before they began working. Marion had decided she absolutely did not want to see the decapitation process, so the first thing the boys did was drive the tank into Hannah’s room under the gantry. They cut the engine and Hansel began explaining to Chandler what the plan was. To summarize, they’re first removing the turret so getting the tools and parts in and out won’t be as bad, then they’re going to put the hull on blocks, and since the wife is so persistent about it, the first thing to be overhauled will be the transmission. However, the way Hansel referred to the transmission was akin to a legend, a mythical monster, the boogie man…

“I’ll tell you the nightmare stories you may have heard are a bit exaggerated. It was a problem, but it was a known problem, and they did try to remedy it. Replacing the few parts that usually broke is actually very easy… if you have the parts, that is. Getting to it, now that sucks.” Chandler asked him what usually broke, Hansel took him to the front of the hull and drew three vertical lines with his hand just inside of the drive sprocket they were closest to.

“Oh wow! It’s right there!?” Hansel nodded.

“Mm-hmm, final drive. The problem is that we have to take the treads off, and the drive wheel, remove the cover plate and all the gears of the final drive. Then, because when they break they tend to spread metal flakes and dust everywhere, we have to clean everything.” Chandler nodded, Hansel then pointed at the drive sprocket and slowly traced his finger towards the center of the vehicle. Chandler was horrified. “Everything.”

He told Chandler it might take them a month to get the whole thing cleaned, and not to worry about it too much. He reminded Chandler that first, they needed to get the turret off. Marion helped a little bit, mostly getting the gantry in the right spot and a turret basket holder set up for the turret to sit in. Once that was done and the boys were hooking chains up to the lifting eyes Marion said she had to start dinner and slammed the garage door shut so she didn’t have to watch. Hansel double-checked his work, and Chandler’s, then complimented Chandler on a good job and took him to the side where he was safe. Then Hansel went to the crane’s motor and turned it on. It warmed up and responded well to Hansel’s commands until there was tension on the chains. The motor cried and screamed terribly, Hansel slackened the chains and cut the motor.

“Why doesn’t Mis-mom like this part?” Hansel smiled.

“She hates it when I have to take hers off, that’s why.”

“Why do you take it off at all?” Hansel pointed at The Bitch.

“So if I need to, I can, and her turret doesn’t freeze, like this one.”

‘What do we do?”

“Find me a sledgehammer, and a metal pipe.” Candler acknowledged and went looking, eventually returning with what was asked for. Hansel explained what they were to do, go inside, Chandler holds the pipe to the turret ring and Hansel beats the pipe, and they got to it. They did one go around the turret, and tried again. It didn’t help. They did another go around and it still didn’t work, nor did the third go around. Now Hansel was frustrated, and also referred to the tank as The Bitch. Chandler didn’t know ‘bitch’ in German, in fact, he didn’t know any German swear words. Hansel and Marion were very clean around their children, so this one word that both Hansel and Marion keep saying that Chandler doesn’t know, after he’s been taught the reference nouns, he figured it’s a swear word.

“You’re swearing, aren’t you?” He asked. Hansel, bent backwards under the turret ring, his face flushed a brown-grey with blood and sweat, didn’t care to be clean anymore.

“Yes. Your mother has affectionately started calling it Die Hundin, which means The Bitch. I think I will also call it Die Hundin. He went back to whacking the pipe with the sledgehammer.

“Can I?” He asked meekly, Hansel stopped.

“Well, that’s its name now, you’d be insulting it if you didn’t.” He smiled at Chandler, who looked extraordinarily excited to call something a bitch in front of his parents. “This summer dad’s going to teach you all the cuss words he knows without trying, and mom’s not going to like it.”

“Can we christen it?”

“What?”

“Christen the tank… Die Hundin?” Hansel chuckled. 

“Sure son, we can christen the tank.” Chandler was bounding with energy after that. Once they finished a fourth rotation Hansel took a break, meanwhile Chandler opened the door and passed by Marion on his way to the fridge. He opened it up, searched around until he found a grape soda, and took it to the tank.

‘Hey, it’s late, you can’t have that!”

