Kenneth gazed out the viewport, heart pumping and adrenaline coursing through his veins. His eyes seemed to be glued to the four T-34-85s. T-34 medium tanks with high velocity 85mm guns that could tear through the upper and lower hull armor of the Panther at anything less than 300 meters distance.
A fully prepared Panther would still be completely outgunned, but with a crew of one? An aggressive course of action was pure suicide. Kenneth could only pray that he had not yet been spotted, which was beginning to seem more and more unlikely as the enemies began to stop.
Kenneth quickly weighed his options. The first of which was surrender: a taboo in the noble family he had been born into. The second was attempting to retreat, which would still mean almost certain doom for him and the tank. But there was a third option. Kenneth could evacuate the Panther with Wellington and use this... Teslanium material to regenerate the tank when the enemy had left. Yes, that was his safest-
In the split second he had used to think things over, all four vehicles turned their turrets in unison. The reason why Kenneth was not dead now was probably because he had ended up behind enemy lines, which meant the enemy was going through three steps. First: Identify opposing vehicle and attempt radio contact. Second: Confirm model of opposing vehicle, or if it is a new model. Third: prepare for engagement and await judgement on whether or not to fire.
A voice crackled over the communications unit in what appeared to be Russian, followed by German, and finally English.
"This is Scarlet Brigade to unknown vehicle. Surrender yourselves now and do not move, or we will destroy you!"
While this was being spoken, Kenneth had grabbed Wellington and thrown a couple cans of food into his coat before opening the hatch and stumbling out, climbing to the ground and breaking into a sprint. The enemy would most likely not know he had escaped, as he was still rather far away, but just to be safe he had removed the safety from his pistol.
There was a thunderous roar as four unanimous shots rang out through the area, two shells penetrating the front plate of Kenneth's tank, one glancing off the angled side armor, and the other missing the tank completely. The Panther erupted into a brilliant display of flame, and fragments of burning steel were scattered across the area, in a storm of hot metal. The shockwave from the blast threw Kenneth to the forest floor even from thirty feet away. The tank commander heaved heavily, eyes closed for a few seconds before slowly rising to his feet, with Wellington in his arms.
The commander waited about a minute, until he lifted his binoculars to his eyes after setting Wellington down once again. Through the lenses, he could see three tanks carrying on across the road, while the fourth was...
Kenneth promptly picked up his comrade once more and began running the opposite direction from whence he came, stumbling on the dried leaves scattered around him every once in awhile in his haste. By now he was quite tired, and already quite thirsty from the simple act of sprinting while carrying a rather heavy soldier. He should have expected one of the enemy tanks to investigate, as seeing Panther tanks behind federalist lines was quite the rarity indeed, as far as Kenneth could tell anyways. This changed plans considerably. He would now need to trek across enemy territory, and hopefully find an allied tank column. All while carrying an injured man along with him.
In the distance, Kenneth saw the T-34 come to a halt near the smoking wreck of his old vehicle. Indeed, there would be no going back now. The tank commander was now extremely vulnerable. Hell, that sniper from before could have him in his sights right now. But first order of business was escaping the immediate area before he was spotted by the enemy, as that would would probably be the worst case scenario right now.
Kenneth stopped for a brief moment and scanned the distance ahead, finding only empty forest. He knew the T-34 was still a good ways back, but the thought of being pursued by it was a very frightening thought. Aside from this, the tank Commander knew nothing. And since he had built his entire strategy upon knowing the situation, he was blind. For now, however, Kenneth needed to focus on what was ahead of him.
In the very far distance, he could see water of some sort. This would probably make a good place to stay the night and recover. While the commander knew little about survival in the wilderness, he sure as hell had a strong will. Hopefully that would make up for what he lacked in confidence, knowledge or firepower. Stay positive... Just stay positive.
The commander trekked on for about an hour, over even terrain, all the while making gradual progress towards the water in the distance. He could make it out to be a lake now, and it looked to be covered in a layer of beautiful mist. Kenneth had even spotted a wooden fence in the near distance, meaning there may be some kind of building or estate nearby. That would make a very good place to stay, perhaps even until Wellington had recovered. These kinds of thoughts were what continued to flash through Kenneth's mind as he stumbled along hour after hour, until it was dusk. There were no sounds of nearby combat, which he hoped was a good sign. Awhile back he had been looking over his shoulder every few minutes to see if he was being followed. In a break of good fortune, Kenneth had not been followed or even spotted after all, as far as he was concerned.
