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