“Dad said I could use it!” She was delighted he called Hansel ‘dad,’ but… use it? The rear of the tank faced the three of them, Chandler stood between the armored cowlings for the exhaust pipes and raised the soda over his head. “We christen you… Die Hundin!” Marion’s jaw dropped and Hansel burst into laughter as Chandler smashed the soda can into the cowling’s upper lip. Soda sprayed and fizzed everywhere as the can ruptured.

“Excuse me!?” Marion blurted, making Hansel laugh even harder. “We don’t talk like that!” Chandler turned to explain, soda spraying his outfit, but Marion didn’t allow him the chance. “No! Absolutely not! No!”

“Marion, babe, it’s alright.” Hansel said, her glaring switched from Chandler to Hansel.

“No! Soon he’s going to be saying all the other ones, too!”

“He won’t know them until I teach him.” She glared harder at him. He shrugged. “You’re the one that married a mechanic.” Using the supernatural powers that all mothers are bestowed, she amplified her glaring another magnitude. He shook his head and looked at Chandler. “Clean up your mess, don’t leave it sticky, either.” He tossed out the can and wiped up the mess, Hansel tried again. In the absence of the motor wailing Marion realized the turret was coming off so she squealed and covered her eyes. “Oops…” Hansel said as he realized he hadn’t closed the door.

The turret creaked and groaned out of the socket. Chandler looked on with intense awe and curiosity as he could see the whole contraption easily. Once the basket was clean of the hull, Hansel told Chandler to crank the turret across the gantry. He approached the side opposite of Hansel and began, very quickly running out of breath. Still, he gave it his all, struggling and fumbling with it. He got halfway there and that was it, Hansel took over. Chandler’s arms were pounding as he spotted for Hansel, once lined up the turret was set on the maintenance stand and the motor was turned off. “Alright, babe, we’re done with the turret.” She exhaled a sigh of relief and got back to making dinner, thankfully nothing burned.

“How much does that thing weigh!?” Chandler burst out as he sat on the floor. Hansel scratched his head.

“I don’t remember exactly but I think it’s between twelve and fifteen tons.” Chandler was shocked. “Yeah, it’s very heavy. That’s a lot of metal, there.”

“Set the table, boys,” Marion called, “Dinner’s ready!”

The three of them ate a filling, delicious dinner. Marion excused the filthy boys of being dirty since they had just finished, it actually made her smile. Chandler tore into his food as fast as he could, but would pause and look at his hurting arms. Marion asked him how working with dad was, he simply complained that his arms hurt. Hansel looked at the treads, Marion noticed his gaze, and Hansel assured Chandler that the worst was yet to come. Marion grinned and shook her turret side to side. When dinner was finished Chandler expressed his wishes to just go to bed, which were granted-after he bathes. He trotted off to do so, happily. Hansel and Marion cleaned the table, Hansel inspected the tears on the turret and chassis while Marion loaded her new dishwasher. Hansel found that the grease was not only old, but it wasn’t ever rubbed in. All that was done was clean the old off and put the new on, the turret wasn’t spun around like it should have been to work the grease into the gears. He told Marion what he found, she wasn’t surprised. They wound down and went to bed, Hansel bathed and promised to one day make a shower big enough for both of them- a three decade promise. He returned to her as she laid down to relax and there he tried his luck with her. She wasn’t very receptive of him at the time.

“No,” she said coldly, still wrapping arms around him as he laid down, “I’m mad at you.” He flinched and snapped his fingers.

“Damn! Well, I figured. I thought I’d at least give it a shot.”

“Well then, was it worth it?” She asked sarcastically. Hansel knew his answer, but he jogged his memory anyways. Chandler standing there with the soda over his head, ‘We christen you… DIE HUNDIN!’ Hansel chuckled.

“Yes, it was well worth it.” He laced his fingers between hers and kissed the back of her hand, rolling under the covers. “And I can’t wait to make you mad again!”

Fin Chapter 8

The New Generation Chapter 7

by

Hey guys, I know last time I said I’d try to post more regularly, and I’ve been a piece of shit at that. Sorry about that, times haven’t been the greatest, and writing isn’t a high priority for me. I’ll try to write more often but, I can’t guarantee anything. Anyways without any further delay here is the next chapter.

 

Enjoy.