A figure of a moderate sized home loomed in the distance, nestled cozily beside the lake. It really was a beautiful landscape, and war had miraculously left it untouched. The autumn leaves had paved a path leading to this home, and Kenneth began walking along it, imagination dreaming of ways to utilize the estate before him. Fantasies of living the good life for a month and returning to Germania flashed briefly across his mind as the distant house got closer and closer to him. It was about a half hour until Kenneth trudged into what appeared to be a driveway, looking up to see the appearance of the house for himself.
It was made up of white ridged walls, with a sloped and shingled roof. A little path led to a broken front door made of glass, that had long since been shattered. The garage doors, appeared to have been shut. Completely untouched. A rusty, light blue pickup truck with a wooden framed rear sat out front. It looked as if it was some kind of antique car or something. The shoreline was not far from the house, with a small wooden boat sitting across from the rotted old dock which led some fifteen feet onto the lake itself.
Indeed, the house looked as if it had been lived in yesterday... And perhaps robbed, judging by the broken glass door at the front. Truly, a dream come true for Kennet, who opened the door with his right foot, stepping into the entranceway, the sound of crunching glass beneath his feet. The room also looked just about untouched, save some muddy footprints strewn across the ancient looking hardwood floors that covered the ground. Inside, there was a pair of staircases leading upstairs, complete with red carpeting and everything. This truly was an estate.
A very large stairwell also led downstairs, indicating the underground floors were probably very spacious. To the right of the entranceway was a door that most likely led into the garage via a small mudroom. The whole entrance hall was full of marks, where various bits of furniture were undoubtedly placed before war had engulfed this area of Russia. A chandelier hung on the still oddly intact ceiling, while yet another hallway to the left led deeper into the main level.
Kenneth took a step inside and heard a slight echo, which mimicked his footfall. His first course of action would be to find a bed to put Wellington in, so he made his way over to the stairs, prepared to draw his pistol if he noticed anything out of the ordinary. His very footfalls began to sound out of the ordinary, as he began to climb the stairs to the upper floor. He was surprised to find the upper floor only led to a large door at the end of the staircases. Kenneth struggled a little with opening it, but upon doing so he was met with a completely intact office that wasn't stripped like the bottom floor had been. The carpet was a bright red, and a big mahogany desk sat towards the middle of the room. Giant windows in the back portrayed the image of what used to be a courtyard with a fountain and gardens... Everything looked as if it had been cared for recently.
Kenneth sat wellington down in the expensive looking chair at the opposite end of the desk, and took a deep breath. He had been walking for a long time, and he felt it too. He took a look at the yellowish walls and found quite a few portraits of old looking gentlemen. Kenneth walked up to one of them, thinking he recognized the person in the portrait.
"His name is Anton Dubois, in case you were wondering."
A young voice with a French accent spoke, nearly giving Kenneth a heart attack.
"Gwah!"
The tank commander exclaimed, jumping in shock before collecting himself and turning to face this newcomer and drawing his pistol. He found a little pale skinned girl with yellow eyes and long, black hair looking at the weapon as if it was a common occurrence to see it pointing at her. She was wearing a blue skirt and white stockings that both looked to not have any kind of dirt or wear to them.
"Well, they usually forget to take off the safety. Props to you, monsieur."
She spoke with an almost angelic smile on her slightly freckled face. Kenneth lowered his gun slightly, face still carrying an unsure look upon it. He had no idea how this little girl could treat this kind of situation this casually but...
"Who... Are you?"
He asked, still rather suspicious of her.
"My name is Violetta Dubois, monsieur. How may I be of assistance to you?"
She answered politely, that innocent smile still being worn. Kenneth sighed and returned his pistol to the pocket of his grey trenchcoat. Apparently he had been a bit startled by this strange girl. And since when did people of the French nationality live in Russia?! Either way, it was an odd situation by his standards.
"I'm sorry if we are intruding, but my comrade was hurt and my... My tank was destroyed. We need to stay here for awhile."
The tank commander spoke firmly, not intent on being driven away from refuge by a little girl.
"Ah, so you are le Panzer commandant, non? In that case you are in luck, monsieur!"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
Asked Kenneth, already quite aware of how lucky he was right now.
"Please follow me, monsieur!"
She spoke, abruptly beginning to skip out of the room while humming what seemed to be a folk tune of some sort. Perplexed once more, Kenneth followed her out and down the stairs.
