Author's Note: Hey, it's been a while. Yeah, I posted an update last November, but not really much since. Well, it's because I tried to do something I couldn't do. I literally can't explain it better than that; I kept re-writing the battle to remove Miho from Kuro, and it just wasn't working. I couldn't put words on the paper in a meaningful way. So in the interest of actually moving ahead with the story like I wanted, I've reworked the intro and hopefully you'll enjoy it. I have not forgotten. I promised to finish this, and I will, Emperor willing or not. Don't forget to rate and review, or drop me a line if you find something out of line. If there's something that doesn't make sense, let me know and I'll answer it in the next update. Which is almost done, by the way.

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Death came for her with the roar of a lion, the clank of metal wheels on metal tracks, and the breath of a dragon. It came from far, far away. It came as the storm gathered its fury, and as thirty engines reduced ancestors to naught but a choking breeze for glory.

Impatient grey eyes watched as the Captain of Kuromorimine's Panzerfahren team, the star attraction of the fight, bowed to the enemy, before bowing herself. Nothing more than a short, curt bow of acknowledgement that she knew her opposite knew she didn't feel. There was no one equal to the might of the Black Forest. There was no one equal to the might of the Captain.

She straightened herself up, and searched the face of her opposite, the legendary tank commander, executive officer, and the real power behind Katuysha's dictatorship. Nonna the Icicle Sniper.

She almost towered over the young executive officer, looking down at her with disapproving, coal black eyes, cold and calculating. Despite the weather being considerably warmer than what Pravda normally sailed in, Nonna and Katyusha had evidently kept their own winter garb while allowing their troops a slight mercy to doff their iconic fluffy hats and woolen great coats.

Young and old at the same time, Executive officer of Kuromorimine Panzerfahren team, Lieutenant Commander Miho Nishizumi waited (with what passed for patience) for her sister to comeplete the Commander's Ceremony.

Never one for ceremony, Miho's mind had long been made up about traditions and ceremonies before a battle. But, tradition was tradition, and along with her status as the "exalted" black sheep, her grumbles fell on the deaf ears of others.

As the ceremony dragged on, she longed to return to her platoon, which some hundred meters or so to her left, standing impassively in front of their tanks, honor guard ribbons and various medals glowing in the fading sun.

After what seemed to be an eternity, finally the ceremony was over. Meaningless pleasantries and un-meant well-wishes exchanged. Finally. The moment has arrived.

Her sister turns to face her tank commanders, raises a single handed salute, and then brings her entire arm sharply down. The signal has been given. Without looking back, or at any of the other commanders, Miho breaks into a dead sprint for her tank, the designated flag carrier and command tank for the match, a Panzerkampfwagen VI(a). Otherwise known as a "Tiger" Mark One.

Unforuntately, the crew with her on the field today is not the one she has grown to love. They are unfamiliar with the workings of a Tiger, and as such, they've...taken a respite from Panzerfahren at the behest of the Matriarch. So, in their stead the Captain procured the crew to accompany the executive officer.

It's 100mm frontal armor was practically open to Pravda's 85mm rifled guns at any range short of a kilometer and a half. Classified as a heavy tank, it was a classic example of how Kurmorimine liked to appear, regal and purposeful. Fortunately, it's 88mm main gun could devastate any Pravda tank at as soon as the damn things were in sight, and provided the gunner could actually hit it.

And yet, Miho hated it. She hated the way it felt as she clambered up the frontal glacis. She hated the way it looked painted in German battle tan, "4-01" freshly painted on its turret, along with her personal sigil adorning the side.

She hated the inside of the tank; everything was too close, too welcoming, too warm and pleasurable. It was too homey to be a real tank. Yet, it's cannon still barked when she gave the order, and the shells still killed other tanks, so until she had legitimate grievances, she had to let her suspicions lay where they were.