 

Chapter 7

 

Jäger pulled the stew off of the range top and carried it to the table. Normally Fritz and her don’t use the table, but Edwards came by to catch up with them. Jäger made his favorite stew since he came by, and as he watched on while she pulled the top off the pot and dipped a large ladle into the broth his mouth watered unstoppably. She scooped up a mighty size portion full of potato chunks, cabbage, pork, carrots, and peas and poured it into Edwards’s bowl. He thanked her and waited for everyone to be served before he began eating.

“So, how’s the yard, Ed?” Jäger asked him, he looked up from slurping on his spoon and answered.

“The yard’s good, the trains are good.” He quickly finished a spoonful before the next flurry of questions..

“Have you met any trains yet?” Fritz asked as he dabbed bread into his own stew.

“Yes, any to hitch to?” Jäger asked.

“You couple up to one yet?” Fritz snickered. Jäger grinned, too. Edwards had trouble swallowing his latest spoonful of stew because he chuckled too hard. Forcing his throat to cooperate he got his food down and clear.

“Oh there’re some trains down there, mostly men. Most of them run more northern lines, one or two come down here to operate as thier mainstay, but very few are based ‘round here.”

“Ah, that’s better than a few years ago.” Edwards nodded, “But are there girls now? You did say mostly men.”

“I did,” he smiled, “there’s one or two girls I’ve been hitting it up with.”

“Ah-ha!” Jäger exclaimed. “Get ‘em! See? Merging you was a good call.”

“No!” Edwards leaned in and shook his spoon at his hosts. “Fuck the both of you for changing me. I could have married a nice woman and had a good life and die by now. I’m still angry at that.” He sat back in his chair and ate more stew.

“We know,” Fritz said as the bread dissolved on his tongue, “but admit it, it’s been pretty good living this long.”

“And-” Jäger cut in, “you wouldn’t be getting with those nice train ladies you’ve dreamt about.”

“But if it didn’t happen I wouldn’t have had to watch all my friends and family die in Germany.” Instantly the mood changed. Jäger thought of Chandler and Irish.

“Yeah,” she said, “you know that reunion we invited you to?”

“Yes, I remember. I was busy at the yards, unfortunately.”

“You would’ve met a little Irish junior.” Fritz said solemnly. Edwards seized up. Memories of Irish flooded back. He slowly put his spoon down.

“Irish… I’ve… I haven’t thought about him in a long time.” Edwards felt guilt and remorse for letting him go way back then. “I shouldn’t have let him go.”

“It’s how we all feel.” Jäger said, clasping the seat in her cabin that Irish used to sit in decades ago.

“You know,” Fritz said, “I never knew his real name.”

“Ian MacBrown, he,” Edwards started travelling down memory lane, “he was half Scottish, and half German. His German mother took him to Danzig to grow up, he joined the Kriegsmarine to help pay for his mother and sister to move over to London where his father was a professor, where his family died in the bombing raids.” The atmosphere was still and cold. “He had nothing left, so he stayed in, volunteered to go army and to the Eastern front just to die in battle.” There was a long pause before Fritz picked up.

“If he wanted to die he should have joined the U-boat corps.” The dark joke broke all their composures and they had a fit of laughter.

“Well,” Jäger said composing herself, “I guess in the end he got his wish.”

“Yeah I guess.” Edwards said, still chuckling. “He said that he regretted becoming such close friends with us, we somewhat ruined his plans of dying for a while.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing.” Jäger retorted before she gulped down some more stew. Edwards shook his head ‘no’ and began eating his stew again, too. “I still hate her, that bitch. I hope she rusted to death in a ditch.” Jäger scowelled and ate more stew. Edwards shrugged.

“He seemed pretty happy with her.” Jäger glared at him, hatred glossing over her eyes.

“He was a jolly fellow, regardless of who he was with. That fucking bitch shit on him and treated him like dirt every day. Fuck her. I can’t believe he died for her.” Fritz shifted uncomfortably.

“Babe, I don’t think he died for her.” He looked over to Jäger to explain himself. “So say what you want, but he and I were in the running for you,” Jäger tried to play it down but Fritz persisted, “everybody knew it’d either be him or me-because I’m not fucking sharing.” Jäger got flustered.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t think he thought he could make you happy. I think he was insecure.” Jäger blankly stared at him and slowly raised her eyebrows. She smirked and shook herself left and right.