"It is in le basement! You will be very happy, monsieur!"
"Hey, wait up!"
The tank commander followed her down the very long flight of stairs, and stepped onto grey concrete. They looked to be underground now, with a spacious hallway and metal door ahead. Violetta threw this door open and swung inside whatever room it led to using the doorknob. The door slowly opened even more as Kenneth walked forward, to reveal.
"N-No way!"
Kenneth's face lit up with awe at the huge garage as he stepped into it. The place looked to be a quarter of a square mile in length, and it was lined with a huge variety of blue coated tanks all in neat rows. The place looked as if it was a factory or something. And a few red fuel containers were stacked by each tank. The walls were a stark grey, and the floor was concrete. In other words, the room was not visually appealing but its contents certainly were.
Violetta kept skipping around all the vehicles with delight.
"Are you not impressed, monsieur?"
Kenneth approached the most familiar tank in the garage, the Char B1 bis, a famous French heavy tank renowned for its armor back in the day. He moved his hand over the metal hull, dumbstruck.
"I-I had no idea, what this place..."
"It is a rare tank store, monsieur! Or, it used to be when papa was still around. Papa sold these tanks to both sides in the war, or even collectors! But then papa joined le Federalist Republic and..."
Violetta's voice stuttered for a moment, and she stopped skipping. There was a much more serious look on her face now. Kenneth looked at her in disbelief.
"Are you telling me you've been looking after this place ever since your dad left?!"
"You are correct... Monsieur."
The young girl walked up beside Kenneth, a sorrowful look on her face.
"Papa was forced to fight. And mama died by an artillery shell in le cities. Papa told me to fight my own battles, and choose a side in le war, but..."
Kenneth put his arm on her shoulder and looked at her in a stoic way.
"I'm sure he loved you very much. And the fact you took care of this place so well in his absence proves that you can fight your own battles. But I think what he meant, was that you are ready to live your own life."
"Yes... But I cannot leave. I am trapped in the war, with no escape. Le tanks I cannot drive. One day I will continue le family business, though. But I do not know how to run a company yet..."
"How about I make you a deal, Violetta."
Spoke Kenneth, eying a tank in another row curiously.
"If you lend me one of your tanks, I will take you to Edgerton. The capital of Germania. There you can learn how to continue your father's business. And when I blitzkrieg my panzers through this place I will protect your home. I promise."
Violetta looked at Kenneth, eyes filled with hope.
"M-monsieur!"
Kenneth looked violetta in the eyes and smiled warmly.
"Do we have a deal, my lady?"
"Oui! Yes, monsieur! B-but how will we escape this land?"
The tank commander couldn't help but be amazed at his luck. And also at how much this little girl had surely been through. The way she had reacted to a gun being pointed her way was far too casual to be normal. Clearly others had been here before, possibly Federalist soldiers. Obviously, she had not allowed them to see this garage... But that meant she needed to get rid of them somehow.
"I will explain later. But may I ask if anyone else has come here before?"
"O-Oui... There were other people who came here. Mean people. They wanted to take papa's mansion for themselves. They wanted to kill me too... I knew it. So I... I..."
Kenneth saw a tear run down her face, and only now noticed something peculiar about one of the tanks. Before one of them was a brown stain, but Kenneth had first thought it was spilled gasoline. However, upon further inspection the tank commander saw machine gun bullet casings near one of the tanks he had not seen before. And oddly enough, the turret of this tank was facing in a different direction than the rest.
"I told them I would show them the garage, and ran downstairs as fast as I could! I got into le tank and when they came through le door I... I..."
She was beginning to sob now, lifting her hands to cover her face. Kenneth thought of what he should do for a moment. He wasn't exactly the comforting type, but he put his arms around her in a warm embrace and rocked back and forth as she cried. A sad expression on his own face as well.
"I-It's okay. They would have hurt you. You had no choice."
Kenneth whispered softly to her. Violetta kept crying in his arms for around a minute before sniffling a little and pulling away, face red and eyes watery.
"You did not see me cry, monsieur. Violetta does not cry."
She wiped away the fears and smiled a little. Kenneth returned a slight smile in return.
"I understand, my lady. How about we go back upstairs for now, and get something to eat?"
"Oh... Okay, monsieur."
She replied as Kenneth held out his hand, which she would take in her own as they began the walk upstairs.