But for all the reasons she hated the tank she was now climbing into, it was the fact that it was the Captain's personal tank was by far the most important. She wanted nothing more than to quit the team, but even that was sacrilegious to talk about, at home, at school, to her friends at school, or even to her elite platoon, now splintered with the introduction of the new crewmembers into their formation. But, as her Grandfather had taught her, any weapon to survive is a useful one indeed; doesn't matter if it's pretty or not.

So quelling the rage in her heart and once more steeling her face and mind for the coming battle, she vaulted smoothly into the commander's hatch and kept her legs clamped together to absorb the impact from landing on the commander's seat, which was far too cushy for her taste. She didn't grab for the headset and microphone adorning the turret wall next to her; she'd brought her own, despite insistences from the Captain.

She slipped on the one remnant from her previous tank and crew running through the pre-battle checklist while she listened to the platoon radio their readiness as they prepared to start their engines. Once it was completed, there was one more order before she could roll the platoon out, and she could smell the anticipation in the air, it was so palpable. The hounds are getting hungry.

"Captain, fourth platoon awaits the order," Miho flipped the switch that turned her transmission onto the command network.

"Acknowledged Lieutenant," came the Captain's unemotional response. "Wait one."

She didn't have to wait long. "Listen up! All platoons have reported readiness for battle. The order has been given. Light 'em up!"

Immediately, Miho switched to the platoon net and shouted "Fourth platoon! The order is given! HAVOC!"

At the command, each of the drivers waited exactly one second before hitting the ignition switch. While the engines didn't exactly catch simultaneously, the effect wasn't lost. From dead silence to the monstrous roar of promethium burning engines as their stewards coaxed them, revved them, striking fear into the hearts of the unprepared. One by one, the tank commanders of her platoon reported final combat readiness. After all had reported in, Miho sent it up to the Captain.

"Received, Four actual. Revise designation to Mike-six-five pattern. How copy?"

"I copy that crystal clear, Forest Actual."

"Roger," the Captain said before addressing the entire team. "Attention allcon! Listen up! Overall objective is standard match, phase one! Find their lead tank! Designation Woodland will secure southern route, while designations Timber and Pine will take the north. Forest will take remaining elements and hold center. We will break into separate elements at rally point on my mark.

But be wary, Intelligence says the Russians have a new toy. If anything looks out of the ordinary, report it immediately! That is all! For the Matriarch!"

Each tank commander or vox operator radioed in kind, but Miho didn't join in. To her, it wasn't worth it. There were far more important things to do.

"Keep it clean people!" she ordered as one of her sergeants got off some lecherous language.

"Yes sir!" was the universal reply, as their adrenaline surges subsided.

"Woodland Two has point. One has saddle, three has rear guard. I've got rear saddle. Roll out!"

888

The ride to the rally point was uneventful, and with the vox quiet, it left Miho alone with her thoughts to pour over the map attached in front of her hatch. The Captain's plan was sound, as always. And bold. As always. Nothing but another ordinary battle here, she mused sourly. She truly loved being out on the field, the wind in her hair, the comfortable rumble of massive engines beneath her feet. But the rigors of being a celebrity, and demands of this...game, this sport, was just too much when taken as a way of life. She sighed and slipped into the tank. It looked like it was going to start raining.

"Woodland Actual, come in," the vox crackled.

"Woodland Actual, here. Go ahead," Miho immediately replied.

"Be advised, Pine Actual and Pine One are experiencing technical difficulties. Re-tasking Pine Two, Three and Four to your element. How copy?" It wasn't the Captain, but her other executive officer, Erika.

"I copy five by. I'll link up with them at the following grid," she rattled off the appropriate numbers for the largest path that would allow the two formations to meet up on the move.

"Woodland Actual, Woodland Four, Five and Six are on the way."

"Copy. Woodland Actual out."

888

"Gunner! Tango-Three-Four at Ten o clock!" came the shout over the engine. "Range!"