“Sure Fritz, sure.”

“It’s what I honestly believe.” They looked at Edwards, who had just finished his stew. He just blankly looked back and shrugged.

“Would you like more stew, Ed?” Jäger asked him. He nodded and handed over his bowl.

“Yes, please, Jäger.” She filled his bowl for him and handed it back.

There was a bit of an awkward tension as the question floated around their minds, did Irish and Jäger ever bang? They moved on to other subjects and finished dinner. They cleaned up the table and dishes and started talking about television shows. Gameshows quickly dominated the topic and that reminded Fritz that one of the gamesows was about to come on. He separated to go look for the TV remote and while his tracks made a huge ruckas Edwards had to ask the question.

“So did Irish ever…?” He jerked his head towards the rear end of Jäger. She pursed her lips, glanced at Fritz, and then quietly nodded. Edwards slowly nodded, he wasn’t surprised, but more impressed it was only a rumor for so long. Jäger raised a finger up to her lips to keep it quiet, Edwards vigorously shook his head in agreement. They heard the iconic theme music of the gameshow and were distracted from the subject. Edwards liked that he knew for certain, but he was already convinced of it so it never bothered him. He’ll keep it quiet for the benefit of his friend’s pride.

Because they’re a family of tanks Jäger and Fritz don’t have much furniture, and even less for humans. Edwards stops by often and is very close with the couple so they cater to him, but not enough for a couch. He had to sit on Fritz to watch the TV in any lounging state. Jäger came up next to Fritz and leaned on him, just far enough away to keep her skirts from getting caught on his. He leaned back into her and held her the best he could. As they watched this popular game of hangman they chimed in with their ideas. They knew they wouldn’t affect it at all, but they begged with the players to call their ideas.

After the gameshow ended they turned off the TV and broke out the beer. Fritz and Jäger had absolutely no way of getting drunk off of the amount of beer they had, and neither would Edwards, but they drank anyway to unwind and relax. Edwards brought up their daughter, Erin, and the couple talked about how she’s doing well and all. They said that her and Petre were looking to get their own place, but that was difficult for them. They talked about how their jobs are long-distance support and that they are limited in job opportunities because they’re tanks. Jäger and Fritz slowly turned remorseful, wishing that things were different for their kids. “Sometimes I wish Fritz was a human.” Jäger said bluntly. “Or that I was human.” Fritz nodded in agreement.

“I wish life wasn’t so hard for Erin and Petre, they grow up watching all these movies about other human kids get to do and they can’t do any of it.” Jäger nodded.

“If Fritz were human, or if I got with Irish, I probably would have had a lot more kids.” Edwards was sitting there awkwardly, looking at the amount of beer the two of them had consumed and he was concerned by it.

“Mini and Kram feel the same way for Petre.” Fritz stated.

“They do. Our kids were born at the wrong time. We should have waited babe, I’m sorry I pushed you for a baby.” Jäger said, rubbing his hand. He shook his turret.

“Jag, when would we have known it was the right time? Will it ever come?” Edwards intervened quickly.

“Well, Hansel and Marion pumped out two tanks, how’re they doing?” Both Jäger and Fritz shook side to side.

“Tyler had to join the Army to get another life, and Hannah just got a job as a museum piece!” Jäger exclaimed. “There should be way more options for our kids. I don’t want my baby to go off to war, and she doesn’t either, but then neither her nor Petre can be in a museum. They’re nothing close to their parents. If someone had no fucking clue at all, yeah, they fit the part, but anyone who knows even a little bit? Yeah, they’ll be caught and be labeled frauds.” Jäger held her mantle in her hands as she cried. “I fucked over my daughter.”

“You did not!” Edwards said, sternly. “Trust me, I’ve seen kids who are way worse off than her. Have you ever seen children hopping trains trying to just find food? Have you ever caught any breaking into freight cars trying to steal food? Your child has a lover, loving parents, loving community, she has a job and is even concerned with looking for her own house! Jäger! Jäger look at me! Look at me!” She peeled her hands off her eyes and looked at Edwards. “Your daughter doesn’t have as many options as I would, no, but she’s not hopeless. She’s not fucked, she’s going to be alright. Both of you did good, and both of you did the best you could for Erin. Ask her how she feels about it next time you see her.” Jäger sniffled but perked up. Arms shot out and grabbed a surprised Edwards, pulling him to her glacis plate. She hugged him with all her love.

“Thank you, Ed, I feel a little better.”

“Glad I could help.” Edwards squeaked. “Can I breath now?”

“Oh!” Jäger released some pressure so he could breathe again.

“It’s not too late, yet.” Fritz said as he glanced at the clock. “We could call Erin and settle it now.”

“I would like that, yes.” Jäger, still holding Edwards, backed herself over to the phone and called Erin’s cell phone number. It rang a few times before Erin answered, when she did her voice made Edwards think back to her childhood, what a little hooligan she was back then.

“Hello, mom? Dad?” Jäger always used the speaker mode on the house phone, Fritz used the handset and pressed the earpiece to his mantle to hear and it always made visitors laugh.

“Hey, sweetie! It’s mom, dad, and Eddie!”

“Eddie!” She squealed through the phone.

“Yup, how you doing, champ?”

“I’m doing goooood! I got a job-”

“Finally!”

“-Shut! Up! Uh, so mean! How are you Eddie?”

“I’m good, hey, your mother has a few questions for you.” He glared at Jäger.

“No! I’m not pregnant!” Fritz belched a hearty laugh.

“We’ll see about that,” Jäger snickered, she really wants grandbabies, too, “no, Erin, uhm…” she looked very uncomfortable. “Do you feel happy, being a tank?” Erin was quiet on her end.

“I like it, yeah.”

“Do you feel like you’re limited, challenged, about work?”

“Yeah, I can’t do a lot of jobs but I’ve got choices. There’s stuff to do.” Jäger bit her tongue on her next question.

“Erin, baby.., do you feel like your father and I.., fucked you over?” Erin replied instantly.

“No.” Jäger spilled out tears anyways. “I’m doing alright, loving life, I’m happy. I don’t think I’m fucked.” Edwards asked a question next.

“Do you think you’d rather be human?” Again her reply was instant.

“Pssh! No!” Fritz laughed again.

“Eat shit, Edwards!” He belched.

“Whatever, you fat bastard!” Edwards shot back, he turned back to the phone and asked Erin to continue.

“There’s so much I can do that a human can’t. I’m way stronger than any human, super tough, I have a huge gun and armor, I’m faster, too. I’ve survived so many things that I’m sure would kill any human. I’m a fucking beast! Like, dad, who’s going to mug me? Who’s going to rape me? Who’s going to fuck with me? Who’s going to overpower me? Try me, bitch!” Fritz was laughing extremely hard, his suspension was rocking. He loved how proud and cocky his daughter was, she was just like him.

“That’s ma girrrrrrrl!” He bellowed.

“See Jäger? Erin’s fine. You didn’t fuck her over.” Jäger was smiling, sniffling, but smiling.”

“I guess you’re right,” she said, “if you two could step outside, I’d like to talk to Erin for a minute.” The men went outside, alcohol in hand, and kept up the chatter. Edwards wanted to see what Fritz really thought of Irish.

“Fritz, when you said that Irish couldn’t make Jäger happy, what did you mean?” Fritz nodded and gulped down his keg.

“Jäger is a very insecure woman, she’s riddled with self doubt and second guesses everything about herself, as you saw. Irish was very similar, it’s why they got along so well. Sure, they leaned on each other and helped each other out, mentally, but it wouldn’t last forever. What was going to happen is Jäger or he would end up slipping, and the other would end up slipping, too, then no one is standing and it’s a cesspool of pity. He saw that happen, I did, too. Now, I’m a hard headed, stubborn-ass bastard, mentally I’m great for Jäger. I’m the brick wall she needed that wouldn’t budge, never letting her fall. Irish knew that, he’d get me to help Jäger out when he was out of ideas. Do I need her to set me straight? Absolutely. But the sort of authority, mental fortitude, you could say, she needed to live a rather happy life was not going to come from Irish. Irish is too selfless for that, he said he’d rather see his friends as happy as could be. That is the entirety of why I believe he left Jäger and I.”