The turret of the Tiger slowly traversed to the left as it rumbled along.

"I've got 'em El-tee! Four clicks away!" the gunner reported.

Miho nodded. "Set to transmit directly to the Captain." She waited a few seconds before depressing the transmit button.

"Forest Actual, this is Woodland Actual. Be advised, I'm tracking a contingent of T-34s about four clicks to the north-west of me, across the river. Looks to be two reinforced platoons, maybe three in size. Over."

"Forest Actual copies, Woodland. Be on the lookout for friendlies moving in from the east to support. Charlie Mike. Out," came the unemotional reply.

Miho popped her head out of the commander's hatch and looked around. Her own reinforced platoon of six tanks was in the same situation it was when she last poked her head out; rolling along a treacherous riverside trail, barely wide enough for the Koenigtiger behind her.

Then the sky overhead let loose another bolt of lightning and round of thunder.

"Woodland Actual to all elements, status report, over," she ordered, standing straight in the cupola, exposing her upper half to the elements and not caring about the skimpy black and red uniform she wore.

"Woodland Two copies, Actual! We're green across the board!" Staff Sergeant Marichia Takara shouted, all smiles as she waved at Miho from the Panzer III leading the reinforced platoon. "Those damn ruskies won't know what hit 'em!"

"Woodland Three copies, Lieutenant. We're five by five. Out," Sergeant Kaname replied from the depths of the massive tank.

"Woodland Four. We're guns up!" One of the twins said. Twin tank commanders of the venerable and adaptable Panzer IV Aufs H's, they were known collectively as "Double Trouble". Miho couldn't remember if Double or Trouble was Woodland Four. Not that it mattered.

"Woodland Five. Up guns we're!" the commander said with a cackle. Oh, right. Five was Trouble. The slightly older of the two had a…unique sense of humor.

"Woodland Six here, Lieutenant. Status is green. But be advised, there's dust trails along the river bank, directly to our nine," Sergeant Anna replied. She commanded the Panther at the back of the convoy.

"Copy that. Allcon, be advised. High winds are expected to break a few trees. Don't panic if you see them fall. It's probably not from the 34s to our ten," Miho ordered, and made herself as comfortable in the hatch as it was possible to get.

Her eyes drifted to the rear quarter of the tank as the others reported their compliance. There the damning blue flag flew, marking her tank as the most precious vehicle in the entire formation Kuromorimine was fielding this day. After staring at the offending object for a minute, Miho decided to rejoin the command circuit to listen into anything that Maho might have told everyone else but her.

"-so when we get back, we're meeting up at your place, right?" That was Erika's voice.

"Yes. My mother's prepared everything."

"Anything interesting going on?" Miho asked innocently. She knew exactly what was going on. Another one of the parties no one "knew" went on. Sure they didn't know about them officially, who could approve of giving teens access to drugs and alcohol? And yet, everyone knew about the parties.

"Nope," Ericka replied quickly. "You comin' to the party later tonight?"

"Miho, get off this channel. When I need you to do something else, I will let you know," the Captain interjected before she could think up a snarky enough reply.

"Go blow it out your ass," she growled instead, cut the connection angrily and sat there, brooding.

"You alright up there, Miho?" Marichia asked suddenly.

"Yeah, fine." Miho dropped the angry scowl for guarded neutrality, allowing the anger to simmer just below the surface.

"Good. Because there's something poking through the trees just up river from us. My gut tells me it should look like a tank if you remove the trees. Orders?"

Miho didn't bother asking for a second look. There was something supernatural about the scout's gut feelings. "HALT! Deploy for maximum deflection! Secure the perimeter!"

The crews wasted no time deploying. The Tiger and Panzer III faced upriver, while the Panther faced downriver, and the Koenigtiger did its best not to show the weakened flanks, by squeezing between the Panther and the Tiger. The two Panzer IV's did likewise, protecting their flank of the assault gun, but leaving plenty of space for maneuver.