Edwards was quiet, he already knew what Fritz said individually, he had never pieced it together like Fritz had.

“Do you think he had to kill himself for that, though?” Fritz shook his turret as fast as he could.

“Oh no! He didn’t kill himself. No, not his character. He hated the concept, now, I don’t think he lived long after he left us. I think he was shot as a deserter. I just could never tell that to Jäger, it’d break her heart.” Edwards nodded.

“So what do you think happened to E, then?” Fritz raised his eyebrow.

“Now that is my second idea of what happened to him.” Edwards couldn’t help but smirk. “Her whole toughness, cold attitude, it was all a charade. Mini hid his feelings better and we still knew he was faking. Her? No. Jäger hates her because she’d bash on Irish but so did you, and I, most of the crew, and she never noticed that Irish would bash back at E. I’m also fairly certain jealousy also played a huge part of the hatred, though. E liked the attention Irish would give her. She just didn’t know how to get more from him.” Edwards nodded, he could see it. “Personally, I think Irish and E would do great together.”

“Why?”

“The same reasons why Jäger and I are great together.” Edwards shrugged.

“So, that ‘Irish Junior,’ what’s so special about him?” Fritz made a shrugging motion with his hands.

“I dunno. Jäger’s quite superstitious- something else she picked up from Irish- and she believes that if you’re wronged or murdered in a previous life then you’re reborn or reincarnated, or some other crazy shit. I don’t know. I don’t believe any of it. The kid does look a little bit like Irish, though. He’s no carbon copy, however.” Just then the large garage door shuttered open and Jäger came out with more beer. She’d recovered her emotions and now just looked sad. She let out a loud sigh of despair as she closed the door and opened a keg of beer.

“Erin said no children were on the way.” Edwards chuckled.

“That’s it. I’m getting the two of them drunk and telling them that making babies is the best fun ever.” Jäger said jokingly, but in a serious tone, now Fritz began chuckling. “I’m getting my grand-babies one way or another.” Edwards wiped some beer spillage from the corner of his mouth and looked into the mouth of his empty beer can. “Oh, and Edwards, you’re not safe from my wrath, either, I demand children from you and your train boo, too.” He smirked.

“When that happens you’ll be the first I tell, Jäger.”

“Fuckin’ better. They spend the rest of the night drinking all the beer they had and bullshitting with each other until dawn, where Edwards passed out in a poorly made bed until he cared enough to go home.

 

Fin Chapter 7

 

The New Generation 6

by

Sup guys, I hope I can start putting content out more regularly than I have been recently, but life has not been a helping hand in that ordeal. Anyways, without further delay, chapter 6.

 

Enjoy.

 

Chapter 6

 

    Chandler finished his homeschooling with Marion and was granted the summer off at around the same time Jasmine finished her freshman year. Jasmine had taken Chandler out to interact with people more his age a few times and tried getting him to make friends. He was always timid and awkward, not able to hold a conversation for too long, which frustrated the social butterfly. She talked to Hansel and Marion about it, saying that he’d rather be at home drawing or building stuff. They said he liked games, electronic and outside games alike, and recommended those activities to her but Jasmine said she didn’t care to do that kind of stuff anymore. About two weeks after summer started Hansel grabbed Chandler and brought him to the porch with him to wait. Chandler had brought one of his model kit instruction manuals with him and was examining it tediously, getting bored and asking Hansel why they were waiting on the porch.

    “It’s a nice day out, I thought it’d be a good time to sit outside. Don’t you think so, too?” Chandler shrugged. He put his booklet down and scanned across the yard, taking in the lush green grass, shady oak trees along the fence, and the gravel driveway that led up to the still noticeable dirt runway that used to dominate the property.

    “It’s a good day, relaxing.” His imagination ran wild with events going on in his mind, using the scene for the setting of an epic battleground. “I wish I had friends to play with.” Hansel nodded in agreement.

    “I wish you did, too. Hey, Jasmine said you didn’t talk much to the kids she showed you to, why’s that?” Chad had to think about it, formulating his answer.

    “They weren’t interesting. They talked about stuff I didn’t know about.”

    “Like what?”

    “Sports teams, movie stars, singers. I don’t care bout it much.”

    “You like stuff like tanks and planes more?”

    “Yeah, history, too, like war history.” Chad looked back at his model kit booklet, it was a model of the Bismarck. Hansel got it for him as a summertime project. “Mister Hansel, you said you had a friend on the Bismarck?” Hansel nodded.

    “Yes, I did.”

    “How did you know him?” Hansel searched way back into his memory to recall the event, he smiled and chuckled when he did.

    “Oh, oh I remember. We fell for the same prank. I was running late for school one day, I was maybe seven or eight years old, I rushed to school, ran through the halls, bursted into the classroom and jumped into my seat-and landed right on a thumb tack!”

    “Ouch!”

    “Yeah, big ouch! Everybody was laughing, I jumped out of my seat, hollering mad! I couldn’t get it out  and it started to bleed so I was sent to the nurse’s office. Sitting in there getting his butt wiped clean and patched up was Rudolph, that’s where I met him. He had sat on a tack, too, and both our butts were hurt.” Chandler giggled a little bit, Hansel smiled and thought of all the fond memories he had with Rudolph. “So, Chandler, are you excited for school?” Chad shrugged again.

    “Yeah, I want to make friends. I don’t like homework, though.”

    “Nobody likes homework, Chandler, but you have to do it.”

    “I know,” he whinned, “but it’s stupid.”

    “No it’s not!” Hansel said, just then he heard a truck rumbling down the road. “You hear that?”

    “Yeah.” Hansel could see Chandler’s giant red hair spinning around as he searched for the sound’s source. Meanwhile it occured to Hansel that he should probably get Chandler a haircut.

    A huge, lumbering blue semi-truck roared through the trees that hid the driveway. A massive truck with a full cab on its back and hauling a thick and heavy trailer for a thick and heavy load. Bright yellow and black signs all over the truck screamed out ‘OVERSIZED LOAD’ and as the trailer was revealed from behind the treeline Hansel and Chandler could see just how big this load was. Even with a heavy green and retaining straps to mask the form both Hansel and Chandler recognized the silhouette of a King Tiger tank. With how big the semi-truck was, the Tiger tank still managed to dwarf the thing. Chandler remembered back to when he was told that a monster truck could beat anything -but a tank. Hansel was impressed that there wasn’t any bluffing, the man actually had a King Tiger, and Chandler looked distressed again.

    “Oh no, more family?” Chandler whined, Hansel chuckled.

    “No, I hope not.” They both chuckled a little. The giant truck’s brakes hissed as it was brought to a stop a dozen yards or so from the house. “Come on, Chandler, let’s go check it out.”

    “Yes, sir.” Chandler put the booklet down and followed Hansel over to the truck. A man with a short grey beard and shoulder length brown hair climbed out of the driver’s side. He was on the heavier side of things, but with his wrists and veins exposed Hansel saw no traces of morphing. He was completely human.

    “Hi-ya, I’m Ted.” He stretched his arm out to Hansel, Hansel stretched his arm out and they shook hands.

    “Hansel,” Ted nodded, broke from Hansel, and turned to shake Chandler’s hand, “and this is my son, Chandler.”

    “Nice to meet you, sir.” Chandler said and shook Ted’s hand.

    “Thank ya, boy. Up in the truck is my father, his name’s Will. He’s too old to really be here, but he wanted to meet y’all in person.” Hansel nodded. The truck door began to swing open, hesitantly. Through the glass they could see a small man struggling on the door. “No, dad, stay up there! We’ll come to you!” He turned to Hansel again. “Would’ya mind?”

    “Not at all.”

    “Thank ya.” Ted leads them to the passenger side of the truck and fully opens the door for his father. Will is a tired old man, stout and pale with deep eye sockets ringed with bags. Loose skin hangs from his chin and arms while thin stray hairs dot his mostly bald head. Hansel could tell Will was once a large muscled man built for work. He wondered if this is how Meats looked like in his later years. “Hey dad, this here is Mister Hansel, and that’s his little boy, Mister Chandler.”

    “Oh? Ah well, good to meetcha, my name’s Will. Y’all’ve met Ted, my son, already. I’d come down and shake yer hands but, uh, I’m old.”