"Miho, it's definitely a tank. And not one of ours. Looks like a…T-70. Shit! It's looking straight at us!"

Miho, along with the rest of her platoon, anxiously waited for the bark of a Russian gun. But none came, and the silence produced a deafening sound all its own.

"This isn't like Katyusha," Miho muttered as she watched the T-70 train its gun on them. Then a thought struck her like a lightning bolt.

She ducked inside, grabbed her magnoculars, and peered off in the distance, at the T-34s moving to the nearest river crossing.

Her thoughts were proved true with the magnocular's powerful magnification level. Miho was able to pick out the little devil sitting atop her tank as she personally led the large force towards the positions where the Captain lay in wait with the rest of the team.

Which meant that she was facing a separate unit entirely. And only one girl was allowed to deviate from Katyusha's command.

Nonna the Icicle Sniper.

"Brace for impact!" Miho shouted as she locked the hatch behind her. Ten seconds later, the barrage began.

At first there was silence. Then, over the din of the engines, something could be heard. Indistinct, yet distinct. Quickly it grew from mere background noise to the howling scream of shells, landing with thunderous wrath among the Panzers.

The powerful shells rocked the Tiger on its suspension like ship in a bad storm. It was all Miho could to do keep from bashing her head against the periscopes around her head.

As the barrage wore on, one shell got lucky. Fired from Nonna's personal tank, and IS-2 heavy, the 122mm shell blew off half of Marichia's riverside tracks and road wheels.

Then a 152mm high explosive shell from the KV-2 also in Nonna's detachment landed on the bank just below Woodland Two.

"Are we sliding?!" Marichia's shriek echoed across the vox. Braving the shrapnel filling the air, Miho threw open the hatch just in time to see the Panzer Mark Three plunge into the river, Marichia's screams for help in her ears.

"COVERING FIRE!" Miho shouted before tearing off her headset and leaping down from the tank in a single bound. She tried to hit the ground correctly, but landed wrong and she went down into the muck hard.

BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!

A quick series of shells exploded around her, and she realized the shitstorm she'd leapt into. And as she picked herself up and forced her ankle to support her weight to run full tilt through the rain, the muck and the shells, she realized she didn't care. Only one thing mattered. Marichia and her crew had to live.

She wouldn't fail. Around her, her platoon thundered, trying to meet this new threat. Shell after shell exploded from cannon barrel.

Over the din, she didn't hear the rending screech as her tank took a shell directly to the turret ring, jamming it. Nor did she hear the crew screaming for orders.

And neither did she hear the screams of the dying.

Scrambling down the slippery bank, her curses went unheard under the weight of another barrage. She felt something hot hit her in the face and immediately felt like it was on fire, but paid it no mind. There was nothing on this Throne-forsaken planet that was going to stop her. Absolutely nothing.

Through the rain and the debris cloud, Miho could just make out the Panzer's turret slipping beneath the waves. A second later, she reached the bank and dove in.

The shock of cold water hit her like a Maus at full speed, chilling her to the bone instantly. In the murk, she saw something moving, almost in the shape of a tank hull.

She pulled hard. Her ankle hurt like hell, her lungs wanted air, but she wanted her friends to live. Damn her own needs, she wouldn't let them just die like this!

"Creed!" someone called. It rang strangely throughout the depths she swam in. Thinking it was Marichia, she continued down. I have to save her! But the voice called out again. "Creed!"

It was closer this time, a little less distorted. Again, she paid it no mind. But try as she might, she wasn't finding the bottom of the river. It was too dark, the pressure was starting to hurt her ears, she needed to breathe, she should just- keep going. And never turn back. Never.

"God damn it Sergeant, wake up!" Wait. Sergeant? She wondered. I haven't been a sergeant ever. Marichia kn- Then real cold water hit Miho in the face.

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++Thought for the day: Innocence ends when war begins++