    “Yup, that’s fine Will. You’re worse for wear than I am, by far.” Hansel said, Will laughed.

    “Yeah, age has not been kind to this old geezer.”

    “How about the Tiger? How’s it holding up?”

    “Better than me, that’s for damn sure. I should probably give you the run-down of it while I still can.”

    “It’d be nice, but it’s not necessary. I plan on gutting it and rebuilding it with my boy, here.” Ted smiled.

    “I wish we did that,” he said, looking at Will, “I was a snobby brat, never helped dad with it.” Will laughed.

    “Even if you weren’t a brat you think I could take that sum-bitch apart? Maybe, I know it’d never get back together if I did!” Now Hansel smiled.

    “Oh they aren’t easy! Not in the slightest!”

    “Hell no!” Will responded. He shifted his weight around and looked back to where the tank was. “I could work on the engine, it’s a diesel, beefy one, too. The motors are good, I never had to worry about the transmission-luckily-but then again I only ran the thing once or twice a month for two ‘er three hours. The paint’s old but lead so, it’s still there, too. It was in a shed for most of its life, so it shouldn’t be too rusty. The seats are original, no floor mats,” the men chuckled at that, “but everything is more or less how I found it in forty-five. Oh! One of the fuel tanks is rusted through, don’t fill the port side one. Unless you like to smear diesel all over the cabin.” Chandler looked back to the house and saw Marion nosing out of the hanger door, but he didn’t see any eyes. He usually could see them, even from this far away. He turned  back and couldn’t think about anything else. “Well, we should probably get it off the trailer, now. Ted, could ya, please?”

    “Sure thing, dad. Would y’all like to watch?”

    “Yes!” Hansel said enthusiastically. “Chandler would love to, here, Chandler, go on.”

    “Yes, sir.” Chandler followed Ted over to the tank and helped take the tarp and straps off.

    Hansel talked to Will about how things have changed over time for a little bit before he also went over to the tank to oversee everything. They did the usual start by hand cranking the engine and electrically starting the ignition. Marion doesn’t have to do that so Hansel almost forgot about it. Once the engine roared to life and was thumping steadily Ted moved to the cab, properly. Hansel noticed that this engine noise was nothing like any of the tanks he knew of. The cabin was like every other production King Tiger, which is not like Marion’s, this Tiger had the hydraulically assisted steering wheel while Marion had hydraulically assisted steering levers. Chandler noted and listened to Ted as he showed how to prepare, start, and drive the tank while they waited for the engine to fully warm up. He eased the behemoth off the huge trailer, using Chandler and Hansel to help guide him. From his vantage point Hansel could see the road wheels on the tank barely move when the weight was removed from them as the tank backed off, he suspected that the torsion bars had seized up and that they’d need to be taken apart, cleaned, and lubricated. As the tank backed off the trailer and moved around the truck Hansel carefully listened and watched it move. Aside from the torsion bars Hansel didn’t notice anything. Once the engine was cut Hansel told Chandler to inspect the insides of the cabin carefully and walked with Ted over to the truck to talk with Ted and Will.

    Chandler did as he was told, looking and feeling around very particularly. He could feel the cold metal walls flaking their paint off, and large sprouts of early, fine rust forming and emerging. There was a lot of grease on the gears and mothballs placed in random spots everywhere. With the power off there was no lighting, so he couldn’t see any discoloration, but the leather seats felt like they needed to be tossed out. Looking out of the various sight glasses he saw the glass was hazy and dirty, it also smelled funny, too. He tried to exit through the commander’s hatch but it was stuck closed so he climbed out of the loader’s hatch. He carefully climbed down and went to Hansel to report his findings. While he waited for Hansel to finish talking he looked over to the tank, wondering if it was alive and just hiding. The base color was a dull earthy brown, it had thinned and blended with the red primer coat to be a mute color good for the mud of the Florida swamps. His mind raced with imaginations of what they would paint it to look like. Army green? Grey? A sandy yellow? Maybe look like Marion? What about the markings, like eyes, a unit, a cool logo or a scary monster? So many options crossed his wondrous mind. His mind wandered off as he thought about endless possibilities and he looked forward to making look good again.

 

Fin Chapter 6